The Tycoon's Paternity Agenda Read Online Free PDF Page A

either, so he’d persisted, and finally she agreed to one date. But only as friends. He took her to dinner and the theater. She hadn’teven kissed him goodnight, but as he drove home, he knew that he would eventually marry her. She was everything he wanted in a wife.
    They saw each other several times before she finally let him kiss her, and held out for an excruciating three months before she would sleep with him. He wouldn’t say that first time had been a disappointment, exactly. It had just taken a while to get everything working smoothly. Their sex life had never been what he would call smoking hot anyway. It was more…comfortable. Besides, their relationship had been based more on respect than sex. And he preferred it that way.
    They were seeing each other almost six months before she admitted her humble background—not that it had made a difference to him—and it wasn’t until they became engaged a year later that she finally introduced him to her family.
    After months of hearing complaints about her family, and how backward and primitive ranch life was, he’d half expected to meet the modern equivalent of the Beverly Hillbillies, but her parents were both educated, intelligent people. He never really understood why she resented them so. Her family seemed to adore her, yet she always made excuses why they shouldn’t visit, and the longer she stayed away, the more her resentment seemed to grow. He had tried to talk to her about it, tried to reason with her, but she would always change the subject.
    Elvie appeared in the kitchen doorway holding a glass of lemonade. Eyes wary, she stepped into the room and walked toward the sofa. He took a step in her direction to take the glass from her, and she reacted as if he’d raised a hand to strike her. She set the drink down on the coffee table with a loud clunk then scurried back across the room and through the kitchen door.
    â€œThank you,” he said to her retreating form. He hopedshe was a better housekeeper than a conversationalist. He picked up the icy glass and raised it to his lips, but some of the lemonade had splashed over and it dripped onto the lapel of his suit jacket.
    Damn it. There was nothing he hated more than stains on his clothes. He looked around for something to blot it up, so it didn’t leave a permanent mark. He moved toward the kitchen, to ask Elvie for a cloth or towel, but given her reaction to him, he might scare her half to death if he so much as stepped through the door. He opted for the second floor bathroom instead, which he vaguely recalled to be somewhere along the upstairs hallway.
    He headed up the stairs and when he reached the top step a grayish-brown ball of fur appeared from nowhere and wrapped itself around his ankles, nearly tripping him. He caught the banister to keep from tumbling backward.
    Timid housekeepers and homicidal cats. What could he possibly encounter next?
    He gave the feline a gentle shove with the toe of his Italian-leather shoe, which he noticed was dotted with mud, and shooed it away. It meowed in protest and darted to one of the closed doors, using its weight to shove it open. Wondering if that could be the bathroom he was searching for, he crossed the hall and peered inside. But it wasn’t the bathroom. It was Katy’s room. She stood beside the bed, wearing nothing but a bath towel, her hair damp and hanging down her back.
    Damn.
    She didn’t seem to notice him there so he opened his mouth to say something, to warn her of his presence, but it was too late. Before he could utter a sound, she tugged the towel loose and dropped it to the wood floor.
    And his jaw nearly went with it. He tried to look away, knew he should look away, but the message wasn’t making it to his brain.
    Her breasts were high and plump, the kind made just for cupping, with small, pale pink nipples any man would love to get his lips around. Her hips were the perfect fullness for her