Robyn Grady: The Billionaire’s Fake Engagement / Man from Stallion Country: The Billionaire’s Fake Engagement / Man from Stallion Country

And then there was Natalie.

When he married, he wanted a solid union: a calm, safe harbour for his children to grow up and excel in. Natalie seemed to possess all the qualities he admired—independence, charm, intelligence. And he couldn’t downplay how good they were together in the bedroom. Surely he could never tire of holding such a warm, giving body close to his. It stood to reason that kind of sexual compatibility would be a significant asset to any marriage.

No doubt Bridget would make some other man extremely happy. Her pedigree as A1 and she was sweet natured as well as attractive. But, even if it was proven that he had indeed fathered her child, Alex couldn’t contemplate sharing his life with Bridget Davidson. Natalie, on the other hand, would make a perfect wife. A wonderful mother.

Perhaps it was time.

He pushed up out the chair, entered his study and dialled open the sequenced lock on his desk’s drawer safe. A moment later he held the doubloon, a near priceless heirloom handed down from generation to generation. He’d respected its history, had every intention of following tradition. But now, as never before, he understood its true worth. He would do what was needed to carry on its proper succession.

And that meant winning Natalie Wilder back.

Mateo Celeca swung open his harbor-side residence front door and gripped his friend’s hand. After a brief brotherly hug, he waved Alex through to the parquet entry.

“There’s a lot to be said for success,” Mateo closed the heavy door. “Finding time to catch up unfortunately isn’t one of them.” He folded his arms and slanted his head. “You look well, my friend.”

Alex took in Mateo’s olive complexion, striking today against his billowy white shirt and calico trousers. “You look better than well.”

“It’s the Mediterranean sun. When I visit home, I don’t want to return. Then Mama starts with her matchmaking, setting up chance meetings with ‘nice girls’, and I’m reminded why I need to get back.”

Alex joined in Mateo’s hearty chuckle. He’d visited “home” with Mateo one summer in their university days. Mama Celeca, Mateo’s grandmother, was a small lady with a big heart who believed every good man deserved a good woman. That summer he and Mateo had barely escaped Italy with their bachelorhood intact.

“You’ll find your Miss Right one day, Mat.”

“Perhaps you can give me some pointers.”

Alex cocked a brow. “You’ve read this morning’s paper, then.”

His hand resting on his friend’s back, Mateo ushered Alex through, past the polished honeywood staircase and down a wide hall, which boasted countless heirlooms and antiques, some dating back many centuries. Alex’s three-story Vaucluse residence was outstanding by anyone’s standards, but it still fell short of this kind of grandeur.

Mateo strolled with Alex toward the rear of his immaculate home. “From this morning’s story, your situation sounds…complicated.”

Alex exhaled. “I’ve heard that before.”

“From the expectant mother?”

“From the woman I’m sleeping with.”

“I take it you’re not happy with the father-to-be situation.”

“I could think of better scenarios.” Like Natalie being the woman pregnant with his child. That he could handle.

They entered the kitchen, an enormous sparkling affair, made all the more inviting by the faint scent of citrus and freshly grilled bacon.

Mateo retrieved two demitasses from an overhead cupboard and set the cups next to the espresso pot. “How are the women in your life coping?”

Alex gripped the back of a Chippendale chair. “One I haven’t spoken with in over six months. The other doesn’t want to see me again.”

Reaching for the pot handle, Mateo paused. “Perhaps I should offer you something stronger.”

Alex grinned. “Coffee’s good.”

Drinks poured, they moved out into the cobblestone courtyard. On the expansive back lawn, giant topiaries were pruned into animal shapes…a lion, a bull, two rams locking horns. A Mediterranean style water feature provided the perfect backdrop.

After setting his cup on the table, Alex lowered into cushioned wrought iron chair and Mateo did the same then asked, “How can I help?”

“I need to find out if I’m the father of that baby, and I need to find out fast.”

“Estimated dates?”

“If I am the father, twenty-four weeks.” He’d checked his PDA calendar late last night.

“Gestational age would be twenty-six.” Mateo’s pensive look cleared. “To get a more accurate estimate, we need an ultrasound. Scans are routine. Her GP or OB would likely have scheduled at least one. There’s no risk to mother or unborn child.” Elbows on the chair arms, he laced his fingers, index fingers steepled. “Now for some good news regarding prenatal paternity tests.”

Alex rubbed his brow. He could use all the good news he could get.

“Nowadays they’re easy to perform and results are available within days,” Mateo told him. “We need a blood sample from the mother and a simple mouth swab from you. The results are one hundred percent accurate on negative identification and ninety-nine point nine percent accurate on positive.”

“So if I’m not the father of the baby we’ll know conclusively.”

Mateo nodded and reached for his cup. “If you’d like the lady to see me, I’ll happily fit her in and arrange for the tests to be performed.”

Sounded good. “I’ll speak with Bridget…though I’ll need to get past her father first.”

“As I recall, you’re not Joe Davidson’s favourite person.”

Mateo knew about the hydraulics contract affair. “After last night I’ve officially hit the bottom of his Christmas card list.”

Mateo sipped, shrugged. “You have better things to worry about.”

Alex huffed over a wry grin. “Want to hear the real kick in the pants? Three months ago I met a woman I share an amazing chemistry with and now she wants to end our affair.”

“So you love this other woman?”

Alex sat back and gazed at the half-dozen sparrows darting across the flawless blue sky. “No. But I do know I love being with her.” Especially in the bedroom.

His parents had been in love. As a child their bond had made him feel safe. As an adult it had made him proud. Teresa and Zach had the right recipe, too. Their till-death-us-do-part vibes radiated out, an invisible yet powerful force. But he didn’t see that kind of all-consuming love in his future.

He agreed wholeheartedly with his father’s advice about choosing the right woman to marry. Raymond Vacanti, a friend from university days, had been less analytical. The month after Ray was left a sizeable inheritance, he’d fallen hard for a gorgeous, streetwise blonde. Two years into the marriage, Blondie got herself a good lawyer, filed for divorce, was awarded most of Ray’s money then moved onto the next chump. Anyone could see that woman was a heartless tramp. Poor Ray, however, had been blinded by love.

Alex had made his mind up early never to leave himself open like that. As his father had said, better not to love at all than to fall in love with the wrong kind of woman.

But Natalie…

Alex sat up and tugged his ear. “Natalie’s special.”

Mateo white teeth flashed. “That does sound serious.”

“I did say I intended to marry her.”

Mateo’s gaze dropped to his middle fingertip circling the rim of his cup. “And if you are the father of Bridget Davidson’s baby?”

“Guess we’ll know soon enough.”

“Indeed.” Mateo thought for a moment, then downed his coffee and sat forward. “I have tennis booked with Eddie Boxwell at eleven. Care for a hit? I promise to let you win a set.”