He had to remember that.
“As a matter of fact,” he said, “I’d love some tea.”
He forced what he hoped was a bland smile. Then he took off his suit coat, undid the top button of his shirt, tugged at his tie, unbuttoned his cuffs, rolled up his sleeves...
“Why not make yourself at home?” Sage said in that same, sugar-laden voice.
He flashed another empty smile.
“Thanks,” he said, pulling a chair out from the table, “I will.”
She narrowed her eyes to slits as he sat down, stretched out his legs, crossed his feet at the ankles. When he folded his arms over his chest, she muttered something.
He wanted to laugh.
What she’d said was incredibly rude, especially coming from that soft-looking, sweet-tasting mouth, but he couldn’t blame her.
He agreed with the sentiment.
Talk about things being all fouled up...
The kettle screamed. Sage dumped tea bags in a pair of mugs. He hated tea—tea was for sick people—and this wasn’t even tea, it was herbal goop.
His sisters would have approved—and if there was anything he didn’t want to think about right now, it was his sisters. Or his brothers. Or anybody in his family.
Anger was busy tying his gut into a knot. Why not add herbal tea and all its connotations so that the knot could tighten?
“This,” he said when she plunked the mugs on the table, “is not tea.”
“It’s what I drink.”
“Ridiculous,” he snorted.
She looked at him. “Honey?”
“What?”
Her smile would have shamed the Cheshire cat.
“Do you take honey in your tea?”
“How about sugar?”
“I’ve given up white sugar.”
“No sugar. No tea. What are you, a health nut?”
She pulled out a chair, sat down across from him.
“I’m pregnant.”
“So we’ve established.”
“Are you stupid or just out of touch with reality? Pregnant women aren’t supposed to have caffeine! They’re supposed to watch what they eat! Natural foods! Organic foods! Honey! Herbal tea! Get it?”
He could almost see each exclamation point in the air.
“Oh.”
“Oh? Oh? Is that all you can say about making a horse’s ass of yourself?”
“Hey. I didn’t—” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t know. I mean, I don’t know anything about—about being pregnant...”
“No,” she said and just that quickly, he saw her anger drain away. She put her elbows on the table, leaned her forehead against her fists. “No,” she said again, “neither do I.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks. Caleb rose, tore a paper towel from a roll that hung over the sink, and gave it to her.
“Sage,” he said softly, squatting down beside her, “I’m sorry.”
She took the towel from him, blew her nose loudly.
“No, it’s not your fault. I dropped this thing on you like a—like a brick. I know you’re—you’re trying to process it.”
Caleb pulled his chair next to hers, sat, reached for her hands and clasped them tightly in his.
“Look, we’re both new to this.”
“The understatement of the year,” she said with a watery laugh.
“But we’ll learn.” He smiled, leaned forward, let go of one of her hands so he could tuck a stray curl back from her temple. “Heck, look how much I just learned. No caffeine. Honey. Herbs. I mean, you’re looking at a guy who thinks that all you need in a kitchen is a coffeepot, a couple of stale bagels, some cream cheese that hasn’t gone green and a stack of takeout menus.”
She laughed. It was a real laugh this time, and he wanted to cheer. Instead, he moved her tea mug so it was in front of her.
“Come on. Take a sip. Good. And another. Excellent. Are you hungry? Shall I make you something to eat?”
“Caleb—”
“No? Okay. Just the tea, then—”
“Caleb.” She put down the mug down. “What you said. About us having to talk...”
“Yeah.” He sat back. “We do.”
Sage nodded. “I just want you to know—I mean, I truly don’t expect—”
“Listen,” he said, “we’re two adults. We have to deal with this.”
Another bob of her head. Okay. This was progress. They were both calmer. Much calmer. He certainly was.
All his anger...
It hadn’t been about her or even about him, it had been about not knowing the next logical steps to take, and that was rough. Law school. The Agency. His successful practice. Logical choices for a logical approach to life.
She pushed back her chair. “Just give me a minute.”
“No. We can’t keep putting this off.”
“Lesson two about pregnancy,” she said with a quick smile. “It makes you pee a lot.”
“Oh,” he said again. That seemed to be his word of the day.
He watched her walk out of the kitchen. She was so damned proud. So determined not to need him or anybody else.
Dammit, what was he supposed to do next?
He knew the legal choices. But what about feelings? Emotions? No way to tuck them into neat legal categories.
He heard the toilet flush. Heard water run in the sink. Heard the bathroom door open.
Sage walked into the kitchen.
She’d washed her face. Combed her hair.
He felt his heart do something—well, something weird. It turned over. Or maybe it lifted. Whatever, it was a strange sensation.
It had to be his gut, not his heart. He hadn’t eaten anything this morning. He hadn’t even had coffee.
He reached for his mug of tea. Drank some. Tried not to gag.
Sage laughed. He looked up.
“You look as if you’re eating worms.”
“Hey, worms aren’t so bad.” He grinned at the expression on her face. “Grow up with a couple of brothers who’re always ready for a dare, you end up doing a lot of things you don’t generally talk about in polite company.”
She sat down across from him. No laughter now.
“Like what to do when you find out the woman you—you were with is pregnant.”
“The woman I made love with,” Caleb said in a low voice.
Their eyes met. After a long few seconds, she looked away, caught her bottom lip between her teeth. He watched, and tried not to think about how soft and sweet her flesh was there.
“So,” she said, “so...I’ve been making plans. Well, I’ve been trying to but with Caldwell hounding me—”
“Forget Caldwell.” Hell, why did his voice sound so rough? “Forget him,” he repeated. “He’s not going to bother you again.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’ll take care of it.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” he said, his voice even rougher. “It’s just the right thing to do.” He cleared his throat. “What plans have you been making?”
“The first, the one at the top of the list...” She sat forward, her hands wrapped around the mug of tea, her eyes bright. “I’m moving out of here.”
“Damned right you are.”
“I’m going to look for a place in—well, I’m still not sure. I thought maybe Queens. Or Long Island. Maybe even New—”
“A house,” Caleb said. “A kid needs a yard. A dog. Space to run in.”
“I thought about a house but renting is probably—”
“Renting isn’t a good idea. It might be now, considering the economy, but by the same token, there are houses on the market that are excellent values.”
Sweet
Jesus.
Travis would be proud of him. Or maybe not. He sounded more like a stuffed three-piece suit than a man who was about to become a—about to become a—
“Maybe,” Sage said, “but I have to be realistic.”
“Absolutely. Being realistic is my specialty.” Had he actually said that? “What I mean is, I’ll draw up some plans and—What?”
Sage’s eyes had narrowed. She was good at narrowing them; he’d noticed that about her, and it inevitably presaged an oncoming storm.
“I’ve been drawing up plans for almost three months.”
“I’m sure you have, but—”
“There is no but, Caleb. I’m the one who’s been dealing with this—what did you call it? This ‘situation.’”
“While I was oblivious to it.” He could feel a little curl of anger forming again. “Which brings me to a question. Why didn’t you contact me when you realized you were pregnant?”
“For starters, I didn’t know your last name. I didn’t know anything about you, except that you lived in Texas. What we did...what I did...” Color striped her cheeks. “I still can’t believe it. And believe me, I’m not proud of that.”
Images flashed through his head. Waking in the middle of the night, his body on fire for her. Trying to ignore what he felt and then the realization that she wanted him as much as he wanted her, and then her in his arms, hot and wild in his arms...
“I don’t regret that night,” he said, his voice husky. “Neither should you.”
She stared at him. Then she shot to her feet.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Caleb rose, too. He stood beside her, too close, too masculine, too everything she had tried so hard to forget.
“That’s why we’re here,” he said. “To talk about it.”
“About—about the baby. Not about—”
“I never stopped thinking about you,” he said. “I couldn’t get you out of my mind.”
“Stop!” Sage closed her eyes, as if that might make this all go away. “I don’t want to—to—”
“Hell, no! Neither do I.” He put his hand in her hair, turned her face up to his; hair fell in a silk swirl over his fingers. “But I can’t stop it. Memories of you. How you tasted. How you felt. How it was, to be inside you...”
She slapped at his hand.
He clasped her face. Raised it to his.
“No,” she said sharply, but it was too late.
His mouth was on hers and he was kissing her, kissing her with weeks of pent-up desire, with passion and yet with tenderness.
His tongue sought entry into the sweetness of her mouth and she moaned, parted her lips and let him in.
An eternity later, he raised his head, but he didn’t let go of her.
“Why didn’t you tell me yesterday?” He knew there was an edge to his voice. So what? What he’d just done wasn’t logical but surely this question was. “You were going to go through with a paternity test rather than tell me the truth?”
“Let go of me.”
“Answer the question. Why didn’t you tell me yesterday?”
“You weren’t much interested in the truth three months ago. Why would you have wanted to hear it yesterday?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You walked out of here that night. No questions, nothing. You just—you just slugged David, told me what you thought of me, and you were gone.”
“And?”
“What do you mean, and? That was how things ended between us. Now you’re saying that when I found you waiting for me in that hotel yesterday I should have stuck out my hand, smiled and said, ‘Hello, Mr. Wilde, it’s nice to see you again and oh, by the way, I’m carrying your child?’” She jerked free of his hands, eyes flashing with defiance and anger...or was it pain? “What a fantastic conversation-starter that would have been!”
He wanted to tell her she was wrong—but she wasn’t. He would never have believed her. He wasn’t even sure why he believed her now.
Except, he did.
The events of the morning had changed everything.
She was, once again, the woman he’d met that night almost three months ago, a heart-aching combination of vulnerability and courage, and she touched something in him no woman ever had.
“I shouldn’t have stormed out of here that night,” he said quietly. “God knows, I was in no position to make moral judgments.”
“Nobody’s in a position to make moral judgments,” she said tightly, “especially without asking a couple of questions first.”
A muscle in his jaw flickered. “What was there to ask?”
“Never mind,” she said wearily. “It doesn’t matter.”
“The hell it doesn’t.”
She looked up at him, weighing his words. Then she flashed a bitter smile. “Okay. How about, Were David and I lovers?”
“Are you saying you weren’t?”
“Would you believe me if I did?”
Something stirred inside him. “Try me.” Time slipped by. Caleb cursed, clasped her shoulders again. “Dammit, Sage, I want the truth. Were you lovers?”
“No.” Tears rose in her eyes. “He was my friend. My best fr—”
Her voice broke. Caleb wanted to draw her against him and offer comfort but he couldn’t.
Not yet. Not until the images of her with Caldwell were blanked from his mind.
“It was the worst day of my life,” she whispered. “Losing him.”
He nodded. Searched for words of solace...and instead heard himself say, “Why were you living together?”
She gave a snort of disbelief.
“Is that all you and your oversized ego can worry about?”
“Answer the question,” he said coldly, knowing that the ghost living inside him, the Agency operative who’d been trained to trust no one, to reject answers when they weren’t the answers he expected, had suddenly taken over.
“We weren’t living together. Not the way you mean. David needed a place to stay. I said he could stay with me until he found something.”
“So, you’re saying you were roommates?”
There it was again, that quick narrowing of her eyes.
“I’m not saying it, I’m stating it. We were friends. Period. Full stop. End of story.”
Caleb nodded again. One more question. He hated himself for needing to ask it—but he had to know. Dear God, he had to know if he needed to be jealous of a dead man, and if that wasn’t pathetic, what was?
“And where did he sleep?”
The breath hissed from between her teeth.
“Damn you, Caleb! I don’t know why I bothered with this. You’re not interested in the truth!”
“Where?” he demanded, because, sure, he had female friends, he knew men and women could like each other without sex ever entering the equation, but how could a man be near this woman and not want her, not need to touch her?
“He slept where you did,” she said, her voice tight. “We joked that it was the guest bedroom.”
“‘We,’” he heard himself say.
She turned her face up to his. Were her eyes bright with tears or with anger?
“We,” she said. “Absolutely. Because David was more than my friend. He was—he was my family, the brother I never had. He was always there for me, always, until he stepped off a bus one dark night and a car ran a light and—and—”
“Dammit,” Caleb said in a rough voice. He reached for her, but she pulled away.
“David and I didn’t have a sexual thing going between us. We never did, never would, never could. He was gay!”
Gay. The word seemed to echo through the sudden quiet.
“Gay?” Caleb said.
“Ga
y,” Sage said. She swiped at her tears and gave him a look he knew he’d never forget. “And you—you are a one-hundred-percent gold-plated jerk!”
She whirled away and marched into the bedroom. The door slammed shut.
Caleb didn’t move.
He couldn’t have, not even if a fire truck had materialized in the center of the kitchen.
David Caldwell was gay. He’d never been Sage’s lover.
And he, Caleb Wilde, was... Yeah. Okay. He was a gold-plated jerk.
But he was more than that.
He was—he was—
That was the instant it really hit.
Forget polite phrases about how he had willingly admitted he’d made Sage pregnant, how he was responsible for the life in her womb. All those lofty bits of philosophy were true, but they skirted the real issue.
Caleb sank into his chair.
He was—holy hell!
He was going to be a father.
CHAPTER EIGHT
SAGE slammed the bathroom door.
She was breathing hard. She was breathing fire!
She wasn’t sure which of them was the worst fool, she or Caleb.
It had never occurred to him to ask the slightest question about that night. About whether maybe, just maybe he’d read things wrong.
But then, why would he? She’d met him at, what, nine o’clock? Brought him home with her at ten. Slept with him at whatever unholy hour she’d gone sashaying into the living room, figuring he was asleep...
Or maybe hoping he wasn’t asleep.
Not that it mattered.
She’d had sex with him. Sex, plain and simple. It hadn’t meant a thing to him and it certainly hadn’t meant a thing to her....
Liar. Liar. Liar! It had meant everything. At least, she’d believed it had.
Now, she carried his baby.
God, what a mess!
Twenty-four hours ago, when she’d walked into the hotel room and found him waiting, she’d figured things couldn’t get much worse.
What a joke. And it was her fault.
Why had she told him the truth? Yesterday, when he’d asked if he’d made her pregnant, she hadn’t so much as hesitated. The lie had come as easily as breath.
No, she’d said, you didn’t.
So, what had changed?
Harlequin Presents January 2013 - Bundle 2 of 2: The Ruthless Caleb WildeBeholden to the ThroneThe Incorrigible Playboy Page 10