by Rebecca Deel
Micah stared at her, shock reverberating through his body. Surrogate mother? But that meant . . . . “Sierra couldn’t have children?” Bitterness rose in gut. One more thing David failed to mention.
Sophie shook her head. “Too many cysts on and in her ovaries plus other serious problems with her uterus. She had a hysterectomy two years ago. Since she and I were identical twins, I agreed to donate my eggs and carry Sierra’s children for her.”
He limped to the fireplace, needing distance between them. David never mentioned Sierra’s physical problems. Micah hadn’t been around much in recent years, away on assignments, sometimes for weeks at a time.
Micah squeezed his eyes shut, arm propped on the mantle. Oh, man. What a mess. If his brother wasn’t already dead, he’d consider shooting David himself. How would Sophie react to the truth? Tact wasn’t his strongest skill on the best of days, a lack his supervisor had moaned about for years. In the end, he decided on straightforward honesty. Why delay fallout from his next words?
“Sophie, David was sterile.”
A gasp echoed in the room behind him. “That’s not possible.”
“He had cancer when he was a kid.” Micah turned. Sophie was staring down at her stomach, caressing the baby mound. His throat tightened. “The child you’re carrying isn’t David’s.”
“Then whose baby is it?”
“Mine.”
CHAPTER TWO
“Drink this.”
Sophie blinked at the glass of ice water that suddenly appeared in her hand and almost groaned aloud. Why did he have to put ice in it? Still not thawed from her recent trek from the SUV to Micah’s cabin, she’d have to make yet another trip to the restroom within minutes. She lived in the bathroom these days.
“I’m okay. Really.” Focus on the mundane, not the explosive news the man had just dumped on her. How could she ignore carrying the baby of a man who despised her?
Micah stared down at her with those chocolate brown eyes and a darkening scowl on his face.
Sophie rolled her eyes and drained the glass, grateful at least the glass was the eight-ounce size. The water did help the light-headed feeling pass, though she loathed admitting that to the man who blamed her family for every crime spree since the beginning of time.
He took the glass from her fingers and set it on the scarred oak coffee table. No coasters. Condensation rings mattered little in light of his news. Sierra had to have known, yet remained silent. Resentment flooded Sophie. What else had Sierra hidden from her? “I didn’t know about David, Micah.”
The brooding man dropped onto the far end of the couch, muted the football game playing on the wall-mounted flat screen television. “Figured that. You all but passed out a minute ago. I didn’t know about Sierra.” He shifted his body toward her. “Would it have mattered if you knew the truth?”
Sophie shrugged one shoulder, her lips curving upward. “Too late for Monday morning quarterbacking now.”
He grunted.
“David and Sierra lied to both of us, but their baby doesn’t deserve to pay for their dishonesty.”
His eyes narrowed. “Neither of them contributed DNA. That baby you’re carrying is ours. Every decision we make from this point forward affects our son or daughter.”
The invisible band circling her throat tightened. She forced a response past the constriction. “I can’t focus on that right now.”
A wry smile crossed his lips. “One crisis at a time, huh?
“Exactly.” A Valero family motto, not that she’d share that information. Micah Winter viewed her family with contempt. Though loathe to admit it, she felt the same, but still loved them anyway. “I need help and, for obvious reasons, I can’t go to the MNPD. They hate the Valeros almost as much as you.”
“Did you bring David’s letter?”
“An overstatement of the contents.” Sophie dug the note from her purse and handed it to Micah. The note contained nothing of interest except directions to the cabin. Not too many ways to interpret the single sentence instructing her to find Micah if anything happened to David and Sierra and not to trust the local police.
Micah folded the paper and handed it back to her. “Start at the beginning.”
In short, succinct sentences, Sophie recounted the trip to the safe deposit box and the harrowing experience in her bedroom.
“He slapped you?” Micah slid closer and turned her face toward the light with a gentle touch which belied the fierce expression on his face. Anger burned in his eyes as his thumb brushed over the red marks left by her attacker. “We should get you to a doctor.”
“Going back on the road tonight is more dangerous than an open-handed slap.”
A final stroke of his thumb and his hand dropped. “Anything more in the safe deposit box?”
“A few pieces of heirloom jewelry, another copy of David and Sierra’s will, a second insurance policy. No surprises or anything marked as a clue.”
A glimmer of amusement lit his eyes.
Aha. Taciturn Micah Winter hid a sense of humor. Good to know. On the other hand, she’d had zero chances to observe him in normal conditions. “And before you ask, the jewelry was handed down from my great grandmother. I remember playing with it as a child. All the granddaughters were given a few pieces after Granny Sue passed away.”
She paused, bit her lip.
“What’s wrong?”
“They named me as executor of their estate and sole benefactor of the insurance policies. I don’t have the money right now to give you half. As David’s brother and the baby’s father, you deserve half the money.” In truth, she had none of the money at her disposal.
“I don’t need money, Sophie. For the sake of argument, though, why can’t you give me half?”
“I put the payouts in a trust fund for the baby’s college expenses.”
“How did you plan to pay for living expenses? My experience is limited to a niece and nephew, but babies are expensive.”
Great time for his snarky attitude to reappear. Should have known the shaky truce was doomed to self-destruct in a fiery blaze. Couldn’t he at least wait until morning? “Is this where you stop being nice and start accusing me of being a gold digger again?”
“Answer the question, Valero.”
A shiver coursed through her body. Not fear, but a zing of pleasure from her name on his lips. Yep, she definitely needed to sleep soon before the tired giggles started. Grown women should never be so undignified as to giggle.
“I make a good living with a stable customer base at the store. Every day, more people realize our food supply contains diminished nutrients. Many turn to a natural health food store to supplement their nutritional requirements.”
“Uh huh.” He looked more amused than convinced.
Sophie’s face heated beneath his perusal. “The point is I think I can handle the expenses with what I earn from Natural Health.”
“We’ll revisit the money discussion later. Any idea what this man wanted or who he worked for?”
“Not exactly.”
A black eyebrow rose. “You plan to elaborate on that or just leave me in the dark?”
“How much do you know about Sierra?”
He snorted. “More than I want. I didn’t find out about her soon enough to prevent David from marrying her. I know she was in and out of jail from the time she hit her teens though Sierra swore she walked away from her life of crime when she met my brother.”
Sierra had promised the same thing when she convinced Sophie to be her surrogate mother a few months ago. She should have known Sierra couldn’t walk away from the rush, not even for her child’s sake.
“She loved David. I hope you know that.”
“Not enough to stay straight. Your whole family gets off on adrenaline.”
“Pointing fingers, Winter?” She stood and paced the length of the living room. Extra baby weight plus sitting in the SUV for hours added up to body aches. “Guess you chose the Secret Service for its safe working co
nditions and retirement benefits.”
“Point taken.”
“I know you won’t believe this, but Sierra did live a normal life the first few months she and David were married. My sister couldn’t help herself, though. She took therapy, but couldn’t stop stealing.”
“Sierra was a kleptomaniac?”
“Many women exercise retail therapy when they’re depressed, stressed, or whatever excuse they give for shopping. My sister never bragged about her stash. Sierra’s therapy was taking things from high-risk places. She felt a powerful high when she slipped away with a well-guarded item without detection. It gave her a sense of self-worth.”
“David’s love wasn’t enough to stoke her self-esteem?”
“No.” Sophie sat on the edge of the couch. “David came to me about six months after the wedding. He found jewelry he didn’t recognize and asked me to help.”
“What did he expect you to do? Confront Sierra? He should have done that himself or let me do it.” Micah frowned. “I would have had no problem on that score.”
“No doubt, but you were out of the country at the time, so David and I agreed it was best for me to handle Sierra’s problem.”
“How?”
“I returned everything she stole.”
“You pretended to be Sierra and handed the loot back to the victims with some lame explanation of how it came to be in your possession?”
Sierra flinched. She tried those explanations as a teenager which led to her own sealed juvie record, accused of Sierra’s crimes. Looking like Sierra hadn’t always paid off, at least not for Sophie. “Not quite.”
“Well, what was it, sweetheart? Should I be worried about bringing my child to jail to visit his mother?”
“No one caught me. Besides, I didn’t take anything out. I brought something back.”
“I don’t believe this.” Micah rubbed the back of his neck. Sophie longed to run her fingers over his nape, see for herself if the skin was soft. And where had that thought emerged from? This man, aside from his killer good looks, viewed her as the enemy.
“You broke into their houses, didn’t you?”
“Technically.”
“It’s still breaking and entering, Sophie, and against the law. You could have gone to jail if you’d been caught, or worse. One of the homeowners could have confronted you with a gun and shot you.”
“No one knew I was there.” She hadn’t been caught since she was sixteen years old. She hated the accusing looks from her best friend Abby’s mother. Sierra had begged Sophie not to admit the truth to the cops, afraid she would lose her latest boyfriend, Abby’s brother. She pushed aside the troubling memory. Her silence hadn’t helped Sierra at the end of that debacle. Jordan caved to pressure from his mother and dumped Sierra the next week.
“What are you, Valero?”
Sophie tilted her head, her gaze locked with his. “A retired cat burglar.”
#
Shock exploded in Micah’s gut with the force of a hand grenade. “You’re serious.” Could this night get any worse? He was a law enforcement officer, assigned to protect some of the most important political powerbrokers in the world. Yet his life was now bound to a criminal by a child he’d never wanted in the first place.
“I don’t steal from people, Micah,” she snapped.
“Right. A cat burglar who doesn’t steal. That’s rich and beside the point. I’m a federal cop, sweetheart. If you get caught, my career with the Secret Service is finished.” Though his career might be down the tubes anyway because of the rebuilt bone in his leg, he wanted to walk away of his own accord, not because the mother of his child occupied a bunk behind bars.
He sighed. Beautiful. He’d flirted with joining a private security agency run by a former Navy SEAL Micah had met on one of his details and become good friends with. Sophie Valero might torpedo that dream before he made the first contact.
The woman in question wiggled to the edge of the couch and stood. “Excuse me a minute,” she said and made a return trip down the hall, her back stiff with anger.
“Join the club, baby,” Micah muttered. He limped across the cabin and stepped outside. The raging snowstorm mirrored his own fury. He’d wanted Sophie to be different from the rest of her criminal clan, though why he should care baffled him. She fit right in with his estimation of her relatives. A cat burglar, no less. A bitter chuckle rumbled from his chest.
Pine trees scattered throughout his property were covered with a heavy, white blanket of snow. A security light attached to the corner of his cabin highlighted the weather display, reminding him of the D.C. snows that dropped several inches in a short period of time. Common enough in D.C., a rare event in Middle Tennessee.
He frowned. Sophie was right about one thing. No way could he send her back to Nashville tonight. His cabin was a good hour outside Murfreesboro, a two-hour drive to her home in good conditions. He refused to chance her sliding off the road and getting stranded in this weather. She and the baby could die in the elements.
Micah propped his shoulder against a wooden column. Not just a baby. His baby. A sick feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. David had always loved kids. Memories of his brother playing with Nicole’s children flashed through his mind. His sister’s kids were pint-sized terrorists, but they had been crazy about their Uncle David. Micah had been an unknown quantity, so rarely in their presence that they treated him as a stranger. Suited him fine since he had no rapport with kids.
After weeks of email harassment from his brother, Micah had agreed to help Sierra have a baby and, on a rainy Friday afternoon between out-of-the-country assignments, stopped at the fertility clinic. He never considered having to raise this baby as his own. From the moment he agreed to David’s plea, Micah considered the child his niece or nephew.
The idea of raising a child filled him with terror like no other he’d faced. A child meant leverage to his enemies. He crossed paths with terrorists and radicals and actively thwarted harassment or assassination of his principals. What if one of those groups learned about the baby or Sophie? Cold sweat broke over his body despite the frigid temperatures at the thought of anyone hurting them in retaliation.
The cabin door opened behind him. Micah turned his head, his eyebrow arching at Sophie’s coat-clad figure. “You’re leaving?”
“Sorry I bothered you. I’ll figure something out on my own.”
“Go back inside, Sophie.”
“I don’t think so, Winter. The last thing you need is another Valero screwing up your life. Baby and I will take care of ourselves.”
Micah straightened. He might not have asked for the responsibility, but he refused to abandon Sophie or the baby. No Winter child had an absentee father. He didn’t plan on breaking tradition now. How that played out in reality remained to be seen. “Running away, sweetheart?”
Her gaze dropped from his, shifted to the blowing snow. “More like sliding away.”
That surprised a smile from him. “Did you pack a bag? If not, I have a sweatshirt and sweatpants with a drawstring that might work for you.”
Sophie’s eyes darted back to his again. “I have a duffel bag in the trunk, but I can’t stay here. You don’t want me or the baby in your life. Don’t worry. I won’t ask you for child support or anything like that.”
“Sophie, you’re tired and your reaction time won’t be good enough for these road conditions. If you slide off the road, it could be hours before I can get to you. Do you really want to risk your life or the baby’s?”
When she didn’t respond, Micah nudged her back into the warmth of the cabin. “The guest room is on the left, across from the bathroom.” A smile quirked his lips. “Might come in handy for you in the middle of the night.” He removed the keys from her clenched fist. “I’ll bring in your bag.”
“Micah . . . .”
He pressed his fingers against her mouth, stopping the flow of words. So soft. The feel of her lips against his hand made him wonder what they would feel li
ke against his. He blinked, lifted his hand. “Rest first. Tomorrow is soon enough to deal with everything else.”
#
Sophie’s lips almost burned with heat where Micah had touched them. She drew in a deep, shuddering breath. Must be the baby hormones zinging through her system. No allowances for other explanations, including the appeal of a dark, wounded warrior who tugged at her heart.
She turned in a slow circle in the guest room. A blue, green, and cream log cabin quilt covered a queen-sized four-poster bed. A matching oak dresser against the far wall had a single picture decorating its flat surface. Sophie recognized the older couple from David and Sierra’s funeral. Micah’s parents, Dan and Olivia Winter. They had been kind despite their own aching loss, concerned that she had no one to help her heal.
Outside the window, she watched Micah’s halting progress along the walkway. What had happened to him? She didn’t remember him limping at the funeral. A solid kick to her side startled a laugh from her. “Getting bored, little one? Sorry, kid, but I’m too tired to walk you to sleep tonight.”
Sophie sat on the side of the bed, her hand pressed lightly against her stomach. She tracked Micah’s progress by the sound of his steps. A minute later, he appeared in the doorway, her bag in one hand.
He studied her a moment. “Everything okay?”
“Sit with me.”
Micah placed her bag on the rocking chair by the door, eased down beside her, tension radiating from his body. “What’s wrong? Is it the baby?”
Sophie took his hand and laid it on the side of her stomach. “Keep it there.” A minute or so later, the baby stretched, pushed against her side again.
Micah drew in a sharp breath. Sophie grinned at the startled wonder on his face.
“Is that . . . ?”
“I think he’s destined to be a soccer player or maybe a field goal kicker. Keeps me up half the night practicing.”
“He?” His voice sounded hoarse. “The baby’s a boy?”
Sophie dug in her purse until she found the ultrasound picture. She handed it to Micah, grinned at his puzzled expression. Took her a while to connect all the parts, too. “Here’s his head, his leg. And right there is positive proof you’re going to have a son.”