What I Did for Love (Wynette, Texas #5)(94)

He laughed.

“I’m serious.” She lifted her arm from her eyes and made herself face him.

“I know. That’s why I’m laughing.”

“It isn’t like it’d cost you anything.” She sat up, all her lovemaking-lax muscles constricting. “No boring visitations. No child support. All you have to do is give me the goods and fade away before the main event.”

“Not going to happen. Not in a trillion years.”

“I wouldn’t even bring it up—”

“Now that you’re good at.”

“—if you weren’t so good-looking. Your faults are all character flaws, and since I wouldn’t let you anywhere near my offspring except for an occasional public photo op, that’s not a problem. Granted, by employing your DNA, I’m risking a few damaged chromosomes from your years of excess. But it’s a risk I’m willing to take because, with that one exception, you pretty much represent the male genetic jackpot.”

“I’m weirdly flattered. But…No. Never.”

She dropped back into the pillows. “I knew you’d be too selfish to discuss this. It’s so like you.”

“It isn’t as if you’re asking me to lend you twenty bucks.”

“A good thing, because I’d only have to pay myself back!”

He bent over her and nibbled at her bottom lip. “Would you mind using that gorgeous mouth for something other than idle chit-chat?”

“Stop making fun of my mouth. What’s the big deal? Tell me.”

“The big deal is, I don’t want a kid.”

“Exactly.” She bounced back up. “You won’t have one either.”

“Do you really think it’d be that easy?”

No. It would be messy and unbelievably complicated, but the idea of mixing their genes had been growing more enticing by the day. His looks and—she hated to admit it—his intellect, combined with her own temperament and discipline would produce the most amazing child, a child she yearned to bear. “It’ll be easier than easy,” she said. “It’s a no-brainer.”

“No-brain is right. Fortunately, the rest of your body makes up for your empty head.”

“Save your energy. I’m out of the mood.”

“I’m sorrier about that than you can imagine.” He rolled on top of her and wedged her legs open with his thighs.

“What are you doing?”

“Reasserting my masculine supremacy.” He captured her wrists and held them over her head. “Sorry, Scoot, but it has to be done.”

He began to push inside her.

“I’m not using birth control!”

“Good try.” He nibbled at her breast. “But futile.”

She didn’t press the point. First, it was a lie. Second, she’d turned into a sex maniac. And third…

She forgot about the third and wrapped her legs around him.



Bram couldn’t believe it. A baby! Did she really think he’d go along with that harebrained idea. He’d always known he’d never get married, let alone have kids. Men like him weren’t cut out for anything involving self-sacrifice, cooperation, or high-mindedness. What small amounts of those qualities he could muster up had to go into his work. Georgie was the weirdest combination of common sense and wacko bullshit he’d ever known, and she was starting to drive him more than a little crazy.

He waited until after his meeting with Vortex the next afternoon before he called Caitlin with the news. “Brace yourself, sweetheart. Tree House has a green light at Vortex. Rory Keene took the deal.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“And here I thought you’d be happy for me.”

“You son of a bitch! That option only had two weeks left.”

“Fifteen days. And look at it this way. Now you can fall asleep at night knowing I won’t let anybody turn your mother’s book into a piece of crap. I’m sure that’ll be a huge comfort.”

“Go screw yourself.” She slammed down the phone.

He glanced toward the second floor. “Excellent idea.”



Between a sinus headache, a demoralizing meeting with her superiors at Starlight Management, and a speeding ticket on the way to Santa Monica, Laura was having the mother of bad days. She punched the doorbell of Paul York’s two-story Mediterranean town house, which was just four blocks from the Pier, although she couldn’t imagine him ever going there. The deep V-neck of her new sleeveless silk print Escada dress gave her some added ventilation, but she was still hot, and ringlets had begun to form along her hair-line. She began each day looking neat and orderly, but it didn’t take long before she started to unravel—a fleck of mascara under one eye, a bra strap slipping off the other shoulder. She’d scuff a shoe, tear a seam, and no matter how expensive the salon cut, her baby-fine hair always lost its shape as the day went on.

She heard Steely Dan playing inside the house, so she knew someone was home, but he wasn’t answering the bell, just as he hadn’t been answering his phone. She’d been trying to reach him since Georgie had fired her two weeks ago, the day the quarantine had been lifted.

She banged on the door, and when that didn’t work, banged on it again. The tabloids had gone into a frenzy searching out details of the quarantine, but the disclosure of Rory’s presence and the news that Vortex had taken on Tree House had cast doubt on the more hysterical accounts of screaming catfights and hedonistic orgies.