her head. “No? That must mean you’ve come to a conclusion? What are you going to do? Are you going to marry me?”
Olivia’s pulse jumped because the fury that burned in his gaze made her think there was a possibility he would acquiesce and do what she wanted. While she waited, she held her breath and watched the battle in his tense expression. His blue eyes flashed with pinpoints of fire.
The tension ripped at her nerves and finally she blurted, “What’s your decision?”
“You win. I’ll marry you,” he snapped in clipped words.
Joy and relief flooded her. Her baby’s future had just been sealed. It held a promise for the best possible chance for a family, a caring father-figure and education for her baby. And herself. She fought the urge to throw her arms around Matt and shout her gratitude. Instead, she merely nodded and tried to bottle her bubbling response.
“I have some stipulations.” He ground out the words, and she nodded.
Like a wave pounding into shore and then receding, her relief swept away and was replaced by worry over what she had gotten herself into. What was he going to require of her in exchange? One condition he had already told her was sex with him! And soon.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, feeling his anger that was almost tangible enough to spark the air around them.
He inhaled deeply and gave her another long look that burned like a streak of fire. “We’ll have to work out the prenup agreement,” he said.
She nodded while her heart thudded. She tried to bank her excitement and keep a lid on all her expectations of what she would gain when she married into the Ransome family.
“Let’s get breakfast and make plans,” he suggested. “We don’t have to check out of the hotel until after lunch, so while we’re here in the city, if you want to shop for a wedding dress, I’ll give you a list of the stores where I have accounts and you can charge it to me, or if you prefer, I’ll go along and write a check or give you a card.”
“It’s bad luck for the groom to see the wedding dress before the wedding.”
He gave her a withering look. “I don’t think that old superstition applies in this case. Business arrangements have little connection to superstition.”
“I prefer to shop by myself,” she answered with what she hoped was as cold a voice as his.
He nodded. “I’ve already made an appointment for a meeting with my attorney at three o’clock this afternoon. Right now, let’s go to breakfast and negotiate the details.”
She nodded. “Fine. Give me one minute here,” she said, going into the bedroom. She returned shortly and smiled at him. “There. I quit my job.”
“That’s one good thing,” he said.
Picking up her purse, she walked beside him, trying to keep quiet and let him talk. His face was still flushed and a muscle still worked in his jaw. His voice was tight and she could only guess the depth of his anger. She suspected that except for his divorce, he had rarely had to give in to something he didn’t like.
Breakfast was in a solarium in the hotel. She doubted if Matt appreciated or even noticed their sunny glass-covered surroundings and tall potted palms. He drank coffee, but otherwise barely touched his breakfast.
While Matt sipped his coffee and studied notes, she remained silent.
“The first stipulation I have, is if you have an abortion or a miscarriage, the deal’s off on everything. We get divorced immediately and you get nothing.”
“That’s fine,” she agreed quickly and was surprised at quirk of his lips in a crooked smile. “What’s there to smile about?” she asked.
“You won the war. Now you’ll let me win the battles,” he observed dryly.
She flashed a smile at him. “I can be agreeable and yes, you’re right. I got what I wanted on the big issue. Now I can be cooperative on other things.”
His expression softened and he studied her, his gaze roaming slowly over her features as if he were trying to memorize her looks. “I intend to get what I want, too,” he drawled, and a tingle spiraled in her because she knew he was no longer referring to the prenup agreement.
“So what do you want?” she asked with a jump in her pulse.
“Forbidden fruit,” he answered in a sexy tone that fanned flames of desire. “Seduction,” he said, drawing out the word until it became personal and enticing.
In response, her throat went dry. “You want sex and you feel lust, but there won’t be any love between us or even the illusion of it.”
“That doesn’t mean it won’t be great sex,” he replied, looking at her with blatant desire in his gaze. “Are you getting cold feet and wanting out of this marriage proposal?”
She sipped her water and prayed she looked cool and collected and that he didn’t have a clue what a tempest he stirred in her. “Be warned now—no love on your part will guarantee no love on my part.”
“Do you really want to fall in love with me?” he asked, leaning forward and if she hadn’t known better, she would have thought that there was a trace of honesty and vulnerability in his voice.
“At this point, no, indeed not! No more than you want right now—or could—fall in love with me.” She raised her glass of water. “Here’s to great sex, Matthew Ransome. And a marriage made at the bargaining table.”
One corner of his mouth quirked, and one dark eyebrow lifted wickedly. “You tempt me,” he said, leaning even closer, “to go after your heart that you’ve sealed away. And I would if I didn’t want to keep my own heart protected. Risk your heart and you risk heartbreak.”
“So we’ll both be locked in to living together and trying to resist falling in love. And you think it’ll be an easy task.”
“I know myself and know what heartbreak is,” he said gruffly. He reached the short distance between then and drew his fingers along her cheek, sending flames of desire to a scalding temperature. “So you’re willing to marry me and have sex to get what you want. You’re willing to risk your future.”
“I’m securing my future. Not risking it,” she said, correcting him and failing to keep the breathlessness out of her voice. “The whole point of this is to take care of my baby,” she added, unable to look away from his intense gaze that held her now. Her heart pounded and she suspected if there had been no table between them and they hadn’t been in public, he would kiss her. And she wanted him to. Unable to resist, she reached up to stroke his cheek just as he had hers. His jaw was clean-shaven and smooth. The moment she touched him, desire enveloped her with the heat of a furnace.
“You’re taking risks, too, to get what you want,” she whispered. “Your heart may belong to me someday, Matt Ransome.” The clash of wills between them was covered with an icing of desire, creating an emotional dessert that held the potential for spicy, red-hot sex. Goaded by his announced intention to resist falling in love
