“Yes, it is. For you.” She took a step closer to him, shook her hair back from her face and lifted her chin so that her gaze could spear his more easily.
He knew she was trying to look steely, immovable. But damned if he didn’t find those glints in her eyes so sexy he wanted to tumble her backward onto the bed.
“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
“You’re marrying me,” he told her, his voice low and hard. “That makes taking care of you my responsibility.”
She actually smiled briefly, but the expression didn’t have a trace of amusement in it. “You sound like a medieval prince or something.”
“I can live with medieval,” he said, nodding at the image.
“Well, I can’t.”
“Is it so hard for you to accept help?”
She blew out a breath that ruffled a strand of hair falling across her eyes. “I don’t mind help, Max,” she said, keeping her gaze locked on his as if trying to will him to understand what she meant. “I came to you in the first place because I needed help, and somehow, I knew instinctively that you would be there for me.”
Something in Max’s chest tightened at those soft words, so simply spoken. In business, Max knew his allies and even his competitors respected him. Knew that once given, his word could be trusted. But in his personal life, he’d been stung badly and so had pulled back from making the kinds of commitments women wanted.
He’d considered himself cold, withdrawn and had thought himself at peace with himself. Yet, those few words from Julia meant more to him than he wanted to admit. The wall of ice around his heart seemed to splinter, jagged shards of the damn thing slicing at his insides. But as the pain tugged at him, a corner of Max’s mind, still logical, still fighting the sexual pull dragging at him, whispered, She came to you because she knew you’d help her even though she’s pregnant with another man’s baby. She came to you for help, but lied to you to get it. Why? Because she knew you’d come through for her, or because she thought a society princess was doing the common man a favor?
But did it matter?
He’d gotten what he wanted.
Her. And the heir he’d craved. A part of him still wondered about the father of her baby. If he’d come back. Change his mind and demand rights to the child Max was already thinking of as his own. And if this nameless sperm donor changed his mind about his baby, wouldn’t he also want Julia? Who the hell wouldn’t want Julia?
His brain raced as he walked to her, every step measured. His gaze locked on her as he told himself he’d never give her up. Never let her go back to the man who’d left her pregnant and alone. She was his now. As was the child.
The closer he came to her, the more he felt that territorial surge pumping through him. His. One word, it echoed over and over again in his mind. Julia Prentice would be his wife. Her baby would be his heir. And he’d ruin anyone who tried to change that.
His body was hard, his blood was thick and hot in his veins, and the racing thoughts in his mind scattered like autumn leaves in a high wind. She was too close for him to be thinking about anything but having her. Drowning in her eyes, losing himself in her body, surrendering to the incredible rush of heat and longing that sprang into being whenever he saw her.
“I will be there for you and the baby,” he finally said, fighting the urge to grab her, hold her, take her mouth with all the hunger pumping inside him. “And since I’m now that baby’s father, I’m not going to stand back and watch you endanger the baby without saying something.”
“I wouldn’t endanger my child,” she argued, her gaze caught in his, her body leaning toward him.
“I know,” he allowed. Silently he asked himself where this was coming from. Why just looking at her made him alternately want to wrap her up and make sure she was safe and at the same time strip her down and lose himself in the glory that was her body. But any answer he might come up with would only jangle his nerves more than the question, so he let it go.
“Are you going to be giving me orders for the next seven months?” Her eyes glittered, reflecting the soft lamplight in the room, and Max felt as though he couldn’t breathe when he looked at the deep blue of those eyes shining at him.
He blew out a breath. “Probably,” he admitted, then added, “Look, I know you wouldn’t do anything deliberately to hurt yourself or the baby. But you can’t do everything you used to do without stopping to think of the possible consequences.”
A minute of silence hummed between them, fraught with emotions neither of them were willing to admit to. Seconds ticked past and Max had to fight the urge to pull her close to him. To bend his head, taste her lips, strip her down and lose himself in the feel of her beneath his hands.
Finally she said, “You’re right.”
“Now, there’s something I never thought I’d hear you say again.” One corner of Max’s mouth turned up. “I think we’re having a moment here.”
She laughed a little, shook her head and warned, “Don’t get used to it.”
Max lifted one hand, cupped her cheek and stared directly into her eyes. Then he spoke, a soft warning for both of them. “Maybe neither one of us should get too used to this.”
“This?”
“Being together.”
“We will be, though,” she reminded him. “For a year, anyway.”
He smiled again and stroked the tips of his fingers over her cheekbone. A year of Julia in his life. In his home. In his bed. Did it matter that she’d lied to him to bring them to this point? No, it didn’t. Not to him. She’d lied, but she’d done it for her child. That he could understand. Hell, admire. And it had brought her here. To him.
“So you’ve decided to sign the papers, then?”
“Yes.” Her gaze shifted to one side briefly before coming back to meet his again. He felt that powerful blue gaze punch into him, and the hunger inside roared with a need that nearly brought him to his knees.
“My lawyer went over them this afternoon,” she said. “I signed them. Left them on the dining-room table.”
A knot of tension he hadn’t been aware he was carrying dissolved inside him, and Max threaded his fingers through her hair at her temple. The silken strands slid against his skin, warming him, tempting him—as if he needed further tempting.
“Good,” he said, and heard the husky note of need in his own voice. “That’s good. So it’s official. We’re a couple.”
“A trio, actually,” she said, her smile fading into an expression of desire as his fingers continued to slide through her hair.
“I stand corrected,” he whispered, lowering his head to hers. “I also stand hungry.”
“Dinner’s in the fridge,” she murmured, twisting her head into his hand, so that she could feel more of him. “Your housekeeper left it and—”
“That’s not what I’m hungry for,” Max said, and took her mouth with his. It began as a gentle brush of his lips on hers, then quickly became something much more. Something he found he desperately needed.
She leaned into him and Max caught her up, pulling her close, molding her body to his, feeling the need inside him clawing for release. He groaned as the taste of her filled him, swamping him, drowning him in sensation that only grew more complex, more overpowering. Her scent wafted around him, teasing his every breath with another layer of her.
His hands swept up and down her spine, feeling every curve, defining every line.