Bound by the Kincaid Baby / The Millionaire's Miracle. Emilie Rose

But I’m warning you now that you need to shuck your designer suit jacket.”

      “I’m not going to feed him.”

      She ought to make him. Just for fun. She fought a smile and lost. “If you’re in the same room, you need to be dressed for feeding time. It gets messy.”

      The intense green gaze locked on her face for several seconds, and his eyes met and held hers. Something deep inside Carly tingled. She squashed the fizzy feeling, pivoted quickly and jogged up the stairs. Her hand wasn’t quite steady as she unlocked the front door, then gestured for him to follow her inside.

      He’d removed his coat while she wasn’t looking, and even though she’d told him to, now she wished he hadn’t. Those wide shoulders hadn’t been an illusion created by an excellent tailor. She’d bet he had washboard abs under that shirt and long, corded muscles beneath his knife-edged creased trousers. She worked with enough athletes to recognize and admire peak physical conditioning when she saw it.

      She led the way through the house, leaving her unwanted guest to shut the door and follow. Or not. In the kitchen she washed Rhett’s hands, strapped him into his high chair and poured a sprinkling of Cheerios on his tray to keep him occupied while she prepared his dinner.

      She retrieved a sippy cup of milk and a couple of bottles of water from the fridge. Politeness demanded she offer her “guest” a drink and she did so ungraciously by plunking a bottle down on the counter in silent offering to the man who took up far too much space in her kitchen. She twisted the cap off her own. After chugging half the icy liquid, she pulled out a cutting board and started Rhett’s dinner.

      “So talk.” She kept a wary eye on Kincaid.

      He transferred the unopened water bottle from one long-fingered hand to the other and back again like a metronome. “Rhett will inherit one-quarter share of my—our—father’s estate.”

      The knife slipped from her grip and hit the stainless sink with a loud clank. Everett Kincaid had been a billionaire. Anyone who read the newspaper knew that. Kincaid Cruise Lines was a huge firm that for years had been voted one of the top five places in the country to work.

      “You’re kidding me.”

      “No.” That bitten out word carried hidden nuances Carly couldn’t begin to decipher.

      Maybe Everett wasn’t the lecherous miser Carly thought him to be if he’d made arrangements for his son. She retrieved the knife, rinsed it and then focused on cutting bite-size pieces of bananas, grapes and cheese without severing a digit. “Go on.”

      “The condition is that Rhett must reside in Kincaid Manor for one full year to claim his share.”

      It took a second for that to sink in. And when it did, her heart slammed against her chest and her nerves snarled.

      Feeling as if she’d swallowed a bucket of wet sand, she swung around to face Mitch Kincaid. “You want to take him from me.”

      “I’ll make it worth your while.”

      She blinked and shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

      “I’ll pay you one hundred thousand dollars for your trouble. The same amount my father paid your sister to have an abortion.”

      No. Carly sucked a quick breath. Marlene had done a few questionable things over the years, but Carly couldn’t believe her sister would stoop so low as to accept money for an abortion and then not have one. Besides, Marlene had been thrilled about her pregnancy and overjoyed at Rhett’s birth. She would never have considered ending it.

      But then Carly remembered Marlene’s plan to coerce Everett into marriage and she wasn’t as certain Mitch was lying as she’d like to be. That notebook had revealed an unattractive side of her sister that Carly hadn’t known existed.

      “Marlene didn’t have that kind of money.”

      “I have proof she did. She lived with you for the last fifteen months of her life. You had to have seen evidence of her windfall.” The last word dripped sarcasm. “You probably even benefited from it.”

      Indignant, she snapped erect. “I did not. And I don’t know about any money.”

      Rhett pounded on his tray, jerking Carly back to the present. She numbly carried him his food.

      Mitch Kincaid had to be lying. If Marlene had taken the money, then what had she done with it? She certainly hadn’t spent it. Her living expenses after she quit her job as an air hostess for a corporate jet service had been negligible because, as Mitch pointed out, Marlene had moved in with Carly. Afterward the formerly sociable Corbin sister had rarely left the house until after Rhett’s birth. She’d claimed it was because she was heartbroken over Everett’s betrayal and his refusal to acknowledge his child.

      Could Marlene have taken the money and used it for hospital bills? Carly made a mental note to ask the attorney how one went about tracing things like that.

      “I don’t believe you, and I’m not loaning this child to you.”

      “I’m not asking to borrow him. I’m offering to take over as his guardian. You’ll be free to go about your life unencumbered.”

      Déjà vu. Her heart clenched in horror and a chill enveloped her. The words sounded eerily similar to those she’d heard twelve years ago. She fought the urge to pull Rhett from his chair and hold him close.

      “I love Rhett. I don’t consider him an encumbrance. And my sister wanted me to raise him.”

      “As a struggling single parent?”

      “If necessary.”

      “C’mon, Carly, you’re young, single and attractive. Why would you want to be saddled with someone else’s brat?”

      Her brain snagged on attractive, but repudiated brat. Then she recalled how scraggly she looked after a five-mile run. Clearly Kincaid was willing to say whatever it took to get what he wanted.

      “I was there when Rhett was born, when he cut his first tooth, said his first word and took his first step. God willing, I’ll be there for every other milestone. I’m not giving him up.”

      “I can offer the boy more than you can.” His supercilious gaze encompassed her outdated kitchen.

      “My house may not be up to Kincaid standards, but it’s safe and childproofed and full of love. I have a huge fenced backyard.” She hated that she sounded defensive. She had nothing to prove to this jerk.

      “What does a physical therapist make these days? Sixty, seventy grand a year?”

      He knew what she did and how much she made. The knowledge sent a prickle of apprehension over her. How did he know? “None of your busin—”

      “That’s nothing compared to the roughly one point two-five billion Rhett will inherit if he comes with me.”

      “Billion?” she squeaked.

      “Not in cash. Most of the assets aren’t liquid,” he clarified. “Either he moves in with me or he gets nothing.”

      Light-headed and growing queasier by the second, Carly sank into a chair. How could she deprive her nephew of the inheritance he so rightly deserved, one that would set him up so that he’d never want for anything?

      But how could she let him go?

      She couldn’t. Carly had promised Marlene that if anything happened to her, she’d raise Rhett and love him—love him the way she’d never been allowed to love her own daughter.

      Mitch Kincaid wasn’t offering love. Other than that first searching glance, he’d barely looked at Rhett and had yet to touch him.

      She took a deep breath and tried to think logically. Marlene had yearned for Everett to acknowledge his son, and now, better late than never, he had. Maybe