“You’ve shot down two houses. Do you have any suggestions for where to look next?”
“North Knoxville is nice.”
Near her sister’s suburban cookie-cutter neighborhood. Decent area, but a little too stifling for his tastes. “If I had time I’d design and build a house.”
“Why don’t you?”
He hoped the kid had her eyes. The color reminded him of the Caribbean waters off the bow of the sailing yacht he’d cruised on last summer. “Six months isn’t long enough to do it right.”
“If you used your surrogate you’d have more time.”
The statement surprised a chuckle out of him. Persistent, wasn’t she? He gave her credit for trying. “She’s been paid for her time and released from her contract.”
“I’m sure you could get her back if you wanted—”
“I don’t.”
She abandoned the last bite of bread. “Ryan, it would be easier for everyone if you let this go.”
“The easy way isn’t always the right way. And time is an issue. I want a baby before next summer.” Before his father retired.
The front door swung open. His father and his buddies walked in right on time. Dear old Dad had a habit of scanning any room to search for potential connections. Ryan always did the same, but he hoped he was more subtle. As expected, his father spotted them and broke away from his group to stride in Ryan’s direction.
He stopped by the table and, ignoring Ryan, offered his hand to Nicole with as much polish as a politician. “We haven’t met. I’m Harlan Patrick. You’re Nicole Hightower.”
Nicole blinked and sent a quick questioning glance Ryan’s way before pasting on a professional smile. “Yes. You’re Ryan’s father?”
She couldn’t miss the resemblance. His father might be six inches shorter and twenty pounds heavier, but otherwise, they looked a lot alike. Same hair. Same eyes. Same profile. The Patrick Irish genes were strong.
“That’s right. Ryan, you didn’t tell me you were dining here tonight. You could have joined us.”
“Nicole and I have business to discuss.”
Ryan had chosen this table specifically because there wasn’t any space for his father and his cronies to pull up another and join them. Nicole didn’t seem like the type to blurt her condition to a stranger before she’d informed the rest of her family, but he didn’t want to risk the news of her pregnancy slipping out and shocking the ultraconservative golfers—particularly his father who would definitely find fault with Ryan’s method of providing an heir. After the fact was soon enough.
“Would you like to join us in the bar for a drink?” His father addressed Nicole.
“Nicole doesn’t drink.” Not while she was carrying his kid.
His father shot him a scowl. “I’d like to hear more about Hightower Aviation. Patrick Architectural is considering engaging your services.”
He noted his father didn’t give him credit for the idea. He caught another flash of panic in Nicole’s eyes. A pleat formed between her eyebrows before she turned back to his father. “I’m sure HAMC could meet your needs, but our sales department can answer your questions better than I can.”
She dug in her purse, extracted a business card and pen and scribbled something on the back. “This is my brother Brent’s direct line. Why don’t you give him a call?”
Brent. The one who was probably cheating on his wife. After three minutes of his company at the picnic Ryan didn’t like or trust the guy, and he didn’t want him anywhere near his kid.
He took the card before his father could. “I’ve already spoken to one of your sales reps, Nicole, and given my father his card and a current brochure.”
Nicole met his gaze. The color leeched from her face and a trapped look entered her eyes. “You didn’t mention you’d been thinking of contracting our services.”
“I’ve been investigating the possibility, and as I said, I’ve spoken to one of your salesmen. The idea is financially viable for us.” He turned to his father. “Dad, if you’ll excuse us?”
For some reason he was tired of sharing Nicole’s company. The downward twitch of his father’s lip told Ryan he didn’t like being invited to leave, but after a moment Harlan nodded. “I’ll talk to you later, Ryan. Nice meeting you, Ms. Hightower.”
“You, too, sir.” Her worry-filled eyes turned on Ryan as soon as his father was out of hearing range. “Why are you doing this?”
“This?”
“Intruding into my life.”
“You have something I want. I’ll stop at nothing to get it.” And in this instance, winning was everything.
Darkness had fallen by the time Ryan paid the tab for dinner and escorted her from the steak house, increasing the sense of entrapment choking Nicole as they drove toward her home.Ryan was crowding her and she didn’t like it. Her nails bit into her palms in the shadowy confines of his luxury sports car. “There are other airline management companies, you know. I could recommend a good one.”
Ryan cut her a look, his face illuminated by the dashboard lights. “I’ve done my research. Hightower is the best. You have the largest staff and offer the widest selection of aircraft. HAMC has three global operating centers and a higher safety rating than any of your competitors. You provide services 24/7/365 on four hours’ notice. The other companies can’t compete.”
All facts straight from the HAMC brochure, but hearing them from Ryan’s lips turned the Cajun chicken pasta she’d eaten to lead in her stomach. If she couldn’t talk him out of contracting HAMC, she’d be seeing him more often and that wasn’t a good thing unless it gave her a link to her baby. But she’d prefer to get rid of that complication by getting rid of Ryan Patrick.
“Your Web page doesn’t list any international projects. That makes one of the smaller companies more feasible and less expensive for you.”
“Logistically it didn’t make sense for us to accept overseas jobs in the past because we do a lot of hands-on consulting after a project has begun. If we contract Hightower Aviation, we won’t have to turn them down in the future.”
Panic swelled inside her at the certainty in his voice. With any other man his confidence would have been attractive, but not so here. “Bigger isn’t always better.”
He kept his gaze on the road, but the amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes and carving a groove in his cheek told her he knew she was trying to run him off. “I’m surprised HAMC is still a privately owned company. Some corporate giant should have overtaken you by now.”
She shrugged her stiff shoulders and realized he couldn’t see the gesture. “Several have tried. My brother Trent is determined to prevent that from happening.”
“You’re financially strong and have a low debt to asset ratio. The odds are in your favor.”
Her mouth went dry. “You’ve been checking up on us.”
“I’d study any company I intended to indebt Patrick Architectural a million plus dollars with over a five-year period.”
Five years of seeing Ryan on a regular basis. She gulped.
She shouldn’t be surprised by his diligence. From what she’d seen he wasn’t stupid, just misguided and stubborn about the baby issue. “Still, a long-term commitment to a plane is a huge expense and a risky move in the current economic environment. You should be very, very sure before you contract our services.”
“I’m sure—especially now that I’ll have a child to rush home to. Less time on the road means more time with my kid.”
The road to her personal hell was paved with his good intentions.
Her heart sank as she realized she might not be able to dissuade him from the custody battle.
He turned the car into her condo complex and parked in her driveway. She instantly reached for the door handle. “Thanks for dinner. But please call me before setting any more appointments to see houses. I do have other obligations.”
“What could be more important than providing a safe home for this child?”
Nothing. She hated that he was right. She shoved open the door, bailed out and headed up the walk. The quiet thump of his soles echoing the rapid tap of her heels told her she hadn’t escaped him. He followed her up the shallow stairs to her front door and crowded onto her tiny porch.
Her hanging baskets of petunias filled the humid evening air with their sweet smell, but they couldn’t completely mask the subtle citrus tang of his cologne. It took her three tries to get the key into the lock. She twisted hard and fast and opened her door. Determined to get rid of him ASAP, she quickly stepped inside and turned abruptly to say goodbye. She collided with Ryan who had decided to follow her into her foyer despite the lack of invitation. The impact punched the air from her lungs and knocked her off balance.
Ryan grabbed her elbows to steady her. His pelvis, the length of his thighs and his chest pressed hers, scorching her. Her stomach did a funny flip-flop thing, then a spark of awareness flickered to life.
Nicole stared into his bright blue eyes, watching as Ryan’s pupils expanded and his lips parted. The burn in her abdomen intensified and spread, warming and weighting her limbs. She couldn’t get enough air through her nose and had to gulp deep breaths which only increased the pressure of his chest to her breast.
Back away, Nicole.
But she couldn’t. Her muscles mutinied, refusing to take orders from her mind.
His gaze drifted to her mouth and panic pulsed through her. Surely he wasn’t going to—His hands tightened and his head lowered, slowing down her brain. Transfixed she watched him come closer. Her heart raced and her breath hitched.
“Ryan, don’t—”
His mouth smothered her protest. His lips were surprisingly soft, but at the same time commanding and hungry, plying hers with an expertise she couldn’t help appreciating. She lifted her arms up to push him away, but her bullheaded fingers dug into his rock hard biceps and held on instead of shoving. Her muscles contracted, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away.
A shiver rippled through her like waves radiating from a stone thrown into a pond. His tongue stroked a molten trail across her bottom lip then penetrated, found hers and circled. A rush of desire shocked her, making her skin flush and her abdomen tighten.
She fought the heat spreading through her, and yet she couldn’t dam the seeping awareness or make herself move away. How could she respond so intensely to Ryan—or any man for that matter—with the way she felt about Patrick? A sound meant to be a protest but sounding more like a moan slipped from her mouth into his, echoing in his low growl.
Ryan eased back incrementally, his grip loosening and the warmth of his body slowly leaving hers until only their lips clung. And then those, too, parted.
Gasping for air, Nicole pressed her fingers to her mouth and tried not to pant. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“Agreed.” His low, rough tone scraped over her exposed nerves like short nails on bare skin.