by Hart, Staci
It was a game, a teasing game of control, a momentary denial of the thing we wanted desperately as we reveled in the sweet suspense of restraint.
I touched her in places never considered indecent—the hollow under the ball of her ankle, the tendon behind her knee, the soft space inside her elbow, the dip above her collarbone. Every second that kiss was denied heightened the simmering desire, the strange, unexpected tingling of my lips painful in intensity. She squirmed in my lap, setting another painfully intense sensation beneath her legs with the rise of my cock. It was unmistakable, and for a moment, I feared she’d shift away. But instead, the smallest moan slipped from her, and her thighs—thighs I’d have around my waist or so help me—shifted against my aching length.
And still, I didn’t kiss her.
But the desire to consumed every thought.
When the cab stopped, I shoved a wad of cash at the driver before throwing the door open. Her hand was in mine. We trotted up the steps. She unlocked the door with trembling hands. And then we were inside the dark house, the door closing with a snick, shutting out the city and the night outside.
The only sound was her breath and mine in a matched rhythm.
Neither of us moved. The details of her face were obscured in shadows but for her eyes, which caught the ambient moonlight and reflected it back at me.
With a breath deemed to fortify her, she said, “Kiss m—”
She was in my arms, her body soft and supple. And my lips took a taste they would regret.
Because within a single heartbeat, I was addicted.
My universe shrank to the point where our lips melded, exploding in a bang to rival the big one, contained at the tips of our searching tongues. A million nerves fired like starbursts across our lips. And on the fringes in nebulous tendrils were hands, breaths, bodies, heartbeats—all in autonomous sync.
Beyond all reasoning, beyond all sense, some event had come to pass, leaving a deep, thrumming word in my chest. And I wrote that word on her body with fingertips and tongue.
Mine.
The urge was instinct, an impulse, primal in origin and execution. It was, as she’d so studiously pointed out, a matter of science. Of chemicals set in motion by our brains, pumped through our bodies by thundering hearts. But whatever cocktail had been created by the mix of her chemistry and mine was potent and potentially lethal in intensity. And I felt the beginnings of what would become an undeniable fact.
The girl in my arms was no Katherine-with-a-K-not-Katie.
This girl was Kate.
This sighing, soft creature, whatever she was, was not who she’d appeared on first glance. She was so much more.
The way I undressed her undid me. The way she tasted consumed me. The way she felt beneath me, around me, stroked the pulse of my very self.
And I didn’t care why because she was mine.
It didn’t even cross my mind that I might not be hers.
Part I
First Trimester
1
Decisions, Decisions
Katherine
5 weeks, 1 day
I wish I could say that disbelief was the emotion I felt as I held the small plastic stick in fingers I knew to be mine but were utterly unrecognizable. My gaze was fixed on the tiny window where a blue plus sign stared back at me with unflinching clarity.
There was no disbelief, seeing as how I knew exactly when, how, and with whom it’d happened.
When: approximately five weeks ago.
Who: one-night stand.
How: prophylactic malfunction.
If birth control didn’t make me an irrational, blubbering mess, my uterus would not be occupied by a zygote.
No, I corrected myself—not a zygote. At this stage, it was an embryo and would have a heartbeat, tail, and tiny nubs that would become arms and legs. My photographic memory recalled an image I’d seen in sex ed during junior high of something that looked closer to an extraterrestrial than a baby.
My stomach rolled at the thought. Or at the realization. Or because the surge of hormones was giving me morning sickness. Or, in this instance, afternoon sickness.
I swallowed back my lunch, forcing it down my esophagus where it belonged before shifting my train of thought. If I didn’t, I really would vomit.
I inventoried my feelings with the clinical detachment with which I approached everything. Shock was at the top of the list, indicated by my rapid breaths, clammy hands, racing pulse, and the uncommon dizziness that rose and fell in waves. The reason, I quickly deduced, was that an occupied uterus had no place in my current plan, life or otherwise. My dinner plans for sushi were out the window for sure.
I lowered myself to sit on the closed toilet, holding the pregnancy test in dead, foreign hands. My back was ramrod straight, my shoulder blades pulled back, nose in the air sucking oxygen like it would stop me from vomiting. Resisting was beginning to seem futile. I wondered absently how long I could iron-stomach it before I lost my lunch.
The thought made me gag again.
I gripped the reins on my galloping thoughts, pulling them to a halt so I could find the road again.
Because I needed to decide what I was going to do.
I’d always wanted to procreate, assumed that I would. Allotted my future self a single child to appease the instinct to continue my genetics, a sentimental instinct driven by the desire for immortality more than a desire for love. Humans were complex, fascinating creatures, and creating was something I considered an honor. Taking a human life in any form was unfathomable. And I found the thought of giving away a child I’d created beyond comprehension.
The upside to my unforeseen path was that I didn’t have to wait to find a suitable mate.
I’d already found one.
Genetically, he was the cream of the crop. As a physical specimen, he was ideal—his musculature a study in symmetry and strength, his height imposing, dominant. He was perfectly masculine, a man who thrived on control and command, and beyond that, he was highly intelligent and resourceful.
Really, I couldn’t have handpicked a better genetic pool.
Of course, there was one slight issue.
For the last four-plus weeks, I’d been avoiding him at all costs.
It wasn’t because I didn’t like him, nor was it because I didn’t want to see him again. It was quite the opposite. I liked him so much, I’d immediately distanced myself.
It was better this way, for all of us. That he’d spent one night with me was a fluke. Any more than that, and I’d be pressing my luck. I was built for a lot of things—organization, research, mathematics, pragmatism, to name a few—but relationships was not one of them.
My mind briefly ran over my financials, concluding quickly that my job as a page at the New York Public Library would not suffice to support myself and the embryo. I’d have to move into research, which I had been avoiding—I loved the solitude of shelving books, and trading that for a full day researching any and everything for strangers sounded exhausting. A nanny would be necessary, of course, but who didn’t have a nanny in Manhattan?
With a deep breath and a curt nod at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I decided.
This was the perfect opportunity to achieve a goal, and it seemed silly not to take it simply because it wasn’t in my plan. It had landed in my lap. Or, more accurately, my uterus.
With that resolved, I stood, set the pregnancy test on the counter, and got down on my knees to empty my stomach.
I swiped at involuntary tears from my cheeks as I stood and turned to brush my teeth. A rush of irrational sadness arrested me. Because all I truly wanted was to tell my friends. Not for validation, but because they were the people I shared everything with. And the comfort of sharing this with them was something I thought I might need, judging by the unfamiliar twist in my chest.
But they were all gone, living their own lives with their boyfriends and husbands and fiancés. And I was here, alone. I didn’t even have Claudius the cat anymore.
Amelia had taken him with her when she got married.
I’d text them later and ask them to come over, which I knew they would honor without question. And maybe I’d swing by the shelter and get a cat of my own.
But first, I needed to find Theodore Bane and tell him I was having his baby.
2
Transaction Malfunction
Theo
“Hello, Theodore.”
My shock at finding Katherine Lawson on my stoop, clutching her bag with her chin tilted up to eye me with clinical coolness, happened behind a flat mask of indifference. Primarily because I hadn’t seen her in four weeks, five days, and a handful of hours.
Though not for lack of trying. The elusive creature had avoided me with the stealth and skill of a spy on the run.
“Hello, Katherine.”
“May I come in? I’d like to discuss our transaction last month.”
She used the word transaction—which made her sound like either an ATM or a hooker—with the detached objectivity that had amused and intrigued me when we met. That night. I felt the tug of my lips on one side, a climbing smile I couldn’t have stopped if I wanted to.
Which I didn’t.
I shifted out of the way, taking the door with me. “I’ve been interested in discussing our…transaction for a while.”
“Yes, I know,” she said as she passed.
I caught the scent of clean, crisp soap, nothing more. No perfume, no makeup, her face as fresh and pretty as I remembered. More so. My memory paled in comparison to the real thing. Chestnut hair, straight and neat, with bangs manicured to a strict line. Her eyes were hazel, an amalgamation of browns and mossy greens, flecked with bursts of blue. Bright eyes, sharp with intelligence and curiosity, dark with the shroud she kept between herself and everyone else.
There was an entire world behind those eyes, locked up and kept from everyone.
But I wasn’t everyone.
Her back was straight as an arrow, her shoulders proud and shoulder blades together. But once, I’d seen her soft. Once, I’d heard her sigh. Once, she’d been supple and giving beneath me.
Goddamn it, I hated that she’d blown me off. But as I closed the door and followed her into the entryway, I smirked with smug certainty that I was back in the game.
I stepped into her, reaching to help her out of her coat. “Here, let me.”
My breath stirred her hair, and she froze for a nanosecond before relaxing. I even thought I saw a flicker of a smile on her level lips.
Once her coat hung on a hook, we headed into the living room.
“Can I get you something to drink? Scotch on the rocks, right?”
“No, thank you,” she said, taking a breath to say something else. But she caught herself, lips closing. She moved to the couch and sat.
I took a seat opposite her, leaning back as I hooked an ankle on my knee and an elbow on the back of the couch. I was the picture of casual impassivity. Inside, I was rubbing my hands together as I mapped out every path to convince her to see me again.
“I’m glad to see you, Kate,” I said, still smiling sidelong at her.
“Katherine,” she said stiffly. “I don’t like nicknames.”
“I know, but I do.”
Her eyes flicked to the ceiling. But her cheeks belied her annoyance with a rosy flush. “I have something very important to discuss with you, Theodore.”
“You’re sorry for not calling?”
“No. I didn’t call you on purpose,” she said as if I didn’t know. “Such was our arrangement.”
A chuckle hummed in my throat. “Arrangements can be renegotiated.”
“That’s not why I’m here. During our transaction, there was a malfunction, if you remember.”
All levity was gone with a cold, heavy thunk. My heart and stomach do-si-do’d. I swallowed a lump the size of Delaware, and it bobbed back up and to the back of my throat. “I remember.”
“Well, I’ve just confirmed that I’m pregnant.”
My lungs emptied like I’d been kicked in the chest and propelled off a cliff. Gravity shifted in a sickening tilt that brought my lunch charging up my esophagus. Pregnant. She was pregnant. The word was nonsense to my brain, a made-up string of syllables with letters pulled from a Scrabble bag.
Her face was as stoic as ever. I thought I might have imagined a flicker of concern or indecision behind her eyes, but it was gone by the time she began to speak again, the speech rehearsed, outlining every detail like a cartographer.
“You were the only man I have had intercourse with in quite some time. There’s no question as to whether or not it’s yours. After going through my finances and making some cursory plans, I’ve decided to have the baby and raise it. If you would like to be involved, your assistance would be welcome, but you are not obligated in any way. I am fully capable of raising the embryo on my own. Well,” she corrected, “with the help of a nanny. But without your aid.”
I blinked.
“I can see that you need a moment to process. Please, take your time.”
At that, she sat back, reached into her bag, and returned with a book.
My first thought was that she was absolutely lovely, sitting there on my couch with a book in her long fingers.
My second thought was that my child resided somewhere in the vicinity of her hips.
Stunned was an understatement, though the closest word to describe how I felt. Stunned, like I’d been brained with a Louisville and was lying on the sidewalk, trying to figure out why the horizon was vertical.
“We’re having a baby,” I mumbled.
“Technically, I’m having a baby. But I appreciate the sentiment.”
A disbelieving laugh chuffed out of me. The creature before me tilted her head curiously.
She was without a doubt the most intriguing woman I had ever met. And I’d known scores. Perks of being the twin of a famous author and notorious rake, although since he and Amelia had gotten together, things had slowed down. Frankly, I’d been too busy helping Tommy run his career to date for the last six years. Fuck, sure. But Katherine was the first person in years I’d actually wanted to see again.
And she’d stayed away with annoying determination.
Flashes of that night flickered in my mind, from the stiff shake of her hand to her shock as I whipped her around the dance floor. Spent the night with her, one night. She’d said that was all it’d be.
But when the time had come to walk away, I hadn’t found it as easy to follow through as she had. I’d called. Texted. Resorted to running around with Tommy and Amelia in the hopes that we’d bump into her.
I’d been ignored and avoided on all fronts. And now, here she was, sitting in my living room for no reason other than that she was pregnant.
With my baby.
She watched me with those complicated eyes, cool as a cucumber on a sweltering August day—refreshing, crisp and sharp. I untied my tongue, lining up my thoughts so I could deliver them to her with the same clarity and decision as she’d afforded me.
I didn’t think she’d agree to what I was about to propose otherwise. Because Katherine Lawson spoke the language of logic.
And that was a language I was familiar with.
“I would like to discuss the nature of my involvement with the baby.”
“Embryo,” she corrected, closing her book with a nod. “Yes, of course.”
I shifted, still trying to collect my wits and words, smoothing my tie as I thought. Her gaze snagged the motion, catching on my hands. Absently, she wet her lips, the tip of her tongue appearing and disappearing.
“I would like to be involved at every level, on all fronts. Doctor’s visits and childbirth classes. Baby registry and stroller research. Nanny interviews. Diaper changes. Midnight bottles. I don’t want to miss anything, Kate.”
She ignored my needling use of her nickname. And really, I should have felt bad for using it. It was just that the woman I’d had that night was not Katherine with a K, not Katie o
r Kat. The girl I’d held in my arms was a soft, sighing Kate, and that was all there was to it.
But the reason the offense had gone ignored was that it seemed it was her turn to be stunned. It was in the slight widening of her eyes, the unnatural stillness of her body. I wasn’t sure she was breathing.
“Are you all right?” I asked with a flex of my brows.
She drew a breath that seemed to reanimate her. “Yes. I just expected a different answer.”
“You expected me to wish you good luck and send you on your way?”
“Well, yes. It seemed like the easy answer.”
“Easy doesn’t suit me,” I said, shifting back to the details. “I have a proposition to make. Once the baby comes, it’s not going to be easy to live separately. Or,” I amended, “I should say, it would be much easier not to live separately.”
Suspicion flickered across her brow. “You suggest we cohabitate?”
I wanted to suggest more than that. But rather than press my luck, I said, “Yes. It makes the most sense.”
The corners of her lips dipped in the smallest of frowns. But that was how she seemed to do everything. By increment. “I’d like to think about that offer and discuss it later. I’ve made enough mammoth decisions today. I think I might need to pace myself.”
I smiled, not only because she was endearingly pragmatic, but because she hadn’t said no. “Of course.”
She took a deep, decisive breath through her nose and nodded once. When she stood, it was to extend her hand. “Thank you for seeing me unannounced, Theodore. And for your offer of help.”
I rose to meet her, taking her hand. But rather than shake it, I pulled her closer. “You won’t be alone, Kate. I’ll be here every step of the way.”