by Joanna Sims
“By God. Yes, you did.”
She pressed her lips together, sucked in a slow breath and aimed her chin high. “And, well, as you can see...” She put a hand on the hard, high swell of her belly. “I intend to keep this child, which is also your child.”
It hit him again, like a boot to the solar plexus. She was saying it was his baby.
And she wasn’t finished, either. “But of course I don’t expect you just to take my word for it. Should you want proof, I’ll be happy to cooperate with a paternity test as soon as the baby is born next month.” A pause. He continued rudely gaping at her as she stumbled on. “And then, um, again, if you want nothing to do with this child, I’m fine with that, I...” Her voice wavered. But then she cleared her throat and forged on, “You don’t have to worry about the baby’s welfare. I have a supportive family and a large network of friends. Financially, I’m doing very well. So, after today, I won’t bother you again. If you find you want to be involved, however much or little, well, that’s something I’m open to, as we go along.”
“As we...?” The ability to form a complete sentence seemed to have deserted him.
She rushed into the breach. “Um. Go along, yes. As we go along. I...look. I hate to do this to you.” The big eyes filled. She gritted her teeth, blinked the moisture away. “I know you made it very clear, when we said goodbye on the island, that it was over, that we had an agreement and you wanted to stick to it, that you didn’t want to see me anymore.”
His eyeballs were suddenly dry as a pair of sunbaked stones. He blinked. “What? Wait a minute. That’s not what I said. I said it wouldn’t work between us, that I would only—”
She whipped up a hand, palm out. “Look. Whatever. All I’m saying is I know this has to be a huge shock for you and I’m so sorry, for everything. For getting pregnant in the first place, although God knows, we were careful.” Her hand found her belly again. She lowered her head, shook it slowly back and forth. “I don’t know how it happened, honestly. But it did. And I know I should have told you sooner, so I’m sorry for not doing that, too. I’m sorry for...” Her head shot up. She threw up both hands and cried, “Well, for everything. I’m sorry if this messes up your life. I’m sorry, all right? Just...I don’t know. I’m not sure what else there is to say.”
There was a whole hell of a lot to say as far as he was concerned. “I thought you married the baby’s father in December.”
Those big eyes got even bigger. “How could you know that?”
Smooth, Ames. Real smooth. He was a banker, born, bred and raised, president and CEO of Ames Bank and Trust, which had been serving the people of Colorado for almost a century. They said he was distant and a little bit cold. But always fair and calm and in command. He didn’t feel in command right at the moment. Clearly, he wasn’t in command and could blurt out any damn thing if he didn’t get a grip.
He cast about for a good lie to tell her, but there really wasn’t one that had a chance of flying. So he loosened his tie and settled for the truth. “I hired a detective to find you.”
She gasped. “A detective?”
“That’s what I said, yes. The detective told me that you live in Justice Creek, that you were getting married a few days before Christmas—and that several different sources had informed him that you were pregnant by your groom, Ryan McKellan. I remembered Ryan, of course, remembered what you’d told me about him.” She made a soft, strangled sound, but then only gaped at him. He demanded, “You don’t remember?”
“Remember...what?”
“That you told me about your friend Ryan on the island. You mentioned him more than once.” Her best friend, she’d called the guy, twice. Both times she’d caught herself and blushed sweetly and said she was sorry for breaking their agreement to live in the moment and leave their “real” lives out of the time they were sharing. He’d shrugged and said she had nothing to apologize for, though really, he hadn’t enjoyed the way her expression softened with fondness when she said that other guy’s name. “That was kind of a shocker, to get the detective’s report and find out that you and your good buddy Ryan were a whole lot more than friends.”
“But we weren’t!” she insisted on a rising inflection. And then she pressed her hands to her soft cheeks, as if to cool their sudden heat. “I don’t get it. I... Oh, Dalton.” Now she looked hurt. She whispered on a torn sigh, “You put a detective on me?”
He felt like a complete jerk and muttered defensively, “I wanted to find you. It seemed the simplest way.”
Her soft lips trembled. “Wanted to find me, why?”
“I...couldn’t seem to make myself forget you.”
Her expression softened—but then, almost instantly, she stiffened again. “You’re serious? You couldn’t forget me?”
“No. I couldn’t.”
“But then what about your—?”
“Wait a minute.” He’d just realized he’d been feeling like a douche-bag when, come to think of it, he wasn’t any worse than she was. “How did you find me?”
“Well, I looked you up online and...” Her shoulders sagged. “All right. I see your point. You found me and I found you. What does it matter how? What does any of the rest of it matter?”
She had it right. It didn’t matter, not to him, anyway. The baby mattered. His baby.
The baby changed everything. He demanded, “So, what about your husband, Ryan? Does he know that the baby isn’t his?”
“He’s, um, not my husband.”
Could he have heard that right? “Not your—?”
“Not my husband. No. We decided not to go through with the wedding, after all.”
“You’re telling me you’re not married.” He tried to take in the enormity of that. All these months without a word from her, even though she was having his baby. Having his baby while planning to marry that other guy—and then not marrying that other guy, after all.
“Uh-uh. Being married just...isn’t who we are together, Ryan and me.”
“Together? You and he are together?” It came out in a dark, angry rumble.
“No, not together. Not in that way. We’re together in a friend way.”
“You live with him?”
“Of course not.” She looked insulted. “I said we’re friends.” He didn’t need to hear another word about the guy she’d almost married. But she told him more anyway. “Ryan hated the idea of the baby not having a dad.”
“Hold it. What are you saying? The baby damn well does have a dad. I’m the dad.”
“Yes, but...”
“What?”
“Dalton, you don’t have to get so angry.”
“I’m. Not. Angry.”
She stared at him, wearing a stricken look. He felt like the overbearing ass she no doubt considered him. And then she said, with measured calm, “I’m just saying he was only trying to help me, that’s all. But you’re right. Ryan isn’t the baby’s father. Because, well, you are.” And then, out of nowhere, she pushed herself to her feet. “And I think I’ve said what I came here to say.”
“Wait a minute.” He glared up at her. “You’re leaving?”
“Yes.”
“You can’t leave yet. We’re not through here. Sit back down.”
She ignored his command and pulled a card from the pocket of her jacket. “Here. Address, phone numbers. It’s all there. In case you... I mean, you know, should you choose to get in touch with me after this.”
“After this? But we’re not finished.”
“Maybe you’re not, Dalton. But I am. This wasn’t easy. I’ve had enough for one day and I want to go home.”
“But—”
“Please. Take the card.”
He felt at a disadvantage, sitting there while she hovered above him. So he stood. She shoved the card at him again. He gav
e in and took it. Not that he needed it. He knew where she lived and he had all her numbers. The detective had provided all that. And Dalton had held on to the information, though he’d told himself he would never make use of it.
They stared at each other. He needed to keep her there until he could manage to collect his scattered wits. But he just wasn’t dealing. His usually sharp mind felt dull as a rusty blade.
She said, “Well, goodbye, then.”
His knees feel strangely rubbery. A baby. It was his baby she was having. Not that other guy’s. His baby. And she wasn’t married, after all.
And for all those months, he hadn’t had a clue. Because she never bothered to tell him. Until now.
He couldn’t decide if he was furious with her—or just desperate to know that she and the baby were both all right. She did look a little tired. There were shadows beneath those amazing eyes.
He asked, “Are you okay? The baby...?”
“Fine. Truly. We’re both fine—and look. You just give me a call, anytime.”
“Give you a call,” he repeated numbly.
“Yeah. When—and if—you’re ready to, um, talk it over.”
“But didn’t I just say I want to talk it over now?”
She gave a fierce little shake of her head. “Not now. Uh-uh.”
“Why not?”
“I just...I need a little space, okay?”
“But—”
“I have to go, Dalton.”
And with that, she turned and left him standing there. He wanted to go after her, to grab her and pull her back. But he didn’t.
He just stood there by the bench, his mouth hanging open, watching her walk away.
* * *
Telling Dalton Ames that she was having his baby? Hardest thing Clara had ever done.
He’d seemed so angry. So stiff and pulled-together, wearing a gorgeous, perfectly tailored suit and Italian shoes, looking like the stuffed-shirt older brother of the amazing, tender, attentive man she’d known for those magical two weeks on the island. She’d barely kept herself from demanding, Who are you and what have you done with the Dalton I knew?
Twice during the drive home from Denver, Clara pulled off the road, certain she was about to throw up. The baby, not happy at all with the adrenaline cocktail surging through Mommy’s system, kept kicking her. Somehow, though, she managed to make it home to her sweet little blue, maroon-trimmed Victorian on Park Drive in Justice Creek without losing her lunch.
It was after seven when she walked in the door. She knew she should eat, so she heated up some leftovers, poured a glass of juice and forced down a few bites of yesterday’s chicken and a mouthful or two of seasoned rice. That was all she could take. She dumped the rest, rinsed the plate and stood at the sink staring out at her side yard, knowing she really, really needed to talk to a friend.
She’d kept it all to herself for much too long now. Even though her relationship with Dalton had been nothing but a foolish fantasy, it had only seemed right that she should face him, let him know that there would be a child and she was keeping it, before discussing the matter with anyone else.
So okay. She’d done what was right.
And now she needed support. She was calling in a good friend and telling all.
She considered calling Ryan. He’d been right there for her when she had no idea what to do next. He’d tried so hard to help her.
But come on. The last thing Rye needed now was her crying on his shoulder about some guy he’d never even met. Especially after everything she’d already put him through.
No. At a time like this, a woman needed a girlfriend. Her closest girlfriend.
So Clara called her favorite cousin Rory, aka Her Highness Aurora Bravo-Calabretti. Rory might be a Montedoran princess by birth, but at heart she was totally down-to-earth, someone you could trust with your deepest, saddest secrets. Rory lived with Ryan’s older brother, Walker, at Walker’s ranch, the Bar-N.
Once she’d made the call, Clara went out and sat on the front porch to wait.
Twenty minutes later, Rory pulled up to the curb. She jumped right out, ran around the front of her SUV and hurried up the front walk. “Clara? What is it, darling? Are you okay?”
Clara rose and held out her arms. Rory went into them. They hugged good and tight, Clara’s big belly pressed hard against Rory’s flat one, and Clara whispered, “Ice cream. Chocolate Chunk Gooey Brownie.”
Rory said, “I’m in.”
So Clara led her inside and dished up the treat. They sat at the breakfast nook table. They’d each polished off half a bowlful before Rory asked, “So?”
And Clara took another creamy, chunky chocolaty bite, savoring the goodness of it, getting another shot of the comfort a girl can only get from a killer dessert, before she confessed, “Today I told my baby’s father that he’s going to be a dad.”
Rory stopped with a bite of ice cream halfway to her mouth. She dropped the spoon back in her bowl. It clattered against the side. “Get off the phone.”
“I did. I really did.”
“Was it...?”
“Awful. It was awful. He was like some stranger. It was so bizarre. I kept wanting to ask him what he’d done with the man I knew—or thought I knew.”
Rory pushed back her chair and circled the table to kneel at Clara’s feet. “Give me your hands.” She took them and gave Clara’s fingers a comforting squeeze. “You are not only my favorite cousin in the whole world—you are the kindest, warmest, most supportive, loving friend around. Plus, you’re totally hot.”
Clara let out a laugh that sounded a lot like a sob. “Right. Just look at me. A human beach ball. Smokin’.”
“Pregnant or not, doesn’t matter. Either way, you are hot. If he treated you badly, it’s his loss. You have a big family and they all love you, not to mention a large number of good friends. You need to remember that you are not alone, that you only have to call, anytime, day or night, and I’m here—and so is everyone else who adores you.”
Clara shut her eyes for a minute. When she felt reasonably certain she wasn’t going to burst into tears, she said, “I love you.”
Rory squeezed her fingers again. “Love you, too. A lot.”
“Now, go finish your ice cream before it’s all melted.”
Rory rose and went back to her chair. They both ate more of the to-die-for dessert. Finally, Rory said, softly, “I have to ask...”
“Go ahead.” Clara gave her a wobbly little smile.
“I mean, is this it, then? Am I here because you’re finally going to tell me how it all happened?”
Clara pushed her bowl away. “Yeah. This is it.”
“Dear Lord. I need more ice cream. You?”
“I’ve had enough. But help yourself.”
So Rory got up and got more—including another giant scoop for Clara, who insisted she didn’t want it, but then picked up her spoon again and dug right in.
Rory said, “All right. I’m ready.”
Where to even begin? “Remember when I went on that two-week Caribbean vacation last August?”
Rory was nodding. “Of course. Your thirtieth birthday getaway. I kind of suspected it might have happened then.”
“You know how I was feeling then...”
“I remember. You were talking about burnout, that all you did was work. You really needed that vacation.”
Clara had opened her restaurant, the Library Café, almost six years before. The café was a success by any standards. And she’d put in a whole bunch of seven-day workweeks to make it so. “I wanted a little glamour and pampering, you know? I wanted to reward myself for a job well done.”
Rory suggested softly, “And maybe a little romance, too?”
“Oh, yeah. I had this fantasy that I might end up
meeting someone amazing.”
“And indulging in a crazy, fabulous tropical affair?”
“Exactly.”
“And so your fantasy came true.”
Clara smiled, feeling wistful. “That’s right. I met him the first night. His name is Dalton. Dalton Ames. And just the sight of him—he’s tall and fit, with black hair and piercing blue eyes. I felt like the heroine of the juiciest romance novel you ever read. I mean, you know how I am. You joke that I’m hot and all. But come on.”
“Clara.” Rory licked her spoon. “You are hot. Accept it.”
Clara pulled her bowl back in front of her and took another melty, chocolaty, amazing bite. “ I don’t feel hot. I feel like I’m the solid one, the level-headed one. The family peacemaker. Guys tend to like me as a friend.”
“A hot friend.”
A snort of laughter escaped her. “Stop.”
“Seriously, Clara. I know whereof I speak.”
Clara purposely did not roll her eyes. “Anyway, when Dalton looked at me...I cannot tell you. It was like a sizzling shiver went all through me. He saw me as hot, I could see it in those heart-stopping baby blues of his. The sexual chemistry was immediate, unexpected—and like nothing in my life before. We danced and flirted. He said he was from Denver.”
“Ah. Both of you from Colorado.”
“Yeah.” Seriously, what an idiot she’d been. She ladled on a little irony. “Like it was meant to be.”
“Don’t make less of it,” Rory chided. “I can tell from the way you talk about him that it was beautiful and special, that you felt a real connection with him.”
“Ha.”
“Tell me the story, Clara—and stop judging yourself.”
Clara sighed. “He told me the trip was a getaway for him, that his work was demanding and he wanted a chance to live in the moment for a change.”
“Just like you.”
“Um-hmm. I told him that I was ready for an adventure, to live out a fantasy, to forget reality for a while. He said that sounded great to him.”
“Okay, now I’m wondering...”
‘What?”
“You weren’t suspicious that it was all just a little too perfect?”