Pregnant By The Billionaire. Karen Booth

good. That’s great. Thank you. I’m happy to hear that.” She smiled, bringing a beautiful blush to her cheeks. It made him want to only do things that made her smile. But then she pushed her hair behind her ear with her left hand and he was reminded that he had zero business thinking of Kendall that way.

      “So. Engaged, huh? That must’ve happened recently. I mean, I hope it’s a recent thing.” Sawyer gave free passes on most personal choices—he simply wasn’t judgmental. But if she had been unfaithful to someone, with him, that crossed the line. He hoped to hell she could be trusted.

      “I’m not discussing my ring, Mr. Locke. We’re having a business meeting. Surely you can appreciate that.”

      “First off, please don’t call me Mr. Locke. Considering our history, I think we’re past the point of calling each other by our last names.”

      “Okay, then, Sawyer.” Damn, he loved hearing her say his first name. “I’m not discussing the ring. Frankly, it’s none of your business.”

      “Ah, but it is my business. I need to know I can trust the person I’ll be working with for the next three months.” He hated the thought that he might come to regret his night with Kendall. He wanted to think it had been a good decision to learn how impossibly soft her skin was, or what it felt like to have her gasp in his ear when he’d brought her to her peak.

      “Are you implying that I somehow deceived you?”

      “We made love six weeks ago. I’d feel a lot better knowing your fiancé wasn’t in the picture then. I don’t pursue taken women. The thought of it makes me cringe.” That much was true. He’d lived through infidelity. He’d endured that violation of trust, and he didn’t take it lightly.

      She pursed her lips. “Fine, then. If you must know, the ring is a very recent development in my life.”

      “How recent?”

      “Very. But for our purposes, it’s merely a reminder that we are nothing but business associates.”

      He’d leave it alone for now. She was putting up walls that said to back off. That was enough. “Got it.”

      “So, what’s your timetable?”

      “The reopening gala is New Year’s Eve.”

      “It’s October 7. We don’t have much time.”

      “Indeed.” Brought back to earth, Sawyer again felt the weight of the responsibilities waiting for him—dealing with the contractors, trying to see if there was a way to get through to his dad, and hoping that, somehow, Kendall Ross would ultimately be his savior and help him pull off the impossible—a flawless reopening of the Grand Legacy Hotel.

      “Can you give me a tour of the hotel? I need to see it as soon as possible.”

      Sawyer had a ridiculous schedule tomorrow, but getting Kendall up to speed was of paramount importance. Plus, the thought of time with her sounded like a vast improvement over what would otherwise simply be more things he didn’t feel like dealing with.

      “Can you meet me there at ten tomorrow morning? I’ll send a car to your office.”

      “I’m perfectly capable of taking a cab or the subway.”

      “I have no doubt about that.”

      She shook her head. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m good.”

      “Fine. I’m not about to argue with you.”

      She stood and smiled, nearly knocking the breath from his chest. It would take some time to get used to working in such close proximity to Kendall. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

      “Tomorrow.” He shook her hand, which felt odd. Considering what had happened between them six weeks ago, his departure warranted something closer to an embrace and a kiss on the cheek.

      He walked outside, relieved that the PR was now sewn up, but conflicted about everything else. He couldn’t stop wondering about her fiancé—who he was, and more specifically, how he’d swept her off her feet in such a short amount of time. Judging by the rock on her hand, the guy had money. Did Sawyer know him? He really hoped not. What did he look like? What did he do? And why was this bothering him so much?

      He climbed into the back of his waiting town car and pulled out his phone to call his brother. He needed to get his mind on work and off Kendall, which would be a near impossibility now that she was on the project. But the reality was she’d never called him after their night together, and judging by the cool composure she’d radiated during their meeting, she’d done it with good reason.

      Starting with the ring.

       Three

      Kendall stepped out of a cab in front of the Grand Legacy Hotel in midtown Manhattan a few blocks from the touristy chaos of Times Square. Fall leaves fluttered down the city street, a mix of drizzle and cool wind whipped at her cheeks. From somewhere beyond the hotel entrance came a buzz of saws and clamoring of metal against metal.

      She walked into the shadow of the looming building she’d seen a few times before in passing. Right now, it didn’t look like much—obscured by a maze of metal scaffolding, a tall chain-link fence and a temporary facade of gray, painted plywood. Four intimidating muscle-bound men dressed in black, wearing wraparound sunglasses and earpieces stood sentry at the entrance, sending a clear message: no trespassing. Kendall couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to mess with those guys. Whoever had taken the pictures that appeared in the Times had risked life and limb to do so. After researching the Locke family and the hotel last night, she had to wonder if Sawyer’s dad was behind that story. From where Kendall sat, the passing of the hotel to Sawyer couldn’t have gone over well.

      “Good morning,” Kendall said to the least menacing of the security guys. “I’m here for Sawyer Locke. He’s expecting me.” Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a security camera panning in her direction. Sawyer was probably sitting inside behind a massive desk, a wall of TV monitors allowing him to survey his kingdom.

      “Yes, ma’am. Mr. Locke is waiting for you inside. I’ll walk you in.” The man opened a ramshackle, temporary door and Kendall followed him into an area stacked high with building materials. “You’re going to need this.” He reached into a bin and pulled out a yellow construction helmet, handing it to her.

      “Is this really necessary?” I’m having a spectacular hair day.

      “Mr. Locke’s orders.”

      “But you aren’t wearing one.”

      “Most of us aren’t, but Mr. Locke insisted you do.” He opened one side of a glass double door cloaked in dirty construction paper. The hotel’s revolving door was closed off with caution tape.

      Kendall grumbled under her breath, putting the helmet on her head. Yellow was so not the right color for a redhead who avoided the sun at all costs. Was this Sawyer’s way of getting in a dig after she’d refused to fess up about the ring? He had to know how stupid she would feel.

      They walked into what she could only assume was the lobby. The floors were blanketed in a patchwork of heavy paper. Sawdust was everywhere. Her pumps were going to be filthy by the time she left. Workers milled about, and the noises that had seemed loud outside were practically deafening. Judging by everything she was seeing, the newspaper story had been correct—this project was nowhere close to completion.

      “Where do I find Mr. Locke?” she called out above the noise.

      “Over there,” the man yelled, but then he pointed to one of the workers.

      “No. I need Mr. Locke.” Kendall screamed in as ladylike a fashion as possible, while scanning the room for the hunky billionaire in a killer suit.

      “He’s right there,” he replied, annoyed.

      All