Baby for the Billionaire - By Maxine Sullivan Page 0,108
into his house with Dana. But he’d wring every cent that he could from the pair of them in exchange for the mansion that Dana had craved … and the share of Harper-North that Connor had walked away from. They weren’t going to get off scott-free.
“Sorry.” The laughter faded from Michael’s eyes. “But trust me, Suzy’s not marrying me for money. She’s a teacher, just like me, so our incomes are pretty equal.”
Dana had been trying to wheedle an engagement ring out of Connor for ages. His thoughts came to a grinding halt. Had Suzy tricked Michael into a proposal with the oldest trick in the book?
“What about children?” Connor prodded. Dana had begged for a child. But Connor had resisted. He hadn’t wanted marriage—which he suspected was the real reason for Dana’s desperate desire for a child. A child would’ve been a mistake. They were both too busy for kids, he’d told her.
Michael turned the key in the ignition. His jaw had firmed and his hands gripped the steering wheel.
“I’m not asking if this woman’s already pregnant,” Connor lied hastily as the motor took. “Just wondering if she views you as a father figure for any children she has.” A high school guidance counselor, Michael would make the perfect mark for a solo mother wanting financial and emotional support.
“She doesn’t have any.” The reply was clipped.
“That’s a relief. I was worried she might be a desperate divorcée.” Connor paused as they rolled down a narrow lane lined with clipped hedges that hid the church from view.
“She’s divorced but she’s not desperate.” Michael’s jaw jutted out, a sign of the stubborn streak that usually remained hidden beneath his affable, calm exterior. “You’ll like Suzy, Connor—if you let yourself. There’s no catch.”
Connor stared at Michael’s profile, aware he wasn’t getting anywhere. The strange notion that his orderly life had spun out of control increased. He shook his head. “You’re not listening. There’s always a catch.”
“Of course I’m listening.”
“But?” Something about the set of Michael’s jaw told Connor this was one of the rare times that none of his arguments were going to succeed.
In the years he’d been playing squash with Michael he’d come to value the calm, unconditional friendship they’d forged. Connor often offered Michael financial advice, and only twice had Michael disregarded it. The first time Michael had lost thousands on a development that went belly up. The second time Connor had advised him to steer clear of a derelict Edwardian cottage on a busy road. Michael had wanted to use an unexpected legacy from a great-aunt as a deposit. Connor had warned him the restoration would devour money faster than a hungry loan shark.
But Michael had bought the place anyway and spent every weekend working on it. Connor had taken to dropping by on Sunday afternoons to lend Michael a hand—much to Dana’s disgust—and the manual labor involved in stripping old paintwork and restoring the cottage had proved extremely rewarding. As the house took shape Connor finally admitted he’d been wrong. Despite the exorbitant amount of time and money it consumed, Michael’s home was special.
It had reminded him of the days when he and Paul had first started out, fired by dreams of preserving as many forgotten buildings as they could.
When had they lost that idealism? When had it all become about the next million?
Yet just because Michael had been right about that old place of his didn’t mean this madly rushed marriage would work out, Connor decided as they waited for a break in the traffic.
“But … Suzy’s nothing like Dana.”
Connor bristled at the mention of Dana’s name. “I never said she was.”
Michael threw him a disbelieving look. “Don’t let what Dana did embitter you. I think you’re well rid of her. I never liked her, you know. You deserve someone better.”
“Right now I’m hardly in the mood to play dating games,” Connor growled.
“You’ll get over it.” Michael nosed the Toyota onto the road that ran past the front of the church. “We’ll find someone to kiss your broken heart better at the wedding tomorrow.”
Connor gave him a baleful glare. “My heart isn’t broken.”
“No,” Michael agreed. “It’s your pride that’s battered.”
“Thanks, mate, I really needed to hear that!”
Michael was still laughing as they pulled up in front of the church gate where the bride and her maid of honor waited.
Despite Suzy’s blonde prettiness, Connor found his gaze drawn to her friend. A patina of reserve clung to her. There was not a hint of feminine flounce in the