Page 58 of The Billionaire's Accidental Legacy

“It’s more believable if we keep this entirely private.”

“Right.”

But he stopped talking about believability because the designer and a seamstress came into the foyer of the store and greeted them.

“Miss Lockwood,” the woman said—they had agreed to use Jessie’s alias while they traveled, because why court trouble? “Very good to have you here. We have pulled aside some of our most popular and accommodating designs.”

Jessie laughed. “I assume you mean to accommodate my stomach.”

“The baby,” the woman said, smiling, tapping Jessie’s bump, which caused Jessie to look up at him in irritation.

He shrugged.

He followed Jessie and the two women back into the dressing room. Where she was summarily divested of her clothing, without even being ushered behind the curtain.

“Isn’t that...” He couldn’t help but lean forward in interest when Jessie’s bra was removed. “Dressing room?”

“No need,” he said. “Nothing I haven’t seen.”

She opened her mouth like a fish, opened and closed, opened and closed. But then said nothing.

He had a feeling he would get an earful about that later. But he didn’t mind getting an earful from her.

As he sat there watching as she was wrapped in gown after gown, he realized something very strange.

He had lived a very lonely life. He couldn’t recall having a relationship that was long or strong enough with someone else to be able to anticipate what they would do in response to something. But with Jessie, he could already imagine it.

She would lecture him, on her modesty. And maybe then afterward she would tease him. Like she had done coming out of her bath the other day. She had dropped that towel and showed him the whole of her beautiful backside before dressing herself. She wasn’t shy, and even if she were, it was clear that her desire to one-up him outweighed any kind of modesty she might possess.

She knew that he responded too eagerly to her body to ever remain completely cool and collected when she was nude, and she was happy to dress up, in that red dress as she had done that day that he had come to find out about the pregnancy, and again that day when she had dropped her towel.

He had a feeling it wouldn’t take her long to figure out how to use this to her advantage.

He was excited then, not because he was getting a good view of her body, though that, too, but mostly because he knew that about her.

Heknewher.

At least in some capacity. And it was a strange and unique feeling that he didn’t want to let go of.

She tried on many flowing gowns, with the last one being more fitted, showing off the swell of her stomach, and there was an elemental need that fired through his veins that he had no control over. He stood. “That one.”

“The lady gets to choose her own gown,” the designer said, sniffing.

“I am paying for the lady’s gown, and I like her in this one. I want to see her body. I want to see her curves.”

“Just for that, I think I might agitate for one of the others,” she said, but he could see by the way she looked at herself in the mirror that she liked this one best, too. It annoyed her she agreed with him. He was amused by that realization.

“She’ll take this one.”

She bought shoes and a veil, and by the time they swept back out onto the Paris streets, their packages safely ensconced in their town car, she was glaring at him.

“We’re walking just down this way to go and get some dinner. I’ve made us a reservation.”

He sensed her soften beside him. The mention of food might be enough to tame her.

“Oh.”

“I thought you might enjoy a nice meal.”

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