The Billionaire’s Fake Engagement / Man from Stallion Country: The Billionaire’s Fake Engagement / Man from Stallion Country
can’t sweep this under the mat,” Davidson seethed. “This isn’t the old days where families like yours shut people up. My daughter’s entitled to compensation.” Paul’s giant hand on Joe’s shoulder steered him toward the door. “You’ll hear from my lawyers…”
As the threats faded and Joe was marched to the lifts, Alex linked his arm through Natalie’s and turned at the same time the music paused. Below a sky of swaying balloons, curious faces were angled their way, including Teresa’s worried gaze, which found his from the far end of the room.
Straightening to his full height, Alex gave an “everything’s fine” salute, then led Natalie back to the dance floor.
The music faded back up but Natalie’s heels dug in. “How can you think about dancing?”
He studied her eyes, darker than their usual shade of green and yet full of indignant fire. “Nothing can be done tonight.”
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.