by Anna Sugden
Issy laughed. “Especially as I don’t have a backyard.”
As dinner progressed, in many ways, it was as if there had been no time apart since Antigua. Under the starry tropical sky, they’d learned a lot about each other’s pasts and pain. Here, they shared things people talked about on first dates—movies, music, books and food. Their disagreements were good-natured and there was a lot of banter.
Issy shouldn’t have been surprised that the attraction was still there. She’d secretly hoped it would be; that it hadn’t merely been a function of the sultry Caribbean nights. She’d also hoped it wouldn’t, because it might be easier to tell him her news if her body didn’t hum with pleasure every time their fingers brushed.
After dessert, J.B. suggested they take a walk along the riverfront.
They strolled the tree-lined, brickwork path along the banks of the Hudson. Across the water, they could see the lights of Manhattan.
Under other circumstances, it would have been romantic.
Issy’s guilt deepened. At least they weren’t holding hands. Although J.B.’s hand rested at the small of her back.
She didn’t want to spoil the evening. She knew she was being a coward, but it was a shame to ruin things. It wasn’t as if the baby was due imminently. Another day or two wouldn’t hurt.
Or would it?
“Penny for your thoughts.”
Her gaze shot up to meet his. There was nothing but mild curiosity in his dark eyes.
“Oh...they’re not that important,” she hedged.
“You look like you’re doing some pretty heavy-duty thinking there.” He pulled a handful of change out of his pants’ pocket. “I can up the ante to a dime or even a quarter.”
His teasing smile only made her feel worse. “Really, it’s nothing you want to know about.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Now you have me intrigued.”
Her laugh was a little shaky. “You’ll be disappointed, trust me.”
“Let me make up my own mind on that.”
Damn it. She should have made something up. School worries. Decorating worries. Anything. Instead she’d painted herself into a corner. He wouldn’t give up until she told him.
“It’s hard to talk about. Personal.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment. “We shared a lot of personal stuff in Antigua. Why is this any different?”
Her throat ached at his gentle tone and the understanding in his eyes. She had no choice. The time had come to tell him.
“Why don’t we sit on the bench over there?” he suggested.
“All right.” She sighed inwardly.
No sooner had she sat than all the carefully prepared words she’d come up with during the week vanished.
“I’m pregnant.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
DEAFENING SILENCE.
That phrase had always seemed silly, but as Issy waited for J.B. to respond to her announcement, it described the moment perfectly. The air felt thick and heavy. The sky darkened as a cloud passed over the moon. Even the crickets seemed to stop chirping.
Her gut twisted as she watched his expression transform from concerned to stunned to furious. The light in his eyes turned off as if he’d flicked a switch. His lips flattened from a caring smile to a hard line. A muscle twitched in his rigid jaw.
“If that’s your idea of a joke, it’s not funny.” His words were clipped, forced out through gritted teeth.
She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, but it’s not a joke.”
“What kind of freaking game are you playing? You can’t be pregnant.” Just for a second, something flashed in his dark eyes, pleading with her for it not to be true.
“Trust me, I would love to say I’m not, but I am.” She struggled to keep her voice calm.
J.B. rose and began pacing as he tried to process the information. He stopped in front of her. “If it’s true, then the baby sure as hell can’t be mine.”
Shocked, Issy jumped up and stood toe-to-toe with him so there would be no doubt about what she was saying. “It most certainly is.”
She’d expected him to be unsettled, upset and angry. She’d also expected him to turn those emotions onto her. To blame her. The one thing she hadn’t anticipated was being accused of trying to pass off someone else’s baby as his.
“How dare you? You know I was practically a virgin when I slept with you.”
His lip curled. “So who did you screw next?”
Stung by his cruel words, she spat out, “No one.”
“Yeah, right.”
Now she was the angry one. “Get over yourself. You weren’t that good.”
“Not what you said the next morning.”
“Seriously? You think I was so impressed that I had to rush out and find another man to sleep with right away?”
“I don’t give a damn what your excuse is.” He shrugged. “We both know the baby can’t be mine. We went overboard on protection.”
“The condom split.” She refrained from adding “you jerk,” but only just.
“You said you were on the pill.”
“I was on the pill. I told you I was sick for a week after I got home. The doctor thinks that weakened the effectiveness.”
“A very convenient explanation.”
Her jaw dropped. “Not really.”
“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it? Set me up, get pregnant and then claim paternity so you could get money out of me.”
How had she ever thought J.B. might be understanding? Even laughably, in her craziest moments, imagining that he might work with her to figure this thing out?
“You think I not only wanted to get pregnant but I planned it?” Her voice rose in pitch with each word. “For your money?”
“You wouldn’t be the first.” Disgust edged his tone. “You won’t get a penny from me without a DNA test.”
“After everything I told you about my family, you can’t believe I’d resort to that.” Tears burned, but she refused to let them fall. “I don’t need your precious money.”
“Great. We’re agreed. And whatever the test results, you won’t get my ring on your finger.”
“As if I’d want to marry you. You’re an immature jackass.” She laughed bitterly. “You don’t need to worry. I know only too well what it’s like to have crappy parents.”
“Make sure you stick to that story when it comes to signing the legal paperwork.”
Disappointed and disgusted—he’d turned out to be the worst kind of arrogant sports star—she’d suddenly had enough of the conversation. “I’ve done my duty by informing you. If I never see you again, it’ll be too soon.” She stalked off, head high.
Issy was grateful that the brick path went around the side of the restaurant so she could walk directly to the parking lot. It was hard enough to keep from breaking down without everyone staring at her.
She’d almost made it to her car when she caught her shoe in a rut, snapping the slender heel in two and turning her ankle, making it painful to walk on. She pulled off her ruined shoes, which were her favorite. The icing on a totally crappy evening.
“Do you need help?” J.B. asked over her shoulder.
Damn it. Well, his car was parked in the same lot.
“Not from you.” She continued to hobble to her car.
He caught up to her and put his arm around her waist for support. “Come on. You’re clearly struggling. The last thing you need, in your condition, is to hurt yourself further.”
“Now you believe I’m pregnant,” she snapped, wrenching herself away from him.
“Yeah, just not that I’m the father.”
A loud gasp made them both stop.
Even before she turned, Issy knew who’d overheard them.
Sure enough, Mrs. Allardyce stood at the valet station.
So much for keeping the news of her pregnancy quiet until she was ready.
“Don’t worry, it’s not catching,” Issy said as the woman stared at her.
Issy
didn’t know where the sarcasm came from. She should be begging the woman not to say anything about what she’d heard, not pissing her off further.
It was just that the security she’d worked so hard to achieve and which she’d been so close to achieving had fallen apart. And with it the life she’d dreamed of having for so long. Between J.B. and Mrs. Allardyce, there was no way to put the crushed pieces of her dream back together.
Issy turned, wincing as pain shot through her ankle, and limped to her car.
J.B. held the door open for her. “Will you be okay?”
His loaded question, showing he understood the implications of what had happened, was the final straw.
“I’ll be fine. I made my choice and now I have to live with the consequences.” When he started to speak, she thrust her hand up to stop him. “Don’t worry. I won’t bother you again.”
Issy pulled her car door from him, slamming it shut, narrowly missing his fingers.
He jumped back as she reversed out of the parking space.
She didn’t look in her rearview mirror until after she’d pulled onto the road. J.B. remained standing where she’d left him, staring after her.
“It’s his loss,” she said aloud. She glanced down at her stomach. “We’ll get through this, I promise.”
Issy wasn’t sure how, but she’d find a way. Her child would never know anything but love and security, and she sure as hell didn’t need a father for that.
* * *
DID HE HAVE gullible tattooed across his forehead?
J.B. slammed his front door. He kicked off his shoes and took the stairs up to his bedroom two at a time, tearing off his jacket as he went.
There had to be a manual for women that read “bat your pretty blue eyes when you tell your sob story and Jean Baptiste Larocque will fall for your plan.”
What other explanation could there be for how many times he’d fallen for the same freaking setup? Other than that he was a total idiot. He tossed his jacket on the bed and stripped off the rest of his clothes before pulling on a T-shirt, workout shorts and his Nikes.
He wanted to hit something. No, he wanted to pulverize something.
Grabbing his boxing gloves, he stalked to the in-home gym across from his room. Not for the first time he thanked Ike—whose town house he rented, along with Kenny and Mad Dog—for installing a state-of-the-art fitness center on the second floor. Including a punching bag that hung from a reinforced ceiling bar.
J.B. taped his hands—no way was he dumb enough to damage his most precious tools right before the season started.
He’d been stupid enough to believe tings had been rolling along nicely. Sure, Bella’d had that uptight thing going again, but he’d put that down to nervousness. Once she’d loosened up a little, she’d been the other Bella. And he’d made the mistake of relaxing.
He tugged on his boxing gloves. During J.B.’s rookie season, Bad Boy had taken him along to his fitness boxing sessions with his trainer, Prince, as a way to burn off extra aggression. It hadn’t taken long for J.B. to see how much it helped improve his agility, balance and overall conditioning, and he’d taken it up himself. Anything to give him an extra step on the ice and some added spice to his shot.
Tonight, though, pounding the bag was all about relieving anger.
One, two, one. Right, left, right. Over and over. Harder and harder.
He’d barely begun to break a sweat when he acknowledged the truth: the baby had to be his. Bella may not be as innocent or naive as he’d once thought, but he couldn’t see her trying to pass off another man’s child as his. He swore.
One, one, two, two. Right, right, left, left.
He was going to be a father.
Hellfire and damnation.
Why now? This was supposed to be his season. Cup number two. Proof he was one of the elite players. The team was in great shape. With some key acquisitions over the summer, the Cats were faster and stronger. They’d go all the way to the Finals again, only this time they’d bring home the Cup. He felt it deep in his gut.
But J.B. had to do his part and do it well. More importantly, he had to do it consistently. He had to bring his A-game every night. For that, he needed to be in the best shape of his career. That was tough enough when he’d had the whole summer to recover, let alone when he’d come off a grueling Cup run. He’d have to be careful about his body, his fitness and his stress levels.
This was not the time to have to think about a baby or responsibility. Or commitment. Or anything but reaching his goal.
J.B. pummeled the leather bag until his arms and body ached, and his skin was soaked. Finally, he could punch no more and he bent over, gloves on his thighs, his breath rasping.
“I think you killed him.” Kenny leaned against the doorjamb of the gym.
“What?” J.B. ripped off his gloves and wiped his face with the back of his taped hands.
“Whoever it is that you were beating the crap out of.” His friend frowned. “I don’t think I’ve done anything to warrant that. Not lately, anyway.”
Kenny never took anything seriously. He opened the small fridge and tossed J.B. a bottle of cold water. “Who’s the unlucky culprit and what have they done?”
J.B. drained half the bottle before answering. “I wasn’t punching anyone. Or if I was, it was myself.”
“Come again?”
“For being such a dumb ass.”
“What have you done this time?”
J.B. wasn’t sure why he hesitated. The whole world would know soon enough how Jean-Baptiste Larocque had screwed up again.
“Hold up.” Kenny pointed at him. “Weren’t you supposed to be seeing the woman you met in Antigua tonight?”
“Yup. Bella.”
“I take it the evening didn’t go well.”
“She’s pregnant.” It sounded even worse when he said it out loud.
Kenny laughed. When J.B. didn’t join in, Kenny sobered. “You’re not kidding.”
“Wish I was.”
“How the hell did that happen?”
“The usual way.”
“Funny. What I meant was, you’re always so careful.”
“I was this time, too. I didn’t take account of a split condom and a freaking bout of food poisoning.” He explained what Bella had told him.
“Ouch.” Kenny grimaced. “Double whammy. And the kid’s definitely yours this time?”
Kenny was the one who’d questioned the last woman who’d claimed to be pregnant with J.B.’s child. He’d also uncovered the truth—that she’d been thrown over by the real father and decided to make a quick buck by latching on to J.B.
“I’m sure. Although I’ll insist on a DNA test.”
“Still, that sucks.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m not sure there’s a way out of this mess.”
J.B. nodded at the punch bag. “That’s why I was punching Jason.” They’d nicknamed the bag after the villain in a series of horror movies who wore a hockey mask. “I’m happy with my life the way it is. I’m twenty-five years old, have enough money to do whatever the hell I want and I don’t have to answer to anyone. What’s more, I want to keep on enjoying my life while I’m still young enough to have the choice. I’m not ready to be tied down. For sure I’m not ready for formula and diapers. If I have sleepless nights, I want them to be because I’m tearing up the sheets with a hot babe, not pacing the floor with a screaming baby. I’m more than happy to leave the domesticity to my brothers.”
His brothers... They’d expect him to man up and do the right thing. His mom would be thrilled, of course, though she’d prefer him to be married to the child’s mother. His father would be disappointed—nothing new there.
“Who says you need to be tied down?” Kenny waved his hand dismissively. “You pay child support, see the kid on weekends and carry on living. Hell, if you really want, you can sign away your rights, pay a lump sum to ease your conscience and never have to be involved with Bella or the kid again.�
�
The second option should have sounded like the perfect solution. Instead it sounded cold. Besides, could J.B. know there was a child with his blood in him and not have anything to do with him? He didn’t think so. That didn’t mean he wanted to do the whole “doting daddy” thing, either.
“I’d have thought you’d be pushing me to step up, given what happened with your dad.”
“I don’t believe parents should always be together, especially if they don’t want to be.” Kenny shrugged. “The most important thing is you make a decision you can live with. Otherwise, you’ll make everyone involved miserable. Not least, the kid. Has Bella said what she wants?”
“All she said was that she’d done her duty by telling me.”
“So she doesn’t expect anything. Do you think she’d be amenable to a deal, if you were to make her an offer?”
Amenable? Ha. That’s the last thing Bella felt toward him right now. But he knew how important security was to her. Would she listen to something that might help protect her—their—child’s future?
“Possibly.”
“It’s simple, then. Make her an offer she can’t refuse. But make sure you also outline your terms clearly.”
The front door banged and footsteps thundered up the stairs.
“Sounds like Mad Dog’s home early, too.” Kenny gave him a look. “Does he know about this?”
“I’m not sure.” He couldn’t remember his friend’s plans. Was he meeting Sapphie?
One look at Taylor’s face as he appeared in the doorway of the gym told him that not only did his friend know, he was pissed.
“You jackass.” He lunged for J.B. but Kenny grabbed him and held him back.
The best form of defense was offence. “Did your date end early because Bella went crying to her BFF when I wouldn’t play along with her game?”
“Real classy.” Taylor shot him a disgusted look as he shook off Kenny. “My date ended early, but not because Bella was crying. The opposite.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Bella texted to say she’d gone to bed early. That’s when Sapphie knew things had gone badly. Bella insisted we didn’t need to interrupt our evening, but eventually spilled the whole miserable story.” Taylor shook his head. “Sapphie’s gunning for you and I don’t blame her. I can’t believe you’d be such a jerk. You really are lower than whale crap.”