Bronwyn Jameson - Bedded by the Billionaire / Tycoon's One-Night Revenge - Bedded by the Billionaire

He swore under his breath. “That’s it. You’re quitting.”

She gaped at him. “Quitting?”

“It’s the only rational thing to do. Each day that passes I learn more about how deeply Tony was in trouble. You can stay here until the baby is born and you’re ready to move and say goodbye to your contacts here. I’ve told you before. You need to be on guard in every way. People will try to take advantage of you.”

She shook her head. “I can’t quit. I need the income for the baby. As you said, babies aren’t cheap.”

“Money won’t be a concern after you sign the agreement.”

She supposed she should have been intimidated by him and part of her was, but she refused to give in to it. “I’m not signing that stupid agreement and I’m not taking your money.”

“You would turn down a good life for your child in exchange for pride.”

She scowled at him. “That was low. The point is that I’m not giving control of my child to you or anyone else. I don’t know you well enough. You may give the impression of being very responsible, but at the same time you’re bitter, cynical and a workaholic. I want my butter bean to be happy. You may be loaded, but you don’t seem very happy.”

“Butter bean?” he repeated.

“Yes, butter bean. An affectionate nickname. Something you wouldn’t understand.”

Exasperation crossed his handsome face. “Most women would kill to have the equivalent of an extended vacation here, but you’re fighting it every inch of the way. Have you always been this disagreeable?”

“I think you just bring it out in me,” she said.

“Do you have a will?”

“Yes, I do,” she said.

“Have you chosen a guardian for you child?”

She resisted the urge to squirm. “I’m working on it.”

“Why don’t you name me the guardian?” he demanded.

She bit her lip. “Because you don’t smile enough.” As soon as she blurted out her answer, she knew it sounded a little crazy. “I think kids need smiles and lots of hugs.”

He moved toward her. “I think you trust me more than you admit.”

Her heart flipped. Maybe she did. There was something so solid about him. “I trust you to be rational, but some decisions should be more emotional.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Are you saying your emotional decisions have turned out well?”

“Not all, obviously,” she said. “But it was at least partly an emotional decision for me to take a leave of absence from work to take care of my mother during her last months. I wouldn’t trade anything for the time I had with her, because I won’t have a chance for that again.”

A trace of sympathy softened his hard gaze.

“If you were my son’s guardian, what would you do if you had to choose between attending an important business meeting or going to his T-ball game?” She shrugged. “I’m going to make a wild guess and say you’d choose the former because it would be the more rational decision.”

“You make a good point, but most parents have to balance career and children’s needs. There’s no reason I couldn’t learn to do the same thing.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “How would you do that?”

He looked surprised that she would question him. “Why do I feel as if I’m being interviewed for a position?”

She nodded. “Maybe you are,” she said. “You’ve pretty much asked, no, demanded to be the baby’s guardian in case of my death or path to self-destruction. If someone asked you to give them the most important job in the world, wouldn’t you interview them? Probably conduct a background search. Ask for references.”

He gave an incredulous laugh, his teeth gleaming brightly in contrast to his tanned skin. “I don’t know whether to be offended or—” A cell phone rang and his smile fell. He pulled the phone from his pocket and checked the number. “Excuse me,” he murmured. “Yes, Rena?” He paused and shook his head. “I’ve sent a donation for the event tonight, but won’t be attending.” He listened for a moment. “I’m sorry they’ll be disappointed. Hopefully the money I sent will soothe some of their pain. Okay. Have a good day.”

He turned off the phone and turned back to Lilli. “Sorry that was my cousin Rena. She thinks I’m a recluse and she’s determined to get me more socially involved.”

“But you don’t want to,” Lilli included.

“This will be a boring chicken dinner with a silent auction afterward. I get enough social involvement at work. And I’m not stingy with my donations.”

“But maybe Rena thinks that more people would be more generous with their contributions if they actually saw you show up at the charitable functions sometimes. You would be a good example,” she said.

“Maybe,” he said, clearly not convinced. “Do you know how painful these things can be?”

“Probably not,” she said. “But it’s not like you’re making a lifetime commitment.”

He sighed and met her gaze. “Okay, I’ll tell you what. I’ll go to the fund-raiser for the children’s wing of the hospital if you’ll go with me.”

“Me?” she said, shocked. “But I’m pregnant.”

“Does that mean you’re disabled?”

“No, but—” she shook her head “—why would you want me to go? You’re bound to have a dozen other women on the line who would want to go with you.”

“Meaning you wouldn’t,” he said in a dry, amused tone.

“I didn’t say that,” he said. “What about Kiki?”

“I didn’t invite Kiki,” he said. “I invited you.”

Her heart sped up. She cleared her throat. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

“I can have someone take care of that within an hour.”

He was shredding her protests more effectively than a paper shredder. She stared at him, her mind spinning.

“Think of it as an opportunity to continue your interview,” he said, as if he weren’t at all worried that he would meet and exceed her expectations.

Must be nice to have that kind of confidence, she thought. “This is crazy. I can’t believe you want to take me to this kind of event. Aren’t you concerned about the gossip?”

“With my father, his mistress and my brother, I’ve been dealing with gossip most of my life. This will be a cakewalk.”

Lilli took a shower and as she was fixing her hair, a knock sounded on her door. She opened it to Max’s housekeeper, Myrtle, who held a large box. “For you,” the older woman with iron-gray hair said and carried the box to the bed.

“Already?” Lilli asked, glancing at the clock. When Max said an hour, he meant an hour. “Thank you very much, Myrtle,” she said, opening the box and pushing aside layers of tissue paper. “Omigoodness, this is beautiful. Did you see it?” she asked the chief housekeeper. She held up the black gown with the fitted bodice and deep V-neck. Just under the bustline dotted with tiny embroidered pink flowers, the remainder of the dress fell in a swirl of silk.

The woman nodded. “It’s beautiful. Perfect for you. Mr. De Luca is always very generous.”

“Yes, he is, isn’t he?” She looked in vain for a price tag, wishing she could reimburse him for the dress. “Do you think he would let me pay him—”

Before she even finished, Myrtle shook her head. “Never,” she said.

Sighing, she met Myrtle’s gaze. “I don’t want to be on the long list of people who sponge off of him.”

Myrtle gave a slight smile that softened her usual stern expression. “You will have a difficult time outgiving Mr. De Luca.”

Lilli frowned thoughtfully. “How long have you worked for Mr. De Luca?”

“Six years. One of those years, my husband was ill and he allowed me extra time off with pay. I’ll always be grateful to him for that.”