soul. And he couldn’t be more off-limits if he were the Pope. “This isn’t what I intended when I sought you out.”
If anything the scowl deepened. “Explain.”
The demand was nearly a growl. It occurred to her she should be afraid, but she wasn’t. She’d been in his arms, felt his body resonate with hers. He’d never hurt a woman. Not physically anyway. He had too much control. But there were worse ways he could make her pay. Her mind raced. This needed to be handled carefully.
Feeling at a disadvantage, she inched to the side and stood up. He stepped back giving her some room. She breathed in relief. “I’d prefer to get dressed for this conversation if you don’t mind.”
It wasn’t a question and still he looked ready to protest, a signal to her that he was in charge of what happened here. Never mind it was her apartment. Clearly the man was used to being in command wherever he went. Finally, he gave a brief nod and left the room.
Okay, in no way did his silence reassure her. Anger defined the rigid line of his shoulders as he strode away.
“There’s wine in the refrigerator and glasses in the cupboard to the right,” she called out, then bit her lip. This wasn’t a date, but she knew if he left, she’d lose all chance of ever talking to him.
Ready or not the time had come to plead her case.
She grabbed clothes from the dresser and hurried into them, soft gray sweats and a baby-blue sweater cropped at the waist. In the bathroom she tamed her hair into a ponytail and noticed the pants clung to the curves of her butt and the sweater played peekaboo with her belly button. Dang. Time didn’t allow for another change.
Tugging at the hem of the sweater she went to wrangle the shark in her living room.
He leaned against the counter of her kitchen island, sipping a glass of wine. His dark gaze ran over her making her senses tingle.
“You have five minutes,” he stated in that near growl that just added to his effect on her body.
Ignoring the urges she could never act on, she helped herself to some wine. She perched on one of the bar stools at the island and took a sip.
“Four minutes. Don’t try my patience, Ms. Malone.”
“I really wanted to do this differently. I was going to come by your office—” She slanted him a wry glance and reached for a picture frame at the end of the counter. Handing it to him, she said softly, “Alliyah had a daughter. Her name is Jasmine. She’s twenty-three-months-old.”
He refused to accept the picture, didn’t even glance at it. “What does that have to do with me?”
“You said I targeted you. This is why. In the article I read about Pinnacle, there was a picture included. You and the other executives were holding up the award. I saw your birthmark.”
One dark brow lifted. “You targeted me because of my birthmark?”
So cool, so unaffected when her whole life weighed in the balance.
“Yes.” She hesitated, prayed this was the right decision, that she wasn’t risking losing Jazi to the one person Lexi could never get her back from. “Because Jasmine has the same birthmark.”
Okay, she had Jethro’s attention. Truthfully, she’d had his attention from the moment she walked into The Beacon in that snug little black dress and he hoped she’d be his date. But never in his wildest imaginings had he considered the night would end up here. He’d been suspicious of her, enough to follow her here.
The sight of her draped in damp silk, white teeth biting her lush lower lip, had sidetracked him for an irrational moment. A hot, blow-his-mind moment that should never have happened. The lack of discipline was in no small part responsible for his...mood.
No one ever accused him of being dense. She meant to suggest Jasmine was his daughter. And he dealt with numbers every day, so he could do the math. The timing fit. But not the circumstances. He never had unprotected sex, never.
“Coincidence,” he stated.
She groaned and shook her head. “You don’t strike me as a man big on coincidence.”
She wasn’t wrong. But he didn’t budge. No way was she laying this on him. Family wasn’t in his future. In order to survive, he’d had to shut down his emotions. It was a lesson too well learned to change. Plus, he’d force no one to share his secret shame. All in all he sucked at relationships, lacked the skill set as one woman told him. When he hit thirty, he quit trying. He’d found Excursions about a year later.
So no, no family for him. And he was fine with that. He’d come to terms with the notion long ago, had made it clear to all who knew him. Jethro wasn’t prepared for that to change now.
Certainly not on the whim of a woman he barely knew. Even if she turned him so upside down he’d practically jumped her as soon as he’d walked inside the door. What had he been thinking?
The problem was he hadn’t been thinking; he’d been feeling. Further proof emotions couldn’t be trusted.
“You have the wrong man.”
Lexi slid from the stool and held the picture frame up in front of him. “She has your eyes.”
Don’t look. It’s a ploy. She just wants a rich baby daddy to support the orphan and you’re the lucky dupe.
The warning blasted through Jethro’s brain. But not even his legendary restraint proved stronger than the compulsion to look.
The baby was beautiful. A little girl with wild black curls and a smile so big and sweet he felt blessed just seeing it. She danced in the picture, her arms were raised and her tiny butt was cocked to the side and one pink-sandaled foot poised in the air. Jethro spied a smudge on one wrist that could be a birthmark. She had light beige skin, a sharp little nose.
And midnight-blue eyes ringed by lush black lashes.
Yeah, the birthmark was iffy, but those eyes, he’d never seen that exact color anywhere but in the mirror. The shape of her eyes, and her straight little eyebrows also matched his.
“I’m not looking for money.” Lexi broke the silence. “And I don’t expect you to change your life. I read that you don’t want a family.”
“Then what is this about, Ms. Malone?” He placed the picture facedown on the counter, the better to concentrate on the woman before him. His life just did a one-eighty. He needed to focus. “What do you want?”
“Can you call me Lexi?” Her cheeks flushed a delightful shade of pink. “We just shared...” She waved her hand in the direction of the bedroom. “...a moment. It seems foolish to be so formal.”
“I’ve been foolish in more than one regard tonight, Ms. Malone—calling me on it isn’t your smartest move.”
“Why foolish?” she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.
Her position drew attention to her breasts, which were small but plump. And pert, a detail he remembered in vivid Technicolor. Her stance also caused a thin strip of pale skin to show at her waist. His fingers itched
