Project: Runaway Bride

by Heidi Betts

  When she looked up from fastening the row of buttons at the front of the navy jacket and tying the belt at her waist, she found him holding a pair of dark-lensed, large-rimmed Jackie O sunglasses and a floppy, wide-brimmed hat.

  “Better safe than sorry,” he murmured, holding them out to her.

  Though they made her feel somewhat awkward—possibly because they weren’t her usual style and the hat didn’t go with her coat or her handbag—she put them on and passed through the front door as he held it open for her. Going this incognito probably wasn’t entirely necessary, but neither of them wanted to take the chance that she might run into someone she knew. Especially if, God forbid, Lily or Zoe were out and about today.

  He led her to his Mercedes and helped her inside before moving around to the driver’s side and sliding behind the wheel.

  They rode in silence for several long minutes. Juliet found herself tapping and twisting her fingers, then realized she was fidgeting and forced herself to stop.

  There was nothing to be nervous about, she told herself. Only finding out definitively that she was pregnant and then having to deal with whatever fallout of that knowledge came from the father of her child.

  Nope, not a thing to be nervous about.

  “Are you cool enough under all those layers? I can turn the air on, if you like.”

  At the sound of his voice filling the previously catacomb-quiet interior, Juliet jumped. Even though his tone was much softer than before, she swallowed, laying her palms flat on her upper thighs. “No, thank you, I’m fine.”

  Another beat passed and then he asked, “How are you feeling? Better?”

  With a small smile, she nodded, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. “The soda and crackers help.”

  She started to say thank-you again but was afraid of sounding like a broken record. Besides, she didn’t want him thinking she was too grateful. He’d forced her to come back to New York with him after all. And once they confirmed that she truly was pregnant, she wouldn’t allow him to run roughshod over her and make her feel beholden.

  The rest of the trip, made longer than necessary by typical bumper-to-bumper Manhattan traffic, passed without further conversation. When they arrived at the building that held the doctor’s suite of offices, Reid parked in the underground garage, then escorted her into the elevator and up to the twenty-seventh floor.

  While he checked them in at the reception desk, she found an empty spot in the waiting area and took a seat. A few minutes later, a nurse called her back to fill out some initial paperwork.

  She could have handled the simple question-and-answer session just fine on her own, but Reid insisted on accompanying her. If the nurse thought his behavior odd—or found it intimidating that he leaned against the wall, towering over them with his arms folded across his impressive chest—she didn’t let it show.

  Juliet answered questions, had her blood pressure, pulse and temperature taken, and even allowed the nurse to take a vial of blood before being shown to a private examination room, where she was instructed to strip. To her surprise, Reid offered to stay outside while she undressed, but asked her to give a shout when she was once again covered by the thin gown the nurse had provided so he could return.

  Despite Reid’s money and influence—two things she was sure he’d used in order to secure an appointment with an exclusive gynecologist in such a short amount of time—they still ended up waiting in the examination room for long, interminable minutes until the doctor arrived.

  She sat on the end of the examination table, feeling a bit like a deli sandwich as paper crinkled beneath her, while Reid took the single chair situated along the opposite wall. The clock behind her ticked off the seconds until Juliet thought she might scream.

  Finally, there was a knock at the door and the doctor entered, greeting both her and Reid with a firm handshake. A manila folder containing her test results in hand, he lowered himself onto the low, wheeled stool at the end of the exam table and smiled warmly.

  Splitting his attention equally between his new patient and the man who would be paying the bill, he said, “I know you’re eager to have the big question answered, so why don’t we get right to it. Congratulations—you are, in fact, expecting.”

  Juliet hadn’t noticed how tight her chest was until she released her breath on a whoosh. And Reid must have been equally tense, because she heard his exhalation from across the room.

  His face, however, was a blank slate. She couldn’t tell whether he was happy or disappointed, upset or indifferent. Which only caused her chest to grow tight again. The doctor’s continued friendliness helped to put her at ease, though.

  “How would you feel about an ultrasound? We can get a look at your little peanut and maybe get an idea of how far along you are.”

  The thought of seeing the baby, even as tiny as it must be and on the fuzzy black-and-white screen of an ultrasound machine, brought a lump to her throat.

  Swallowing hard and blinking back the moisture that stung her eyes, she nodded eagerly. “Yes, please.”

  She spared a glance for Reid, who stood up and moved to the head of the examination table with her while the doctor got everything ready. She almost reached for his hand, part of her wishing he would reach for her.

  But then, they weren’t a normal expectant couple, were they? They were just two people who had happened to make a baby together.

  Nine

  Reid sat in his darkened study, a glass of scotch on the desk in front of him, the open bottle right next to it. He threw back the two fingers of amber liquid, then poured himself another, his gaze never leaving the printed picture in his hand.

  If he didn’t know what he was looking at, he would have thought it was some peculiar three-dimensional puzzle picture of the Loch Ness Monster or a crater on the moon.

  But he did know what he was looking at. The peanut, as the doctor had called it. His son or daughter.

  It was too soon to tell which, but even if it hadn’t been, Juliet had begged the doctor not to reveal the baby’s gender. She wanted it to be a surprise, and Reid was fine with that. He’d had more than enough surprises for one week, thank you very much.

  He was going to be a father. Again. And once again it was with a woman who didn’t necessarily intend to let him be part of his child’s life.

  He’d never thought his relationship with Valerie was complicated, and look how that had turned out.

  On the other hand, Juliet was complicated with a capital C. He’d known that the minute she’d walked into his office at McCormack Investigations asking him to find her sister.

  Now, on top of everything else, she was pregnant. He wasn’t sure there was a word in the dictionary for how complicated that made this.

  Taking another belt of scotch, he slid open the center drawer of the desk and laid the sonogram picture safely inside. Then, pushing to his feet, he left the study and slowly climbed the stairs to the second floor.

  Juliet’s bedroom door was closed, just as it had been since soon after they arrived home.

  After the appointment, he’d driven back to the brownstone without a word being spoken between them. She’d fixed herself a bite to eat for lunch and offered to make him something, too, but he’d declined. He definitely hadn’t been in the mood for food.

  He hadn’t been in the mood to talk, either, though she’d asked if he wanted to. He gave her credit for that: for being willing to open up and discuss their situation rather than zipping her lips and cutting him out of anything related to the pregnancy.

  He just hoped she was still feeling chatty, because now he was ready to talk. And he intended to make her listen.

  * * *

  Juliet was sitting cross-legged on her bed, sketch pad on her lap. She’d begun with the intention of doing a bit more work on the new handbag sketches she’d started up at the lake house, but instead all of her doodles seemed to turn into baby bonnets and booties.

  With a huff, she scribbled over her latest v
ersion of the bassinet she could already picture in the corner of her room back at the loft. As supportive as she knew her sisters would be about having a little niece or nephew to spoil rotten, she was pretty sure they wouldn’t be gung ho about adding a line of infant wear to Zaccaro Fashions.

  Besides, there were a few more important issues to deal with before she started shopping for furniture for a nursery or suggesting a new design direction to Lily and Zoe.

  A knock sounded at the door, and her heart plummeted to her stomach. There was one of the important issues now.

  Turning her sketch pad over and setting it aside, Juliet straightened her legs and crossed them at the ankle before calling out, “Come in.”

  Reid entered, the top few buttons of his white dress shirt undone, the soft cotton material a lot less crisp than it had been a few hours earlier. She pretended not to notice the V of tanned skin visible at his throat or his strong forearms with his cuffs rolled to his elbows.

  He left the door open, which wasn’t necessary, but did make her feel moderately more comfortable. Less like a small woodland animal cornered by a dangerous predator.

  The good news was that he looked much less angry himself, less trapped than he had when they’d left for the doctor’s office. On the way back, he’d just looked vacant, on the verge of stunned.

  Totally understandable. Which was why she’d brought her lunch upstairs and given him some time alone. To think, or come to terms, or whatever else he needed to do after learning that their little safe sex fling hadn’t been quite so safe after all.

  He stood staring at her, hands in his pockets. He didn’t seem to know what to say, though she was certain there was something on his mind or he wouldn’t have knocked to begin with.

  “Reid,” she said at the exact same time he said, “Juliet.”

  Blowing out a breath, he inclined his head. “You first.”

  She wasn’t entirely sure what to say herself, but knew they had to start somewhere. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she sat up straighter.

  “I know you believe me now,” she told him. “About the baby. And I know you believe it’s yours. I wouldn’t even say it if I weren’t sure it was true. I hadn’t been with Paul that way for quite a while before we... You know. And not after, either,” she clarified.

  She waited, watching his eyes, praying she wouldn’t see doubt or distrust there. Relief washed over her when his gaze not only remained steadfast, but he offered her a nod of agreement, as well.

  “But I don’t want you to think I expect anything of you,” she continued. “You can be as involved as you’re comfortable with. I’m not after your money, either. I mean, I know you and your company are worth quite a bit, and I know that probably makes you suspicious of women you think might be gold diggers. But I’m financially independent myself, and my family is well-off enough on top of that to help me if I need anything. So you don’t have to worry that I’ll come after you for support or try to—” she lifted one shoulder carelessly “—shake you down or anything like that.”

  One dark brow rose on the “shake you down” part, which she had felt sort of silly even saying out loud.

  “Are you finished?” he asked in a low voice.

  Not exactly the response she’d expected, but okay. “Yes.”

  “I have one question.”

  She swallowed hard. “All right.”

  “Are you going to keep it?”

  For a second, her heart stopped and her throat closed up, making her think that her morning sickness might not be sticking to just mornings anymore. Without conscious thought, her hand moved to cover her abdomen protectively.

  “Of course,” she replied sharply. She shouldn’t have been offended by the question, but she was, and her tone reflected as much.

  Long minutes passed in silence while their gazes locked, but neither of them moved. Then Reid pulled his hands from his pockets, lifting one to rub at his slightly stubbled jaw. After a moment, he let his arm drop and gave a brusque, decisive jerk of his head.

  “In that case,” he said, “I think we should get married.”

  Juliet blinked. There were a lot of things she’d thought he might say, a lot of conversations she’d expected to have over the next few months with the father of her unborn child. But of all the topics she’d imagined, that definitely had not been one of them.

  “Excuse me?”

  His jaw popped as he took a deep breath, not looking at all pleased that he had to repeat himself. “I think we should get married,” he said again.

  The words had a razor-sharp edge to them the second time around, and the first hadn’t exactly been Peter Cottontail soft to begin with.

  As kindly as she could, Juliet shook her head and said, “No.”

  Reid’s eyes narrowed, pupils going round as BBs within his toffee-brown irises. “No?”

  His voice held a hint of bitterness, warning even, that she had to ignore. Made herself ignore, despite the shiver that skated down her spine.

  Juliet was surprised by just how much it had hurt to utter that single word, but she’d done it all the same. Then she licked her lips, put her shoulders back and said it again. “I’m sorry, but no.”

  Placing her palms flat on either side of her hips, she let her gaze fall to the carpeted floor for a moment as she shook her head.

  “I know what you’re trying to do. And I appreciate it, I really do,” she said softly. “But it’s not necessary. You don’t have to make the grand gesture or make an honest woman of me. I’ll be fine. The baby and I will both be fine, and you’ll have full access, just as I promised. I won’t cut you off simply because I don’t have a ring on my finger.”

  She rubbed the underside of the bare digit where Paul’s engagement ring had rested until only a few days ago. Now Reid was trying to stick another one on there, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for that. Not under these circumstances.

  “That’s not what I’m doing,” he objected through clenched teeth.

  Her mouth curved in a gentle smile as she lifted her face back to his. “Yes, it is. But I just ran away from one wedding, I’m not in a big rush to race toward another.”

  His nostrils flared as he glared at her with the same dark, stormy expression she was sure he used to intimidate bad guys and get information from reluctant witnesses. It was a good glare, but she held her ground.

  “Do you think I wouldn’t be a good father?” he practically snapped. “Or a good husband? Is that it?”

  She leaned back, stunned by the outburst. “Of course not.”

  She honestly hadn’t given it much thought. As far as Reid’s potential as a parent was concerned, she hadn’t been pregnant long enough to reflect upon every little detail of child rearing that might come along. And she’d never seen marriage to Reid as any part of her future—with or without a child between them.

  But now that he’d brought it up, she took a moment to give it a good, hard sixty-second dissection.

  She could only imagine that Reid would be an exceptional father. He was strong, brave, self-assured, successful and—at least in her experience—selfless.

  He would put his child’s interests and needs above all else, always. He would be protective but understanding. Strict but also kind and loving. And she hoped fun.

  There had been an underlying level of tension to their relationship from the beginning, but they’d had fun, too. She knew he had a sense of humor and suspected that he would be happy to take his child to the park, or kick off his shoes and play along in the sandbox. Which was important in a child’s life and, she realized, important to her.

  So yes, she thought he would be a good father.

  And when he found a woman he truly loved, she had no doubt he would make an excellent husband. All of the same qualities that made him good father material—protectiveness, successfulness, selflessness—would make him an exceptional partner, as well.

  She could more than easily picture coming home to him each evening.
..or perhaps having him come home to her instead. Doing the whole “hi, honey, how was your day?” routine. Eating dinner together, putting the kids to bed. And then later, taking their time putting themselves to bed. She knew all too well how satisfying that part of a marriage to Reid McCormack would be.

  Shaking herself free of her reflections and the memories that had her core temperature rising a few errant degrees, she amended that last thought. It would be satisfying for some other woman. Not for her. Because marriage to Reid wasn’t in the cards for her.

  Oh, he’d asked, but she’d turned him down for more than simply the reasons she’d stated.

  It was true that she didn’t want to rush into another “here comes the bride” situation so soon after making such a fiasco of the first one.

  And she most certainly didn’t want to get married only because she was pregnant. Marriage was hardly the best resolution for Reid’s guilt trip.

  But the real reason she’d rejected his proposal—as off the cuff and questionably sincere as it had been—was that she never again wanted to be engaged to, almost married to, or even seriously involved with someone who didn’t love her madly.

  She’d gone that route once, doing what was expected more than following her own heart, and look how that had turned out.

  So, no. The next time she said yes and agreed to wear a man’s ring on her finger for the rest of her life, it would be because she was head over heels in love with him, and he with her. End of story.

  Meeting his eyes and making sure he knew she meant what she was about to tell him, she said, “I think you’ll be a wonderful father. And an equally good husband someday.”

  He canted his head to one side, studying her. “Someday. But not today, and not with you, hmm?”

  The sad smile she offered was as wide as she could make it. “No.”

  Catching her off guard, he stepped forward, stopping only when their knees brushed. She glanced down to where the black of his slacks met the light tan of hers and then back up to his face.