The Billionaire's Fake Engagement / Man From Stallion Country

“I won’t go along with a fabricated engagement to prove you’re a man of your word.”

“Then do it for the obvious reason. Because we belong with each other.”

He didn’t know what he was talking about. How could he belong with a woman who couldn’t bear children? She might as well not be a woman at all.

The finality of that knowledge hit again, winding her like a medicine ball to the stomach. She stopped at the door, one hand on the doorjamb, the other on her midriff while tears filled her throat.

At her back, two hands cupped her shoulders as his hard frame pressed in.

“Carino, would it be so bad being married to me?”

She swallowed back emotion. “That’s not the question you should be asking.”

“Then what?”

Her throat thickened more. “You could very well be the father of that baby and you don’t know?”

His fingers clamped her shoulders more before his hands lowered.

“There’s more to this, isn’t there?” he asked, and she froze.

Did he know something about her past?

“I think I understand,” he ground out, “and I admit it might not be what you’d hoped for in a marriage…regularly caring for another woman’s child as if it were your own.”

Natalie blinked several times and slowly turned. Her voice was an incredulous whisper.

“You’d want me to help look after the baby?”

Engagements, marriage…she hadn’t thought ahead to visitation or shared custody if the baby was his. She shouldn’t now because what he proposed was impossible. She’d already inadvertently caused the death of one child. She shouldn’t be responsible for another baby, even part-time.

A palm against her sick stomach, she shook her head again. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

His eyes dimmed more. “You don’t like children?”

“I adore them.”

“You don’t think you could love a child that’s not yours?”

Oh Lord. “That’s not the problem.”

Finding her hands, he clasped them to his chest. “We’ll have our own children.”

Her throat ached so much, she could barely find her voice. “And that’s what you want, isn’t it Alexander?” What you need. A son. An heir.

“Do you know what I want?” His dark penetrating eyes searched hers. “I want you.”

She let go that breath.

He’d said want, not love, two totally different things.

But if she accepted this proposal, she would be a part-time mother of a child. Alexander Ramirez’s child. She’d given up all hope…

Her heart squeezed.

She shouldn’t even think such a thing. And just where would a marriage to Alex leave the unwed mother? Surely Bridget Davidson would want to marry the father of her child, particularly when the man concerned was Alexander.

And what of his suggestion that they have children of their own? Impossible.

Pressing the heel of her hand against her pulsing temple, she tried to think straight. There seemed a thousand ways this could go, but with only one likely outcome.

Someone would be hurt.

She shook her head, harder this time. “It won’t work.”

“Give me one good reason.”

Everything. “It’s all…too big of a gamble.”

“Life’s a gamble.”

She sighed.

How would he react if he knew he’d proposed to a woman who was considered trailer trash back home? Who’d fallen pregnant then had inadvertently caused a miscarriage. Lump on top of that the fact she was now barren and he’d hit the jackpot in women not to marry.

He wanted her?

He wanted only what she’d been willing to show of herself to the world.

He changed the subject.

“What’s your opinion on this house?” he asked, looking around.

Preoccupied by her thoughts, her reply was an automatic response. “I think it’s a stunning investment that will only increase in value.”

“You’d live here?”

“A sheikh would be happy living here.”

“Then contact the owners.”

Stunned, she stared at him. “That’s crazy.”

“You told me this is a good investment.”

“Haven’t you heard? Real estate agents aren’t known for their integrity,” she said pointedly.

His gaze intensified. “I shouldn’t trust you?”

A strange calm fell over her and she knew if she told him about her past now, everything would change in an instant. He could do way better. He just didn’t know it yet.

And the more sensible part of her—the part that adored him—didn’t want him to know.

“And if I said you shouldn’t trust me?” she asked.

“Then I’d have to go with gut instinct.”

She didn’t have time to think, to move. His strong arms were already around her, drawing her near, holding her against the pillar of the wholly masculine frame. The tips of their noses touching, he looked into her eyes, into her soul. She saw a fire flicker in their depths, then that familiar hunger and conviction leap and darken the irises more.

Time wound down as his mouth descended over hers. Her lips parted and then…

Then she was released. Or was that condemned? As he pressed closer, his tongue edging over and around hers, the kernel of desire low at her core condensed more, pulsing, burning, urging her to surrender reason and simply be.

When he gradually drew away, his eyelids were heavy, his breathing, too.

“I don’t regret my slip last night to that reporter,” he said, “because it crystallised in my mind what I want. I want a home, Natalie. It’s time I settle down. We’re good together. It can work.”

She had to push him away. Tell him now how blind and mulish he was. Instead her fingers kneaded his chest.

“Don’t do this.” He was making her head spin, working his charm until she barely knew which way was up.

His shoulders rolled back. “Wear my ring.”

Since the day they’d met, her life had seemed surreal. Men of Alexander Ramirez’s calibre didn’t inhabit her world, not the world of backwoods Tallie Wilder, anyway. When her baby had gone to Heaven that night, she’d given up on herself. She hadn’t wanted happiness. She hadn’t deserved it.

And yet how could she deny what she felt for Alexander? He helped fill that bleak cold hole inside her. When she was with him it was as if the shroud she’d worn for six years was, in part, removed.

Her more rational side knew there could be no engagement. The baby would be his and when he laid eyes on his child, Alex’s protective nature would win out and he would want to marry Bridget. Be with his child. And if Bridget needed persuading, he’d do that, too. How could she—the ‘other woman’—condemn them? Natalie only wished it was her.

“Phone the owners.”

She blinked back from her thoughts. He was still on about the house.

“It’s getting late now in Chicago,” she told him.

“I doubt they’ll mind having their dinner disturbed.”

She gauged the tilt of his mouth.

Hell, he was really serious. And if he truly wanted this house, she shouldn’t talk him out of it. There would simply be a different mistress living here than the one he imagined now.

But, given her shaky state, how well would she conduct an overseas call that potentially meant many thousands of dollars in commission for Phil’s?

She studied his implacable expression again and sighed.

Guess she’d find out.

Twenty minutes later, the delighted vendors agreed to Alex’s negotiated eight point seven-five million offer and had said to fax through the documents to their lawyer.

Thrilled, and a little shocked, Natalie slipped her cell phone into her briefcase. “That has to be the easiest sale I’ve ever made.”

“And now I’d like to see the rest of my investment.”

Her eyebrow lifted. “A little back to front.”

“Whatever works.”

Given she’d made a healthy commission and the Quintons were ecstatic, she couldn’t argue. She’d simply need to put the other, unrealistic matter out of her mind. Engagements, the possibility of being a part-time mother…

It wasn’t happening.

Gathering herself, she waved toward the back of the house. “Let’s start with the kitchen.”

“I’m not a cook. I want to see upstairs.”

He purposely brushed past and started up the stairs.

She tightened her lips. Damned if she’d give him the satisfaction of arguing. Irrespective of any ulterior motive he might have, she was acting as the Quinton’s agent. She had to comply and show the new owner the second story. No matter what he threw at her, no matter what he said or did, she must remain professional.

When they reached the top of the stairs, she kicked off her commentary.

“There’s four bedrooms on this floor, each with their own sitting room. There are two more bedrooms downstairs as well as a separate quarters on the grounds for live-in staff.”

He was ducking his head around a bedroom doorway. “This looks nice.”

Natalie followed. The guest room. Her favourite room.

“It was newly decorated before the Quintons left for overseas.” She was drawn by the smell of freshly laid carpet and breathtaking scenery visible beyond the fall of exquisitely designed pelmets and drapes. “These views are as stunning as the main bedroom’s.” In fact, better, she thought. “You can see the bridge from here, the long blue stretch of harbour. And the breeze through these windows when they’re open—”

A click sounded at her back. Her stomach fluttered and she swung around.

The door was shut and Alex was strolling toward her, his step deliberate. The gait of a man in no doubt about what he wants or to what lengths he’ll go to attain it.

Natalie slid back one foot. “Alex, what are you doing?”

“The contract, once signed, is unconditional. This house, this bedroom, is as good as mine.”

Quivering at the hungry gleam in his eye, she backed up more. “This is inappropriate.”

“That’s an interesting word. I’d have said inevitable.”

Of course she’d known he’d planned this ambush of sorts. However, “If you think I’ll let you undress me, here, in the middle of the day—”

“And make love to you long and hard?” He undid a shirt button. “Yes, carino, I think you’ll let me.”

The back of her legs hit the bed. He joined her and, without invitation, pulled the single clip from her hair then unzipped the back of her dress. Her more rational side silently protested, but she didn’t stop him. Simply stated, at her most basic level, she wanted this and Alexander knew it as well as she did.

“You honestly don’t have any shame, do you.”

He peeled the dress from her shoulders. “Not where you’re concerned.”

He kissed her deeply and when her mind was wheeling, he skimmed his mouth down her neck, her cleavage, until his teeth grazed the gauzy fabric of her lace crop top bra. She bit back a cry as her nipples hardened against his mouth and her dress fell in a puddle at her feet.

His fingers wound into the scarlet lace and, in one fluid movement, he stripped the top up over her head. With obvious appreciation, he took time to study her breasts, weighing their fall as the pads of his thumbs brushed and teased the tips. When his head lowered again and his tongue twirled over one burning nipple, then the next, she sighed and her neck rocked back.

She was on fire.

Eyes drifting shut, she held his head in place. “Is the door locked?”

“No.”

He sucked the sensitive bead fully into his mouth and a searing fountain fizzed through her veins. Still, her gaze edged toward the door.

“This doesn’t feel right.”

“Liar.” As if he owned her—and at that moment he did—he scooped his hand down the front of her lace hipster shorts. “We always feel right together.”

His other hand supporting her spine, he tipped her back and she sank into the silky spread. One knee on the mattress, he took hold of her last item of clothing. His absorbed gaze travelled all the way up her perpendicular legs to her pointing toes as he eased her hipsters off.

He brought her feet down and set them on the mattress a little apart. When a feather-light kiss brushed her inside thigh, she involuntarily bucked and whimpered.

She felt so alight. And exposed.

“At least draw the curtains.”

He chuckled, a deep throated sound that let her know he was enjoying her show of modesty.

“You know I love your body. The way you feel, the way you look.” The warm tip of his tongue trailed across her bikini line. “The way you taste.”

When his mouth dipped more and he kissed her there, tenderly at first then more boldly, she arched and reached to knot her fingers in his hair.

He knew her weakness. Knew how to make her fly.

She hadn’t had many lovers, but she knew enough to be certain his style was natural, a talent that was as innate as soaring and hunting were to a hawk. When he touched her, loved her, her cares evaporated into mist. Where they were didn’t matter. She only longed to feel his hard heat pressed close.

She wove her fingers through his silky hair. “When are you going to take your clothes off and join me?”

His only reply was the skilled attention of his circling tongue.

She sighed.

No one had a right to be this good.

The spiral climbed quickly and she wet her lips. “Alex…come up here.”

His hands wove up her stomach and sculpted over her breasts, his thumbs and forefingers rolling until the concentrated sensations were so bright and powerful she could have wept. Her head lolling to the side, she groaned as her core compressed tighter around a deepening pulse.

Then, for two suspended beats, there was that eye-of-the-storm calm before her climax ignited and flung her to the stars. Biting her lip to stem a cry, she gripped the quilt at her sides as her mind and body exploded with raw pleasure that seemed to go on forever.

When finally the contractions wavered and began to die, drained, elated, tingling and never more sated, she didn’t have the energy to move. She was barely aware that he’d left her until she dragged open her eyes.

He stood watching her, telling her with his eyes that she was his. Only his.

She held out her arms to him. He kicked off his shoes, discarded his clothes and extracted a condom from his wallet. When they were protected, he threw back half the quilt and scooped her up in his arms.

“This will be our room,” he said, laying her on the cool sheet and nuzzling into the sweep of her neck.

When his body covered hers, she jumped, still so sensitive as he slid partway in and began to move.

He pressed a lingering kiss to her brow. “You will wear my ring.”

Looping her legs around his thighs, she ran her fingertips over the hot damp mound of his back. “I can’t think now.”

“I don’t want you to think. I want you to feel.”

He thrust again, bumping her closer to a second orgasm. “My ring, Natalie.”

Whether it was his bone-melting heat sliding against her or the dark-chocolate voice at her ear, in that moment he convinced her. This was their house, their new beginning. She did feel, and she felt wonderful. So utterly right she was dizzy with the magic of it.

She groaned as that spiral rose higher, squeezed tighter.

“Yes,” she murmured.

Please, just…

Yes.

His mouth slanted over hers.

As fireworks flared again, she held him close and let the tidal wave swallow them both whole.

Chapter Six

After returning to work for a couple of hours, she and Alex spent the night together. The next morning Natalie headed home.

Not that she liked referring to Constance Plains in those terms. But she’d grown up there, had built her first dreams there. Constance Plains was where her mother lived and where a piece of Natalie’s heart would always remain. Going back was hard, but also somehow cathartic.

In a strange, sad way, going home was sacred.

On the final isolated stretch of highway, zipping past the landscape of scattered gums and kangaroo grass, she selected a favourite CD. But even cranked up urban couldn’t drown out the concerns that had tumbled through her mind since the weekend’s astounding run of events.

Her gaze drifted to her left hand holding the wheel. The setting was dazzling, any girl’s dream engagement ring, a cushion-cut single white diamond of who knew how many carats. Alex had been so persuasive about her wearing it. In hindsight she’d never stood a chance of refusing him. His reserves of sex appeal and charm exceeded any man she’d met or was ever likely to meet in the future.

Truth was she was attached to Alexander, hopelessly drawn to his intensity, as much as air was sucked into a fire or rain was absorbed by the sea. More and more he consumed her, but he also made her feel…connected.

As a smile touched her lips, a ray of morning sun caught the rock and the diamond flashed, shooting a stab of light back from the steering wheel. Squinting, Natalie shielded her eyes at the same time a truck roared up out of nowhere, its monster horn blasting as it passed.

Instinctively she yanked the wheel. The car swerved, fishtailing and skidding to the shoulder of the road. Foot to the floor on the brake, she pictured her heart hammering in her chest as every speck of mortal strength rushed down her rubbery legs and the car jolted to a stop. Dumping a head-tingling breath, she dropped her forehead on the wheel.

Remarkably she didn’t think about her near collision. She could think only of the incredible moment Alex had slipped that ring on her finger.

Alex cared for her. He sincerely wanted her to be the mother of his children. But he didn’t know anything about her. Didn’t know she could never give him a legitimate heir. On top of that, his marriage proposal had a side agenda: publicly recanting the engagement might do his dealings with Mr. Zhang more harm than good.

Then again, she’d had a side agenda, too—a baby who might someday, in some measure, look upon her as a mother.

Dragging her brow off the wheel, she studied the stone on her third finger again. Today May Wilder would learn that her daughter had agreed to marry, and that her fiancé hadn’t the faintest idea about her past.

Was she leaving it too late to pull out?

Releasing a shaky breath, she rolled her tense shoulders and swung back onto the highway. Thirty minutes later her Rav 4 veered into her mother’s drive, on either side of which sat a sagging chain mail fence.

May must’ve heard the engine. By the time Natalie walked from the cracked cement drive to the house, May was standing on the porch, wiping her hands on a red-striped tea towel.

A heartfelt smile lighting her face, her mother flipped the towel over her shoulder and extended her arms. Relishing the comforting warmth, Natalie burrowed her face in her mother’s shoulder, wishing her father were here, too.

After a long moment, May pulled back, her grey eyes glistening with unbridled love and pride. “You look so well, Tallie.”

Natalie smiled. “So do you.”

But in truth her mother’s hair looked frizzy and her shoulders were slightly stooped. In her mother’s eyes Natalie recognized again what she’d seen last visit. She was lonely. When her father died, she’d asked May to come live with her but she’d stoutly refused. This is where her life with Jack had been, May had said. She wouldn’t leave, no matter what.

Now with her usual brave face, May linked an arm through her daughter’s and swung open the screen door. “I put a roast on for lunch. The potatoes are browning.”

Natalie stepped into the tidy living room. Fresh snapdragons fanned from a vase on the TV, the same washed out landscape paintings hung on the wall. The surroundings were reassuring yet unsettling, too.

Memories in every corner.

Bringing herself back, Natalie nodded. “A roast sounds great.” Smelled great, too.

“Was it an easy drive from Sydney?”

“A breeze,” Natalie fibbed as May crossed to flick on the air-cooler and she sank onto the couch.

“I have your room ready in case you’d like to stay over.”

“Sorry. Can’t. Work tomorrow.”

“Well, the invitation’s always there.”

Crossing back, her mother’s gaze landed on her daughter’s hand, on the ring, and she hesitated before folding down beside her. Natalie had purposely kept the ring on so she couldn’t back out of confessing. But now her stomach looped in guilty knots. She was not looking forward to this talk. It reminded her of a past conversation, only this time she wasn’t the girl who’d got in trouble.

Smoothing down her skirt, Natalie siphoned in a steadying breath. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“About Alexander Ramirez?”

Natalie’s brows hitched. “The story made the local paper?”

May’s smile was wry. “We do get the city paper way out here in the sticks.”

“As far as I remember, you weren’t interested in either.”

“My neighbors are.”

“Of course. I should’ve seen the smoke signals spreading the news when I drove in.”

Despite Natalie’s sarcasm, her mother smiled and held her hand. “He looks very handsome.”

“He’s…” Natalie swallowed the word nice, then decent. They didn’t seem to fit.

“He’s very good to me.”

“I’m sure he is.”

“He’s what’s known as a venture capitalist. They invest in other people’s ideas.”

“There was a small write-up about that, too.”

Natalie nodded, stalling, trying to find the right words. Her mother wouldn’t bring up the other information contained in that article, the claim that another woman was pregnant with Alexander’s baby.

May Wilder would stick by her daughter under any and every circumstance, but Natalie couldn’t bear to think about the added stares and whispers her mother would endure from this town’s population after this. Whispers about that Wilder girl getting herself into strife again.

Natalie rearranged her hands in her lap.

“You know it’s not certain that Alexander’s the father of that child,” she finally said, and her mother blinked several times.

“Oh? The reporter seemed sure.”

Natalie huffed. The reporter was a slimeball.

“Alex has a friend, a doctor, who says paternity can be determined quickly.”

May tipped closer. “I want you to remember, this isn’t your fault. You wouldn’t have agreed to marry him if you’d known.”

At a twinge of shame, Natalie dropped her eyes. “It’s a little more complicated than that.”

But how could she explain? How would it sound?

I am wearing a man’s ring when he knows nothing about my past, that I can’t bear his children. I know I have to tell him and when I do that will be the end. But I can’t help thinking about that baby, about giving her the love I wasn’t able to give my own.

Natalie’s nose stung at the threat of tears at the same time May’s arms wrapped around her.

Her mother didn’t speak for the longest time, but when she did it was in a supportive tone that tugged at Tallie’s heart. “You don’t have to go through with it if you don’t want to.”

She clamped her burning eyes shut. Her mother didn’t understand. Natalie wasn’t sure she understood.

Her mother’s voice lowered more. “Do you love him?”

She thought it through. She loved her parents, she’d loved her baby. After that horrible black day six years ago, she’d never wanted to love anyone again. She hadn’t thought she was capable.

“Alexander and I…we get on very well,” she murmured truthfully.

“That’s always a good sign.”

“He treats me like a lady.”

Her mother’s smile was reminiscent. “So he should.”

“He doesn’t know…doesn’t know about—”

She bit her lip, damming the sudden rush of emotion.

Her mother hugged her daughter tighter. “Tallie, you were always a good girl. Even good girls can take a wrong turn.”