The Billionaire's Baby Plan by Allison Leigh - The Billionaire's Baby Plan

Author:Allison Leigh - The Billionaire's Baby Plan [Leigh, Allison]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Category, Man-Woman Relationships, Suspense, Fertility Clinics, Contemporary, General, Romance, Marriage, Billionaires, Fiction, The Baby Chase
ISBN: 9780373655304
Google: 5rzQ3urHDSwC
Amazon: 0373655304
Publisher: Silhouette
Published: 2010-05-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

O nce Lisa was showered and dressed in a strapless yellow sundress with her hair pulled back again in its customary— and safely familiar—knot, they drove down to the village and left the car parked in a picturesque cobblestone alleyway bordered by ageless stone buildings graced with iron railings and colorful flowerboxes and walked to the nearby open-air market. Rourke seemed very familiar with the merchants that they passed, smiling and laughing off comments with ease that her long-ago high-school French couldn’t hope to keep up with.

She found she didn’t much care, though, because she was too busy taking in the incredible sights that the tiny seaside town had to offer and then Rourke was guiding her to a collection of unoccupied tables situated next to a small building. As soon as she’d taken the sun-bleached chair that he held out for her, a wizened old man came out of the building, his arms outstretched in greeting. “Rourke,” he called, smiling broadly. “Who iz zis beautiful woman you bring to me?”Rourke closed his hand over her shoulder. “Tyrus, this is my wife, Lisa. We married a few days ago.”

“Marriage?” Tyrus’s wiry eyebrows shot up over his buttonlike eyes and then he grabbed up Lisa’s hand, bowing low over it. “Très belle.”

Too aware of the warm hand that felt wholly possessive on her bare shoulder, Lisa barely noticed the kiss that Tyrus bestowed on the back of her hand. “It’s nice to meet you,” she managed when the diminutive man had straightened again.

“Oui, oui.” He was nodding over and over again. “I bring you wine,” he announced suddenly, turning on his heel to hurry back to the building. “We celebrate!”

Rourke pulled out the chair next to her and sat down. Their knees brushed beneath the little round iron table and though her instinct was to shift her legs, she resisted, mostly because of the gleam in his eyes that told her that was exactly what he expected her to do. “Obviously people know you in the village, too,” she said.

“I’ve been coming here for a lot of years.” Looking idle, he threaded his fingers through hers and his platinum wedding band gleamed in the sunlight.

For some reason, she found herself feeling mesmerized by the sight and deliberately blinked, focusing instead on the prolific red blooms of the lush bougainvillea that grew against the whitewashed walls of the building next to their table.

“Something wrong?”

She shook her head. “What brought you here in the first place?”

“An old friend.”

“The same friend who owns the villa?”

“Yes.”

Her teeth worried the inside of her upper lip. “A woman?”

His thumb slid in slow circles over hers. “I think you do have a jealous streak.”

“Not in this lifetime,” she lied coolly.

“Here we are,” Tyrus reappeared, holding a bottle and several glasses aloft.

“We need some lunch, too,” Rourke advised, sitting back in his chair. “I figured we’d see Grif and Nora here already.”

“They still come every afternoon,” Tyrus assured him as he deftly poured the deep red wine and

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