Affair with the Rebel Heiress by Emily McKay

questions.”
    More to the point, he’d told her everything she really needed to know about Ford. If he found out he really was the father of her child, he’d do everything in his power to take care of her. But he’d never really let her or the baby in. He’d never love her or the baby the way she wanted to be loved. She’d just be another burden to him.
    And wasn’t that just the last thing she needed? Another man to coddle her. Yippee.
     
    Ford couldn’t tell how much progress he and Jonathon had made on convincing Kitty to accept their offer, but he sensed something had changed while he’d been on the phone with his sister. He’d come back to the table to find Kitty looking pale and withdrawn. To make matters worse, not much later, Jonathon had gotten a call, as well, and had to leave the meeting.
    Now half a day had passed and they were no closer to signing papers. Kitty had vanished after lunch, leaving him to go over the quarterly financial statements with Marty, whose eager nervousness reminded him of a puppy with ADD.
    To make matters worse, he’d wandered over to Kitty’s office. He hadn’t planned on coming there. That’s just where he’d ended up. As if he no longer had any control over where his feet took him.
    A quick glance in her office told him it was empty. She better not have left early. He’d already turned to leave when he heard a noise from the other side of the office. The door to her bathroom was open.
    “Kitty, are you there?” he asked, crossing her office.
    He was a few steps from the bathroom when the door slammed closed. “Go away,” said her muffled voice.
    He should have taken at her word, but he made the mistake of hesitating just long enough to hear the recognizable sounds of someone throwing up. He cringed.
    “You okay?”
    “Go a—” More retching.
    That sounded bad. Not that hurling ever sounded good. He should definitely leave. He’d almost made it to the door when a voice in his head stopped him in his tracks. She’s obviously sick, and you’re running for the door. What kind of jerk are you?
    But she’d told him to go.
    Of course she did. No one likes puking. You think she’s going to ask for your help? No way. But you can’t just leave her there.
    He walked back to the bathroom, praying the door would be locked. That would be the perfect excuse to just turn and walk away. He tried the knob. And the damn thing wiggled.
    He opened the door to see her wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Thick strands of dark hair had fallen down from its twist to hang in her face. Her gaze blazed with anger.
    “I said go away.” But her hands trembled as she lowered herself to sit on the ground beside the toilet.
    He’d done the right thing.
    Shutting the door behind him in case anyone came in, he said, “You don’t have to be so proud.”
    “Great. A lecture. Thanks.” She pressed her cheek to the tile wall. “Next time you’re throwing up, I’ll fly out to California to razz you.”
    “Yeah, I’ll give you a call,” he shot back. He pulled a paper towel from the dispenser and ran it under the faucet before handing it to her. “Here.”
    “Thanks.” She wiped carefully at the corners of her mouth, then folded that edge to the center and pressed the damp cloth to her forehead. A sigh of relief escaped her lips.
    The sound stirred something deep within his belly. Some primitive urge to care for and protect. To possess.
    Okay, she should not look sexy right now. That was just wrong.
    He looked around for something else to do and saw a mug sitting on the ledge under the mirror. After rinsing it carefully, he filled it. He squatted by her side and held it out.
    After a second, her eyes flickered open. She stared at him for a moment. If she saw the heat in his gaze, she didn’t comment, but the tension seemed to stretch between them as she sipped the water. He half expected her to come back with one of her customary jabs. Instead she said merely,