by Force, Marie
“And why would you want just one when you can have them all?”
God, it kills me to know she thinks of me as a total gadabout, even if the label suits me. I’m exactly what she thinks I am, even if it’s not necessarily who I’d choose to be. The opportunity to decide that for myself was taken from me before I was born.
“True enough, darling,” I reply with a lighthearted tone and the charming smile that’s become my trademark over the years. You can hide a lot of heartache behind the right sort of smile. I’m oddly and strangely disappointed in myself at this moment, which is a rare and hopefully fleeting feeling. I made peace with my lot in life ages ago. There’s no sense whatsoever in wishing for things that can never be at this point.
Except, being around Ellie, helping her make a baby while knowing I can’t ever be a real father to her child has forced me to confront a reality I thought I had accepted decades ago. The baby isn’t even conceived yet, and I already want more of him—or her—than I’ll ever be able to have. The very idea of a baby with my eyes and her golden hair has unlocked a sense of yearning that can’t be tamped down no matter how hard I try.
Ellie curls her hand into the crook of my elbow and leans her head against my shoulder. “I feel like you’re out of sorts since I asked about the BDSM.”
“Not out of sorts.”
“What, then?”
“Maybe a tad off-kilter. I’m not accustomed to talking so openly about something I’ve gone to enormous lengths to keep private.”
“Why do you care what people think of you?”
So many reasons. “You know how it is in this town. If something like that were to become public, I’d be on the front page of every tabloid and the lead story on every gossip show. Plus, it’s none of anyone’s damn business how I like to get it on.”
“That’s true.”
We arrive back at her house, and I wonder if she’ll invite me in or send me packing. After all, we aren’t about extras such as sleeping together or anything that would smack of an actual relationship.
My phone rings before we can work out the logistics of what comes next. I withdraw it from my pocket and see Emmett’s name on the screen. “I need to take this.”
“Sure, come in when you’re done.” She leads Randy into the house, leaving me to take the call in private on the porch. I’ve been with many a woman who would’ve hovered nearby, wanting to overhear the conversation. Ellie is not that woman.
“Hey, Em, what’s up?”
“I heard from Ellie’s attorney, and we’re set for a meeting Thursday at two to go over the details. Does that work for you?”
It doesn’t, but I’ll move things around to make it work. “I’ll be there.” He gives me the address for Ellie’s lawyer’s office.
“The attorney requested that you bring evidence of a clean bill of health.”
“I’ll have it.”
“Jasper… You’re really sure about signing away your rights to a child who hasn’t even been conceived yet?”
No, I’m not sure, but it’s what I have to do. “Yes.”
“I really hope you won’t regret this.”
Of course I will. I already do, and it hasn’t even happened yet. But this is the way it has to be. That’s all there is to it. “I’ll see you Thursday at two, Em, if not before. Thanks again for your help with this.”
I hear his sigh before he says, “Sure, no problem.”
As I stash the phone back in my pocket, I’m filled with the kind of rage that marked my younger years and caused me huge problems with my father. It’s been a long time since I’ve given the rage free rein to overtake me the way it does now.
Duty.
Obligation.
Responsibility.
The words of my youth, pounded into my head by my father, the ninth Duke of Wethersby, one of the most prosperous, historically significant dukedoms in all of England, and someday, in the not-too-distant future, it’ll all be mine. I’ve chafed against those three words my entire life, and I’ll be damned to hell before any child of mine will be saddled with obligations on the day he or she is born.
So when Emmett asks me if I’m sure I want to sign away my rights to the child Ellie and I will make together, you better believe I’m sure. Even if it breaks my heart to know I won’t be able to acknowledge my own child. I’ll give him every possible thing I can, but the one thing I won’t give him is my name.
Thus the heartache, the overwhelming rage and despair unlike anything I’ve experienced before, even during the horrible years I spent fighting my father’s plan for my life that most certainly did not include a career in the film business. I won that battle, but I’ve always known he would eventually win the war. The life I’ve made for myself in LA is on a timer, sand slipping through an hourglass in a morbid sort of countdown toward my inevitable destiny. As my father gets older, I can almost hear the tick-tock of time going by far too quickly. I live in fear of the phone call that will one day tell me my time is up.
“Jasper?”
I turn to her, captivated by the sight of her framed by the screen door, the lighting behind her outlining the subtle curves of her body. I’d like to capture her on film the way she looks right now.
“You want to come in?”
I want to be with her so badly. I want her in ways I’ve never allowed myself to want anyone. And that’s exactly why I can’t stay. “I should get out of your hair and let you get some sleep.”
Though her face is shadowed, I can see that my reply has disappointed her.
The ache in my chest intensifies. The last thing I ever want to do is disappoint her, and I fear that’s all I’m going to do. But since I’d never renege on our deal, I’ll have to contend with my own heartache without letting it spill onto her. I’ll do what I’ve done my entire life and push through it, my British stiff upper lip never wavering. When I agreed to help with her project, I had no idea it would resurrect the rage the way it has. Still, I wouldn’t change a thing if it means helping her to have what she most desires.
She comes outside, closing the screen door so Randy can’t escape. When she’s standing right in front of me, she looks up, and I feel like she can see right through to the heart of me. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, love.” I kiss her lightly. “Did you hear from your attorney about the meeting?”
“She texted just now.”
“You ready to make it official?”
“I am if you are.”
I smile down on her even as the ache in my chest continues unabated.
“If you’re having second thoughts or—”
I kiss the words off her lips. “No second thoughts, no third thoughts. I’m all in, darling.”
She releases a deep breath that I realize she was holding while she waited for me to say I’d changed my mind. “Okay, then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yes, you will.” And because I need it more than she’ll ever know, I kiss her properly, cradling her face in my hands and giving her the tenderness she deserves. When I finally withdraw from her, I’m pleased to see that she’s every bit as affected by the kiss as I am. “Sleep well.”
I walk away while I still can, knowing there’ll be little sleep for me tonight. I have until two o’clock Thursday to figure out a way to give her the baby she desperately wants without sacrificing my own sanity in the process.
On Thursday, I arrive early at Cecily’s office in Brentwood, the area of LA best known for being the scene of the Simpson-Goldman murders in 1994. I had just finished my freshman year of high school when that happened, but I vividly remember the circus-like atmosphere that overtook the entire city that summer. Thinking about OJ Simpson gives me something to do other than obsess about why I’m here and what’s about to happen.
Cecily’s assistant shows me into her spacious office, and my friend jumps up to greet me with a big hug. She’s tall and strikingly pretty with long auburn hair and a flawless complexion. Her green eyes sparkle with exc
itement as she takes a good long look at me.
“You look fantastic!” she declares, leading me to a seating area that overlooks the street below.
“So do you.” I haven’t seen her in a couple of years, but she hasn’t changed at all. “And thank you so much for taking care of this for me.”
“Trust me when I tell you it’s a refreshing change from brokering divorces, child-custody disputes and other fun family meltdowns.”
“I don’t know how you do it.”
“Sometimes, I can’t bear it, but hey, it’s a living, and every so often I get to help someone amazing get exactly what she wants.”
Her heartfelt words bring tears to my eyes. I’m really about to get exactly what I want, and part of me still can’t believe this is actually happening.
Cecily reaches for me, and I gladly accept her hug. “I’m so happy for you.”
“Thank you.”
“So tell me about this guy who’s going to be the father. What’s he like?”
How to adequately describe Jasper… “He’s a very good friend of mine and Flynn’s.”
“And…” She rolls her hand, obviously looking for the dirty details.
“He’s incredibly handsome, charming and very sweet. And he’s British.”
Cecily fans her face. “The accent…”
“Is to die for.”
“You lucky bitch. You get to make a baby with a hot guy without having to deal with all the relationship nonsense. Leave it to you to get it just right.”
Yes, I got it just right, except over the last couple of days, I’m finding it harder to ignore the hollowed-out feeling I’ve had since Jasper left the other night. What possible reason could I have for the achy, disjointed sense that something is… off? I can’t think of another word to describe it. I haven’t seen him yet today, because he wasn’t in the office this morning, and I saw him only in passing yesterday. I’m hoping that when he arrives for our meeting, he’ll somehow put my mind at ease. Until then, I’m a hot mess of anxiety, hoping this whole thing isn’t going to blow up in my face at the last minute.
I’m not sure how I’ll manage the disappointment if that happens.
Cecily and I catch up on each other’s lives, and she regales me with a series of dating misadventures that have me laughing and forgetting, albeit briefly, about my worries where Jasper is concerned.
Then Cecily’s assistant shows Jasper and Emmett into her office, and my heart skips a beat at the sight of him. No, no, no! That’s not supposed to happen. He’s Jasper, my friend, the future father of my child. He’s not supposed to make my heart do funny things.
I somehow manage to introduce Jasper and Emmett to Cecily while dealing with my own mortification at seeing Emmett for the first time since Jasper clued him into our plans. To his credit, he greets me the way he always does, as if this meeting is no different from the hundreds of others we’ve had at work and outside of work.
“We’ve got everything set up in the conference room across the hall.” Cecily gestures for them to go ahead of us. When their backs are turned, she fans her face dramatically. In a whisper that only I can hear, she says, “Shut the fuck up. Just shut the fuck up. These guys are right out of central casting, especially your Brit.”
I giggle at her befuddled expression and try to imagine seeing Jasper and Emmett through the eyes of a woman who has never met them before. They do make one hell of an impression, especially Jasper. It’s the accent. Of course that’s what it is. What else could it be?
By the time we’re seated on opposite sides of the conference table, Cecily has recovered her professional demeanor, but I notice her stealing glances at both men, as if she still can’t believe what she’s seeing. I get why she’s undone by them. They make for quite an appealing pair—Jasper with his thick blond hair and golden-brown eyes, and Emmett’s wavy brown hair and intense gaze. I’d like to think I’m immune to both of them after spending so much time in their company, but judging by my reaction to Jasper, I’m far from immune to him.
Cecily goes over the paperwork that outlines the terms of our agreement in legalese that’s somewhat easy to understand. I’ll have full custody of the child with everything that goes along with that. For the first time, however, I discover that Jasper has offered a generous monthly amount for child support.
“That’s not necessary.” I look at him across the table, and the expression I see on his face has me wondering once again if this is what he really wants.
“It is necessary. To me.” He looks so sad that my heart begins to ache in ways it never has before.
I pause for a long moment before I say, “Could we… Um, could we have a minute, please?”
“Of course.” Cecily stands and says to Emmett, “May I buy you a coffee?”
“That sounds good.”
They leave the room, and the conference door clicks shut behind them with a loud echo.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, forcing myself to breathe over the rapid beat of my heart.
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“You don’t look right in the eyes.”
His lips quirk with the amusement that’s so much a part of his charm, but I won’t let myself be drawn in by that. “Darling, I’m totally fine, and completely on board with our plans. There’s nothing at all to worry about.”
“Would you tell me if there was something to worry about?”
He hesitates, ever so slightly, but just long enough to tell me I’ve hit a bull’s-eye. “Of course I would.”
“No, I don’t actually think you would. I think you’re such a good and loyal friend that you’d go through with this before you’d ever disappoint me, even if you’d changed your mind.”
After taking a deep breath and expelling it, he gets up and walks around to my side of the table.
My mouth goes dry and my hands are suddenly sweaty as I watch him come toward me.
He places a hand on each of the armrests on my chair and leans in, stopping when his lips are a heartbeat away from touching mine.
I’ve all but stopped breathing.
“I can’t wait to father your child, to watch you blossom with pregnancy, to see you flushed with excitement and wonder and anticipation. I can’t wait to meet the child we’ll make together and to watch him or her grow up. I haven’t changed my mind. Okay?”
I’m expected to say something after that? The whoosh of my breath escaping from my throat sounds like a sob. Until that exact second, until I was all but certain he was going to back out, I hadn’t actually allowed myself to acknowledge how excited I really am to make my dream come true with him. “Okay,” I whisper.
Raising one hand to my chin, he forces me to look up at him as he brings his lips down on mine. I swear to God, right in this moment, if he lifted me onto the conference table and stepped between my spread legs, I wouldn’t say no to him. I wouldn’t be able to.
Thankfully, he reins it in before I end up on my back in another office.
As he starts to withdraw from me, I flatten my hand on his face. “In case I forget to say so, thank you. Thank you so much for this. You’ll never know what it means to me.”
“I think I know.” He kisses me again, fleetingly, and stands up straight.
I try not to notice that he’s hard, but my gaze is naturally drawn to the evidence of his arousal, visible proof that he wants me as much as I want him.
“Shall we call the lawyers back and get this sorted?”
For a man with a boner in a Brentwood conference room, his British decorum is in full force.
“Yes, please.”
Chapter 11
He goes back around the table, sticks his head into the hallway and says a few words that get Emmett and Cecily back into the room.
When the four of us are seated once again, I notice Jasper shifting in his seat, as if to find a comfortable position. I hold back a desperate need to giggle madly at his predicament.
He sees my struggle and quirks a brow in my directi
on, and suddenly the need to laugh becomes a whole other kind of need—the kind that directly involves him.
Cecily continues her review of the agreement, noting that each party has produced recent evidence of perfect health, that each party is entering into this agreement willingly and without reservation, that each party has agreed that the child’s paternity shall remain confidential except in instances when both parties agree to share the information.
Jasper watches me intently the entire time. His gaze is hungry and sexy and tinged with what could be emotion. I hadn’t expected that from him. He’s never been the type to wear his emotions on his face or his sleeve or anywhere else. Jasper is all about the lighthearted fun in life. He works hard and plays harder. He doesn’t get involved. So why does he seem so invested in this process even as he signs away his rights to our future child?
The papers come across the table to me, and at first I think I must be reading them wrong, because why has he signed everything Jasper Kingsley? Who in the heck is that?
He catches me eyeing him and looks away, his jaw pulsing with the kind of tension I often see in Hayden, not Jasper. Tension isn’t his thing, or at least it isn’t usually his thing.
When we’re done signing, Cecily gathers up the paperwork. “I’ll have my assistant get everything together for you to pick up on your way out.”
“Thanks very much,” Emmett says, shaking hands with her.
She leaves the room to see to the paperwork.
Emmett turns to Jasper. “Ready to go?”
He continues to stare at me across the table. “I’m going to ride back to the office with Ellie.”
Oh, he is?
“Great,” Emmett says, “I’ll see you both back at the ranch.”
“Emmett.”
He turns to me. “Yes?”
“You won’t… I mean I know you’re bound by attorney-client privilege and all that, but you won’t say anything about this to anyone, right?”