by Karen Booth
“I need food, too. I’m really hungry.”
“Even after being carsick?”
“Yes. It’s one of the weird things about...it. I feel queasy, but I’d give my right arm for fried chicken and a peach pie. The whole pie.”
He was still getting used to the idea of Julia being pregnant. Talking about it wasn’t helping. It was only making it more bizarre. “With the vultures outside, we probably shouldn’t leave the hotel until we need to.”
“Can we order room service and talk after I have a chance to change?”
The bellman came strolling down the hall with their two roller bags.
“Looks like your change of clothes is right on time. My room? A half hour?”
“Perfect.”
Logan brought his suitcase inside and ordered food—grilled pork for himself, and with no fried chicken on the menu, he chose a steak for Julia, medium rare. Just the way she liked it, and she never turned down a steak. He then unpacked his suit for the rehearsal dinner Friday night, as well as the rest of his clothes, and changed into jeans and a T-shirt. He might as well get comfortable for whatever it was that Julia was going to spring on him tonight. One thing was for sure. She had a talent for catching him off guard.
Room service was wheeling in the cart when Julia came out of her room. “Sorry I’m a little late. I nodded off for a few minutes.”
She was tired—enough to nod off. That was so unlike Julia, he could hardly wrap his brain around it. She never slowed down. There was always something brewing, always something to do, someone new to meet, some new adventure on which to embark. So this was her new adventure. A baby.
A sweet smile that was tinged with melancholy crossed her face as she stepped inside. It struck him as she padded past, leaving her soft and sensuous smell in her wake—she seemed smaller. Was it because she was as out on a limb as a person could be, all while trying to hide? Although she rarely allowed herself to be vulnerable, Julia was a very open person. Keeping this secret from her family must’ve been one of the most difficult things she’d ever decided she had to do.
She’d changed into a loose-fitting pink top and a pair of black yoga pants. Julia could work a fancy designer dress like nobody’s business, but he really preferred her like this—relaxed. And he had to admire the rear view as he trailed behind her. “We can sit on the sofa and eat.”
They started in on dinner, Julia confirming her claim that she was starving. She’d always been an enthusiastic eater, even when she was skinny as a rail in high school, but this was an impressive showing. “I’ve been craving red meat, too. So thank you. This is perfect.”
He smiled and nodded, not really tasting his meal, still getting accustomed to the notion of the pregnancy. He’d already psyched himself up for her to tell him who the dad was, although he dreaded the answer—some hotshot CEO, a power-hungry producer or one of her toothy costars. And then there was the voice in his head asking if he might be part of the equation.
The moment was still fresh in his mind—back in his room after the reunion, peeling away her dress, drinking in the vision of her curves, it all hitting him in an avalanche—he’d waited for a very long time to be with her again. The way she moved told him that she was far more comfortable with her body than she’d ever been in high school. As she unbuckled his belt and kissed him softly, she’d said they wouldn’t need a condom. She was on the pill. She’d also quipped, “When I remember to take it.” Then his pants had slumped to the floor and further clarification of birth control was the last thing on his mind. That night alone they could have conceived a baby many times over, and it had been only the start of their weekend together.
“So. Pregnant. That’s big. Really big.” Why he suddenly had so little vocabulary was beyond him. He only knew that his palms were starting to get clammy.
“I know. It is.” She gathered her napkin and placed it on the table. “I was surprised, to say the least.”
“So this wasn’t planned.”
“No. It wasn’t.”
“How far along are you?”
“Three months.”
Just say it. “And how is the dad feeling about all of this?”
She twisted her lips and turned to look at him with her wide brown eyes. He’d never seen them so unsure. “I don’t know, exactly. The truth is that I’m not completely certain who the father is.”
His heart was thundering in his chest. He knew she had men falling at her feet, but was it really this extreme? “Oh.”
“It’s either my ex, the guy who dumped me right before the reunion, or...it’s you.”
His heart came to a complete stop. In fact, the only thing that gave him any indication the earth was still spinning was the bat of Julia’s dark lashes. He sat forward and rested his elbows on his knees, nodding. Thinking. Processing. Once again, she’d surprised the hell out of him. He’d prepared for either answer. Not both. I might be the dad? Or I might not? He couldn’t live long without knowing for sure. He sat back up. “We have to have a paternity test. Right away.”
“I knew you were going to say that, but I don’t really see the point. It’s not going to change anything.”
“It’ll change a lot for me.” His brain hurt from the suggestion that they not find out who the father was.
“It doesn’t matter. Either way, I’m pregnant by a man who chooses not to be with me. Do you have any idea how terrible that feels? I need to focus on the good, for my own sake. I’m choosing to focus on the baby.”
Logan still couldn’t believe what she was saying. “I’m going to go insane sitting around for the next six months wondering whether or not I’m about to be a dad.”
“I’m sorry, but that’s just too bad. It’s not going to change the fact that we aren’t together. We’ll have to wait until the baby arrives and then we’ll know. It should be fairly obvious once the baby is born. I doubt we’ll need a paternity test.”
Ah. I see. “So the other guy isn’t black?”
“He isn’t.”
Well, that certainly made that aspect of things convenient. But still the logistics made no sense. Was he supposed to sit in a waiting room with her ex and hope like hell that the baby came out with a skin tone closest to his own?
“I’ve thought about it, and the most sensible thing is to wait until then and you can decide how involved you want to be. We’ll have to negotiate all of that. I’m hoping I can count on you to be sensible and flexible. I don’t want to bring in lawyers,” Julia said.
His head pounded. She was discussing this as if they were two multinational corporations preparing to merge. “What did the other guy have to say about all of this?” He winced at the thought of her having this conversation with any other man, even when he had no claim on her.
“He’s out. Like all the way out. He wants nothing to do with me. He was pretty sure I made up the baby so I could get him back.”
A low grumble left Logan’s throat. What kind of scum would think a woman like Julia would make up a baby to get him back? And how did she end up with a guy like that? “He’s out? What does that even mean? You get a woman pregnant, you accept responsibility. That’s the first chapter of the book called How to Be a Real Man.”
A tear rolled down her cheek. She wrapped her arms around herself and settled back against the couch. “Apparently he doesn’t agree.”
Logan had to fight back his rage. He sucked in a deep breath. If the baby was his, he’d take responsibility. “If it’s mine, we have to get married.”
A dismissive puff of air left her lips. “This is not the time for jokes.”
“It’s no joke. We’re getting married if the baby is mine. You grew up with both parents. I...” His voice cracked, thinking about his father. “I grew up with both parents until we lost my dad. A kid needs both parents. I won’t be able to live with it any other way.”<
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“I’m not getting married to you. That’s not happening.”
“Yes. You are. Unlike this other guy you were with, I’m a man and I accept my responsibilities. We have to get married if the baby is mine.” He wasn’t even sure what was coming out of his mouth anymore. It seemed perfectly sensible in his head a few seconds earlier.
“And none of that matters, Logan. You don’t love me. You want nothing to do with me romantically. Remember? You were very clear with your message after the reunion. Painfully clear. I can recite it if you want. It wasn’t hard to commit it to memory.”
He’d ended it definitively, there was no question about that. Clarity had been for the sake of them both. Of course, he’d never imagined she’d memorize his message. Had he been too cold? “What was I supposed to do? I get to the airport and you’re on the cover of a magazine that says sparks were flying when you were auditioning with Derek. That was a week before the reunion and you’d just come off a breakup. That told me everything I needed to know about any future between us.”
“There were no sparks with Derek. Why doesn’t anyone believe me?”
“There’s always some other guy around the corner, isn’t there? Some mess of a guy who you can try to fix.”
She shot him a final look of disgust before she bolted from the couch and stalked to the front door. “You can be such a jerk. Really. You have an uncanny ability to say the most hurtful things.”
He rushed to follow her. “Wait a minute. We’re still talking.”
She squared her body to his and poked the center of his chest, hard, even though he had a good fifty pounds on her. Maybe more. “If you think the next six months are going to be difficult for you, how do you think the pregnant woman feels? How about the woman who got dumped by both of the men who might’ve knocked her up? Did you even take two seconds to think about that?”
“I asked you to marry me. I’m willing to play my part.”
“You did not ask me to marry you. You were issuing a mandate. And that’s not happening, anyway. I’m not marrying someone out of obligation, and certainly not a man who broke up with me. I’m done making mistakes when it comes to you.” She opened the door and stormed out. It closed with a thud behind her.
Logan turned, his eyes wide open. No way he was getting any sleep tonight. Julia had given him more than enough to chew on.
His phone beeped with a text. What now? He wandered across the room and picked it up from the coffee table. It was from Julia.
We have to leave for the florist by ten.
Great. A whole day of wedding errands with the pregnant woman who drove him crazy, refused to marry him and might be carrying his baby.
Three
Logan had been a royal jerk last night—selfishly worrying how he’d survive the next six months of uncertainty, informing Julia that he expected her to marry him. That was not happening. She could do this all on her own. She didn’t need help from Logan.
Although she didn’t mind the view.
“Oh. Hey. Good morning.” He flashed a sheepish smile, standing in the doorway of his room, nothing more than a towel wrapped around his waist, beads of water dotting his shoulder. “I was just getting the paper.” Bending over to pick it up, he showed off his perfectly defined back.
Julia stood stuck. His velvety voice delivered a too-sexy memory of their last morning in this hotel—Logan’s long, warm naked body pressed against her back in the wee hours, his giving lips on her neck as he slid his hand between her knees, lifted her leg and rocked her world with the most memorable wake-up call, well, ever.
“Jules? You okay?”
“Morning,” she sputtered, pushing a room service cart out of her room and into the hall. “I ordered bacon with breakfast, but the smell was making me queasy. If you want the leftovers.” Sexy, Jules. Real sexy.
He looked both ways, flipped the latch on his door and crossed the hall. He raised the stainless cloche from the plate, grabbing some bacon. “Just two. The camera adds ten pounds.”
“You’re fine.” She stole a glimpse of his stomach, just as hard and muscled as ever. He might not be paid to be an elite athlete anymore, but he maintained his body like one. And to think she’d reaped the benefits—those strapping arms wrapped around her, keeping her close, making her feel for two whole days that she belonged nowhere else. The price of admission had been far more than she’d been willing to pay—every shred of her heart. A big chunk of her pride, too.
“Ready in fifteen?” She braced herself against her door. Being around nearly-naked Logan was making it impossible to stand up straight.
“Definitely. I called down to the valet. We can go out the side entrance. They’ll have the car waiting for us.”
“You don’t think the press will be tipped off by the eighty-thousand-dollar gleaming black sports car you just had to rent?”
He shrugged. “I’m not about to drive anything less. You’ll have to suffer through it, babe.”
Babe. As if.
Julia retreated to her room and tried not to obsess over her makeup or hair, but it was hard not to, knowing she’d be spending her day with Logan. He deserved to be tortured by what he’d so solidly rejected. It would likely be her only measure of revenge. She dressed in a swishy navy blue skirt that showed off her legs, black ballet flats and a white sleeveless top with a cut that left her expanding bustline on full display. Boobs. At least she was getting something out of this whole single-and-pregnant thing, other than a baby, of course.
She met Logan in the hall, and he just had to be stunning. So effortlessly hot in jeans and a white button-down, sleeves rolled up just far enough to again mesmerize her with his inexplicably alluring forearms. He led her out through the side exit and to his rental car. His plan to remain incognito was working perfectly until he peeled out of the parking lot.
“Why did you do that?” Her vision darted back to the hotel entrance. Sure enough, reporters were racing to their cars. “They’re following us now.” She shook her head. He always had to have his manly moment.
“Don’t worry. I’ll lose them.”
He tried to shake the media as he had the day before, but they got stuck at a red light and he was left to lead a dysfunctional caravan to the florist, with his fancy car front and center. They found their destination a few minutes later, and Julia dashed for the door while Logan took his chance to reprimand the reporters yet again and tell them to stay outside.
Julia swept her hair from her face as a red-haired woman came out of the back with an enormous bucket of flowers blocking her view. “Can I help you?” she asked in a lovely singsong British accent. She plopped her armful onto the checkout counter. “Blimey. You’re...her.”
Her. Yep. Julia smiled warmly. It was the only way to put people at ease and get them off the subject of who she was. “Hi. You’re doing the flowers for my sister Tracy’s wedding on Saturday. She asked me to come by and look over everything. She’s more than a little picky and I want everything to be perfect for her.”
The woman nodded. “Yes. I’m Bryony. And I remember your sister. Very well. Come with me.”
The bell on the door jingled as Logan walked inside. With a nod, Julia motioned for him to follow her, and he trailed behind her into a back room. While Bryony pulled buckets of blooms from a cooler, Logan assumed what Julia called his jock-in-command stance—feet nearly shoulder-width apart, hands clasped behind his back, shoulders straight, chest out proud. This was his way of taking in the world. She’d first noticed him doing it their junior year of high school, eyeing him when they played softball in gym class. What a joke that had been—like sending in an Olympic broad jumper to play hopscotch. No one had ever beaned a softball as hard as Logan.
He’d been so far out of her league in school that it took her nearly a year to get up the guts to talk to him, and only af
ter he accidentally showed up at a party at her parents’ beach house. Imagine the horror when it dawned on her during that first conversation, as she drank in the mesmerizing beauty of his eyes up close, that he didn’t actually know her name. She must have done something right, though...he was her boyfriend a week later.
And when it came to part a year after that, as they both went off to college at far-flung schools, she’d taken the initiative and broken up with him. It had been a bit of a preemptive strike and her attempt to be mature about something. She was terrified to leave home, but she was even more scared of how badly it would hurt when Logan called her from UCLA and said he’d met another girl. Or more likely, another fifty girls. It wouldn’t have taken long. In the end, Logan became the guy in her past she couldn’t have. That was all there was to it. Circumstances, fate or other women—there was always something standing between them.
Logan waited dutifully next to her while Julia checked the array of flowers set aside for her sister. Her mother’s penchant for gardening had left Julia more knowledgeable than the average person. She checked each selection off the list her sister had given her. Hydrangea, snapdragons and roses in white. Pink was for tulips, more roses and... Oh no.
“These aren’t peonies,” Julia said.
“Our supplier was out,” Bryony answered. “We had to substitute ranunculus.”
Julia shook her head. “No. No. No. Peonies are Tracy’s favorite flower. She’ll pitch a royal fit if she doesn’t have them.”
Bryony shrugged. “I’m sorry. That’s the best we could do. They aren’t that dissimilar.”
“Logan, don’t you think Tracy’s going to be mad about ranunculus?” Julia asked.
“I wouldn’t know a ranunculus if it walked up to me and introduced itself.” He flashed a wide and clever smile.
The florist tittered like a schoolgirl at Logan’s comment. “I’m sorry, but I can’t make pink peonies magically appear this time of year. I told your sister there might be a problem getting them.”
“I have to fix this.” Filled with dread, Julia pulled her phone out of her purse and dialed her assistant, Liz. If Tracy didn’t have the right flowers, not only would she freak out, by the transitive property of sisterly blame, it’d be Julia’s fault.