He kept coming. ‘You’re not ordinary. You’re a long, long way from being ordinary.’ He purred the words at her, furring them with desire, deliberately intent on stirring the sexual response he knew he could draw from her.
‘That’s not the point,’ she cried, wanting him, wanting him quite desperately, yet still not prepared to be steam-rollered into sealing a partnership that had been proposed on a possibility, not a certainty.
He slid his hand under the doona and laid it on her stomach, the heat of his palm burning through her clothes. ‘My child, either way,’ he asserted.
It was as though he drew a response from the baby in her womb. There was a ripple of movement, like a reaching out to him from under her skin. The ruthlessly intent expression on Fletcher’s face broke into a grin of delight.
‘My child,’ he repeated, more of an awed tone in his voice.
Maybe he would be a good father, ‘either way,’ Tammy thought on a wild wave of hope.
‘Let me see. Let me feel,’ he said with eager fervour, and somehow she was powerless to resist as he whipped off the shift dress she’d worn and stripped her of bra and panties. The discarding of his own clothes took only a few seconds. She automatically shifted to give him space on the bed, wanting to share her pregnancy with him, thrilled that he was excited by it.
She wasn’t sure afterwards if he’d made love to her or made love to their child. It was completely different to any of the sex they’d had before. There was no feverish passion, no fierce possessiveness, more an overwhelming flow of tenderness that melted her heart, melted every bone in her body and filled her with a warmth that completely banished any sense of loneliness.
He held her in a gentle embrace, stroking her hair, stroking her back, making her feel precious—the vessel holding his child—giving her a sweet sense of sharing and caring. It was good being intimate partners in bed, and partners in parenthood had to be right…at least until it was proved wrong. Fletcher was caught up in this new miracle of life and how it might be. The testing time would come after the baby was born.
‘Say you’ll marry me,’ he murmured, rubbing his cheek over the top of her head.
‘Okay. I’ll marry you,’ she said on a sigh of surrender.
He instantly rolled her onto her back, propping himself on his side, intent on searching her eyes, checking that her answer was a serious one. Satisfied that it was, he smiled, a sparkle of triumph shining through the pleasure in his eyes. He’d won, though she’d given him enough uncertainty to want the win sealed quickly.
‘I’ll get the legal forms tomorrow to register our intent to marry. How quickly can you arrange our wedding, Tamalyn?’
Not a wedding.
That would feel dreadfully wrong.
‘I’m willing to enter a contract of marriage with you, Fletcher. I’d prefer to do it in a registry office. I think it’s the law that we have to wait a month before it can be done.’
He frowned. ‘But you and your gang of friends are into weddings in a big way. Lucy was pregnant. I don’t see why…’
‘It’s not the same,’ she cut in, knowing Lucy and Tony loved each other and had truly pledged a commitment to lifelong togetherness, as had Celine and Andrew, Kirsty and Paul. The situation between her and Fletcher was very different—a contract of marriage that guaranteed him full-time access to their child, and if the child was ordinary, he might not feel needed.
Not once had he ever said he loved her.
She wasn’t sure he was capable of love.
And without a gifted child to keep them together…
‘If it’s because you think your parents wouldn’t be interested in giving you a wedding…’ Fletcher pressed, still frowning.
She rolled her eyes at the idea of any involvement from her parents. No way would she ask her father for anything, and if her mother knew that her daughter’s husband-to-be was a billionaire, she’d stage a wedding with herself as the star. ‘I won’t even be telling them I’m getting married. This is strictly our business.’
‘Tamalyn, I’m happy to pay for the wedding of your dreams. Anything you want.’
‘No, thank you.’
He shook his head. ‘Don’t let pride come into this. I want to give you what your friends have had. They will want it for you. Celine will undoubtedly be outraged if I don’t provide it,’ he added ruefully. ‘She’ll go around screaming what are my billions for, and she’ll be right. You should be a bride with all the trimmings.’
He was right. Her friends were not going to like her getting married in a registry office. Somehow she would have to make them understand her decision, tell them straight-out this wasn’t a love-match. Partners in parenthood said it all. Hopefully they would be sympathetic to her situation and what she was making of it.
‘I’ll explain to my friends this isn’t the right time for me,’ she said dismissively.
‘Because you might look more obviously pregnant in another month?’ he queried, frustrated at not being able to get into her mind.
‘No. Because you don’t make me feel like a bride,’ she said bluntly.
He grimaced in exasperation at what he obviously saw as female thinking. ‘What is a bride supposed to feel like?’
‘A bride should believe that her marriage will last, Fletcher.’
It gave him pause for serious thought, his eyes probing for cracks in her conviction that separation was somewhere down the track. ‘What makes you think ours won’t last?’
‘You wanted a legal contract,’ she reminded him. ‘I’ve agreed to it. Let’s go with that and see how far it works.’
His mouth twitched into a sardonic little smile. ‘Still the challenging little witch.’
She returned the smile. ‘Let me know when the spell wears off.’
His eyes glittered a counter-challenge. ‘What if it never does?’
She arched an eyebrow. ‘What did you say about the statistics of marriage?’
‘I remember you saying there were always exceptions to the rule.’
Tammy reached out and stroked his cheek, delivering the last word, fiercely hoping that the outcome would be positive. ‘Time will tell, Fletcher. Time will tell.’
He had no comeback for that.
Except to kiss her with overwhelming passion and make her feel grateful for every minute they had together…like this.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The Fourth Wedding