A Case for Calamity (Twelve Brides of Christmas Book 8)

by Mackenzie Crowne

  The sympathy card proved a complete bust.

  “Go get ready. I’ll wait. The appointment won’t take longer than twenty minutes. I’ll drive you wherever you want once we’re done.”

  ****

  Jane snapped her seatbelt shut. “This is a bad idea. I’m about to shock the hell out of my parents. Your presence will only complicate things.”

  “My lack of presence would be just as complicating, don’t you think? You didn’t get pregnant alone. I had a hand in it.”

  Her head jerked in his direction. The test may have confirmed her pregnancy and the estimated gestation, but the paternity of the baby couldn’t be determined for some time. His claiming responsibility, before it had, made no sense.

  “I’m not the kind of man who shirks his responsibilities, Jane.” He glanced her way. “I’m not a parent, yet, but if my daughter came to me to say some man had left her pregnant, I’d want to know what he meant to do about it.”

  So would she, but she was afraid to find out.

  “Besides, the doc said you needed to avoid stress.”

  She choked on a mirthless laugh. “Showing up on my parents’ stoop with a strange guy to announce I’m pregnant is not my idea of avoiding stress.”

  He smiled, and out popped the same secret weapons responsible for getting her into this mess in the first place. Dismayed at the helpless fluttering in her belly, she pressed a hand to her stomach. His eyes followed the movement, and his smile disappeared.

  His sober gaze rose to tangle with hers. “I’m coming with you.”

  Further argument would be useless. The successful businessman was back.

  She nodded, accepting defeat. “They live in Bayside.”

  A half hour later, Jane fought back nausea as Gabe pulled his shiny, black Ram 3500 pickup to the curb of the quiet, tree-lined street. She stared at the gigantic wreath hanging on her parents’ front door. For a moment, she considered asking Gabe to park around the corner. Forget the fact her mother still wasn’t speaking to her. Caroline Whitmore was going to take one look at Gabe and start plotting his part in fulfilling the demands of Grandmother’s bequeathal. If her mother spotted the high-end luxury truck, she’d be on the phone with Father Martin before they made it over the threshold.

  She lost her chance when Gabe stepped from the vehicle. Joining him on the sidewalk, she led him up the walkway and didn’t bother knocking. She used her old key. “Mother. Dad.”

  Gabe shut the door at their backs, sweeping the Stetson from his head and brushing fingers through his thick, black hair.

  “Is that you, CJ?”

  She winced at her father’s call from the living room.

  “CJ?” Gabe raised a brow.

  “A family nickname.” She mumbled the evasion. The J in CJ was self-explanatory, but Gabe Sutton already had a low opinion of her. The C for Calamity was a topic she’d rather avoid. “Come on.” Jerking her head in a follow-me motion, she entered the room off the foyer.

  An enormous, twelve-foot Christmas spruce, decorated with perfect symmetry in gold and white, twinkled in the far corner. Her father sat in his favorite chair, the Sunday paper opened across his lap. His gaze moved over the man behind her while he folded the paper, tossing it to the coffee table at his feet, and stood. At six feet, with wide shoulders and a barrel chest, Thomas Whitmore was a big, powerful man. Jane almost felt sorry for Gabe, when, instead of greeting her, her father pinned him with his most intimidating frown.

  Not that Jane expected any kind of warm and fuzzy greeting personally. In fact, she would have been shocked to receive one. Emotional greetings weren’t her parents’ style, unless of course, the emotion was disappointment.

  “Hi, Dad. Where’s Mother?”

  “She’s here somewhere.” His curious gaze held firm on Gabe as he called out to his wife. “Caroline?”

  Jane swallowed and turned at the sound of her mother’s heels on the tiled foyer floor, marking her imminent arrival. Caroline Whitmore’s piques frequently lasted much longer than generally warranted. The loss of Todd, more as a trigger to gain her daughter her inheritance than as a son-in-law, was worthy of at least a six-month pout. The whopper Jane was about to deliver should be worth a decade.

  Her mother swept into the room, looking crisp and put together as usual in a woolen day dress and pearls. The expected coolness of her expression arrested when she spotted Gabe, and the disapproving slash of her lips softened into a polite smile.

  “Hello, Mother.” Jane accepted the air kiss to her cheek before her mother stepped back.

  “We didn’t expect you.”

  “Sorry, I should have called.”

  “Nonsense.” Her father propped his hands on his hips. “It’s about time the two of you kissed and made up.”

  Jane cleared her throat and plunged ahead before the conversation could turn to the reason for their quarrel. “Gabe, these are my parents, Thomas and Caroline Whitmore. Dad, Mother, this is Gabe Sutton.”

  Her father offered his hand and Gabe shook it. “Mr. Whitmore. Mrs. Whitmore.”

  “I serve on the arts council with Alice Sutton.” Her mother’s gaze grew speculative, a sure sign she was about to get her potential son-in-law flirt on. “Any relation?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “I didn’t think so.” Her mother proved Jane’s concern right when she cooed, “She would have mentioned having such a handsome young man for a son.”

  “Mother,” Jane warned softly.

  She spoke over her. “How long have you known our Jane? She didn’t mention having a new man in her life.”

  “Mother, please.” Jane spoke more forcefully and avoided looking Gabe’s way. “I have something to tell you.”

  “What is it, baby? Please, sit.” She waved Gabe toward one of the matching couches. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “Mother!” Beginning to sweat beneath her coat, she wanted to get this over with and go. “This isn’t exactly a social call.”

  “Really, Jane. Mr. Sutton is a guest. It’s not polite to—”

  “I’m pregnant.” Jane swallowed audibly. “And Mr. Sutton is the baby’s father.”

  Stunned silence met her announcement. Her mother folded into the nearest wingback chair. Disappointment sparked in her father’s narrowed gaze.

  Beads of sweat popped out on Jane’s brow as the now familiar bubbling in her belly threatened. Not now. Oh, please, not now. The silence stretched out while she drew in air through her nose.

  “Are you okay?” Gabe’s deep drawl breathed in her ear.

  His large hand coming to rest on the small of her back tipped the scales in the battle she fought with her stomach. Whimpering, she slapped a hand over her mouth and ran from the room.

  Chapter Eight

  Gabe frowned as Jane dashed out of the room. Once she rounded the corner and disappeared, he turned to face her shocked parents.

  “Caroline.” Thomas addressed his silent wife. “Why don’t you go make sure she’s all right?”

  Whatever the source of tension between mother and daughter, Gabe was relieved when she nodded and rose without a word to follow Jane.

  “I could use a drink.” Thomas arched a brow while moving to the bar in the corner. “What can I get you?”

  “Whatever you’re having.”

  “Scotch?”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Thomas splashed amber liquid into two glasses, returning to offer one to Gabe.

  He accepted, fingering the fine crystal instead of sipping. Meeting the older man’s scowling gaze, he chose his words carefully. “You must have questions.”

  “Plenty, I assure you, but only one I’ll ask.”

  “You want to know what I plan to do about the situation.”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Since I only found out about the baby last night, I’m not yet completely sure. I can promise you, however, I will be a part of the child’s life.”

  Thomas nodded and raise
d the glass to his mouth. “And my daughter?”

  “Truthfully, sir, we don’t know each other well, but she’s the mother of my child. That makes her part of my life.”

  “Dad, what are you doing?”

  Gabe swung his head around at Jane’s sharp demand. She rushed into the room with Caroline right behind her. Surprised at her quick return, Gabe narrowed his eyes at how pale she appeared, but at least she seemed steadier than when she fled the room several minutes earlier.

  She glared at Thomas. “If you have questions, you’re asking the wrong person.”

  “A baby has two parents, CJ.”

  “That may be, but I’m the one responsible. I will be making the decisions.”

  Gabe raised a brow at that. The last twenty-four hours might have rocked his well-ordered world, but the Whitmores, including Jane, would quickly learn he’d be involved in any decisions made concerning the life of his child.

  “Let’s all sit down and discuss this calmly.” Caroline gestured toward the sofa and chairs.

  “There’s nothing to discuss, Mother.”

  “Your mother’s right.” Jane spun on Gabe, but he continued before she could open her mouth. “You’re white as a ghost. Sit down before you faint again.”

  “Again?” Caroline hovered, her hand rubbing over the ponytail of her daughter’s pale hair.

  Jane’s eyes were huge blue pools against her colorless cheeks as they glared at him. “You’re not helping.”

  “Was I supposed to?”

  “You fainted?” Caroline demanded more forcefully.

  “I’m fine. The paramedics checked me out.”

  “You needed paramedics? Oh, baby. Please, sit down.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake. I didn’t need paramedics. He called them.” She pointed an accusing finger at Gabe.

  “Jane, have a seat.”

  Though her chin jutted defiantly, she reluctantly answered the command in her father’s voice. Gabe hid a grin when she plopped down on the couch like a pouting child.

  “Fine, I’m sitting.”

  Thomas swirled the liquid in his glass. “How long before the baby is due?”

  “Almost eight months.” Jane popped back to her feet. “So, you see, we really have nothing to discuss. I just came by to let you know.”

  Thomas arched a brow. “Eight months will fly by before you know it. Have you thought of what you’ll do once you can’t work anymore?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be able to work?”

  Caroline sighed. “Even a woman as stubborn as you can’t be expected to heft heavy trays in a pub when you get close to your due date.”

  “Pub?” Gabe frowned. “I thought you worked for Creative Cuisine.”

  Thomas snorted. “That’s her weekend job. She works in a pub weeknights.”

  The stubbornness Caroline mentioned was evident in the tight line of Jane’s mouth as she addressed her father. “I’ll make arrangements for easier duty once I turn into a whale. I’ve helped out behind the bar on occasion.”

  “What about this pet shop job Keith mentioned?” Caroline pushed. “You can’t keep working fifteen hours a day.”

  “Pet shop?” Gabe parroted. How many jobs did the woman have? He glanced around at the expensive furnishings in the Whitmore’s upper-middle-class home. Why would Jane need multiple jobs when she obviously came from a very comfortable financial situation? Was money the source of the obvious tension between her and her parents?

  Jane ignored him. “Keith has a big mouth.”

  “Your brother worries about you.” Thomas watched her with narrowed eyes. “Just as we do, but you never answered my question. What will you do once the baby is born? You can’t work three jobs and raise a child.”

  “I agree.” Gabe set his glass on the coffee table.

  “Excuse me.” She met his gaze over her shoulder. “I appreciate your wanting to be involved. A baby should know its father, but what I do to pay my bills is no one’s business but mine.”

  “Not anymore.” Enough was enough. “What you do with your time may be your business, but when it affects the health of that baby you’re carrying, it becomes mine. I don’t care what you do for work, but you won’t be holding down three jobs while you’re pregnant. As my wife you won’t have to. You can choose one and quit the others.”

  “As your wife?” She spun on him. “Wait just a minute.”

  He crossed his arms, meeting and holding her stunned gaze, and hoped his own astonishment didn’t show. Marriage had always been part of his master plan, but until this moment, the institution hadn’t been an immediate consideration. This situation wasn’t how he’d seen his eventual fall coming about, but the die had been cast on a fall night in Paris.

  He and Jane would have their work cut out for them, rebuilding a lasting trust, but the concept of marriage to her sounded right somehow. More importantly, no child of his would start its life under the label of bastard.

  “Are you insane? Yesterday, you accused me of using you as a meal ticket.” She propped her hands on her hips, and her mouth twisted into a sneer. “Well, maybe I was. For all you know, one of those other six candidates is the baby’s father.”

  “Jane!” Caroline gasped.

  “Butt out, Mother. You don’t know all the facts involved.”

  “No, we don’t.” Thomas pinned Jane with a stern frown. “And I would be interested in hearing those facts. Are there six other candidates for the baby’s father?”

  “Dad!”

  Her abject horror at her father’s question spoke volumes, but Gabe needed to hear her denial. “The truth, Jane. I deserve that, at least.”

  Pale beneath the twin flags of color riding her cheeks, her face pinched like that of a hunted animal. She turned wounded eyes on him, but there was no accusation in them, only embarrassment. Because she’d been playing him all along, or over her parents’ surprising lack of support?

  She bumped up her chin and spoke coolly. “I told you the truth last night.”

  Gabe nodded, amazed at the rush of relief coursing through his veins. He turned to Thomas. “Would you mind giving us a few minutes?”

  Thomas cast his daughter a disappointed glance before nodding. “Come on, Caroline.” His wife rose to join him and, without a word, let him guide her from the room.

  “Are you happy?” Jane wrapped her arms around her waist once they were alone. “I told you I could handle this on my own. Your ridiculous suggestion only made matters worse.”

  “I’m sorry if that’s true, but it wasn’t a ridiculous suggestion. Getting married is the more civil of the only two options I can accept.”

  Angry fear leapt into her eyes. “And the other option?”

  He didn’t want her thinking of him as the enemy, but neither would he leave the raising of his child to someone else. “I fight you for custody of the child.”

  “I see.” Her chin tilted up at a stubborn angle. “And you think I wouldn’t fight back?”

  The little he knew of her told him she would put up a furious fight and end up hating him in the end, a potential eventuality that made his gut clench with denial. She might be pissed, seeing his demand they marry as nothing but bullying on his part, but a legal union would put an end to their conflict and allow them the chance to build on what they’d begun in Paris.

  Most of their communication of the past day had been altercation, but that hadn’t been the case two months ago. The undeniable attraction between them was a point of agreement, and though there was no guarantee they could build a great love story from such a shaky foundation, it was a start.

  If he could convince her to give them a shot.

  “I know you’d fight me, but you’d lose. I have resources you could never hope to attain. Do you really want to join a battle you can’t win, when there’s another option?”

  “An unacceptable option.”

  “Is it really?” He stepped closer. “I’ll admit, we haven’t exactly been on friendly terms the last twen
ty-four hours, but these circumstances would rattle anyone. That wasn’t the case in Paris.”

  Though she lifted her chin defiantly, she didn’t meet his gaze. Turning toward the window, she tightened her arms around her waist. “Paris was a fluke and a one-night stand.”

  “Maybe so, but there’s no denying the mutual, physical attraction. My point is, I enjoyed your company that night, and not just the time we spent in bed. Though I have to say, the memory of those hours bodes well for the physical side of a marriage between us.”

  Her head whipped around, and she stabbed him with a narrowed gaze. “One night of incredible sex doesn’t guarantee physical compatibility.”

  The stroke to his ego made him smile. “Incredible, huh?”

  She bristled visibly. “Don’t try to charm me, Gabe. We’re talking about my future here, and the future of my baby.”

  His smile slid away. “Our baby.”

  Guilt flashed in her eyes before she dropped her gaze to her feet. “My point is, what happened between us was most likely just the romance of Paris, or maybe it was hormones. I don’t know, but staking a marriage on one night of passion isn’t reasonable.”

  He relaxed subtly. No longer raging at him in a flat-out no, she was arguing the case. A master negotiator, he knew how to close the deal.

  He lowered his voice to a seductive croon. “There’s a simple way of finding out if that night was a fluke.”

  Color bloomed on her cheekbones when her gaze jerked up to tangle with his. “I’m serious. What if I agree to this marriage and we go ahead with it only to find out later we just don’t connect?”

  Damn, she was stubborn. Under different circumstances, he might like that about her, but not today. He leaned close, until they were nose to nose, and hid a secret smile when she didn’t back down.

  “We’ll have to cross that bridge when and if we come to it, because unless you’re willing to take me on in court, the baby you’re carrying will be born with a mother and a father.”