The Billionaire's Fake Engagement / Man From Stallion Country. Robyn Grady

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The Billionaire's Fake Engagement / Man From Stallion Country - Robyn Grady Mills & Boon Desire

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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

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