‘And you agreed—then you kissed me as if your life depended on it. And we both went off like a couple of rockets on Bonfire Night, coming within one sensitive nipple of doing each other on my desk in broad daylight when any one of my employees could have walked in on us. So let’s stop arguing about semantics.’
She glared at him but couldn’t help but feel her panic ease a little.
At least he hadn’t been faking his response any more than she had. She wasn’t sure if their uncontrollable chemistry was necessarily a bonus in an already overwhelming situation. But it felt important that in at least one part of their relationship they were equally compromised.
‘I need time to think about all this,’ Katie murmured, suddenly unbearably weary, the emotional rollercoaster of the last twenty-four hours taking its toll as he led her back into his office.
She sat heavily in the armchair, the feeling of her life spinning out of control again doing nothing to ease her surprise when he squatted in front of her and placed warm palms on her knees.
‘What is there to think about, really?’ Jack murmured. ‘This is a business deal which will give me what I need—a chance to elevate my social status and ensure the child is not born a bastard—and give you what you need—a chance to save your company and allow it to grow.’
He glanced at her stomach again. The muscle in his jaw tensed. Perhaps he wasn’t as nonchalant about the pregnancy as he seemed. ‘And give the child my financial support for the rest of its life.’
The child.
The impersonal description reverberated in Katie’s skull—pragmatic and painfully dispassionate.
Her heart shrunk in her chest.
The baby really was nothing more to him than a mistake he had to rectify. Had she really believed he would feel any differently? And why would he?
She cleared her throat, trying to dislodge her sadness at the realisation her child wouldn’t have a father in anything other than a financial capacity.
So what?
She didn’t want Jack to be a father to this baby. She knew what it was like to grow up with a father who thought of you as a commodity, or a burden. Why would she wish that on her own child? She needed to deal with the practicalities now. Nothing else.
‘What exactly would the marriage entail?’ she managed to ask. ‘Would I have to leave Wales?’
He stood up and walked to the desk. Leaning against it, he folded his arms over his broad chest as he studied her. The beard burn on her cheeks from their earlier kiss began to sting as his eyes heated with something which looked like more than just practicalities.
‘Yes. You would live with me wherever I happened to be, travel with me and attend public and private events as my wife when required.’ He paused, his gaze skimming her belly again. ‘And your condition allows.’
‘But my home and my business are in Wales.’
‘You’ll need to base yourself and your business in London. This is a marriage of convenience,’ he said, his gaze darting to her stomach again. ‘But it’s not going to do the business interests we talked about much good unless it appears real. I’m afraid that’s non-negotiable. I’m sure we can figure out a manageable schedule for your social responsibilities as my wife.’ He frowned. ‘How long has the vomiting been going on?’
She blinked, the question feeling way too personal in what—for him, anyway—appeared to be a business negotiation.
Get real, Katie, that’s exactly what it is. And what you want it to be.
‘Two weeks now,’ she said. ‘But it wasn’t as bad today as it has been. I think it might finally be getting a bit better.’
His brows climbed up his forehead. ‘Seriously? It’s been worse than the exorcism routine I just witnessed?’
She let out a half-laugh, the tension in her gut easing at his horrified expression. For a split second it almost felt as if they were a real couple. But she sobered quickly, setting aside the fanciful notion. One thing she mustn’t do was mistake his concern for his business priorities with any real concern for her. Or their baby. Of course he didn’t want his trophy wife projectile-vomiting at inopportune moments.
‘The good news is I’ve never been sick in the evenings,’ she said. ‘So social engagements shouldn’t be a problem.’ Of course, she usually felt exhausted by the end of the day, but he didn’t need to know that yet. Hopefully the fatigue would fade too, and not having the stress of figuring out how she was going to keep her business afloat would surely help. Of course, she wasn’t familiar with the kind of high-society events he was probably referring to. She would have to wing it, but she’d be damned if she’d let him know she wasn’t up to the job he was offering her.
And it was a job. A job she was being handsomely paid for—something she would do well to remember.
He nodded. ‘Good, although I doubt I’ll have to make too many demands on your time. I’m not a social animal at the best of times. I’m sure we can make the marriage convincing with a few well-timed engagements...’ His gaze intensified and awareness rippled over her skin. ‘Especially given our extraordinary chemistry.’
Her heart bobbed into her throat and the familiar ripple shot down her spine. ‘Right, about that...’ Her gaze dropped away from his. ‘What if I didn’t want to sleep with you?’
The silence seemed to stretch out for several endless moments.
It was a lie, and she was sure he knew it. After all, she’d kissed him senseless less than ten minutes ago.
But she wasn’t sure she could sleep with him especially while carrying his child, and not risk getting much more invested in their fake marriage than she should. Her emotions were screwy enough already.
Gee thanks, pregnancy hormones.
Sleeping with him had already had major consequences—throwing her life into complete turmoil while he seemed mostly unmoved. She didn’t want to put herself at any more of a disadvantage.
He was watching her with a typically inscrutable expression but the muscle in his jaw was twitching again.
He didn’t like the suggestion. But then, to her surprise, he shrugged. ‘Suit yourself.’
‘Really?’