No Ring Required: Millionaire's Calculated Baby Bid. Laura Wright

it that way.

      He punched the intercom button. “Marylyn, when Miss Kelley arrives, have her join me on the roof.”

      There was a slight pause on the other end of the line. Marylyn had never heard such a request, but she recovered quickly. “Yes, sir. Of course.”

      Ethan glanced at the clock. Three thirty-one. Where the hell was she? He stalked over to the elevator and stabbed the button. Mary Kelley was a strong-willed, business-first, no-nonsense type of person—not unlike himself. But if she worked for him, she’d be fired by now.

      He was not generally a nervous man. He didn’t pace, worry or stress before a deal was done. If a client didn’t perform or comply the way he wanted them to, he finessed the situation, made it work to his advantage. However, as he rode his private elevator the short distance to the roof, his gut continued to contract painfully, just like it had the day his father had informed him that his mother had taken up with a new man and wasn’t coming back.

      Ethan walked out of the elevator and onto the rooftop, for which he had hired a world-renowned landscape architect and two botanists to transform into his escape three years ago. The courtyard opened to a Moroccan-tiled fountain and several ancient sculptures, while to the left was a sun terrace, complete with bar and circular planters filled with flax, pyracantha and perennials to keep the urban scene colorful year-round. Red bougainvillea covered several of the arched trellises, and cherry trees flanked the central walkway. It was a strange mixture of ease and exotic, and it suited Ethan perfectly.

      He sensed her, smelled her, before he saw her. Fresh, soapy—yes, he remembered. The lower half of him contracted as his mind played the ever-present film of those nights in July over again. Ethan saw himself lying on top of her, buried deep inside of her, his mouth on hers as he breathed in her scent and she moaned and writhed like a wildcat.

      He glanced over his shoulder to see her walking toward him. She was average height, average build, but Mary Kelley possessed two things that would make any man stop dead in his tracks and stare. Long, toned, sexy-as-hell legs that he could practically feel wrapped around his waist at this moment, and pale blue eyes that turned up at the corners, like a cat’s. “You’re late.”

      She didn’t respond. “What’s all this, Mr. Curtis?” she said, looking around the garden seemingly unimpressed. “Your bat cave?”

      As well as the legs and the eyes, she also had a sharp tongue.

      “A sanctuary.”

      Her brows drew together as she sat in the chair opposite him, the skirt of her pale blue Chanel suit sliding upward to just a few inches above her knees. The late-afternoon sun hit her full force, her blond hair appearing almost white. “And what do you need sanctuary from? All the people you’ve screwed over this week?”

      Yes, a very sharp tongue, though he remembered that it could also be soft and wet. “You think I thrive on making life difficult for others?”

      “I think it may be your life’s blood.”

      There was no disputing the fact that she disliked him. No, he could see that clearly. What he couldn’t make out from her attitude was if she was carrying his child or not, and that was the one thing he desperately wanted to know.

      He walked over to the bar. “Drink?”

      She nodded. “Thank you.”

      “Anything in particular? Martini, soda?” That would give him his answer.

      “Something cold would be nice. It’s pretty warm.”

      “You’re going to make me work for this, aren’t you?”

      “Would you really appreciate it any other way?” she said brusquely.

      “Martini?”

      “Lemonade would be great if you have it. I’m driving.”

      “Mary—”

      “Do you think you deserve an easy answer, Mr. Curtis?” she interrupted coldly. “Think back to how we got here.”

      He had done nothing but, for the past four weeks, though not in the same way as she, clearly. “We made an agreement.”

      She laughed bitterly. “Is that what you’d call it? You blackmailed me and I gave in. Maybe gave up is a better way to put it.”

      Ethan abandoned the drinks and went to stand before her. Her cat eyes were blazing hatred, and her claws were out, but he didn’t give a damn if she was angry. He wanted one thing and one thing only, and he would go to any lengths necessary to get it.

      “Are you pregnant?” he asked bluntly.

      It took her a moment to answer. Several emotions crossed her face, and her breathing seemed shallow and slightly labored before she finally nodded. “Yes.”

      Ethan turned away, his heart pounding like a jack-hammer. He’d wanted this but had never believed it possible. He had no idea how to react.

      “You’ll drop all charges against my father,” Mary said, her tone nonemotional.

      He stood there, his back to her. “Of course.”

      “And you won’t interfere in my life until the baby is born.”

      He opened his mouth to agree, then paused. He turned to face her again. “I don’t know if can do that.”

      “That was our agreement,” Mary countered, coming to her feet, her gaze fierce. “Do you not even have one ounce of honor in your blood, Mr. Curtis? Where the hell did you grow up, under a rock?”

      She didn’t know where he came from, couldn’t know, but her words struck him hard and he frowned. “I will keep my word.”

      Seemingly satisfied, Mary grabbed her purse and started for the elevator. “Good.”

      “But there’s one condition,” Ethan called after her.

      She whirled around, held his gaze without blinking. “There were no conditions.”

      “This has nothing to do with my child, Mary. This is business.”

      “I was under the impression that the child was business,” she said dryly.

      Despite the dig, Ethan pressed on. “I want to hire you.”

      She looked confused for a moment, then broke out laughing bitterly. “Never.”

      “You’d turn away business so you don’t have to be around me? I thought you were way tougher than that.”

      “I have enough business. I don’t need yours.”

      The foolishness of that statement made him smile. “Being the heads of two successful companies, we both know that’s not true.”

      “Look,” she began impatiently, “my deal with you is done. Unless you plan to go back on your word and not drop the charges—”

      “No,” he cut in firmly. “But perhaps you also want that sculpture your father risked so much to retrieve?”

      “I couldn’t give a damn.”

      “No, but your father does.” He gestured to the courtyard and the small sculpture of a woman and child that Hugh Kelley had almost gone to jail for. It had been a gift from the Harringtons, part of their courtship when Ethan took over the company. They’d hated him for buying controlling shares in Harrington Corp., but the company was floundering under their care, and because they still wanted to be involved, they’d forced themselves to act nicely. If Ethan had known the rare sculpture belonged to a family member, he probably would’ve rejected the piece. For as much as he wanted to be accepted and welcomed into the old money of Minneapolis, he hated family drama. He hadn’t been too keen on having Hugh Kelley arrested for wanting the sculpture back, either, but he also wouldn’t allow breaking and entering at his company for any reason.

      “Why are you doing this?” Mary