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

and w-wanted?”

      The slight crack in her voice nailed him in the gut. She’d just lost her sister, and even if Marlene had been a mercenary, manipulative bitch, apparently Carly had cared for her. Maybe giving up the boy wouldn’t be completely painless. But like ripping off a bandage, the discomfort wouldn’t last long.

      Being the middle child meant Mitch had learned the art of negotiation in the cradle. If he didn’t compromise, he’d lose the brat. “I have employed a highly qualified nanny. I’m not trying to cut you out of his life completely. We’ll arrange visitation.”

      “A nanny? You’re going to pay someone to love him?” Her indignant tone and humorless laugh didn’t bode well. Gold fragments glinted in her dark irises. “Is money your answer to everything?”

      “There’s nothing wrong with nannies. My siblings and I were raised by a series of competent—”

      Her snort cut him off. “Now I get it. No wonder you’re such a robot.”

      He flinched at her insult.

      Leaving the check untouched on his desk, she marched to the door and paused with her hand on the knob. “That’s my offer, Kincaid. Take it or leave it. You get both of us or neither of us. You can pursue this in court with a whole platoon of lawyers if you want, but considering your father allegedly paid my sister an obscene amount of money to abort, and you and your siblings are driven by potential monetary gains, no judge in his right mind will ever award you custody of Rhett even if you are an almighty Kincaid. And that’s if you can get the case heard before your thirty days are up. Because rest assured, if you sue for custody, I will delay you in every way possible.”

      Her ponytail swung out parallel to the floor as she pivoted abruptly and slammed the door behind her.

      Mitch swore. It didn’t help that she was right. His attorneys had told him the same thing. He’d counted on her being as greedy as her sister and wanting fast cash.

      Instead, he had no doubt Carly Corbin was in it to milk him for the long haul. And he had no choice but to accede to her absurd demands.

      But he had every intention of winning this battle and he’d do whatever it took to come out on top.

      “There’s no place like home,” Carly muttered under her breath. “There’s certainly no place like this one.”

      She stood in the circular driveway Saturday morning staring up at the expansive ivory-stone facade of Kincaid Manor. The place looked like a castle that had been yanked out of the English countryside and dropped into a Miami gated community.

      She’d had to stop and give her name at a guardhouse to get into the neighborhood, and then talk to a disembodied voice at a second set of elaborate iron gates. Those gates had glided shut behind her, locking her inside the Kincaid compound the moment her car had passed through.

      Sunlight glinted off a multitude of windows on a steeply roofed two-story structure the length of your average strip mall. Shrubbery pruned to the nth degree surrounded the foundation and fenced the sidewalk as if intended to keep visitors from straying onto the perfectly manicured emerald lawn.

      Not exactly ideal for a growing boy whose only speeds were asleep and wide open, but Carly’s attorney had instructed her to make nice and play along while they explored their legal options. For Rhett’s sake, she could put up with just about anything.

      Hours after she’d left the KCL offices, Mitch had called, “invited” her to stay and given her directions to Kincaid Manor. Carly had immediately sat down and developed a step-by-step plan to bond the Kincaid offspring. She’d work on Mitch first, then she’d tackle his brother, Rand.

      “Let’s hope the palace is childproofed, buddy.”

      Rhett squirmed in her arms and babbled a reply. She set him down and herded him toward the porch. He toddled away with a childish giggle.

      The imposing lead-glass front door opened, framing Mitch Kincaid. How appropriate. The lord of the manor had deigned to oversee their arrival. But he didn’t step out to greet them. He waited, arms folded, while she helped Rhett scramble up the stairs on his hands and knees.

      Even though it was the weekend, Mitch wore a suit—this one stark black with a blinding white shirt and a ruby tie. Did the man ever unwind?

      Mitch barely glanced at Rhett. “You brought your things?”

      Before she could stop him, Rhett bolted across the porch and wrapped his little arms around his half brother’s thigh. Her nephew never met a stranger.

      Mitch stiffened.

      Was that a flash of panic Carly detected in his eyes? Of course not. Who would be scared of an adorable child? She must have mistaken annoyance for fear.

      Rhett grasped two chubby fists in the immaculate fabric of Mitch’s trousers and bounced, demanding, “Up. Up. Pig me up.”

      Step one in getting these two to know each other: Mitch might as well learn from the get-go that once Rhett started that song and dance, it wouldn’t end until he got what he wanted.

      “My minivan’s loaded. I wanted to get Rhett settled before I started schlepping our luggage.”

      “Ingrid,” Mitch spoke over his shoulder. “Take the boy to the nursery while I show Ms. Corbin to her suite.”

      A stacked and stunning blonde in snug hipster jeans and an even tighter, belly-showing T-shirt appeared behind him. The hand she placed on Mitch’s lean waist as she ducked around him in the wide doorway was far too familiar for an employee, and her long acrylic nails were likely to put someone’s eye out. “Come on, little Brett.”

      “Rhett,” Carly corrected automatically and stepped between the woman and Rhett at the same time Mitch shifted.

      Carly and Mitch collided. Her hip ended up aligned with his rock-hard thigh and her shoulder pressed the equally firm wall of his chest. She inhaled sharply, and Mitch’s cologne filled her nose. A flood of warmth and awareness swept through her. She stomped on the unwanted response and focused on the problem. The other problem. “Who are you?”

      The blonde tossed her long hair over her shoulder and smiled intimately at Mitch before replying, “I’m Rhett’s nanny.”

      With a face and body like that, I’ll just bet you are.

      Carly glared at Mitch, then bent to pry Rhett’s stubby fingers from the lord of the manor’s pants. Mitch’s muscles contracted beneath her touch as she maneuvered. She could feel body heat radiating through the summer-weight fabric, and it almost scorched her. And being at eye level with his crotch was…distracting to say the least.

      She finally freed her wiggly nephew and scooped him up. “I told you Rhett didn’t need a nanny.”

      “Who will watch him while you’re working? Or do you intend to quit your job and live off my largesse?” The superior way he intoned the words and looked down at her, as if he expected her to freeload off him, set her teeth on edge.

      “I’m not quitting my job. I’ll watch Rhett when I’m here, and when I’m at work Lucy, his regular day-care provider, will watch him.”

      “And when you go out in the evening?”

      Carly blinked. “You mean on a date?”

      He lowered that square chin a fraction of an inch.

      “I don’t date.”

      Mitch’s eyes narrowed. “You mean you’re not seeing anyone at the moment. But that will change.”

      She hadn’t dated since Marlene died and she had no inclination to wade back into the muddy dating waters again anytime soon. But she wasn’t admitting that to Mitch and his playmate.

      “If I want to go out, I’ll hire a babysitter.”

      “Unnecessary. Ingrid will take