Wed to the Texan / Taming Clint Westmoreland. Brenda Jackson

hitting her.

      How could he! He had married her to get Hubert Braden’s fortune! The only reason Jake wanted a baby was to make more money. The same went for her, too—he only wanted her to stay so he could claim his inheritance.

      Her stomach roiled and she felt sick, running into the bathroom to lose what little dinner she’d eaten the night before. She ran a washcloth under the tap and then wiped her face and her hands with it.

      The enormity of his deception stunned her. Their entire relationship was built on lies. She looked at the letter again, skimming over it as if touching a wound—“…delighted to see the pictures of…the nursery you have ready…”

      She remembered a very late night in June, two months after their wedding, when she was in Jake’s arms and he suggested they get a nursery ready.

      “Em, we’re trying to start our family. Let’s go ahead and furnish a nursery.”

      She had remained silent so long that he raised himself to look down at her. “Cat got your tongue?” he asked.

      She drew her fingers across his chest, relishing the taut muscles. “Jake, I guess it’s superstition, but I’m a little leery of getting a nursery ready before I’m pregnant. It’s sort of tempting Fate. We’ll have almost nine months once I find out I’m pregnant.”

      His smile was warm, irresistible. He combed long tendrils of hair from her face, stirring faint tingles. “Nonsense!” He nuzzled her cheek and raised his head again. “It’ll be fun. Let’s get one ready. We both had physicals before we married and were told we could have a family. I want to get the nursery ready now.”

      “You sound as if you already have a theme in mind,” she said, thinking how he had to control every facet of his life.

      “Not at all,” he answered easily, caressing her throat and letting his hand slide lower. “I’m leaving the design and decor totally up to you. You can run it past me, but I trust your choices.”

      “If we wait, we’ll know whether we’re decorating for a girl or boy,” she argued, uneasy about establishing a nursery before she was pregnant. Not even Jake’s optimism could squelch her fears.

      “There are all sorts of appealing themes that would work for either a boy or girl. You’ll work that out with a decorator. Money’s no object. I’ll talk to a contractor and we’ll have a door put in the wall that opens to the bedroom next to this one if you want the nursery close to our room.”

      “Of course I do! I’ll probably have a crib in here for a while.”

      “Maybe,” he said, showering light kisses on her throat and muddling her concentration of their discussion. “I’ll call a contractor tomorrow and get furniture moved out of that room so when you have a decorator, it’ll be ready.”

      “Jake, this just gives me the most uneasy feeling. I’ll worry every time I pass the room.”

      “Scaredy-cat,” he teased. “We’ll get it ready, then close the door on it. You don’t need to see it or go into it. You can forget it’s there.”

      “Then why have it?”

      “To humor me,” he answered, brushing kisses lower over her breasts at the edge of the sheet. His breath was warm and her nipples were taut, desire flaring again. She was constantly amazed how easily he could get her aroused, but she was equally surprised how effortlessly she could get Jake hard and ready. Her leg was thrown over him and she could feel his arousal.

      “You are so sexy,” she whispered, biting his shoulder lightly. She nuzzled his neck, while her hand slipped beneath the sheet to run over his thigh.

      Inhaling deeply, Jake had moved lower with his kisses. She’d felt his hot breath on her nipple through the sheet seconds before he’d pushed the sheet away to kiss her. He’d run his tongue over her taut bud, destroying all conversation.

      Staring into space now, Emily reflected on those early months. A kaleidoscope of memories flashed in her mind—Jake constantly asking if she’d hired a decorator or started on the nursery, threatening to do so himself and finally prodding her into picking out a nursery-rhyme theme with characters from the old stories and poems. When the room was finished, she remembered his pleasure—he’d even taken digital pictures of the room. Now she understood why. Those pictures had been e-mailed to Hubert Braden, to convince him that Jake had settled with a wife and they were trying to have a baby.

      Did he ever intend to tell her, or was he planning on getting the inheritance and letting her think that Hubert Braden had simply named him his primary heir?

      She was certain that Jake would never have admitted his deception. Every kiss was a lie.

      Revolted, she shook with rage. She should have known—she knew only too well how driven Jake was, after all. She’d watched him work, seen the drive that allowed no room for failure, seen it consume his time and energy and concentration. Why had she been so naive? She’d known she was dealing with a tiger whose natural instincts were to satisfy himself above all else. Acquiring money was what Jake thrived on.

      Hubert Braden probably wouldn’t approve of Jake getting a divorce. He’d seemed inordinately pleased by their marriage, and now she understood why Jake was fighting to keep her. A half a million dollars to stay was an insignificant investment for him, yet he knew it would dazzle her. She wouldn’t be able to turn him down. His declarations of affection, his request that she give them a chance to fall in love—all lies!

      Tears of anger and frustration streamed down Emily’s cheeks. Never in her life had she felt so betrayed and exploited.

      Jake the Snake. The nickname fit. Rage blazed in her, growing with every passing minute. She realized now why he’d wanted to marry her in the first place. He must have seen her as the naive secretary, impressed by him. He’d probably thought she’d be so blinded by his money, she’d do whatever he wanted. Jake was calculating and shrewd, and she was certain he’d thought it all out. Society women would make far more monetary demands on him than she would.

      She was angry with herself for being so gullible and trusting Jake completely. How dare Jake deceive her! And why did he have to have the inheritance? Why did he want it badly enough to delude her about it? He was already a billionaire—why did he want so much more? She knew he thrived on wealth and he equated money with success. But how greedy was he?

      Later, when Jake had Hubert’s money, had he planned on dumping her and keeping his child? Or would he get rid of them both? She suspected there were only two things in life Jake truly loved—himself and money. Was he scrambling to be the world’s richest man? If he had political ambitions, they had to be presidential. Jake would never settle for anything less than the highest possible office.

      Well, he could keep his half million. She was getting out of this marriage. She never wanted to see Jake again.

      Unable to remain still, she rushed to the closet for a suitcase. She was getting out of Jake’s life and she couldn’t go fast enough. Their marriage was over.

      Packing furiously, she knew when she walked out of his life, she would leave most everything he’d given her behind. She glanced at the letter and yanked it up. She made the bed, smoothing away every wrinkle in the expensive gold-and-white satin duvet, propping elegant gold-and-white accent pillows across the bed. With care, she placed the letter in the center of the bed where Jake couldn’t miss it or its implications.

      She suspected Jake would try to hold her to her promise to stay for six more months as his wife. He’d probably include sex in that bargain, too. But she didn’t want Jake’s baby anymore. Thank heaven she wasn’t pregnant.

      Or was she?

      Memories of their lovemaking just hours earlier rose to haunt her. She pressed a palm to her flat tummy, suddenly scared that she might already be carrying his baby. She swayed and closed her eyes, praying that she wasn’t. Surely, if she hadn’t gotten pregnant in all this time…

      “Please,”