by Tania Joyce
Closing his eyes, he rested his head back against the bars. “I haven’t been with anyone since I found out you were pregnant.” He brushed his hand down his face and revealed haunted eyes. “I’m petrified this will happen again.” He drained the last drop of JD from his glass and placed it on the step beside him. “You’ve totally fucked me up.”
“I didn’t think this would affect your sex drive.” Knowing Hunter, he’d get over it. Some attractive girl would resolve his situation soon enough. With Kara’s raging hormones, she’d gladly help him out. “I have a solution. I’m already pregnant. We could have sex,” she said, half joking, half not. She leaned back on the stairs, resting on her elbows, and stretched out her legs.
Hunter’s foot slipped off the stair. His eyes flared with arctic fire. “What?” Redness crept up his neck and blotched his cheeks. “That’s what got us into this mess. There’s no chance in hell—”
“Calm down. I’m kidding.” She wasn’t, but she hadn’t expected him to lose his cool.
Rejection this time didn’t leave a scratch. She’d known his answer before he’d said anything. It was stupid of her to ask, but she wouldn’t have hesitated in the off chance he’d said yes. She play-punched him in the arm. “Don’t be so dramatic.”
“Not. Funny,” he growled.
“Yeah, it was.”
But this was a firm reminder he wasn’t into her. All his glances, his smiles, his touches—that moment in the park when she’d thought he would kiss her—they were nothing. Just her hormones wishing for something that wasn’t there. She had to get control of her yo-yo emotions.
Hunter took several shaky breaths. Normal color crept back into his face. He even managed a chuckle. “Don’t do that again.”
“Whatever. I was trying to lighten things up.” She brushed her hands over her jeans. “It’s getting late, and I’d love a cup of tea before bed. But before we move, can I ask for one small favor? It’s been an emotional weekend. After everything we’ve been through, I need one. I mean . . . I really need one.”
With him agreeing to support their child, the only thing she had to do now was work on their friendship. For the sake of their baby.
“One what?” He pinned her with his gaze.
“I need a hug.”
His shoulders relaxed. He puffed out a breath and a subtle smile touched his lips. “Yeah, I can do that.”
He slid toward her and curled his arms around her waist; she slipped hers over his back. Sighing, he buried his face into her neck. His breath warmed her skin and sent a shiver down her spine. She inhaled his citrusy scent and rested her cheek against him. Mmm. Rubbing her hands over his soft shirt, she clutched him tighter. “Hunt, I know it’s not going to be easy. But having our baby will be worth it. It will be the best thing that happens to us. You’ll see.”
Chapter 11
Grey snow-filled clouds darkened the morning sky. In the kitchen, the smell of burnt toast lingered in the air. Hunter grabbed a mug to make Kara her tea. But the whole time, his heart beat an erratic rhythm. Late last night, after the last partygoers had long gone, he’d sat next to her on his bed talking about Christmas, about fashion week, and about tour. Pickled with too much JD, he must have drifted off to sleep somewhere near 12:30a.m. He’d fallen asleep beside her. When he woke, he shot out of bed as fast as the flicker from a strobe light and stumbled down the stairs. It took him a moment to collect his thoughts and make sure he hadn’t done anything stupid . . . like kiss her . . . or worse. Going by how much his balls hurt, he was sure nothing had happened.
Every time he looked at her, his heart screamed. She was a constant reminder that he was trapped in hell. He would be paying for his mistake for the rest of his life.
This weekend hadn’t gone to plan.
He’d lost the fight.
Major. Epic. Fail.
He was going to be a father.
His palms turned clammy, and his stomach swirled. Shit! Surely he wasn’t experiencing sympathy pains? He didn’t feel any sympathy, only contempt.
He grabbed a glass of water and gulped it down. After rubbing his belly, he wiped his mouth on his shirtsleeve. Ergh! He was never queasy. Not after drinking. What was wrong with him?
Snow falling outside the kitchen window caught his eye. Pictures of Kara ran through his mind. Her smile and the sound of her intoxicating laugh rang in his ears. He’d learned more about her in the past two days than he had in the few years of knowing her. It had taken grit for her to defy her parents and follow her passion into design. He wouldn’t have guessed that she loved the outdoors. She’d dripped off Conrad for so long, he’d never seen this side to her. Not that he’d ever taken the time to get to know her either.
He ripped open the tea packet and placed the bag into the cup. Shaking his head, he couldn’t believe he was standing here, making her a stupid cup of tea, while she slept in bed.
Was he in more trouble than he’d thought? Because last night, when she’d joked about sex, his head, heart, and body had been so twisted with anger, hurt and turmoil, stress, anxiety, and dismay over the baby, he’d come so close . . . so close . . . to taking her by the hand and dragging her up to the bedroom. He wanted to fuck her because he hated what was happening to his life. Fuck her because he needed to vent his frustrations. Fuck her because he was horny. Then there were those reasons that made him question his sanity—the ones he had to get out of his system quick. What had his bloodstream burning was the fact that he wanted to fuck her because he felt a pinch of attraction, he’d liked sleeping with her the first time and he wanted to do it again.
But reality was a cold spoon to his dick and put an abrupt halt to his stupidity. Kara being pregnant changed everything. He didn’t want to hurt her any more than he already had. He had no room in his life for love, for commitment or a relationship. In a few hours, he’d be on a plane and heading back to tour. That was his life.
Just because she was nice, didn’t mean she could cut the chains that protected his heart. He wasn’t sure anyone ever would.
He snatched the kettle off the stove and poured the boiled water into the cup. The door to the basement flung open and his mom crashed through with a basket of laundry.
“Here, let me help you with that.” He dashed over to relieve her load.
“Thanks. Please leave it at the bottom of the stairs. I’ll deal with it later.” She plopped down on one of the breakfast bar stools and massaged her temples.
“Bit seedy this morning?” Hunter patted her on the back. “Want a coffee? I’ve made a fresh brew.”
“I’ve already had three and some Advil, so no, thank you. I’ll be fine.” She glanced at the time on the microwave. “It’s nearly lunchtime anyway.”
“True.” Hunter shrugged a shoulder. “Kara and I head off at one o’clock. I’ve confirmed the driver and security to take us to the airport.”
Crap. He still had to tell his mom about Kara.
His mom continued to rub the sides of her head, her eyes closed. “Where are you heading to?”
“Seattle.” He scratched his chest. “We have a few more cities before we’re back in New York for Christmas, two shows at Madison Square, and the New Year’s Eve concert. Then it’s off overseas.”
His mom smiled, but it held no festive cheer. “Another Christmas without you.”
The sorrow in her voice tugged deep in his chest. Last year he’d been in LA doing Christmas concerts. The year before that he was in London. And even though he was with Kyle and Gemma, he always missed his mom’s cooking, his dad’s pathetic jokes, and Jenny’s carol singing. Maybe next year he’d make it home.
Shit! He’d have a kid.
“Hopefully next year,” he said, despite his arid throat. He jiggled the teabag around in Kara’s cup. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his mother watching his every move. He stopped, folded his arms, and leaned against the counter. “What, Mom?”
“Nothing.” Her tone may have sounded aloof, but he knew better tha
n that.
“Mom?”
“It’s just that . . . well . . . Kara seems lovely. Is everything okay?”
He placed his hands on the counter and closed his eyes. His throat tightened like an overstrung guitar. “You know. Don’t you?”
His mom entwined her fingers and placed them on the counter. “The fact that she’s not been well . . . or the fact that she’s pregnant?”
“Both.” The anguish in his mother’s eyes tore his chest in two.
“I was wondering when you were going to tell me. I had a strong suspicion yesterday when she was sick. Your father must know, because he’s avoided me every time I’ve tried to talk about you. I gather it’s yours.”
Hunter moved his chin a fraction of an inch in his best effort to nod. While he made a coffee for himself—anything to keep his mind numb—he relayed the whole story to his mom. The engagement party. The baby. Why he didn’t want it. Kara’s health and her decision to have it. His mother sat there in silence and listened, occasionally playing with her earrings or nodding.
His mother drew herself up three inches taller, her eyes glassy with sympathy, sorrow, and sadness. “I can’t tell you what to do, or how much you should be involved. I wish I could. You’re the only one who can answer that. The thing I will say to you is . . . be careful. Be careful and conscious of Kara’s heart. You’re both emotional and vulnerable right now. If you want to be friends and not hurt each other, make sure you don’t sleep with her again.”
“I haven’t. I won’t.” A knot tightened at the base of his neck. Because when he’d woken up next to her, he’d wanted to reach out and touch her and kiss her perfect lips. Like he’d wanted to do yesterday in the park on more than one occasion. What the hell was wrong with him? He hated her for what she was doing to him. “She’s not even my girlfriend.”
“I worked that one out, too. But I’ve seen the way she looks at you.” His mom’s tone cautioned. “And I think you’re conflicted about how you feel as well. It may be just about the baby, or it may be something more. So, if you don’t want any more complications, make sure you keep it in your pants.”
“Noted.” Hunter threw his teaspoon and it clanged in the sink. Tinny and empty. Like his heart.
His mom was wrong on one count. He felt nothing for Kara. Nothing more than a thin friendship, and now, obligation. If his mom sensed an area of concern, it was time to rein it in. He had to make sure Kara understood they’d never be a couple.
He could do that.
Yes. Yes, he could. He had to. Keep his distance. Keep communications formal, through his lawyer.
“When is she due?” Lillian asked.
“Um . . . mid July.” His heart seized. Suddenly, that date seven months into the future didn’t seem far away. “Tour finishes end of May.”
“Are you okay?”
“Nope. Not at all.” He was a fucking mess. As well as dealing with baby crap, he had to get his head straight and focus on the shows. “But I have to be.”
His mom hopped off the stool and walked around the counter. She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a big hug. Resting her head against his shoulder, she squeezed him tight. “I love you. I pray your baby is born happy and healthy. But on the off chance it isn’t . . . I know you will do anything for it. Like you’ve done for Jenny.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“I can’t believe I’m going to be a grandma.” She brushed the side of his cheek.
“Please, don’t get your hopes up about seeing the baby,” he begged. “I don’t know how involved I can be.”
His mom nodded and returned to her seat. The sadness in her eyes made him feel like he was kicking a dead dog over and over again. How many people were affected by this? Kara? His family? Her family? Him? On top of every other worry, guilt riddled him. And he hated that. He liked to ignore issues, not face them. For the first time in his life, he couldn’t escape. Whichever way he turned, he was trapped.
He picked up his coffee and Kara’s tea. “I gotta go and get someone out of bed.”
As he put one foot in front of the other, an icy grip took hold of his heart. It was time to put up an extra barricade to protect himself. He could handle pressure from the record label, and deal with fans and face the media daily, but this new responsibility scared him senseless. Facing fatherhood and finding an amicable ground with Kara was a colossal chasm of unknown. Hearts had to be left out of the equation. He didn’t want Kara falling for him. Not ever.
With his steely resolve in place, he slid into his room—and froze. There she lay, asleep. Her long hair was a mass of waves on the pillow. The sheet, tucked under her arms, covered breasts he’d licked and sucked and fondled all those weeks ago. Daylight from the window shimmered on fair skin he’d kissed every inch of. His breath lodged in his chest. She looked like an angel.
An angel who was screwing with his life.
Chapter 12
Hunter dashed out of the car and through the large glass doors into the medical center on Lexington, right behind Kara. This was not where he wanted to be. Since landing in New York a few days ago, Kara and Gemma had ganged up against him and he’d reluctantly agreed to come to the baby’s first scan. He couldn’t understand what the big deal was.
His breath eased when he and Kara made it into the elevators unnoticed. Watching over his shoulder, he trailed behind her, down the bright white corridor toward the obstetrician’s suite. He bumped into her when she halted halfway along the hallway and turned to face him.
“Can we not do this, please?” Her eyes flashed with anger. “It’s hard enough dealing with the baby without adding you ignoring me to the list.”
He tilted his head back and groaned. “I’m not ignoring you.”
That was only partly true. He’d stuck to his plan and kept conversations and messages to a minimum over the past few weeks. What had him breaking out in a cold sweat on the drive here was her twelve-week-old baby bump bulging underneath her knit top. She’d grown since he’d seen her four weeks ago.
Kara folded her arms, accentuating her rounded tummy. “You’ve hardly said anything since you picked me up from work.”
While most of the population enjoyed the Christmas–New Year’s break, Kara seemed as flat out at work preparing for fashion week as he was with his music and tour. He’d flown into New York on Christmas Day. Wrote himself off the next day with a bottle of JD to celebrate his birthday. Performed two shows at The Garden. Today was Friday. Tomorrow he had rehearsals. Sunday was New Year’s Eve. Monday he was off overseas. His brain hurt trying to keep up with his schedule.
“I’m sorry,” he snapped. “I’ve got a zillion things on my mind. On top of shows, I’m talking to lawyers. I’ve got a huge meeting at Sony this afternoon. And being here is stressing me out.”
“I know.” She folded her arms. “Just talk to me about the baby. Whenever you need to. It’s the only way we will work through this.”
His jaw tensed and he drew his shoulder blades back. He was still torn between doing the right thing and wanting to walk away. “We have talked. It’s got me nowhere. I don’t have a solution. How can you possibly want me to be a father when I’m only going to be around on a casual basis?”
“Because you are the daddy.” Her tone softened. “Whatever level of involvement you decide upon, our child will know you’re a hard-working man and will respect you and what you do. Our baby will treasure the time it gets to see and spend with you.”
Was that what she thought of him? Wow. He sighed, and rubbed at the warmth exploding in his chest. Kara had knocked him out of the park. She saw him for his good points, his talent, his strengths—not just his partying bad-boy ways, the gossip and the slander. She saw a different side to him—and he liked it. But he wasn’t ready to give up his wild ways.
Kara stabbed her finger against his chest. “Don’t make me hate you by ignoring me and being rude.”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he met her gaze, his stoma
ch bottomed out. Her beautiful blue eyes had faded to dull gray. He wished he could wash her worries away. “Shit, Kara, you constantly do my head in.”
She ran her hand down his arm. Her touch sent his pulse into a frenzy. “Hunter, I’ve seen glimpses of the good in you. That’s what I hold onto. That’s what I want our child to see.”
Was he going to be a disappointment? Would his child feel unwanted, unloved and unsupported like he had? He didn’t want that. It churned his blood and filled him with grit and determination to ensure that wouldn’t happen. He swallowed hard and stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets. He wasn’t going to be anything like his own father.
“Have you broken the news to your parents yet?” he asked.
“Yes.” Her voice was deadpan. “That storm on Christmas Day was my father unleashing his disappointment. My mom hasn’t stopped downing scotch. It shocked Naomi but she’s supportive because she knows how much I wanted a baby.” She waved her hand down the hall. “And this is a fine example of my father controlling my life. He made some phone calls and got me booked into this obstetrician. Supposedly she’s one of the best in New York.”
“Why do you let him do things for you if you don’t like it?”
“It didn’t bother me when I was younger. I didn’t know any better. But since breaking up with Conrad and falling pregnant, I see things differently. Having this baby is the first decision I’ve made on my own. I have to choose which battles to fight; this isn’t one of them.”
He could relate to picking his battles. Luckily, he never had too many with Kyle and Gemma. But with Kara . . . he’d lost every one.
He stared at her. Clenched and released his fists. She’d changed the course of his life. But the longer he looked at her, the pent-up tension in his jaw disappeared. She radiated. He wanted to trace the freckles that had become more prominent across the bridge of her nose. Stroke her rosy cheeks. Thread and comb his fingers through her long hair and rub the base of her neck. “You look good, by the way. You’ve got that glow about you.”