“It’s my baby,” she blurted, realizing too late that she’d answered his question.
Something flickered over his handsome face. Surprise? Disappointment? Resignation? She didn’t know the man well enough to tell. She didn’t want to know him. “I think you should leave.”
His eyes narrowed. “I’m not going anywhere until we find a solution to this problem.”
Indignation flared inside her. She turned from the mirror and rounded the chair to face him. “The only problem I have is with you coming into my shop under false pretenses. So why don’t you go back to Toronto and forget any of this ever happened. Forget we ever met. That’s certainly what I intend to do.”
He slowly shook his head. “It’s too late for that. As I said before, I don’t plan on going anywhere, Rowena. Not until you answer a few of my questions.”
She didn’t like his tone. Or his autocratic manner. It reminded her too much of a man from her past. A man who had used any means to manipulate her. “I asked you to leave. Do I have to call the police?”
“Go ahead—if you want our little secret to be all over town.”
As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. In a place as small as Cooper’s Corner there was a good chance everyone would know everything before morning. It was difficult enough to deal with her pregnancy and the sudden appearance of Alan Rand without having to answer questions from curious neighbors.
She took a deep breath. “What do you want from me?”
He hesitated, his gaze scanning her face. “First, I want you to sit down. You look pale.”
She walked on wobbly knees to one of the drier chairs. The last thing she wanted to do was display any weakness around him. Especially when he seemed so coolly confident. Why hadn’t she noticed that air of command before? Probably because she was too busy trying not to drool over him. Despite his sneaky tactics, she had to admit Alan Rand was a handsome man. At least six foot one and most of it muscle.
But she’d dealt with a man like him six years ago when she lived in New York—and knew how easily a handsome face could hide a cold heart.
“Do you have any proof to back up your claim?” she asked, feeling stronger. “It could be anyone....”
He shook his head. “Not anyone. I’m the father of your baby, Rowena.”
“So why didn’t you tell me right away? Why all the subterfuge?”
“I knew you went to the Orr Fertility Clinic for the insemination procedure, but I didn’t have any proof that it was a success. So I had to find out for myself.”
Success didn’t seem like the right word to describe the current chaos in her life. Almost four months pregnant with the baby of a stranger. Too many sleepless nights since learning about the actions of the Orr Fertility Clinic. And now this.
“You didn’t have to come all the way to Cooper’s Corner,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm and even. She’d let him upset her enough already. “You could have just called me and asked your questions over the telephone.”
He lifted a skeptical brow. “And give you a chance to run away?”
Her jaw tightened. “I hate to disappoint you, Alan, but I don’t scare that easily. Even if this is your baby, you don’t have any claim to it. I was told at the Orr Clinic that all sperm donors are required to sign a release relinquishing parental rights.”
“That may be true,” he countered. “But I never signed a release because I never intended my sperm to be donated to anyone.”
“Then why did you go there in the first place?”
“Personal reasons,” he said in a clipped voice. “Why did you go there, Rowena? You’re a beautiful woman. Wouldn’t it have been easier to just bring a sperm donor home for the night instead of traveling all the way to Toronto?”
Of all the nerve. “Personal reasons,” she said, echoing his response. “And I’m not ready to accept the fact that you are the father of this baby. I want proof.”
He arched a dark brow. “What kind of proof?”
“I don’t know,” she exclaimed, wishing her head would stop spinning. Just a few moments ago they’d been chatting about books and the curl in his hair. “Something that proves you’re the father of my baby. Like a paternity test.”
“No problem.” He reached for his wallet, then pulled out a business card and handed it to her. “My cellular phone number is on there, so you can reach me anytime, day or night. I’ll take the test whenever and wherever you want.”
“How about Siberia?” she quipped, pocketing the card without looking at it.
He gave her a tight smile. “That would only delay the inevitable. For now, I think you should assume that I am the father.”
She shook her head, tilting her chin up a notch. “I don’t think either one of us should assume anything. Especially since we already know the Orr Fertility Clinic is prone to making mistakes. The father of my baby could be anyone.”
He arched a dark brow. “And you take comfort in that thought?”
She tried not to flinch, but he’d hit a nerve. Despite her shock at finding the father of her baby in her barbershop, she couldn’t deny that part of her was relieved to finally know his identity. But at what cost? At least an anonymous sperm donor meant no one could interfere in her life. No one could force her child to go through the emotional torment she’d endured while growing up.
Alan didn’t say anything, just stood there watching her. She met his gaze, determined not to look away. He seemed formidable, but he must have a weakness somewhere. Everyone did. Could she find it? And if she did, would she have the nerve to use it to her advantage? Even for the sake of her baby?
“There is another possibility I didn’t consider,” he said at last, his gaze moving over her in a way that brought a hot blush to her cheeks.
“What?”
He cleared his throat. “I realize this is none of my business, but if you were involved with another man last autumn...” He let his voice trail off, his meaning clear to both of them.
She considered lying, but somehow she knew Alan still wouldn’t back off. If she claimed to be in a relationship, he’d have even more questions about why she went to the clinic for the insemination procedure, and the truth would eventually come out anyway. “There is no man in my life.”
He nodded, his face grim. “Then I am the father.”
“Maybe,” she replied. “I think it would be better to wait until we receive the test results. If you’re not the father, then we have nothing to talk about.”
He shook his head. “I’ve learned the hard way that it’s better to face bad news and deal with it head-on. Believe me, Rowena, I’m not any happier about this situation than you are. I’m sure as hell not ready to be a father. But I know we can find a solution to our problem.”
Problem. It was the second time he’d used that word, and it raked against her nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard. How dare he come here and lay claim to her baby. A baby he obviously didn’t want. A fierce protectiveness enveloped her, shaking her to the very core. She loved this baby. And she’d do anything to protect it. “Exactly how do you intend to do that?”
“I know neither one of us is happy about this situation,” he began. “But I’m hoping we can come to some kind of understanding that will satisfy us both.”
“I’d be ecstatic if you’d just go back to Toronto.”
“I will as soon as we settle this matter.” He reached into the front of his jacket. “You’re about four months along, right?”
“Right,” she replied, his words making her a little uneasy. Why did he care how far along she was? And why the hell was he pulling out his checkbook?
“I know a good doctor you can go to in Williamstown,” he continued. “I’m willing to pay all expenses, along with a little extra for all your trouble.”
Trouble. Tha
t was definitely the right word to describe Alan Rand. Along with condescending, overbearing and conceited. She hoped those traits weren’t hereditary.
“That isn’t necessary,” she said tightly.
“I insist.” He flipped open his checkbook. “I’ll write you a check right now to cover the initial expenses.”
Apprehension filled her. He’d told her he wasn’t ready to be a father. But did he actually intend to bribe her into making that a reality?
Rowena sat back in the chair and watched as he pulled a silver pen out of his pocket, then scribbled out an amount. He’d obviously assumed from her job at the barbershop that she didn’t have much money. Her anger ebbed, temporarily overridden by a sort of morbid fascination. She wondered what the going rate for getting rid of a problem was these days.
“Here you go,” he said, holding the check out to her.
She stood to take it from him, looking at the amount. The number of zeroes in it impressed her.
“As you can see, I’m willing to pay my fair share,” he said.
“That won’t be necessary.” She ripped the check in half, then tore it again.
“What are you doing?” Alan exclaimed, his brow furrowed in confusion.
She let the pieces flutter to the floor. “Turning down your generous offer.”
“You want more money?” he exclaimed.
She rose to her feet, her protective instincts coming on full force. “No. I don’t want anything from you. I don’t need your money, Alan. No amount of money could make me even consider terminating this pregnancy.”
His eyes widened. “Wait a minute,” he interjected, holding up both hands. “You don’t understand....”
But she wasn’t about to let him bully her anymore. She’d learned the hard way that it only gave men like this a greater license to harass.
Rowena advanced on him and saw his glance fall to the scissors she still held in her hands. “I think it’s time for you to leave now.”
“Let’s be rational,” he said, backing toward the door.
“I’m not feeling too rational at the moment,” she replied, still advancing. He was a big man, but he’d threatened her child and he’d awakened some primitive instinct inside her that wouldn’t be denied.
“You’re making a mistake,” he said, tripping over the threshold as he stumbled out the door.
“You’re the one who made the mistake, Mr. Rand,” she said, one hand gripping the edge of the door. “I want this baby and I intend to keep this baby. Even if its father’s gene pool could have used some chlorinating!”
Then she slammed the door in his face.
CHAPTER FOUR
HE’D BLOWN IT.
Alan stared at the door of the barbershop, tempted to pound on it until she let him back inside. But he knew Rowena was too furious at the moment to listen to reason. He shook his head as he turned and headed for his car. Alan had intended to make a show of good faith with that check and his recommendation of a respected obstetrician. Instead, she believed he wanted her to terminate the pregnancy.
“Mr. Charming strikes again,” he muttered, his breath coming out in frosty puffs of air as he slid behind the wheel of his Ford Mustang. He replayed their conversation over in his mind as he drove to Twin Oaks, wincing when he remembered some of the things he’d said. What the hell had gotten into him?
But he knew the answer. Rowena. His tongue had started turning somersaults the moment he’d laid eyes on her. Hell, he could hardly think straight around her, much less negotiate their touchy situation. So instead of telling her he simply wanted to be a father to their baby, he’d come on like some big shot and tried to buy her compliance.
Big mistake.
One he definitely needed to rectify. The only question was how. From the sparks he’d seen in those amethyst eyes, she’d rather stab him with her scissors than speak to him again. He’d gone into that barbershop expecting to find a woman he could impress with his stature and big-city sophistication. But he’d severely underestimated her. Rowena Dahl was a mature, intelligent, witty woman. And as much as he hated to admit it, he found those traits even more seductive than her beautiful face and luscious figure.
Alan parked outside Twin Oaks Bed and Breakfast, then walked up the path lit by a pair of wrought-iron carriage lamps. Once inside, he ignored the amorous couples gathered around the crackling blaze in the huge stone fireplace and took the stairs two at a time to his room. He had his cellular phone out before the door closed behind him. He dialed Brad’s number, then swore softly when he heard the busy signal buzzing in his ear.
A father. He was going to be a father. The shock of it still unnerved him. This wasn’t the way Alan had planned it. He wanted a family—someday. But in the traditional way. With a wife. A big house somewhere in the suburbs of Toronto. Perhaps, if he ever learned to swim, even a cabin up at Lake Temagami—like the Haleys.
Alan redialed his lawyer’s phone number, only to hear a busy signal again. He carried the cell phone to the window and looked into the black, starless night. Tiny lights dotted the ski slopes, outlining the runs. He could teach his child to ski. Sign him up for a hockey team. Or her, if it was a girl. As the reality slowly sank in, he realized there was so much he wanted to do.
If he was given the chance.
He turned away from the window and walked to the hearth, bending to place another log on the fire. A few moments later, a blaze flared up and Alan held out his hands to warm them. The flames reminded him of the amethyst fire he’d seen in Rowena’s eyes when she’d torn up his check.
Damn, she was beautiful.
That was his first mistake. He’d let his attraction to her distract him from his goal. Something he couldn’t afford to let happen again. Alan needed to focus on what really mattered—the baby. He might have screwed up tonight, but that didn’t mean he was going to turn tail and meekly back down from his rights as a father.
Taking a seat by the fireplace, he dialed Brad’s home number for a third time, gratified when he finally heard it ringing.
A deep male voice sounded on the other end of the line. “Hello?”
“I found Rowena Dahl,” Alan said without preamble. “She is pregnant.”
Brad breathed a long sigh over the line. “So what is she like?”
A hellcat who could rip out a man’s heart with one glance. “Let’s just say she’s not at all what I expected.”
“Is that good or bad?”
Good question. “I’m not sure.”
“Do you still want to pursue your rights as the father of this baby?”
“Absolutely.”
“It won’t be easy,” Brad informed him. “Especially with you a Canadian citizen and Rowena living in the United States. I’m not even sure which country would have jurisdiction over the case.”
“I don’t care how difficult it is or how expensive,” Alan said firmly. “I have to do this, Brad. I intend to be part of my baby’s life.”
Brad didn’t need to ask him why. As a child, Alan had once overheard the Haleys refer to George Rand as the invisible man. Maybe that’s why they’d gone out of their way to make Alan feel like a part of their family. Inviting him to spend a week with them at Lake Temagami and trying to help him overcome his fear of water. His father might not care about him, but Bradford Haley, Sr., had shown him the way a good father should act. The way Alan intended to care for his child.
“Okay,” Brad said, resignation in his voice. “How do you want to handle this?”
“I want to be the one to make the first move,” Alan replied. “Catch her off guard.”
“I can do that, but these kind of fertility cases are new and messy. It could literally take years, Alan. Are you sure this can’t be settled amicably between you?”
His mind flashed to her slammin
g the door in his face. “Positive. I didn’t handle it well.”
“Do you want liberal visitation with the baby?”
“Yes. Full summers and at least every other weekend.” He hesitated. “Any chance I could share joint custody?”
Brad whistled low. “That might be a tough one. I won’t sugarcoat it, Alan. A mother’s rights have traditionally trumped a father’s in past court cases. Unless you have something we can use that would make joint custody appear to be in the best interests of the child.”
“Like what?”
“Anything that casts a questionable light on her character. That means we’d have to start digging into her past. Like I said before—it could get messy.”
Alan rubbed the bridge of his nose between his fingers. It was already messy. His confrontation with Rowena tonight had left him unsettled and strangely restless. “I don’t want to do that. But what choice do I have? She wants me to just walk away.”
“You still might want to consider it, Alan. I understand how you feel, but as your lawyer I have to tell you that this isn’t going to be an easy fight. It will cost money. Time. Custody battles are never fun.”
“I’m not looking for fun,” he retorted. “I’m fighting for my child. And I don’t care how much time or money it takes. I won’t stop until I win.”
* * *
EARLY THE NEXT morning, Rowena sat in her lawyer’s office in New Ashford, her fingers twisting together in her lap. She hadn’t slept at all last night, her imagination too busy concocting the many ways that Alan Rand could screw up her baby’s life.
Now she prattled off those fears to Bobby Claymore, an older man with silver hair and a neatly trimmed goatee. Originally from Montana, he wore a black string tie, a crisp white shirt and a pair of snakeskin cowboy boots. But his gentle cowboy persona had led more than one courtroom opponent to underestimate him.
At last Bobby held up both hands to stop her in midsentence. “Whoa, there. I know you’re upset, Rowena, but take a deep breath. That’s right. Now slow down and let’s start over from the beginning.”
Accidental Family Page 3