by Dani Wade
Ivy forced herself to wipe away the last of her tears. She’d been reliving that awful moment when she’d looked up to see Paxton staring at her from across the little office for hours now. She’d finally realized his sister had been with him. At least his being there made some sort of sense now.
Even though it was still disastrous.
Auntie cut into her thoughts, offering the same steady wisdom she’d handed out to the girls since she’d taken them in as orphaned teenagers. “Oh, he will care. The question is, what will he do about it? Men like him never quit.”
As Ivy felt her stomach tighten in protest, Jasmine admonished, “Auntie, that’s not helping.”
“Doesn’t make it less true,” Auntie insisted.
How could she have gotten herself into this mess? With Paxton McLemore, of all people? “Why did I wear that ring?” She moaned, letting her head drop into her hands. “Why did I think it would bring anything but bad luck?”
“Because it produced miracles for Jasmine and me?” Willow asked.
This was really not a good moment for both of her sisters to remind Ivy that they’d found their happily-ever-afters while wearing the ring. She hadn’t been so lucky.
Ivy glared at Willow. “Too bad I didn’t get the same treatment.”
But she couldn’t truly blame the ring. She’d let fantasies overtake her since the first day she’d started working for Paxton McLemore, at the expense of her true mission. Keep her head down, work hard and get ahead—all without him discovering who she really was. Playing with fire had gotten her burned. Now her family could be in as much trouble as she was...if Paxton pursued her too closely and discovered who they really were.
“He hasn’t called, even though he has your personal cell number,” Jasmine said, obviously trying to change the subject. “Even though it’s only been a few hours, that’s a good sign, right?”
“I don’t know,” Ivy said and then moaned.
“Will he realize the baby is his?” Auntie asked.
“There’s no way Paxton McLemore won’t put two and two together.” They’d used a condom, but mistakes happen.
Ivy worried the inside of her bottom lip with her teeth. She didn’t doubt Paxton would contact her at some point. He might not care anything about her—he’d made that clear over the last two months. But a baby... Paxton was a family man through and through. She doubted he would ignore her pregnancy, no matter how much of an inconvenience it was to him. “I have no idea what to say to him.”
A banging on the front door startled them all. “Geesh,” Willow exclaimed. “Take it easy.”
She headed down the hallway. Jasmine’s hand covered Ivy’s, warming her chilled skin. “Everything’s gonna be okay,” she murmured.
Why didn’t Ivy feel the same way?
They heard Willow open the door and say something, followed by a deep, smooth male voice.
“Where is she?”
Ivy’s eyes widened, her gaze locking with Jasmine’s. There was no mistaking Paxton’s voice or the forceful tone that she’d heard time and again in business meetings. The panic from earlier returned full force, drumming in her chest. She and Jasmine scrambled from their seats.
Together, they peeked around the door frame of the dining room, straight down the hall. Paxton stood in the front doorway with an angry expression on his face. In that moment he glanced over Willow’s shoulder and saw Ivy.
He didn’t bother asking for permission. Instead he shouldered past Ivy’s sister and stomped down the hallway, causing the wooden floors to creak in protest.
“Paxton,” Ivy exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”
“Hunting down what’s mine.”
A small part of her was thrilled at his words, but the anger in his expression told her in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t here for her. At least, not the way she wanted.
“Get out!” The words escaped her mouth just as Auntie murmured, “I told you so.”
A hint of amusement passed over Paxton’s face before he turned grim again. “If I’m understanding this situation correctly, you turned in your resignation and walked away, knowing you were pregnant with my child?”
A chorus of feminine “oh dears” filled the air and guilt struck Ivy hard. Yes, that’s exactly what she’d done. But his blunt recitation of the facts didn’t truly represent the whole picture: her loneliness and fear and anger over the past two months.
“Ivy,” Paxton said, his timbre low and menacing. He stopped directly in front of her, looming just enough to inspire a touch of fear. “It seems we have a problem.”
Three
“Do I get any kind of explanation?”
“Do you deserve one?” Under other circumstances, Ivy had plenty of reserves to pull from to keep herself diplomatic. But Paxton’s appearance here had her off guard and on edge.
She needed her sisters. A glance toward the doorway from the kitchen showed that it was empty. Ivy licked her dry lips. When Paxton had asked to speak with her alone, they’d reluctantly left for the front parlor. Not that they wouldn’t come running if she yelled, but still...she couldn’t stop herself from wrapping her arms around her middle.
Facing him alone made her stomach hurt even more than when she’d just been worrying over him showing up.
“How’d you find me?” she asked.
“Human resources was nice enough to help with an address.”
She licked her lips again. “Why?”
“Seriously?”
Ivy was genuinely surprised as Paxton’s eyes widened and his tone deepened with more anger. She wasn’t sure why. Paxton was passionate about kids. But the knowledge that he was here for that reason alone made her own anger surge.
“I could have been at the doctor’s office for any number of reasons...” she insisted.
“Like getting a prescription of prenatal vitamins?”
“That was none of your business, Paxton.”
“Don’t even go there...” he growled.
He leaned closer, his height giving him the advantage. His intention might not be intimidation, but it sure felt that way. Even in her heels, she’d never come close to his height. In her current flip-flops, she didn’t stand a chance. But at least she was still on her feet. Sitting down felt like giving him too much of an advantage, so she continued to stand, even though her body swayed under the continuous onslaught of pregnancy hormones, nausea and exhaustion.
Paxton wasn’t through throwing his weight around. “If you simply wanted to walk away from your job, that’s your prerogative. But with my child? No way.”
The possessiveness in his words sent a scary thrill through her. “My child,” she insisted.
“Your words earlier already told me it’s mine, too.” He smirked. “You can’t deny it. I was listening at the window. I heard it all.”
How would it feel to be able to wipe that smirk off his face?
If she’d known he was listening, she’d have been careful not to give so much away. Eavesdropper. But then, Paxton was used to having his way in life. She’d seen it time and again when she worked for him. It would be best to set some boundaries up front. “A little beneath you, isn’t it?”
“I could say the same. Sneaking around. Running away. You could have just told me.”
In that moment it felt like Ivy’s blood turned to jet fuel and someone set a match to it. Heated fury instantly engulfed her. She stomped forward. “At what point? You made it clear you weren’t interested in hearing anything personal. And you certainly didn’t seem to be interested in any consequences before today.”
He shook his head. “This is a child we’re talking about here.”
Obviously that’s all that mattered. “I see. The only consequences of note are the ones that affect you.”
He stalked away, steps heavy on the kitchen’s tile
floor, and raked his hands through his blond hair in a familiar gesture she’d seen so many times in his office. Frustration. Anger. It took a lot to push Paxton that far. When those emotions overtook him in public, he simply went cold in his expression, movements and words.
Not in private. That was the part she already missed—all the emotions she’d been privy to that Paxton rarely showed anyone outside his family.
Unfortunately, now the emotions were directed at her. And not the fiercely tender ones she remembered from their one night together.
After several rounds of pacing, he settled in a chair at the table, then gestured for her to do the same. The stubborn part of her that wouldn’t rest today wanted to insist he wasn’t her boss anymore. She’d sit when she was good and ready. But the invitation rather than demand in his simple motion made her stubbornness seem petty.
Damn him.
She sat across from him, uncomfortably reminded of the many business negotiations she’d seen him participate in, sitting just this way. Facing his opponent dead-on. He didn’t let them know they were opponents. Oh no. He greeted them with a charming smile and handshake. Otherwise he’d be giving too much away.
She unconsciously braced herself as he leaned her way.
“Why?” he asked, his voice soft but with an undercurrent of steel. “Were you ever going to tell me?”
She bit her lip, feeling heartless. But what could she say? She hadn’t truly decided what she was going to do. Right now, every day was about survival: submitting résumés for another job, getting enough food in her so she didn’t pass out, but not so much that she threw up.
Not an easy balancing act.
Finally she sighed, then attempted to put her thoughts into words. “Eventually...” She swallowed, studying the intricate pattern of light and dark wood pieces fitted together to create the handmade table where so many big family discussions had taken place in her life. “Once I had things figured out and stable, I would have let you know.”
“And what needs to be figured out?” His voice had gone low again, this time with warning.
Surprised, she glanced over at him. She’d known that Paxton was unusually devoted to his family and doted on all of his nieces. Every bit of that protective instinct was alive and well in his expression right now. But not for her...never for her. “Obviously a new job,” she said, hurt clipping her words.
“Obviously?”
“Yes, Paxton.” Her exasperation left her breathy. “Regardless of what happens between us or with this pregnancy, working together after this would not be pleasant...or professional.”
“Why not? Can’t you separate your emotions from your job?”
Not that much. “Don’t be ridiculous, Paxton.”
“What happened between us—”
“Was a mistake.”
He froze for a split second, as if he couldn’t believe her words. “Says who?”
“You—” she erupted, slapping her palm on the table with more force than she had intended. How dare he act like she was overreacting. “You did. With every phone call and email that contained plenty of instructions but a whole lot of nothing.” She couldn’t control the rise in volume. “You did this, Paxton.”
“You never said anything.”
“I slept with my boss!” She struggled for breath in the midst of her raging emotions. “When he leaves without waking you up and then never mentions it again, there could only be two explanations—he’s either too drunk to remember what happened or refuses to acknowledge what happened. There’s not a whole lot I can say to address either of those situations.”
“I wasn’t drunk,” he said quietly.
“Which leaves only one alternative.” Turning away, Ivy pressed her hand hard against her stomach. The chaotic emotions rushing through her did not help her morning sickness at all. Though why they called it that, she’d never know. Hers was more like morning, noon and night sickness.
“Are you okay?” Paxton asked, his voice sounding closer. Sure enough, a quick glance confirmed he was on his feet and halfway around the table already.
“No,” she snapped. She breathed slow and deep, in through her nose, out through her mouth. So far the only things she’d found that helped when the nausea hit at its random times were to keep very still and stay calm. This situation wasn’t conducive to either.
“Besides, there are other issues to consider.”
“Like what?”
She realized he wasn’t going to let her get away with not answering that question. But her brain was seriously on strike right now. Thinking things through wasn’t her strong point. All she knew was that anything she said about her family could potentially do a lot of damage.
Not just for herself and any custody battles she found herself in, but also for Jasmine. Even though her sister had a fiancé with clout now, the news of the Harden sisters’ true heritage could break her event-planning business if the McLemores decided to go after her.
“I can’t... I can’t talk about that right now. My stomach—” She hated to use illness to get herself out of this discussion, but at least this overwhelming sickness came in handy for something.
“Okay,” he conceded.
But she had a feeling she wasn’t getting off easy. Suddenly he stood before her with his legs braced and his arms crossed over his chest.
“But remember,” he said, “I can’t fix what I don’t know.”
“I’m not sure this can be fixed.” Ivy gasped against a wave of nausea. “I just...I need time.”
“We don’t have an infinite amount of that left.”
She glanced up to find him facing her, big body braced, arms crossed over his chest, causing his dress shirt to strain over smooth muscle. He opened his mouth. Then closed it. All while staring at her.
“What?” But she was almost afraid to ask. Paxton wasn’t the type of guy to be at a loss for words.
“Did you do this on purpose?”
Wow. Ivy swayed. Or did she? Maybe it just felt that way with her mind reeling. She really had been delusional to think he might feel anything for her...hadn’t she?
Her chest was too tight with hurt for her voice to come out more than a whisper. “Is that really how you see me?”
His answer was too matter-of-fact for her liking. “No. But people can hide a lot.”
Just like he had. He’d hidden a lot of suspicion behind caring, hadn’t he? “There’s nothing I can say to convince you that I didn’t deliberately get pregnant, Paxton,” she said with more resignation than conviction. “That’s gonna be a problem, isn’t it?”
“Probably.”
* * *
She doesn’t look so fierce in her sleep.
Paxton stared down at Ivy as she rested on the sofa in the Hardens’ front parlor. Her tousled hair looked the same as it had on the morning that he’d left her in his bed, but her face was thinner now. A slight frown rested between her brows, as if she couldn’t get comfortable, even in her sleep.
Uneasy with the softening of his emotional defenses, Paxton forced his gaze away from her to the surrounding room. He took in the antique furniture mixed with a few well-worn pieces and lots of soft feminine touches. The living space seemed well used and designed for comfort, while respecting the past.
“She’s plumb tuckered out all the time,” the older woman the sisters called Auntie said as she came up beside him.
Paxton glanced over at her, unease filtering through him. “Is this level of sickness dangerous? I don’t remember either of my sisters having this problem.”
Sierra rarely got sick at all. Janine had spent the first three months throwing up every morning, then she was fine the rest of the day. But they were both very emotional—conversations could turn into minefields without warning.
“Oh, it isn’t dangerous,” Auntie said with a wave of her hand. “As
long as we keep enough food in her, she and the baby will be fine. Not comfortable, by any stretch of the imagination. But safe.”
Paxton suppressed a smile. “Good to know.”
“It’s all been rough on her—” Auntie went on, shifting slightly “—between the sickness, how this all came about and getting used to the idea of bringing a new life into the world. That’s a lot for a girl to take in.”
Paxton was well aware. “I bet.”
“She’ll be a good mama, though. You’ll see.”
Finally Paxton let his gaze return to the sleeping beauty. He knew Ivy to be capable, efficient, eternally prepared for any number of clients’ demands. The night of the masquerade, he’d discovered just how passionate she could be. The last thing he’d wondered about her was what kind of mother she’d be.
Guess he better start considering the possibilities.
That’s not why I’m here. Paxton shook his head slightly. He’d spent the night vacillating between sheer panic and endless questions. Not the joy that he’d felt each time his sisters had announced their pregnancies.
He’d realized immediately after leaving yesterday that he’d taken the wrong tack. Letting their emotions take control wouldn’t get them anywhere. Especially not him. It was the first time he could remember his emotions overtaking his logic so completely. A scary place for him to be.
So he’d returned this afternoon for a bit of reconnaissance. His best option for moving forward and answering his own questions about this whole situation was information.
Information about Ivy outside of their professional exposure to each other. Information about her family and the environment the child would be born into. That way he could make decisions and plans based on what he thought was best.
This situation wasn’t ideal. It was what it was. He just needed a plan of action.
He forced his gaze away. Focus on the plan. Not on the woman.
“Thank you for having me,” he said, turning up the wattage on his smile as he glanced back at Auntie. Just as he had yesterday, he’d noticed her limp as she’d led him from the front door, into the parlor. She had the pinkish complexion of health, but also the slight droop of exhaustion in her expression. Even this early in the evening.