Winning Wyatt (The Billionaire Brotherhood Book 1) (13 page)

Delivery
of their room service meal interrupted Kara’s inquisition. They ate at a small
table by the window. Wyatt couldn’t get his fill of looking at her and moved
the floral centerpiece out of the way to have an unobstructed view. She seemed
distracted. He wanted to regain her attention.

Finally,
her gaze met his. “How was your flight?”

“Fine.”

“It
must have been nice to have someone you knew on board.”

She
pulled her eyebrows together. “Who?”

“You
were with someone when you got off the plane.”

“Oh,
that was Lilah. I didn't know her. She was seated across the aisle from me.
While she was feeding the baby, the older child got bored. I figured traveling
with an infant and a two-year-old couldn't be easy, so I entertained him for a
while, and then helped her again as we got off the plane.”

“You
looked awfully comfortable with the children.”

“I
wasn’t, until recently. Especially children that age. That’s just one of
several positive changes that have occurred in my life since I returned from
California.”

He
settled his chin on his hand, happy to have her with him again. “What else?”

“I've
been getting out more.” She began to list her accomplishments with a grin of
satisfaction. “Met some people. Made some friends. Bought a house.”

He
gave a low whistle. “That was a big step.”

“Much
bigger than I originally planned. The project should keep me busy for quite a
while.”

“What
kind of house?”

Kara
eyed him over her champagne flute. “An old Victorian. Twelve rooms including a
turret and a gazebo.”

“Twelve
rooms? Do you need that much space?”

“Probably
not, but there’s room for a studio if I want to take up painting again. And
hopefully I won’t always live there alone.” She stopped and took a deep breath.
“I'd like to have children someday. Wouldn’t you?”

He
stopped eating and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “No.”

“You’re
kidding.” She half-smiled, as if suspecting him of pulling her leg.

“No,
I’m not.” He barely managed to repress a shudder.

Kara
put down her fork. “Why not?”

He
gave a self-deprecating shrug. “I’m just a selfish bastard, I guess.”

She
blinked at him. “That’s not true. Exactly.”

“I’ve
never understood the burning compulsion other people feel about having
children. Ultimately, I think fathering a child requires more of a commitment
than I'm willing to make.”

She
sipped champagne while puzzling over his response. “You’ve never felt the
desire to generate a new life? To create an unbreakable bond with a person
who’s a tangible part of you? To have someone to love and to teach and to care
for?”

He
shook his head. “It always seems to me the desire most people feel about
procreation stems more from a need to control someone else’s life than anything
else.”

“Let
me clarify.” She stood and moved several steps away from him, like a prosecutor
in a court of law. “You don’t have any children, and you don’t ever want to
have any?”

He
hated to disappoint her, but they’d always been truthful with one another.
“Correct.”

“But
I thought...”

“What?”

“There’s
a picture at your cabin of you with a woman and a boy who looks quite a bit
like you.”

Wyatt
just stared at her. “And you thought the boy was my son? That the woman was
my—what? Wife? Mistress? Girlfriend?”

“One
of those.”

“The
boy is my nephew and the woman’s my sister—” he began, and then cut himself
off. “Why do you always look at me like that when I mention her?”

Kara
returned to her seat and picked up her fork. Instead of continuing to eat, she
pushed the last few green beans around on her plate. “Are you close?”

“My
sister and I?”

“No.”
She scowled, making him feel like the slow student in the class. There must be
something he was missing. “We’ve established that fact, over and over. I meant,
you and your nephew.”

“As
close as I can be with someone with whom I have nothing in common.”

She
looked up from her green bean dissection. “Nothing?”

He
shook his head. “Not as far as I can discern.”

“What
sort of things does he like?”

“I
don’t know.” Wyatt shrugged, uncertain where this conversation had originated
or where it would end. “Children are a mystery to me. If he doesn't have an
interest in literature, art, cars, women or single malt liquor, what else is
there?”

Apparently
unamused by his clever response, Kara pressed on. “How old is he?”

Setting
his fork aside again, he rested his chin on his clasped hands. “Thirteen?
Fourteen? Somewhere around there.”

“Then
you’re probably mistaken. If he hasn’t already, he’ll develop an interest in at
least three of those subjects very soon. And literature won’t be one of them.
At the rate kids mature these days, he’ll be able to teach you a few things
before long. Call me if he does.”

“Are
you implying my education may be lacking in one or more of those areas?” Wyatt
reached across the table, circled her wrist with his fingers, and pulled. “Come
sit on my lap while we discuss this. I believe I can prove differently.”

She
complied, but very hesitantly. Before his hand made its way inside her robe, a
rap sounded on the door.

“That
must be your luggage.” Wyatt motioned for Kara to join them while he swung the
door wide. “Come and meet one of my oldest friends. This is Jonah Wilson.
Jonah, Kara Enderley.”

Kara
clutched the top of the wrap-around robe together with one hand and extended the
other. It got swallowed up in Jonah's gnarled grip. “It’s a pleasure to meet
you, Mr. Wilson. Thank you for getting my luggage.”

“No
problem, miss.” Jonah answered in a deep, rich voice that rumbled like James
Earl Jones’.

“Thanks,
Jonah.” Wyatt clapped the older man on the back. “Would you like to stay for a
drink, or do you need to get back to Isabelle?”

“Thank
you, Mr. Wyatt, but you know Izzy. She’ll be hollering if I don’t get right
back.” He opened the door, stopped and leveled a sharp gaze at Wyatt. “She says
your mama wants you to bring this young lady out to the house for dinner. Y’all
gonna do that?”

Wyatt
sighed. “I can’t refuse Mother and Izzy both. Besides, I wouldn't dream of
depriving a guest of the opportunity to eat Izzy’s cooking.”

“She’ll
be happy you said so,” Jonah said over his shoulder as he left.

Wyatt
turned and reached for Kara again. “Weren’t we about to do something
interesting when Jonah arrived?”

Kara
sidestepped him and rolled her bag toward the bedroom. “I can’t think what.”

“Think
hard.” Wrapping an arm around her waist, he pulled her close. “It’ll come to
you.”

She
surprised him by holding him off. “I’m sure it will. But while I’m thinking,
I’ll wash up. I’m feeling grubby all of a sudden.” She slipped out of his grasp
and into the bathroom with her suitcase, closing and locking the door in his
face.

“Kara...”
He raised his voice to be heard through the thick panel.

“I’ll
be out in a minute,” she called before turning the water on.

Biting
back his frustration, Wyatt grabbed his phone and checked his messages until
Kara returned, seventeen minutes later. Not that he’d been counting. Setting
the phone aside, he poured them both a glass of champagne. He came toward her,
placed the drink in her hand, and then a kiss on her lips. Kara stiffened and
drew back.

“Something
wrong?”

“No.”
She bit her lip, looked away, and then peered back at him. “Yes.”

“What?”

“We
can’t start anything interesting again tonight.”

What
new game was this? “No kissing?”

She
held her hands in front of her as if holding him off.“Kissing would be okay,
but we never just kiss. Kissing leads to sex.”

“Does
this mean the honeymoon’s over?”

Kara
took a gulp of champagne. “It means I forgot my birth control pills.”

He
hid his concern, letting his eyes search her face. This lack of contraception
seemed awfully convenient when he was hot and horny. And she had just become
aware of his family name. He pushed the unworthy suspicion aside. “Are there
likely to be consequences from our earlier activities?”

“Like
the child you don’t want? Probably not, but we shouldn’t take any further
risks.”

He
took the glass from her hand and set it aside before leading her toward the
sofa. “Lack of birth control isn’t an insurmountable problem. We can be
creative.”

But
early the next morning, Wyatt slipped out and returned with a box of condoms.
“As enjoyable as last night was,” he murmured in Kara's ear as he awakened her,
“some things just can't be duplicated.”

Friday
afternoon, Kara and Wyatt returned to the hotel from a gloriously romantic
overnight trip to Savannah. Wyatt’s phone beeped. Since Kara didn’t want to
eavesdrop on his business calls, she headed toward the other room. When she
emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, he disconnected the call and
cursed.

“Bad
news?” She took a seat beside him on the bed.

“On
the contrary.” He smiled at her with false cheerfulness. “Mother has invited us
for cocktails and an inquisition at seven, with an informal dinner to follow.”

She
flopped back against the mattress. “Us? Really? Both of us? She didn’t
specifically name me in the invitation, did she?”

“Of
course. You’re the honored guest.”

“Why
would she care about meeting me?”

“Because
you're here with me.” He stretched out beside Kara and tucked her up against
his side. “And that’s a first.”

“Hah!
You can’t tell me you haven’t stayed in a hotel with a woman before.”

He
shrugged and toyed with a strand of her hair. “I’ve never spent a week at a
hotel in ‘Lanta with a woman before. That she knows about.”

“Wyatt,
I’ve seen how miffed the local females are when they realize I’m with you. Your
family can’t possibly think you’re a twenty-eight-year-old virgin.”

He
brushed a knuckle against her flushed cheeks. “No, but they know I don’t tend
to linger very long with one woman.”

“You
told me you were engaged once. Did you linger long with her?”

“We
didn't ‘linger’ at all, actually.” He pulled away at the thought of his
scheming, money-hungry ex-fiancée.

“What
happened?”

“My
family knew hers.” He turned over on his back. “Our parents encouraged the
engagement. Everyone thought we were perfect for one another.”

“But
you weren’t? Who broke it off?”

He
stacked his hands behind his head. “We came to realize that sex didn’t make a
marriage, and marriage wasn’t what we wanted.”