Bound by the Kincaid Baby / The Millionaire's Miracle

Carly looked at her adorable nephew and her chest ached. “Oh, Rhett. What are we going to do? I can’t lose you.”

She dampened a washcloth and attacked his messy hands and face. “But you deserve a share of your daddy’s estate. And I’m going to see that you get it.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Marie, Mitch’s personal assistant, said from the boardroom entrance, “but there’s a Carly Corbin downstairs insisting on seeing you. She doesn’t have an appointment.”

About time.

“Show her to my office.” After Marie left, Mitch stood and looked down the table at his brother. “Three days. It took her three days to cave. The question is how much is this little bastard going to cost us? I’ll be back.”

Rand waved him on. “Take your time. I’ll handle the next applicant for Nadia’s position and then grab lunch.”

The damned will had left Mitch with an interminable number of complications. His sister had been banished to Dallas to house-sit as required by her inheritance clause. Her sudden absence only increased his workload. He had to find her temporary replacement, and he had his brother’s help whether he wanted it or not, thanks to dear ol’ dad making Rand CEO instead of Mitch. That irritated Mitch like a sliver of glass stuck in his foot.

Rand had abandoned the business. Hell, his brother hadn’t even spoken to anyone in the family in five years. Five years during which Mitch had busted his ass to prove he was worthy of taking the reins of KCL when his father retired.

But Dad had wanted Rand back and in charge.

Mitch entered his office through the connecting door to the boardroom. Before he could sit down Marie showed in his guest.

Carly barely acknowledged his presence with a brief nod before her wide brown eyes gazed past him to scan the thirty-foot wall of windows and the view of Biscayne Bay behind him.

He stiffened. Women didn’t overlook him. It wasn’t conceit to admit that his wealth wasn’t his only asset. But Carly didn’t seem interested in his face or body. Ignoring the jab to his pride, he took advantage of her inattention to assess her.

Her features weren’t classically beautiful. But close enough. Her breasts were decent. Neither too big nor too small. Probably real. She wore a bubble gum-pink tracksuit with black stripes down the length of her legs. Killer legs, he recalled from their last meeting. Too bad she’d covered them today. Getting another look would have been a nice bonus to closing the deal.

Overall, Carly was nice-looking. Not traffic-stopping. But interesting. Until she smiled. That smile of hers could melt bricks. She wasn’t smiling today.

Since she was an identical twin, he could see why his father had been attracted to her sister. But damnation, couldn’t the man have practiced safe sex after preaching about it for decades? Or had Marlene Corbin had something to do with the birth control failure? Mitch would bet money on it. His father had made a number of mistakes, but he hadn’t been stupid.

Carly’s gaze finally returned to Mitch. A weird paralysis seized his lungs. He fought it off. “Do we have a deal, Ms. Corbin?”

“Rhett can move into Kincaid Manor,” she stated matter-of-factly.

Victory surged through him. He pulled his checkbook from his interior coat pocket. “Excell—”

“But only if I come with him.”

His fingers contracted around his pen. “Excuse me?”

“You exude about as much warmth as dry ice, Kincaid. Children need more than that.”

His spine went rigid at the insult. “I know how to handle kids.”

“Really? Because I didn’t see evidence of that the other day. You didn’t even try to make a connection with your brother.”

“Half brother, as you pointed out. There wasn’t time.”

“Eye contact and a smile only take a second.”

She had him there. “And your price?”

“I don’t want your money.”

Yeah, like he believed that. What game was she playing? “What of your home? You’ll leave it vacant?”

“I can rent it for enough to cover the mortgage.”

Her plan shouldn’t have surprised him. In his experience, women were always looking for a free ride. In Carly’s case, Kincaid Manor would be like a spa vacation compared to the in-need-of-renovation structure she inhabited. “Your presence isn’t required.”

“Rhett stays with me, his guardian. And since my attorney says you only had thirty days from the reading of the will to begin fulfilling your part of your father’s demands or forfeit your inheritance, you’re going to have to come to terms with the package deal sooner rather than later.”

Nineteen of those days had passed. Days during which Mitch had employed two teams of lawyers to try to find a loophole in the will. When they’d failed, he’d spent more time hiring a nanny and trying to find out what he could about Carly Corbin. If Carly hadn’t come to him by tomorrow, he would have gone after her.

“I would imagine you have my number since you have everything else.” She backed toward the door.

“Carly, how much do you want?” He signed a blank check and then slid it and his pen across the desk. “You fill in the amount. Whatever you feel is fair.”

Without even glancing at the pen and check, she observed him as if he were three-day-old July roadkill. “You just don’t get it, do you, Kincaid?”

He linked his hands behind his back, hoping to appear casual instead of frustrated and irritated and damn near desperate. “Then perhaps you’ll enlighten me.”

“This isn’t about money. It’s about a little boy and what’s best for him. It’s always about doing what’s best for the child. Always. In this case, you’re not it.”

“The boy will lack for nothing.”

“Materially. And his name is Rhett.”

Mitch struggled to rein in his temper, but his entire head grew hot. “Rhett will have the best of care.”

Angry color stained Carly’s cheeks and sparked in her eyes, making her look even more attractive. She approached his desk, planted her hands on the polished surface and leaned toward him. “Who will hold him when he’s cranky? Who’ll kiss his boo-boos and rock him when he has a nightmare? Who will tell him about his mother? And who will make sure he knows he was loved 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 over.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Even if I went out every night of the week—which I won’t—that wouldn’t justify a full-time nanny’s salary.” She turned to the bottled, navel-ringed blonde. “Sorry, Ingrid. Nothing personal. But Rhett just lost his mother, and he’s moving into a strange house. That’s enough changes for one little guy to make right now.”

“He’ll adapt,” Mitch snarled quietly.

Carly tipped her head back and held his gaze without blinking. “The way I see it, Kincaid, I hold all the cards. I have nothing to gain by moving in here and you have everything to lose if we don’t.”

Of course, Rhett would lose, too. But his safety was her primary concern. Not even a billion-plus bucks would make her overlook his well-being. She wasn’t going to leave him in the care of Mitch’s horny, dragon-clawed girlfriend.

She felt a bit unfair for judging the woman by her looks, but after interviewing dozens of day-care providers with Marlene, Carly had learned to tell almost instantly which ones had a rapport with children. Ingrid did not. She was almost as cold and detached as her boss—until she looked at Mitch. Then she looked ready to get XXX-rated hot.

Mitch’s nostrils flared and his lips flatlined. He looked angry enough to bend horseshoes with his bare hands or maybe his clenched teeth. “Ingrid, please wait for me in the living room. I’ll join you after Ms. Corbin and I have discussed your qualifications.”

38-24-34. Oh yeah, those were serious qualifications.

But not for child care.

“I’ll show you to your room.” Mitch turned and stalked across an Italian marble foyer almost as large as the entire first floor of Carly’s house.

He hadn’t agreed to her terms, but Carly, curious to see more of the mansion and where Mitch intended to put them, followed him anyway. The staircase rose from the center of the polished flagstone floor like a water fountain arching in opposite directions at the top. Carly’s gaze stuck to the flexing muscles of his butt like a fly to flypaper as he climbed.

No way. She couldn’t find him attractive. Not after all Marlene had told her. She was merely one athlete admiring another’s well-toned physique. Right?

Shifting her gaze from the glutei maximi ahead of her, she trailed her host. The walk through the gallery, past antique furniture and paintings that looked as if they belonged in a museum, seemed to take forever. “Good grief, how big is this place?”

“Fifteen thousand square feet,” he replied, turning down a long hall. A set of double doors marked the end, but he stopped short of them and pushed open a door on the right.

“Your suite.”

Carly brushed past him. Her shoulder grazed his chest. She cursed the frisson of goose bumps the small contact caused.

Surprised, she turned a slow circle, taking in the tasteful lavender, white and mint decor that included a curtained four-poster bed, ornate French furniture and plum-colored rugs. The room looked like a decorating magazine snapshot. Perfect down to the last detail. As much as Kincaid seemed to resent her presence, she’d expected to be stuck in a closet somewhere or maybe the servants’ quarters.

“Me down,” Rhett demanded and squirmed in her arms.

“Not yet, buddy.” Not until she’d moved the expensive-looking breakables out of his reach.

She crossed to the bay window and knelt on its cushioned window seat to look into the backyard. Her mouth dropped open. People actually lived like this?

The formal gardens between her window and the opposite side of the U-shaped house looked elaborate enough for a government monument or a movie set, and whoever had designed them had been fond of rulers. All straight lines. Not one single curve. The roses probably even grew square petals.

An expansive tiled patio stretched across the base of the U, complete with a square water fountain and spouting Poseidon statue. The grassy area immediately off the patio contained, of all things, a koi pond. Beyond the fish, rigid rows of shrubs flanked an Olympic-length pool that reached all the way to a seawall, boat dock, yacht and what looked like two hundred feet of waterfront.

“We’re going to have to keep Rhett away from all that water.”

“I’ll order fencing and safety locks immediately.”

Crossing to a door, she pushed it open to reveal a luxurious bathroom straight out of a hedonist’s fantasies. A glass shower. A tub big enough to accommodate four. A marble-topped vanity as long as a bed. Shaking her head at the opulence, she returned to the bedroom and opened a second door to reveal a closet the size of her bedroom back home. But she didn’t see a crib or connecting door to a nursery.

She rejoined Mitch. “Where’s Rhett’s room?”

He nodded toward the window, indicating the opposite wing of the house. “In the east wing.”

“I won’t be able to hear him from here.”

“That’s why we have Ingrid.”

“We don’t have Ingrid. You have Ingrid.”

His eyes narrowed to green slits. “What are you implying?”

“Your girlfriend is not looking after Rhett.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Oh please. She almost slipped her hand in your pocket for a quick grope downstairs.”

His chin jacked up. He closed the distance between them in three long strides and stared down at her with what would have been intimidating ferocity if she didn’t work with professional athletes on a regular basis. She’d become immune to the psyche-out glare.

“I don’t keep mistresses in my home.”

“But you do keep them. Or in this case, her.”

Before he could argue, Rhett launched himself at Mitch, startling Carly so much she almost dropped the imp. Kincaid’s only choice was too catch him. Rhett clamped his hands around his half brother’s neck and planted a slobbery kiss on his cheek.

The horror in the lord of the manor’s eyes made Carly snort with laughter. Okay, so that had been a wet kiss. A little disgust was warranted. She released Rhett’s lower half and her nephew shimmied up his brother like a monkey does a tree.

Mitch closed his eyes. The muscles in his jaw knotted—along with every other muscle group she could see. What was going on? He acted as if he couldn’t bear to hold the child.

“Take him.” He ground out the words.

Confused by his weird behavior, Carly hesitated. Rhett couldn’t possibly be more adorable. And he was clean. He didn’t even have a dirty diaper.

Mitch thrust Rhett back at her. Frowning, Carly took him. “You want to be his guardian? How are you going to do that when you can’t even handle holding him? What is your problem, Kincaid?”

Boy, did she have her work cut out for her in bringing these two together.

Mitch scowled. “I don’t have a problem other than a stubborn guest. I’ll show you the nursery.”

Carly shook her head and stood her ground. “Rhett and I are not sleeping a football field apart. Either you bring his crib in here or I’m staying in the nursery.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Carly held Mitch’s gaze. After a moment’s standoff, he huffed an aggravated breath, crossed the room to an intercom system imbedded in the wall and punched a button. “Mrs. Duncan, please have the nursery furniture transferred to the blue suite.”

Mitch turned and scowled at Carly. “Satisfied?”

“That depends. Let’s see the blue room.”

He stalked across the hall and threw open the opposite door. Carly followed more slowly, making sure not to brush against him this time when she entered. Mitch made it easy by staying out of Rhett’s reach.

Shades of blue from powder to midnight turned the room into a peaceful sanctuary. Like hers, the suite had a connecting bath and a closet large enough to be Rhett’s playroom. “It’s beautiful, and if I leave the doors open at night, I’ll be able to hear him.”

A look she couldn’t identify flickered in Mitch’s eyes. “Fine. Now if you’ll hand the b—Rhett—over to Ingrid, we’ll have lunch before moving your things inside.”

“No Ingrid.”

“She is not my lover.”

“She wants to be.”

A smug smile slanted his lips, and her stomach sank like a wet sandbag. He could charm the birds from the trees with that smile. She hoped he didn’t aim it at her very often.

He tilted his head, his green gaze traveled down the length of Carly’s body, then slowly returned. Her skin tingled and her nipples tightened in the wake of his inspection. “It disturbs you that she wants me?”

Carly stiffened at his implication that she might be jealous. “There’s no accounting for tastes. You can sleep with her and each of the Miami Dolphins cheerleaders solely or en masse for all I care, but I’m not having the woman in charge of Rhett’s safety concentrating on getting into your pants when she should be watching him.”

The smile vanished. “Ingrid came highly recommended from a business associate.”

“Then she won’t have trouble finding another job.” He opened his mouth—presumably to argue. She held up her hand to cut him off. “Mitch, this one’s nonnegotiable.”

“Apparently, many things are nonnegotiable with you.”

“I’m not afraid to fight for what I want.” She had been once, and she’d paid the price ever since.

“Like your sister.” His tone made the comment an insult.

Fury, pain and panic hit her like a barrage of arrows. She gritted her teeth and blinked away the sting in her eyes, but she refused to engage in this particular war of words. He couldn’t know about Marlene’s plan. Her sister hadn’t been the type to broadcast her secrets. Not even to her twin. And Carly had no intention of giving Mitch Kincaid ammunition by sharing what she knew.

“Deal or no deal, Kincaid?”

After a few tense moments Mitch nodded once. “No Ingrid.”

Carly exhaled. She’d won the battle, but she had a feeling she’d unintentionally declared war against a man her sister had claimed didn’t fight fair.

Two

Carly’s plan to turn Mitch into a family man wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d hoped. She hadn’t expected to have to start with a man who couldn’t bear to touch the child.

Tomorrow she’d have to reassess the stages of Mitch’s conversion and possibly break the process down into smaller achievable increments. As if she were training an athlete for a marathon she’d set daily and weekly goals toward attaining the ultimate objective by the end of the year. She wanted Mitch to love Rhett as much as she did. Nothing less would do.