Bought by a Millionaire (7 page)

Now their deal was at risk of being shot to hell, all because Chicago's most eligible bachelor had made her toes curl with a single, soul-stealing kiss.

Even if she pushed aside all of her doubts and fears and spent the night with him, it would still be only one night of passion. Or two. Two or three nights of passion at the most.

Certainly, it would be good. Burke had too strong an ef
fect on her from a distance for lovemaking with him not to be absolutely combustible.

But they didn't belong together. No matter how many sparks shot between them on a regular basis, they were from different worlds and had nothing in common aside from the child she carried.

Burke was sinfully handsome, sophisticated and rich as Croesus. Shannon, on the other hand, lived a simple life. She might not be ugly enough to require a bag for her head, but she also wasn't centerfold material as so many of his previous conquests had been.

She read the newspaper and occasionally picked up a copy of the gossip rags. She'd seen pictures of him with raving beauties. Actresses, society darlings, women who made Shannon look like Holly Hobbie in her flowing, earth-toned clothing preferences.

And while Burke owned four cars, his own building, and Lord knew how many boats or jets, she could barely pay her rent, tuition and the cost of her mother's assisted living. She wanted to teach kindergarten, which he would probably consider only one step above manual labor. The media would dub them “Beauty and the Beast,” or some equally ridiculous headline…with her being the beast who threatened to ruin the elegant, charming, well-respected young entrepreneur.

With a sigh and a quick, longing glance over her shoulder, she said, “Good night,” and headed for her room.

 

A few minutes later, Shannon heard a tapping on the other side of the bedroom door. Before she could answer, it squeaked open. First one inch, then another and another until Burke slipped inside, holding her forgotten plate of Chinese food in front of him like a peace offering.

“You didn't get a chance to finish your dinner,” he said softly, “and I didn't want you to go hungry.”

With a small smile, she took the plate and chopsticks while he set her refilled glass of milk on the bedside table. “Thank you.”

Standing back, he slipped his hands into the front pockets of his slacks. “I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable out there,” he murmured, looking decidedly uncomfortable himself.

Shannon swallowed the cashew she'd been attempting to chew. Her anxiety over the kiss hadn't stemmed so much from his actions as from the feelings stirring around inside her.

“I was hoping you'd let me make it up to you. If you're feeling well enough tomorrow, what do you say we take a trip to Meadow Lark and visit your mother?” he offered.

“Really?” Shannon sat up straighter, more excited than she could say at the prospect of seeing her mom. Her father had left—or, run off—while she was still a baby, so it had been just the two of them for most of her life. Through good times and bad, her mother had been her rock, her sole support. They spoke on the phone every few days, but Shannon hadn't been to the center since before she got sick, for fear she'd make her mother sick, too.

“If you feel up to it.”

“I have a class first thing in the morning, but after that, I'd love to.” She was almost vibrating with excitement, the plate of food and chopsticks forgotten in the center of her lap.

He nodded. “That will give me a chance to take care of some business downstairs. We'll even leave the limo here and take one of the other cars, since you seem to be in doubt of my driving skills.”

She blushed slightly, remembering their conversation on the way home from the hospital. “I've never ridden in a Mercedes before.”

Burke threw back his head and laughed. “Well, now's your chance,” he told her. “If you play your cards right, I may even let you drive.”

 

Shannon returned to Burke's apartment after class with a skip in her step and a smile on her face. Her throat still felt a tad scratchy and she knew she wasn't completely recovered, but Burke had offered to take her to visit her mother, and she wasn't willing to let a little sniffle keep her away. Besides, Dr. Cox had assured her she was on the mend and any infection was well on its way out of her system.

Burke was taking another day off from his work to drive her to Meadow Lark, which she found amazing. He was a busy man, a dedicated businessman. Frankly, she wouldn't be surprised to learn he was a workaholic and rarely left his office—unless, of course, it was to come home and continue working on his laptop through much of the evening.

Yet since she'd known him, he'd left work on several occasions to accompany her to prenatal doctor appointments, check on her at her apartment and move her into his own penthouse while she was under the weather. He didn't seem particularly eager to leave her here alone and get back to his office, either.

Shannon put a halt to that train of thought before it could lead her any further into confusion. Trying to figure out why he would forgo work to spend time with her and take her to visit her mother was as disconcerting as wondering why he'd kissed her last night.

Hadn't he been the one to insist on an ironclad contract? One that guaranteed she would have no claim on him or the baby once she'd given birth and been paid the remainder of her surrogacy fee. It was his way of ensuring she wouldn't come back later wanting to be a mother to the child or black-
mailing him for more money. And she'd readily agreed because she had no intention of doing, either.

Although she had to admit, it would be tough, when the time came, to give up the baby growing inside her. She was trying so hard not to let herself get attached to the tiny life, but could easily imagine her attitude changing over the next several months.

Though her morning sickness had been minimal so far, the slight queasiness she felt most mornings and sometimes through the rest of the day was a clear reminder that she was pregnant. As were the other changes in her body, such as breast sensitivity, difficulty sleeping and increased appetite and cravings. And she found herself looking forward to the day when she'd feel the child move for the first time, even though she knew it would only make things that much harder.

Now, in addition to worrying about how she would handle having to give up the child growing inside her, she was forced to deal with the further anxiety of finding herself highly attracted to the baby's father.

Shannon laughed at how silly that sounded as she quickly changed from the jeans and sweater she'd worn to class into a long wool skirt, matching chocolate-brown turtleneck, and a pair of knee-high, zip-up boots.

Any other woman would be thrilled to have a crush on the father of her child. Heck, in a normal world, she'd likely have been not only attracted to him, but in love with him before she even considered getting pregnant.

But hers was not a normal world. Not these days. It seemed she was doing everything in reverse, so she probably shouldn't be surprised that she'd agreed to carry Burke's baby
and then
started to experience feelings for him of the romantic variety.

Of course, the fact that she had the hots for Burke wasn't really the problem anymore, was it? If it were, she could have
simply written off her feelings as a case of Plain-Jane-Meets-Sexy-Millionaire infatuation. Her heart may have continued to skip a beat when she saw him, or she might have indulged in the occasional midnight fantasy about him when she was tossing and turning in her bed, but those were all things she could keep under control.

The trouble was that now she had to deal with Burke's possible attraction to her. Why else would he have kissed her, if he weren't attracted to her, too?

Lord, she wished he hadn't. Not that she hadn't enjoyed the taste of his mouth, the firm press of his lips on hers, the feel of his hands on her bare skin—she really, really had—but it made everything so much more complicated.

And if he felt anything toward her, it was probably only some sentimental attachment connected to the baby. He hadn't wanted to kiss
her,
he'd wanted to kiss the woman carrying his child. Which made complete sense, since he'd been touching her stomach, where the baby rested, just seconds before turning the touch into a caress and pressing his lips to her own.

At least he was a gentleman. He'd stopped when she'd asked him to. Which was why she had no qualms about going with him today to visit her mother.

The kiss had been a mistake. One of those spur-of-the-moment things he'd likely done before thinking it through. Or he'd gotten wrapped up in the same family illusion she had—man, woman, baby on the way, a beautiful apartment, deep sofa cushions and a warm fire blazing in the fireplace. It was all too much to resist. Once he'd realized what he had been doing, he'd probably been sorry and mortified, so she didn't expect it to happen again.

She tried not to be disappointed as she grabbed her purse and left the bedroom. She should be relieved that he wouldn't
be kissing her again…not disappointed about never feeling his hands and lips on her body again.

Hormones,
she told herself. It was those blasted, over-active pregnancy hormones that had her nipples beading and heat pooling low in her belly.

“There you are.”

Burke stood in the middle of the living room, dressed for work in a dark blue suit and red tie. His voice washed over her like honey and the heat in her belly moved lower.

Hormones. Please let it be nothing but hormones.

“All dressed for the trip, I see.” His gaze brushed over her, lingering on her waist and breasts a second longer than anywhere else. Then he grabbed a long overcoat from the arm of the couch and shrugged into it. “You look great.”

“Thank you.” The words wheezed from her lungs and her cheeks flushed.

How could a harmless compliment from this man have such an impact on her? He looked at her and her skin tingled. He smiled and her heart dropped to her toes. He kissed her and she melted.

And that was the end of her self-delusion. She might be able to blame her wildly out-of-whack hormones for a portion of her reactions to him, but not all of them. Not the weakness in her knees or the part of her brain that kept imagining what it might be like to spend a night in Burke Bishop's bed.

What she felt for him was lust, pure and simple, and no amount of pretending or giving it another name was going to change that.

Burke held his hand out in invitation, a gentle grin gracing his strong, handsome face. “Ready to go?”

She nodded, lifting an arm to link her fingers with his, and allowing him to lead her along toward the door. The jolt of awareness at the simple connection didn't come as such a
shock this time. Instead, she was surprised only that sparks didn't shoot from their entwined hands.

She wanted this man. And she was suddenly very afraid that before their business arrangement came to an end, she would have him.

T
he half-hour drive out of the city to the Meadow Lark Assisted Living Center was quiet. Shannon didn't seem interested in talking, and Burke got the distinct feeling she was uncomfortable being alone with him in such a confined space.

It was the kiss. He'd known, even before he leaned close to touch her lips with his own, that it was a mistake. Not because he didn't want to kiss her—he damn well did, and had from almost the moment they'd met—but because it would change things between them.

And yet, he couldn't regret kissing her, holding her. Her mouth had been sweet and inviting, her skin warm and baby-soft. He wanted to kiss her again now. Pull over to the side of the road, drag her onto his lap and have another taste of her lips and tongue.

Wouldn't that send her running? Maybe even literally. So he clenched his fists on the steering wheel, made a concen
trated effort to regulate his breathing, and stayed where he was, casting a sideways glance in her direction.

“You're looking better. Your color is back to normal and I don't think I've heard you cough all morning,” he said. “Are you feeling better?”

At the sound of his voice, she started, but quickly recovered and forced a smile. “Yes, thank you.”

“Don't thank me,” he told her, returning a brighter grin of his own, “thank Dr. Cox.”

She didn't reply to that, and he felt shut down. Without her willing participation, it would be kind of hard to carry on a decent conversation. He thought about turning on the radio, but didn't want to give her even more of an excuse to remain silent if the urge to speak finally hit her.

Unfortunately, it didn't, and he soon found himself turning into the Meadow Lark driveway. The single-story redbrick building spread out in front of them as he found a parking space and shut off the ignition. White shutters lined the windows and bright, late-blooming flowers filled the beds all along the cement pathway, making Meadow Lark look more like a home than a medical facility.

Burke also knew from his research that this was one of the better rehabilitation centers in the area. There were other places that cost much less, and Shannon easily could have put her mother into one of those. But even though it meant working two jobs, taking out thousands of dollars in loans for school, and becoming a surrogate mother for a complete stranger, she'd opted to see that her mother wasn't just taken care of, but
well
taken care of.

His respect for her—which was already pretty darn high—went up a notch.

Shannon got out of the car on her own, without waiting for him to move around and open her door, and started toward the
building ahead of him, but he quickly caught up and took her elbow. He felt her stiffen for a fraction of a second and cursed himself again for causing the barrier that seemed to be growing between them.

At the front desk, Shannon smiled and exchanged pleasantries with the receptionist before signing them in and leading him down the hall to her mother's room. Outside the closed door, she paused and turned to face him, lines of concern marring her brow.

“You should know…before we go in…” she said haltingly, then closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and began again. “My mother sometimes gets confused. She still recognizes me, for the most part, but sometimes she thinks I'm a little girl again, or will talk to me as though I'm my father. I'm not sure how she'll respond to you.”

Burke nodded. “I understand.”

“And because of the stroke, the left side of her body doesn't quite work the way it used to.”

“Shannon.” He spoke softly, resting a hand on her shoulder and rubbing his thumb back and forth across the smooth cotton of her simple sweater. “It's all right. I'm looking forward to meeting her.”

She seemed reassured by that and pushed the door open, leaving him to enter behind. Her mother sat in a tan recliner near the window, a book in her lap, her legs covered by a multicolored, granny square afghan.

“Hi, Mom.” Shannon moved to her mother's side and leaned over to press a kiss to the woman's cheek. “How are you feeling?”

Eleanor Moriarty's kind oval face lit up at the sight of her daughter. “Shannon! What are you doing here? I didn't expect to see you today.”

Burke noticed the slight droop to the left side of Eleanor's
face when she spoke, but otherwise didn't think he'd have noticed any lingering symptoms of the stroke. And despite Shannon's warnings about her mother's frailties, he could tell she was a strong woman. There was no slope to her shoulders, no dullness in her eyes, and he suspected that if Shannon hadn't hunkered down on one knee beside the chair, her mother would have just as easily jumped up to greet her.

“A surprise visit,” Shannon answered.

Burke didn't think he'd ever seen her so happy. Her eyes sparkled and her face beamed, and when she reached out to take his hand and tug him closer, something thick and powerful stirred low in his belly.

“Mom, I want you to meet someone.” With her hand still wrapped around his, she stood beside him and laid her other hand on his forearm.

A shudder rippled through him and he wished they were alone so he could kiss her again. Something about seeing her with her mother, having her touch him willingly and without hesitation made him weak in the knees and more fallible than he'd ever been before in his life.

“Mom, this is Burke Bishop. I've been working for him lately and he was generous enough to drive me out here today. Burke, this is my mother, Eleanor Moriarty.”

He took her hand, with its long fingers and thin skin, in his own. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Moriarty. Shannon has told me a lot about you.”

Eleanor leaned forward and studied him with her hawk-like gaze. “You, too, young man. Although I'm sorry to say Shannon hasn't told me a thing about you.”

Burke chuckled. Shannon's mother was a spunky woman, he thought. And though Shannon was a bit more reserved, he could see many of the same qualities in her. When she was
older, he imagined she would be just as straightforward and independent-minded as her mother.

“She's probably embarrassed to be linked to me publicly,” he said with a sidelong wink. “I'm afraid I threw her life into quite a spin when I convinced her to quit her other two jobs and come work only for me.”

“Shannon,” her mother exclaimed. “You didn't tell me you stopped working at the restaurant and law firm.”

“I didn't have a chance,” Shannon responded smoothly. “The position with Burke only came up recently.”

“And what kind of work does he have you doing?” Eleanor wanted to know.

Shannon's grip on his arm tightened and he knew she was uncomfortable skating around the truth with her mother, let alone lying outright.

“Personal assistant,” he supplied easily. That was close enough to the truth to ease both Shannon's and her mother's minds, at least for the time being. “With her experience at both the law firm and the restaurant, she was the perfect choice.”

“How nice,” Eleanor said. To her daughter, she added, “Now you don't have to do so much running around and can devote more time to your studies.”

“That's right.”

Shannon's hold on him eased until she drew away altogether; he missed her nearness immediately.

Dragging a wooden chair from its place along the wall, she sat beside her mother and began chatting about the book Eleanor was reading. As they slipped into a discussion about Shannon's classes and some distant cousins, Burke wandered the room. He took in the numerous knickknacks that meant nothing to him but probably meant a great deal to Eleanor. Things of a sentimental nature that she'd collected all her life.

This was what was missing from his penthouse, he thought.
Framed pictures of loved ones and items to remind him of special times in his life.

Shannon's apartment had been similar, he remembered, filled with books and plants and figurines that made her smile, brought to mind happy memories, or simply made an otherwise sparse room into a home. Whereas his apartment had been professionally decorated and contained nothing personal or sentimental—unless he counted his laptop computer in the den, which he used to work most of the time he was away from the office.

It should have come as a revelation that he surrounded himself with the sterile and meaningless. And yet, it didn't. He'd realized for a while now there was something missing from his life, had always been missing. And it had taken a trip to visit Shannon's mother to put his finger on it. The question was: what did he do now that he knew?

From the corner of his eye, he saw that the two women were still going strong. And though he tried not to eavesdrop on their conversation, he couldn't help but hear them discuss Shannon's hair, which was apparently an inch or two longer than the last time her mother had seen it, and the slight hoarseness of Shannon's voice, which Eleanor noticed and Shannon glossed over so her mother wouldn't worry.

He wondered what Shannon would do when her pregnancy began to reveal itself. Would she come clean and tell her mother everything? Or would she simply not visit for the last few months until the baby was born and she'd regained her figure?

A pang of what felt like regret hit him in the solar plexus. It was selfish of him—not to mention hypocritical, since he was the one who'd insisted on complete anonymity—but he suddenly found himself wishing she might confide in her mother that she was carrying his child. That they were more than boss and employee.

He wondered how it would feel to have people know, to tell the world Shannon meant more to him than just some woman he'd hired to fulfill his wishes. But how much she meant to him, he wasn't sure, and he probably meant even less to her.

That didn't set well, but damned if he knew what to do about it.

Frustrated beyond belief, Burke turned his attention to a photo of Shannon as a toddler, sitting in the kitchen sink while her mother gave her a bath. It brought a smile to his face, as well as an image of what his own child might look like. He—or she—would have his hair, but Shannon's moss-green eyes and down-to-earth zest for life.

And when he pictured his baby being bathed in his kitchen sink, it was Shannon holding the washcloth, with her hand on the child's back. Shannon grinning from ear to ear as the baby splashed and giggled. Shannon being a mother to her child.

His child.

For a second, the air stuck in his lungs and he couldn't breathe. His entire life up to this moment flashed across his mind's eye and he realized how lonely and desolate it had been.

Then the flashes skipped ahead to the possible future he could have with Shannon and their child as a real family. A comfortable, almost lulling warmth burst from the area of his heart and spread throughout his body.

His fists clenched on the edge of the nightstand as he tried to catch his breath and waited for the room to stop spinning. The sensation filling his very being felt good, but damned scary, too.

And he didn't know what the hell to do with it. He could barely handle the idea of adding a few framed photos to his apartment or tearing up the surrogacy agreement with Shannon. Admitting to any emotion toward Shannon stronger than straightforward desire might send him into a comatose state.

“Burke?”

The hand on his arm and Shannon's low voice in his ear caused him to jerk. At his reaction, she immediately broke the contact, and Burke cursed himself for giving her even that small reason not to feel comfortable touching him.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.”

“That's all right. I was a little distracted.” He shook off the puzzlement still coursing through his veins and softened his tone in hopes of putting Shannon back at ease. “How are you two doing over there?”

Her lips turned up in happiness. “I think we've pretty much caught up on every minute that's passed since the last time we saw each other. It's almost time for dinner, so I thought we could accompany Mom to the dining room before we leave. Would you mind?”

“Of course not.” He crossed the room to Eleanor's side and helped her to her feet, then waited for Shannon to take her mother's other arm. “It's not very often I get to be an escort for
two
beautiful ladies.”

“Oh, I like him, Shannon,” Eleanor said in a stage whisper, walking slowly but competently between them. “Don't let this one get away.”

 

“I'm sorry about that,” Shannon apologized when they reached the car. “She thinks we're involved and I couldn't seem to convince her otherwise.”

Burke chuckled. If Shannon only knew how close her mother's thoughts were to his own. “Don't worry about it. Frankly, I'm flattered that your mother thinks I'm a worthy candidate to date her only daughter. I would have expected her to warn you away from me instead.”

“Hardly. She thinks you'd be a great catch. Handsome, polite, rich.” She cast him a sidelong glance, her lips twisted in
a reluctant half smile. “I'm afraid she recognized your name from the papers.”

“Your mother is one smart cookie. I guess we're just lucky no one else recognized me or we might never have gotten out of there.”

“It's hell being famous,” Shannon teased.

Grinning back at her, he said, “Sometimes it is. But fame has its perks, too.”

He was about to list them, in hopes of impressing her, when his cell phone rang.

“Bishop,” he answered, digging the small square of plastic out of his front jacket pocket and flipping it open. “Dammit, I completely forgot. We're on our way back now, but…Wait a minute. Let me get back to you.”

Clicking the phone closed, he glanced briefly at Shannon before returning his attention to the road. “I have a huge favor to ask,” he began. “That was Margaret, reminding me of a charity function I promised to attend this evening. The problem is, I don't have a date, and if I go alone, I'll spend the entire night fending off attention-hungry gold diggers. Is there any chance I can convince you to go with me?”