by Lisa Jackson
“I thought you should know.” Oh, God, why was this so difficult?
“After you told Blake.” His lips compressed.
“Of course not. Blake just happened to see the pregnancy test in my sack from the pharmacy yesterday when I ran into you and several items dropped out. At least, that’s how I think he knew—either that or he’s psychic. Anyway, he put two and two together.”
Trent didn’t comment, just looked hard at her, as if searching for a lie somewhere in her story.
“Look, Trent, don’t worry, when I get back to California, I’ll—”
“Do what?” he said, and anger turned his face a nasty shade of red. His eyes glittered harshly. “You’re going to have this baby, damn it.”
“You bet I am,” she flung back at him and stepped closer, bridging that gap between them. “I was saying that this is a big shock for me, too, and I’m not sure exactly how I’ll handle it, but I’m going home, work until delivery, have the baby and eventually find a bigger apartment so I can raise my child.”
“Our child.”
“Yes.”
“You’re not going back to L.A.”
“What?” She nearly laughed. “That’s where I live, Trent.”
“And what do you think you’ll do there? Be a single mother?”
“I will be a single mother.” Was the man dense?
Determination set his jaw. Blue eyes held hers and wouldn’t let go. “If you’re really pregnant—”
“I am. There’s not much question about it,” she said angrily.
“Well, you have been known to lie on more than one occasion. Especially to me.”
“This is different.”
“I’ll say.” Fury etched the edges of his mouth. “You should have told me earlier.”
“I wasn’t certain.” She glared up at him. “I wasn’t going to tell you and then have it turn out to be a false alarm.” She threw one arm up in the air. “I don’t know what you want me to do. I’d say I was sorry, but I’m not!”
“Good.” He shoved stiff fingers through his hair. “We’ll get married,” he said out loud, as if she had no say in the matter whatsoever. “And…and you’ll stay here.”
“What?”
“You won’t be going back to L.A.”
“Are you out of your mind? Of course I’m going back to Los Angeles. In case you’ve forgotten, that’s where I live!”
“Now wait a minute—”
“No, you wait a minute. Just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean you can bully me or boss me around.” Anger spiked her words but deep inside she was hurt.
What did you expect? her mind taunted. That he would be thrilled? That he would spin you off your feet, buy you dozens upon dozens of roses, get down on bended knee? Foolish, foolish woman.
“I assume the baby’s mine.”
His words stung. Like salt poured into the open wound of her heart. “Of course it’s yours!” Oh, Lord, this wasn’t going well, not well at all.
“Then it’s pretty cut-and-dried, isn’t it? We’ll get married and the baby will have a name.”
“Oh, no, what are you saying?” she whispered, shocked. What kind of marriage proposal was that?
“Admit it, Gina, this is what you’ve been angling for. I thought you were going to shake me down when I first met you and you lied about who you were, as if you didn’t know me, then hopped in the sack with me and—”
She slapped him. Hard. “Don’t you ever insinuate anything so vile again! Yes, it’s true this baby was an accident, unplanned, but certainly not unwanted. I would think that considering your own personal situation, you might have a little more empathy.” Tears burned the backs of her eyes, hot, bitter tears but not of shame. Oh, no, just demoralizing disappointment. “I—I didn’t mean to hit you. I mean…I did, but I’m sorry.” She lifted a hand, then let it fall. “I just hoped you’d understand.”
His teeth ground together and a red welt appeared on his cheek. “That’s the reason we’re getting married.”
“No way, Trent,” she said, shaking her head. “I hate to sound cliché, but right now, I wouldn’t marry you if you were the—”
“Last man on earth?” he said with a snort.
“The universe…and that includes the black holes, okay?”
“No, it’s not okay. None of this is ‘okay.’” He walked to the window, stared outside and his rigid shoulders slumped. “So just deep-six the theatrics, Gina, or Celia, or whoever the hell you really are. We have a problem and—”
“Correction.” Striding up to him, she poked a finger hard against his chest and swallowed against the tears of frustration lodging in her throat. A breeze slipped through the window, toying with Trent’s hair, caressing her hot cheeks. “We have a baby,” she said, her voice lower than normal. “It’s not a problem. At least, it’s not for me.”
“The solution is to get married.”
“Are you out of your mind? Have you heard a word of our conversation?” It was her turn to be flabbergasted. She held both of her hands near her head, palms out, as if surrendering. But she wasn’t. “I think we should both slow down a minute here, okay? Marriage? You’re talking marriage? Oh, come on. We don’t even know each other well enough…we can’t get married, I mean…think about it, Trent, you live in Texas and I’m in L.A. I have a job—no, make that a career to consider.”
He winced when she mentioned her work. “I’ll take care of you.”
“You’ll ‘take care of me’? Oh, God, don’t even suggest anything so remotely archaic, okay?” Her head was spinning, her pride wounded to the core, her pain deep-seated. She placed a hand over her abdomen, as if she were protecting her child because Trent’s reaction was all wrong. All wrong. “I’m not some frail little insecure woman, you know, no hothouse flower who can’t stand on her own two feet, a woman who doesn’t feel complete without a man. No way. I’m not going to marry someone out of some sense of duty.” Her temper inched skyward. She longed to hear him tell her he loved her, that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, that together the three of them would become a close-knit family, the kind neither she nor Trent had ever experienced. But this, this pathetic reasoning, wasn’t even a proposal.
Worse, he thought she’d tried to shake him down, to blackmail him into this. What a joke, a horrible, horrible joke.
“The baby needs two parents.” He was adamant when he turned his eyes back to look at her, some of his anger appeared to be replaced with concern.
“Two parents who love him and each other,” she agreed, glaring at him, her heart aching as she bared her soul. “Two people who want him.” Again she pressed on her stomach. “Not a couple of people who throw in together because the innocent child just happens to be coming along. No way.”
“Listen to me, Gina. This is my child, too.” He grabbed her then, his steely fingers wrapping around her arm. Beneath the anger in his eyes she saw deeper emotions and a pain she didn’t begin to understand. “Like it or not, I have a say in it.” Grooves deepened at the edges of his mouth and his eyebrows slammed together. “So what’re you holding out for? Money? Is that it?”
She gasped. “Is that what you think?” Disappointment burrowed deep in her soul, gnawed at her heart.
“As I said, I felt this was some kind of shakedown from the beginning.”
She nearly slapped him again. Instead she yanked her arm away and felt the weight of disappointment heavy on her shoulders. “With you it’s always about money, isn’t it?” she whispered sadly, then steeled herself, straightening her spine and tossing her hair from her eyes. “Well, it isn’t for me. Believe it or not, it never has been. If I’d been interested in ‘shaking you down,’ I would have found a better way to do it, believe me. Now, listen, I’ve said all I have to say. I’ve got a job to do here and I intend to do it, after which I’m going back to California.”
“Just like that?”
“You bet. And as for you, don’t you have some oil wells that need dr
illing somewhere? You know, like Texas or Wyoming, or the Yukon? I hear they’re finding gushers in Siberia. Maybe you should go and check it out.” With that, she turned on a heel and stalked down the hall, anger radiating from her in furious, hot waves.
How could he be so callous? And how could she care for a man who thought she was capable of such dirty, underhanded, vile— “Stop it,” she ordered herself. There was no reason to dwell on any of his motivations. Maybe he was just in shock. But it didn’t matter.
She could take care of herself. And a baby.
In fact, she’d make a helluva mother and probably a halfway decent dad. At that thought her heart twisted, but she told herself that her once-idyllic Norman Rockwell envisionment of her life and marriage would have to be adjusted.
She was going to become a mother.
Rubbing his stinging cheek, Trent watched her march off in a tornado of self-righteous ire. His thoughts were going in a thousand directions all at once. A baby? What would he do with a baby? What would he do without one? The kid wasn’t even here yet and he felt this swelling sense of propriety and something else, way beyond pride, a newfound fear for the unborn child. Now, Trent was vulnerable.
And he’d made a mess of things with Gina, but she’d blindsided him. He walked out of the living room and upstairs, then paused at the doorway to her bedroom. He looked inside to the mussed bed where she’d slept. The scent of her perfume still hung in the air. Was it his imagination or did that one room seem to have more sunshine than any other part of the house? Why did her off-key singing amuse rather than irritate him? What was it about her that made her sexy without a drop of makeup or a comb through her hair?
Hell, he had it bad. Blake, damn him, was right. Trent couldn’t get Gina out of his mind. He walked to his room and picked up his wallet and keys. Stuffing them into his pocket, he started down the stairs.
How could he possibly be a father? What did he know about parenting? Larry Kincaid, his biological sire, had been worse than a cad, a man he’d never known, a gambler, cheat, womanizer who had kids and never bothered to even meet them. No, Trent thought angrily, he wouldn’t make the same mistakes—be as distant and uncaring as that bastard had been. Nor would he be a dishrag the likes of Harold Remmington. That guy…well, he’d been little better than Larry.
But Garrett… Trent imagined the older man had been a helluva dad even though his own son, Larry, had ended up a mess. Trent didn’t have a clue as to how Garrett’s daughter, Alice, had turned out. No matter, it wasn’t because Garrett hadn’t been in there pitching, doing the best he could, spending his life trying to be the best damned father in the world.
Trent knew it instinctively.
On the landing, he paused as the reality of the situation hit him with the force of a fist to his chest. Gina was pregnant. With his kid. His throat tightened. Memories of another time and place washed over him in painful ripples as he thought about Beverly, haughty and beautiful, telling him he was going to be a father. For such a short time he’d been buoyed with new, exciting feelings of paternity. Elated, he’d imagined his son’s or daughter’s birth, toddling years and elementary school highs and lows, but his bubble had been burst, pricked by the evil, lying tongue of a woman he’d never loved.
But this time was different.
He’d make sure of it.
Trent took one step toward the kitchen, then stopped himself. It wasn’t just because of the baby that he was feeling this way, he realized. It was because of Gina. Like it or not, he was falling in love with her and he had been since the first time he’d laid eyes on her nearly two months earlier.
He’d just been kidding himself.
The tension in the room was so thick you could cut it with a butter knife, Garrett thought as he finished his stack of waffles and carried his plate to the sink. He, Gina, and Larry’s sons had crowded around the kitchen table and discussed the operations of the ranch. Garrett had explained that each of the heirs would own a portion of the spread, but some might want to be silent partners. Others would want to be a part of the day-to-day operations.
Cade had assured Garrett that he would stay on, and Mitch had agreed to work on the spread, as well. Brandon hadn’t committed as yet, nor had Adam, who seemed edgy and anxious to leave. Probably had some unsuspecting corporation to gut, Garrett thought unkindly. Adam was the one who could really use this place to get in touch with his heart, but then, it was Adam’s decision.
Garrett handed his empty plate to Suzanne, who was loading the dishwasher, then refilled his coffee cup. He took a sip and walked back to the table where his grandsons were beginning to disperse. Blake had been quieter than usual, as if something was bothering him, yet he’d decided to stay on at the ranch, at least for a while.
Trent had been downright silent for most of the meal. If he’d decided how involved he wanted to be here in Whitehorn, he was keeping it to himself. He’d been more intense than usual, brooding in a dark way. He’d cast a few looks in Gina’s direction and she’d met his gaze coldly.
Lover’s spat, Garrett guessed.
Gina, usually fresh-faced and smiling, hadn’t been herself these past few days. This morning was the worst. She’d barely eaten, jumped up and offered to help Suzanne with the dishes, and generally been preoccupied for the past hour.
Probably because of Trent.
The unspoken words hanging between those two had been as cold as the Ice Age.
Garrett had hoped that whatever was between them would have eased off a mite, but it seemed as if just the opposite were true. If anything, they were more bristly with each other than ever.
Something was going on.
And he was damned sure he wouldn’t like it. He finished his coffee and set his cup in the sink. Cade and Mitch followed suit; they were two who weren’t interested in sitting around the table. Adam had agreed to look over the property, but Garrett was afraid Larry’s firstborn was only going to eye it to see how much it was worth.
“Guess I’d better mosey out and check on the stock,” Garrett said to Suzanne. “Rand’s probably already waiting on me.”
“Well, don’t keep him. He’s supposed to be fitted for a tuxedo today. He’s part of Leanne’s wedding party, you know.”
At the mention of a wedding, Gina’s back stiffened. Quickly she untied her apron.
“How’s Rand taking it that his baby sister’s getting hitched?” Garrett asked Suzanne.
She laughed. “I think he’s relieved. And Bill’s a great guy. Rand’s best friend.”
“Then he should be pleased,” Garrett said. “I’ll see that he makes the fitting.” Garrett reached for his hat and noticed that Trent’s face muscles had tightened and Gina’s skin had blanched a bit at the talk of the upcoming wedding.
What the hell was going on? As far as he could see, they didn’t even know the people involved. “Oh, by the way, I’ve found someone to take on the chores around here,” he said to Suzanne. “I’ll let you know when she can start. She’s a real nice gal with a baby of her own.”
“Great,” Suzanne said as she turned back to the dishes. “Not that I don’t love working here from dawn until dusk,” she teased.
Trent downed his coffee, glanced at Gina, then, expression grim as all get-out, said to the room at large, “I’ll be in the den. I’ve got some calls to make.” Without another word, he stormed out of the kitchen, his boot heels ringing down the hallway.
“I wonder what’s got into him,” Suzanne remarked, and Gina bit her lip as she hung her apron on a hook near the back door.
“Bad mood,” Blake observed.
“The worst.” Gina wiped her hands on a nearby towel. “I think I’ll run into town for a while. I’ll be back this afternoon.” She forced a smile that didn’t quite fit her face, then hurried upstairs. A few minutes later, lugging her purse, she raced out the front door. It slammed behind her.
“Talk about bad moods,” Suzanne observed. “It seems infectious.”
“That it d
oes,” Garrett said, watching through the window as Gina jogged to her Explorer, climbed inside, then roared off down the dirt lane. “Do you know what’s going on?” Garrett asked Blake.
“Nope.” But the man was a bad liar. He knew something, he just wasn’t saying. Avoiding his grandfather’s eyes, Blake shoved out his chair and stretched. “I imagine Trent and Gina will figure it out.”
“What’s ‘it’?”
Blake lifted a shoulder.
The phone rang once before Garrett could reach for the kitchen extension; he heard Trent pick up in the den.
“I guess I’d better see about the yearlings in the north pasture,” he decided, still bothered about the simmering unspoken battle that he’d just witnessed. “If you’re interested, Blake, why don’t you come along?”
“I just might.”
Garrett stepped onto the porch and started pulling on his boots. He heard a commotion through the screen door and looked up just as Trent shoved it open.
“Jordan Baxter’s on the telephone,” Trent said, his face muscles stretched tight as tanned leather as his eyes scanned the parking lot. When he saw that Gina’s truck was missing, he frowned. He swung his gaze back to Garrett. “Baxter wants to talk to you.”
The warning hairs on the back of Garrett’s neck raised one by one. He pulled on the second boot and slowly stood, his knees popping a little and the arthritis that sometimes flared in his shoulder beginning to ache. “Somehow I have a feeling this isn’t going to be good news.”
Fingers tight around the steering wheel, Gina drove on automatic pilot toward town. Images of Trent darted through her mind. She saw him in a business suit, smiling seductively, or in bed, naked, his skin taut, his muscles flexing as he made love to her, or in jeans and a sweatshirt, surveying the Kincaid ranch. Her throat tightened and she battled tears again.
“It’s just hormones.” She tried to convince herself, dashing the horrid drops from her eyes and sniffing loudly. She had to quit thinking about him. About what could have been.