The Magnate's Baby Promise / Having The Billionaire's Baby. Sandra Hyatt

away, refusing to meet his eyes, barely managing a “thank you.” Inside, she tried to squelch the spurt of panic but reality crashed in. If she wanted to save Jindalee, she had no other choice.

      She rubbed her cheek, surprised at the heat beneath her hand. There was no denying her body’s reaction to his simple touch. She wanted him. Even after just one night, after his accusations and demands, she wanted him.

      With an inward groan, she crossed her arms. “Fine. After you leave for Sydney I’ll keep you updated on the baby’s progress. Of course I will—”

      “No. I’m flying home this afternoon. You’re coming with me.”

      “Today? That wasn’t part of the deal.”

      Cal paused, as if chewing back his words with infinite patience. “Being my wife means social functions, outings, the whole shebang. Starting immediately. I’ve also booked you in to see a top paediatrician on Tuesday.”

      She frowned. “Do I have any say in this?”

      “On this, no. Which reminds me…” he flipped open his phone and dialled, exchanged a few words, then hung up. “We’ll be back here next Sunday with my team,” he said. “They’ll need a tour, plus your existing marketing and advertising strategy. I assume you do have one?”

      She straightened her shoulders with an indignant glare. “Yes.”

      “I’ve also authorised payment of your loans and any other outstanding debts.” He shoved his hands on his hips. “Anything else?”

      Howsabout you build a time machine and go back about nine weeks? The words bubbled up in her throat but she quickly swallowed them. Mutely she shook her head.

      “Ava? Are we in agreement?”

      She nearly whimpered as Cal’s deep voice flowed over her, kicking up her pulse another notch. Stop. Please stop talking, before I completely lose it. Her feet rocked, her heart hammering in her chest.

      “What happens after the baby’s born?” she said hoarsely. “What if we…decide it’s not working?” What if you decide playing daddy isn’t fun anymore? What if I end up hating you? What if you fall in love with someone? Her heart twisted for a second, surprising her.

      “Thinking about divorce before we’re even married?” He quirked one eyebrow up and she flattened her mouth until her lips hurt.

      “Yes.”

      He gave her a slow, considering look. “If that time comes, I’m open to discussing it. Not before. I’ve put a clause in the prenup to address that. But regardless of what we decide, I’m still that child’s father.”

      The underlying thread of possessiveness was undeniable. If that didn’t drop her stomach, then the “if the time comes” bit did. Of course the time would come. A country girl and a big-city billionaire were no more suited than chalk and cheese. No one these days based a marriage purely on financial gain. No one except her, that is.

      She nodded, even as perverse disappointment rioted through her. “So you’re asking me to marry you?”

      Cal dragged his eyes away from the hollow of her neck to focus on her eyes. “Does this mean you’re saying yes?”

      “Are you asking me to marry you?” she repeated, crossing her arms across her chest. Unfortunately, it only drew his attention to her breasts, which were now pushing seductively up from the deep V of her buttoned shirt.

      Cal’s words inexplicably stuck to the roof of his dry mouth. Then he suddenly recalled their earlier conversation. He hadn’t asked her. He cleared his throat. “Ava. Will you marry me?”

      She took a breath, almost as if drawing in strength. “Yes. But with stipulations.”

      “Go on.”

      She flushed but kept right on going. “Any major decisions, any changes concerning Jindalee must be first approved by me.”

      Cal frowned. “My team is better equipped to decide—”

      “This is my land, Cal.” She levelled an unwavering gaze at him. “I get the final say-so.”

      “Okay,” he conceded, finally seating himself on the arm of a sturdy one seater. “I’ll have my solicitor put it in the contract.”

      Ava stilled, waiting for a sign, anything that would let her know she was either making a colossal mistake or doing the right thing. Nothing. And as the seconds ticked by, she took another breath, then sat.

      “I plan to be a hands-on mother, which means I won’t be handing this baby over to a nanny just so I can swan off to parties with you.”

      His brief flash of surprise quickly disappeared with a cool nod. “Understood.”

      “And…” She faltered. “One more thing. The sleeping arrangements.” One eyebrow kinked up but he said nothing. Under his scrutiny she felt the traitorous heat bloom across her skin. “I don’t think it would be a good idea to…well…”

      “Have sex?” He leaned back, carefully crossing his ankle over one knee as his mouth twitched. His nonchalant amusement only deepened her embarrassment.

      “Well, yes.”

      He shrugged. “If that’s what you want.”

      Ava nodded, mortification clogging her throat. Of course it’s what she wanted. He thought she was a woman who got herself pregnant just to blackmail him. She had more self-respect than to jump into bed with a man who believed she was a common criminal.

      Yet his quick acquiescence seared the edges of her womanly pride. As she studied him, she recalled an article she’d once read…something about pregnant women being a huge turn-off for some men. She’d never pegged Cal for one of those men. But then, they’d been lovers for only one fleeting night—what did she really know about her husband-to-be?

      She felt the blood drain from her face. Her husband. To be.

      “Then it’s settled.” He leaned forward, hand outstretched and for a second she just stared at him. At his questioning look, she quickly took his hand, sealing the deal and her fate with one firm handshake.

      Yet her mind wasn’t on the deal they’d just struck—it was on the way his long fingers wrapped around hers, enveloping her in heat and…something more, something almost protective. Something that tugged at the deepest part of her, that spoke to every teenage yearning, every wish list of happy-ever-afters she’d ever made. Here was a man in every sense of the word—strong, determined, a provider. The sheer command of his very presence took her breath away.

      “Ava?”

      With a jolt she realized she still held his hand and worse, she’d been stroking it with her thumb.

      With a gasp she tried to pull back, but he refused to let her go. Instead she stood but he followed her, his hand still imprisoning hers.

      “Ava…” he trailed off, almost as if rethinking his next words.

      “Cal, please.” Please don’t? Or please do? Her head said one thing, her body another, and from the sudden awareness sparking in his dark eyes, she knew which one he’d chosen to hear.

       Please do.

      He drew her to him with all the skill and confidence of a man who knew she wouldn’t refuse. He cupped her elbows, pinning her to his chest, to that warm, hard wall of muscle beneath soft cotton that cried out to be touched, caressed. Kissed.

      She closed her eyes as heat and desire turned her brain to mush, waiting in willing anticipation for his lips to claim hers. A tremble started up in her belly, looping and swirling as she felt his warm breath gently swoop over her mouth. Her heart kicked up the tempo, beating hard in her throat, in her head. In a sharp rush, she exhaled, then…then…

      Nothing.

      “Look