The Billionaire's Fake Engagement / Man From Stallion Country

He could strangle Davidson for making a public display of such a private matter, although it seemed obvious that performance had as much to do with Joe evening a past score. Joe Davidson was a successful hydraulics engineer. When Alex won a government contract for a purifying design four months back, Joe had accused him of “following family tradition” and bribing officials.

In truth, Alex had worked like a dog to assemble the right people with the right knowledge at the right price. That’s what he did best. He seized opportunities and made them work.

Her brow pinched, Natalie absently touched one pearl drop earring. “You’re right,” she murmured. “There’s nothing you can do right now. And if the child is yours…?”

Reaching the dance floor, he took her in his arms and began to lead. “I’ll cross that bridge if I come to it.”

God willing, there’d be no need.

Admittedly he’d had his share of intimate partners, but from the outset of each affair he was honest. He wasn’t after long-term. Recently, however, the attraction of short-lived affairs had worn thin. The reason was clear.

Natalie Wilder.

He’d never been smitten before and he couldn’t pinpoint why Natalie had taken such a hold of his sensibilities. His rational side said it was absurd, yet it was difficult not to think of her day and night.

She was beautiful, certainly. Intelligent, wellread, dignified. Everything any man could want in a companion. But the attraction—the deep-seated, powerful need—went beyond that. Something in her slumberous emerald-green eyes spoke to him. Something defiant yet almost sad. Something that begged to be released if only he found the right key.

Fact was, whatever unintentional spell she’d cast over him, he wasn’t prepared to have their affair end just yet. This misunderstanding with Bridget would be fixed, life would return to normal, and he and Natalie could go back to enjoying each day and each other.

“Alexander, I haven’t met your date.”

Brought back, he stepped aside then, smiling, dropped a kiss on his sister’s cheek. “Teresa, this is Natalie Wilder.”

Shaking back her exuberant mane of raven’s wing hair, Teresa clasped her hands under her chin. “At last! The mystery woman.”

Natalie hesitated. “Alex’s spoken of me?”

Teresa took Natalie’s hand. “More than once. My brother says you’re in real estate.”

Alex circled Natalie’s waist with his arm. “Agent of the Month, three months running.”

Teresa’s deep blue eyes flashed. “I’m impressed.”

Natalie wasn’t the type to brag so Alex blew her horn for her. “Natalie’s boss invested a lot teaching her the ropes, sending her to the best seminars, and it’s paid off. She’s his star agent.”

“Good for you!” Teresa exclaimed, genuine excitement shining in her eyes. “Do you plan to have your own agency one day?”

Natalie tilted her head. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

Alex’s brows jumped. First he’d heard of it. But then they knew so little about each other, or rather he knew so little about her.

Natalie cast an appreciative look around the ballroom, so alive with music, laughter and light. “It’s a beautiful party. Is your wedding date set?”

Teresa sighed. “Four torturously long months from now. Zach and I hope to have babies right away,” she explained. “Zach’s a twin, so two straight off would be wonderful. Having a happy family is so important to us both. Which reminds me…” She addressed her brother. “Alex, I was telling Zach about the Ramirez doubloon—”

Natalie cut in. “I’m sorry. Would you excuse me, please?”

With a polite but wooden smile, Natalie wheeled away and headed for the balcony doors, the folds of her silk gown undulating behind her in weightless silver-white waves.

Teresa cursed herself in their grandparents’ tongue. “Alexander, I’m so sorry. I’m not sure what I said but I didn’t mean to upset her.”

“You didn’t upset Natalie. Someone else did.”

“Your visitor?”

He squeezed his sister’s hand. “Get back to your party. I’ll explain later.”

He found Natalie standing by the ornate stone balustrade of the ballroom balcony, a harbor breeze lifting sable ribbons off her slender shoulders. Her hands were poised at her breast, her chin raised high as she stared off over the water as though seeing something he couldn’t.

In that timeless gown, standing composed in the moonlight, she looked like a goddess. A real-life Venus. Ravishing. Ephemeral. Tonight she was his.

Hands slipping into his pockets, Alex ambled forward. “Wishing on a star?”

She blinked out of her trance and met his gaze, an apologetic smile touching her lips.

“I’m sorry.” Dropping her hands, she set them on the railing. “Guess this night’s proving to be bigger than I’d expected.”

Joining her, he filtered a gaze over her lithe feminine form. Her scent reminded him of morning, like fresh dew on petals moments after dawn. Sunrise was the best time of day, particularly when he woke with Natalie nestled against his chest, her soft, even breathing blending with his.

He brushed a fragrant wave of her hair from her cheek. “I told you Teresa would like you.”

“Even after being so rude?”

“She’ll understand.”

Whether Natalie would come to terms with Joe Davidson’s news was another matter. He’d been jolted, too, but he wasn’t convinced he was the father of that baby. He needed proof positive and if the child turned out to be his…

Easing his other hand from its pocket, he perused the mysterious moonlit waters.

If the baby was his, of course he’d do what was right. First he’d need to figure out what “right” was. Financial and emotional support, no dispute. But marriage? Were gold bands going too far? Or was tying the knot, giving the child two full-time parents, the least he could do?

Following a talk with his father many years ago, Alex had made a vow: he would marry only after serious evaluation and an intelligent choice had been made. His father emphasised that choosing the right woman to be the mother of your children—choosing the right woman with whom to share your life and your bed—wasn’t a decision to be made lightly. Although his father admitted he’d been lucky, the kind of love about which the great poets lamented was rare and therefore not a true consideration; it was better not to love at all than to fall in love with the wrong type. Nonnegotiable, however, was the mutual respect that came from two people sharing the same values, principles and goals.

Alex had taken that conversation to heart. As a consequence, he looked for a certain criteria in his companions. For instance, he didn’t date single mothers—too many potential problems with exes for one. And yet tonight Joe Davidson had stated that he might have helped to create one. Talk about irony.

Releasing a breath, he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll get you a drink.” He could do with a stiff one himself.

She caught his sleeve. “This air’s calming enough.”

“We can leave if you’d rather.”

She pretended to scowl. “This is your only sister’s engagement party. We’re not going anywhere.”

Leaning back against the balustrade, he folded his arms, crossed one ankle over the other. “Guess I’ll be meeting your clan next.” Not that he’d envisaged sipping tea with her folks when they’d begun dating. He was curious, is all. He knew so little about her, which went against his usual rule where women he spent more than a little time with were concerned. Of course, paying her parents a visit would have to wait until after this pregnancy issue was sorted. He’d check with his obstetrician friend, Mateo, tomorrow. This confusion should be cleared up in a week, two at most.

When she kept her eyes on the flickering blankets of cityscape lights, as though she hadn’t heard his question, he angled his head. She’d closed up when Teresa had enquired about family, because of Bridget’s surprise pregnancy, no doubt. Still…“Do you realise you’ve never mentioned where you’re from?”

“Haven’t I?”

With a knuckle, he turned her chin and her wide eyes met his. “No, Natalie,” he said pointedly over a grin. “You haven’t.”

Her return grin included an overly patient look that said he was making a big deal of nothing. “I come from a very small, very ordinary town.”

“Called?”

“Called Constance Plains.”

“Doesn’t sound as if you miss it.”

“I don’t.”

“So you don’t plan on leaving Sydney anytime soon?”

“Not unless there’s a reason to leave.”

He pushed off the balustrade. “I can think of at least one good reason to stay.” The full moon’s light disappeared behind a cloud at the same time he gathered her close.

There hadn’t been a time when she’d denied his affection and tonight her body held no less warmth. Her mesmerising eyes searched his, the message in their jewelled depths unreadable but for one request. She wanted his kiss. Happy to oblige, he lowered his head.

When he covered her sweet mouth with his, the breath seemed to leave her body. Boneless, completely compliant, she dissolved against him as her hands on his chest wove up to hold his working jaw.

Raw desire licked through his veins as his hand on her shoulder hooked her slightly in. When he deepened the kiss, the quiet moan in the back of her throat confirmed that tonight’s news couldn’t affect how she felt.

She wanted him more than ever.

It had been such a long week. He couldn’t wait to get her home, to love her again the way she deserved to be loved.

But first…

Softy, reluctantly, he broke the kiss. Enjoying the heavy thrum of his heartbeat, he murmured, “We should get back.”

He was more than happy to celebrate this night with his sister, but frankly, he couldn’t wait to get Natalie Wilder back home and in bed.

Three hours later, he and Natalie thanked their hosts and left the thinning party crowd.

Alone together as the hotel lift door closed, Natalie asked, “Why do you have a bodyguard?”

Alex hit the ground floor key knowing he’d explained before, when they’d first begun dating. “Paul was my father’s man.”

“Was your father afraid for his life?”

She was alluding to Davidson’s barb about his grandfather being a mobster. Or was the inference closer to real time?

“You mean, am I afraid for my life?”

“Powerful men tend to have powerful enemies.”

The lift doors parted and they moved out into the hotel foyer, which was relatively quiet but for a group of vocal Canadians checking in.

“I’m not concerned about Davidson, if that’s what you mean. Besides there’s other duties a bright man like Paul can perform.”

Outside, a silver Bentley pulled up with Paul at the helm and Natalie grinned. “You mean like chauffeur?”

Placing a guiding hand on her back, Alex ushered Natalie out into an opulent sandstone forecourt, which was fringed by rustling palm trees and the hum of late-night traffic. “Paul wouldn’t like anyone else driving the Bentley.”

“It’s his baby, then?”

He stopped, quizzed her eyes. The B word hadn’t been mentioned since Teresa’s gaffe earlier. Now he had the biggest feeling Natalie would drive herself crazy with worry over the weekend when nothing could be done.

He waved off the hotel’s uniformed doorman then held her dainty hand in his. “I thought we agreed. I’ll speak with my people, but until then…”

“You really don’t think the child is yours.”

His jaw shifted and they began to walk again. He’d assure her as best he could. “I don’t. But I’m not so arrogant as to rule it out completely.”

That night Bridget had said she was protected. He certainly had been, but he could think of only one form of contraception that was infallible, and it was too late to talk about abstinence now.

They moved farther out into the cool night air at the same time Paul opened the Bentley’s back passenger door. Alex thought nothing of the man dressed in a rumpled jacket and jeans approaching. But when the man stopped and reached for something from beneath his jacket, Alex’s protective instincts flew into action.

“Can we get a statement, Mr. Ramirez?” the man said, revealing his notepad at the exact moment Alex stepped in front of Natalie and Paul shot forward to seize the man’s shoulders. The man stumbled back, the camera case slung over his shoulder swinging as his voice rose. “Is it true you’re denying the paternity of a child conceived six months ago?”

Alex served the reporter a withering look as Paul tussled him away.

But the man only raised his notepad higher. “How does Bridget Davidson feel about you abandoning her for another woman?”

“Paul.” Alex hooked an arm. “Let’s roll.”

With a parting shove, Paul rounded the hood as Alex helped Natalie into the backseat.

But the jerk wasn’t giving up. Someone had dropped him a tasty lead. Now he fought for the story like a rat after cheese.

Near the back window, the man dipped his ginger head and peered inside the car. “Are you Natalie Wilder?”

Alex caught the notepad and flung it in the gutter. “No comment.”

Perhaps a broken jaw would convince this guy to quit.

Either suicidal or just plain dumb, the reporter slung off another question. “Is it true you plan to marry Ms. Wilder?”

His face hot with temper, he slid into the seat beside Natalie as Paul revved the engine. Before closing the door, Alex gave his unequivocal answer.

“Yes. It’s true.”

Chapter Three

Natalie’s mouth dropped open as her heart back flipped then bounced to her throat.

She’d heard wrong. She must have.

Alexander Lucio Ramirez planned to marry her?

Absurd!

She pressed herself into the far corner of the Bentley’s sumptuous backseat. “What in the world were you thinking?”

Alex yanked on his black bow tie. “Foremost I was thinking how much I despise the media.”

Her cheeks burned. “So you throw fuel on their fire?”

Inclining his Hollywood square jaw, he flicked open his collar at the same time he flicked her a glance. “My life is my business.”

“Except now you’ve brought me into it.”

“You were already in my life.”

“Not posing as your fiancée!”

Exhaling, he pinched the bridge of his aquiline nose and clamped shut his eyes. “This afternoon everything was as it should be. I’d all but wrapped up a deal, was looking forward to tonight. Tomorrow we were spending the day together.” His hand dropped heavily onto his lap. “Then Joe Davidson waltzes in and detonates a bomb.”

Natalie bristled. Surely he was forgetting something, or more precisely, someone. “I wonder how unsettled Bridget Davidson must’ve felt when the stick turned pink.”

He edged over a look. “I don’t need to be reminded of my responsibilities should I be the father of that child.”

She shivered at the deep, determined timbre of his voice, but she wouldn’t let his irritation at the situation—at that reporter—stop her from getting answers.

She tipped toward him. “Why did you tell that man we’re getting married?”

He pressed a button and the transparent privacy screen between driver and passengers slid into place. “Maybe I did it for the hell of it.”

“Then you need to retract it. In fact—” She swallowed against the clot of nerves jumping high in her chest and forced herself to say the words.

Seemed the time had come.

“I don’t think we should continue to see each other right now.”

Alex didn’t speak. Merely turned his head with great purpose, his eyes sparkling like black diamonds as they flashed in a passing sidewalk light.

She siphoned in a shaky breath.

Clearly this situation called for a break. Maybe temporary. More likely for good. She’d always known it would come to this. Hadn’t they both agreed this wasn’t forever? Unfortunately goodbyes had come sooner than planned.

She held her trembling hands firmly in her lap. “This is getting way too complicated.”

“So you’re hopping on the first lifeboat out?”

She recoiled. The sting was as sharp as a physical slap. God help her, she wanted to shake him for turning this around.

“You’re acting as though this is my fault.”

His chin went up. “I only know if you needed my support I’d give it to you.”

Would he? Would he really?

Confused—angry—she turned from him and glared out the window. “I don’t expect anything from anyone.”

“I like your independent spirit but that’s taking autonomy a little too far.”

“Because I’m a woman?” The weaker sex?

“Because that statement makes you sound cold and you’re the furthermost thing from an ice queen I know.”

She pressed her lips together as regret stung behind her nose.

She was saying goodbye for Alex’s own good. Yes, for her sake, too. Two years ago a Sydney specialist had confirmed what the Constance Plains doctor predicted. Although the severity of the condition she’d acquired, Asherman’s Syndrome, was mild, he advised she not attempt to fall pregnant. If she happened to conceive, the risks to a foetus were grave and many.

She didn’t want to see anyone hurt, including Bridget’s unborn babe. She refused to stand in the way. Refused to hang on to silly Cinderella dreams that had zip chance of coming true.

An image of a tiny newborn’s hand flashed into her mind, and the light outside smudged as moisture blurred her vision.

Holding her roiling stomach, she concentrated to school her features and summon a level tone. “I would like to be dropped at my apartment, please.”

“No, carino. We’ll spend the night together at my home.”

Her fingers strangled her clutch purse. She wanted to scream at him, tell him she wasn’t worth the trouble. She wanted to jump out of this car and run as fast and as far as she could.

Instead she sent a thin smile. “Don’t you get it? It’s over, Alex. The boat’s already sailed.”

His dark eyes searched hers before narrowing almost imperceptibly. As the trip-wire tension tightened more, she quivered inside but didn’t back down. For everyone’s sake, she couldn’t.

Finally he sat back against the black leather seat. A muscle in his jaw twitched before he nodded and exhaled. “You’re right. Of course you shouldn’t be dragged into this. Forgive me.”

She gaped at him. Was he purposely trying to guilt her out? He’d said he needed her support. She’d flatly refused and still he forgave her.

Her fingers itched to touch his hard thigh. To let him know that she did care, and too much. Instead she clenched her hand into the cool silk of her dress. If Alex was the father of that baby, he didn’t need distractions. He would need to focus on priorities. She only wished she could explain.

She wasn’t the woman he thought her to be.

Dropping her head, she bit her lip.

“Alex, I—”

He found her gaze then wrapped an arm around her. His cheek pressed against her crown, he tugged her close.

“We’re both upset. Too upset to talk. Be still now and let me hold you for a while.”

Alex asked Paul to head for her address and when the car pulled up in front of her apartment building five minutes later, he slid out and opened her door.

“I’ll tell Paul to come back in the morning,” he told her, extending his hand.

She accepted his hand, so warm and big folded around hers, but she couldn’t accept the offer, no matter how safe and adored he made her feel. If she could hold on, be strong a moment longer…

“I’d rather say good-night here.” She managed a trite smile while her heart—her icy, barren heart—steadied itself not to break. “It’s been nice.”

Not listening, he cupped her nape, lowered his head to kiss her. But she turned her face and his warm lips grazed her temple.

“Good night, Alexander.”

He stepped away, stood stock still. Then, like an unleashed hurricane, he swung back toward the Bentley, his gravelled words trailing behind.

“I’ll say good-night, Natalie. But not goodbye.”

The next morning, Alex scowled at the page five headline.

Playboy to Marry Outsider. Socialite Girlfriend Pregnant.

Cursing, he hurled the paper at his kitchen counter.

His girl had left him, he’d been publicly hailed as a two-timing bastard and, as a side order, Dai Zhang must be wondering if Alexander Ramirez wasn’t a chip off his amoral grandfather’s block.

Every one of his ventures was run above reproach. Zhang’s money was destined for a sound project, one into which Alex had invested a fair stake of his own capital. He believed these research studies would make a difference, not only to his personal worth but also to the medical community who would benefit from improvements made to vascular tolerance of dialysis-dependent patients.

After reading that headline, however, it would be no surprise if Zhang, a respected businessman known for his high standard of principles, pulled out. Alex had worked hard to convince Zhang that these studies would succeed where others had failed, but this publicity made Alexander Ramirez look like a man who couldn’t be trusted. Particularly if this so called engagement was called off the same week it was announced.

He rubbed the back of his neck.

Unfortunately after last night’s events, Natalie had pulled the pin on their affair. This morning’s headlines would have her back up all the more. But Alex wasn’t prepared to have it end there.

The living room extension pealed.

Alex strode over, grabbed the receiver and growled, “Call back.”

“Mr. Ramirez?”

Unease rippled up his spine. “Who is this?” The voice sounded familiar. The next second he knew why.

“Mr. Ramirez, when are your nuptials taking place?”

His teeth clenched. “How did you get this number?”

“Natalie Wilder is unavailable for comment,” the reporter continued. “Does this mean the engagement’s off? Can you confirm that the party last night was a double celebration?”

Imagining the phone was the reporter’s head, Alex slammed the receiver down. Throwing up his hands, he strode away.

How to go forward.

What to do to save this mess from disintegrating more.

Then his faculties doubled back and swooped upon a phrase. Natalie was unavailable for comment? That reporter must’ve put her through the wringer already this morning.

He speed-dialled Natalie’s cell phone. Message bank. He got voice mail at her home number. Only one other place she would be.

When Natalie answered her office extension on the second ring, Alex sank into a nearby chair.

He smiled. “Good morning, carino.”

“Alex?” Two beats of silence. “I’m at the office.”

“We need to talk.”

“I’m not talking to anyone today unless they want to buy a property. I—I’m sorry but I have to go.”

She disconnected and he hung up, drummed his fingers on the desk and glared at the phone. “Stubborn woman.” Which was one of the reasons he liked her so much.

Alex stopped midthought.

What if, rather than a brash invention, his statement to that reporter had merely been a little premature? Now that the claim was out, perhaps he ought to make use of it, and in more ways than one.

Zhang was a man of principle, as was Alex. At the moment, nothing could be done about the paternity accusation. But perhaps he should stand by his engagement announcement. To retract now would only make him appear even less honorable in Zhang’s eyes, and when the paternity test came back, his name would be cleared.

And then there was Natalie.

When he married, he wanted a solid union: a calm, safe harbour for his children to grow up and excel in. Natalie seemed to possess all the qualities he admired—independence, charm, intelligence. And he couldn’t downplay how good they were together in the bedroom. Surely he could never tire of holding such a warm, giving body close to his. It stood to reason that kind of sexual compatibility would be a significant asset to any marriage.