A Case for Calamity (7 page)

He crossed his arms and sneered. “And now, you’re supposedly pregnant, and I’m the father?”

Surprising him, she matched his stance, crossing her arms. “Now, I
am
pregnant, and you
are
the father.”

“Nice try.”

Her arms dropped to her sides, and damned if she didn’t look startled. “You don’t believe me?”

“I
believed
you were Shae Austin.”

Several seconds ticked off as she stared blankly at him. Then,
he
was startled when she started to laugh.

“I’m sorry.” She shook her head and continued to chuckle. “I’ve been freaking out since discovering I’d gotten pregnant on a one-night stand with a man who didn’t know my name. It never dawned on me you wouldn’t believe the baby is yours.”

“Why would I? You said your week in Paris was over that night. For all I know, I’m not the only man you and your friend scammed. Do you have six other meal tickets lined up in case your first choice doesn’t pan out?”

The stunned humor in her eyes chilled into cold disdain. “Listen up, pal, because I’m going to say this once, and then, if I’m lucky, I’ll never lay eyes on you again. I had Shae set up that meeting with you for Sunday because I thought you deserved to be informed you had a child on the way.”

His brows snapped together. “What meeting?”

This time she sneered as if
she
didn’t believe
him
. “Oh, please.”

“What meeting?” he demanded.

“Check with your office manager. She confirmed with Shae’s father, so unless you plan to call
him
a liar…” Her delicate snort held dismissal. “It’s no skin off my back if you don’t believe me. In fact, I prefer it that way. Consider yourself informed. I’ll show myself out.”

She spun around and stalked toward the exit.

“I want a paternity test.”

Fire spat from her narrowed gaze when she paused at the unopened door to look back over her shoulder. “Yeah, well, life is full of disappointments. Goodbye, Mr. Sutton.”

He flew across the room before she could work the lock. Slapping his palm against the wood above her shoulder, he pinned her between his body and escape.

Under his hand, the door remained shut despite her attempt to yank it open.

She stiffened, but kept her gaze straight ahead. “Touch me and I’ll scream the building down.”

“Hold on a second.”

She twisted her head to fry him with stormy blue eyes. He studied her face. Embarrassed heat colored her cheeks, the skin stretched tight in a mask of fury. The sleek cat had fangs.

“You’re telling the truth?” He tested the possibility on his tongue.

“I would never lie about an innocent baby.”

The breath whooshed from him as though he’d taken an angry fist straight to the gut. He dropped his hand and stepped back. “Shit.” The spit in his mouth dried up, and the rough bristle of beard scraped against his palm as he ran his hand down his face. “I need another drink.”

He whirled away to return to the bar. The bottle of expensive scotch gurgled as he poured himself another glass.
Christ. A baby
. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

She hadn’t moved when he faced her once more. Her chin jutted up defiantly. “Getting drunk won’t change the facts.”

No, it wouldn’t, but tying one on might let him forget for a while. He tossed back the burning liquid in two gulping swallows. She claimed she’d set up a meeting to tell him about the pregnancy. He hadn’t called or stopped into the office upon returning from the Alaska junket, so he hadn’t picked up his messages. From the righteous anger on her face, he didn’t doubt he’d find the one of which she spoke.

Clearly, Shae Austin and she were friends, which meant Jane had been fully aware he’d been searching for her. Considering how she’d been avoiding him, wanting to meet with him now made no sense.

Unless she was telling the truth.

His throat muscles contracted in a spasm with his painful swallow. He was going to be a father.

He set aside the glass. “Come in and sit down. We obviously need to talk.”

“Why?”

Surprised at the question, he stared at her.

Close to the door, she faced him completely, but didn’t venture back into the room as she pointed at the bottle on the bar. “It’s clear the idea of a baby is a problem for you.” Her arm dropped to her side. “It doesn’t have to be. I’m perfectly capable of raising my child. I don’t need or want anything from you.”

“Is that right?”

She nodded. “That’s right. So, you see, we have nothing to talk about. Now, if you don’t mind, it’s been a very long day. Long week, actually. I really am sorry about Paris.” She spun around, flipped the lock, and swung open the door.

“Jane.”

She glanced over her shoulder, her gaze wary.

“We’ll talk tomorrow.”

The door slammed shut with a thud behind her.

Chapter Seven

The thought of telling her parents about the baby made Jane so jittery she couldn’t sit still, but that didn’t mean her laundry wasn’t a priority, and her kitchen floor really
did
need a good scrubbing. She made good use of her morning off. By nine a.m. her flurry of frantic activity had left her tiny apartment shining. Staring at her kitchen cabinets, she was contemplating rearranging them when a knock on her door made her jump.

She chewed her bottom lip. Her early morning caller wouldn’t be Keith. Out of town on business, her brother had promised to see her mid week when she called to tell him about the baby. Nor would the person knocking on her door be Gabe. He only learned her real name twelve hours ago. How could he have discovered where she lived this fast?

Melanie Archer’s grandson has the kind of resources to discover anything he wants.

Her stomach immediately began to roll. Gabe wasn’t just successful, he was loaded. His Park Avenue condo alone had to be worth millions. The grandson of the über rich Melanie Archer, for heaven’s sake! Why hadn’t Shae mentioned
that
important little gem?

Compared to the Archer communications and real estate empire, Jane’s family’s considerable financial concerns looked more like a chain of corner hot dog stands. Not that her family’s money had anything to do with her. She’d long ago cut all financial ties with her parents. The Whitmore wallet came with too many strings—like a loveless marriage. And the troublesome, two-million-dollar bequest from her grandmother would be pocket change to someone of Gabe’s background.

Last night’s parting shot indicated he wasn’t simply going to disappear as she’d prefer. Would he see their baby as an heir, or worse, a possession, while she already loved the little bundle of cells growing beneath her heart? What kind of chance would she have if he decided to fight her for custody?

Squaring her shoulders, she marched to the door. He’d all but accused her of being a liar and a gold-digger. She didn’t give a damn about his money, but she would beg, steal, lie, and cheat to keep anyone from taking her child.

An eye to the peephole confirmed her suspicion. She straightened and puffed out a breath. Barefoot and grubby wasn’t the proper armor for facing down enemy combatants, but his impatient pounding said her limp T-shirt and ratty jeans would have to do. Beneath shaking hands, the chains came off and the lock disengaged.

She wrenched open the door. “What do you want?” Despite her attempt to block him, he brushed by her and seemed to bring the chill of the winter morning with him. She shut the door forcefully. “By all means, come right in.”

He stopped several feet away, his arms akimbo. The ever-present Stetson dangled from the fingers of one hand and bumped against his hip. Casually dressed in crisp jeans and a heavy leather bomber jacket, he looked big, confident, and, she had to admit, gorgeous.

“You claim to be pregnant with my child.”

Her bare toes curled on the aged wooden floor, but she wasn’t about to back down. Possession was nine-tenths of the law, after all. You couldn’t get more possessive than carrying the point of contention within your body. “That’s not a claim. It’s a fact.”

He nodded, ceding her the point. “Then you won’t mind proving it.”

“Excuse me?”

“I want proof the child is mine.”

Of course he would. “As soon as that’s feasible, I’ll agree to testing. Now, are we done? I have things to do.”

“No, we aren’t done. I’m not going anywhere until we’ve established you
are
pregnant and the pregnancy is at eight weeks as you claim.”

She nodded toward the trash bag she’d gathered up during her cleaning spree. “The used pregnancy tests are right in there. Feel free to rummage through and find them, but they won’t tell you the date of conception.”

He eyed the large, black bag. “Tests, as in plural?”

“I wanted to be sure. I took three.”

He arched a brow. “Law of averages?”

“Something like that.”

His lips twitched at her grumbled answer, as if he might be fighting a smile, but considering the situation, she couldn’t see what he could possibly find amusing.

“I booked an appointment for an ultrasound at a local clinic at ten.” He checked his watch. “We’ll need to leave soon if we’re going to make it on time.”

Her jaw dropped open. She snapped it shut. “You what?”

“You say you’re carrying my child, and from your comments last night, I assume you’ve decided to keep it.”

She ignored his doubt about the paternity, zeroing in on his second comment. “Of course I’m keeping it.”

“Then
I
have some decisions to make as well. In order to do so reasonably, I need more information than, ‘Hi, Gabe. My name is Jane Whitmore. I’m having your baby.’”

He had a point. And she could be reasonable, too, but on her own terms. “Fine. I have my first baby appointment next week. I’ll call and request an ultrasound and send you the results.”

He shook his head. “Not good enough. I’ll come with you, today, and see the results for myself.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”

“This isn’t negotiable, Jane. You dumped a pretty big bomb in my lap last night. I’m not letting you out of my sight until I have some answers.”

“Then I’ll go with you tomorrow. I have to see my parents this morning. They don’t know about the baby yet, and believe me, working up the courage to tell them wasn’t easy.” Admitting to being anxious about the coming confrontation scraped at her pride, but she wanted him gone. If sympathy did the trick, so be it. “I can’t delay it any longer. The stress is killing me, and it isn’t good for the baby.”

The sympathy card proved a complete bust.

“Go get ready. I’ll wait. The appointment won’t take longer than twenty minutes. I’ll drive you wherever you want once we’re done.”

****

Jane snapped her seatbelt shut. “This is a bad idea. I’m about to shock the hell out of my parents. Your presence will only complicate things.”

“My lack of presence would be just as complicating, don’t you think? You didn’t get pregnant alone. I had a hand in it.”

Her head jerked in his direction. The test may have confirmed her pregnancy and the estimated gestation, but the paternity of the baby couldn’t be determined for some time. His claiming responsibility, before it
had,
made no sense.

“I’m not the kind of man who shirks his responsibilities, Jane.” He glanced her way. “I’m not a parent, yet, but if my daughter came to me to say some man had left her pregnant, I’d want to know what he meant to do about it.”

So would she, but she was afraid to find out.

“Besides, the doc said you needed to avoid stress.”

She choked on a mirthless laugh. “Showing up on my parents’ stoop with a strange guy to announce I’m pregnant is not my idea of avoiding stress.”

He smiled, and out popped the same secret weapons responsible for getting her into this mess in the first place. Dismayed at the helpless fluttering in her belly, she pressed a hand to her stomach. His eyes followed the movement, and his smile disappeared.

His sober gaze rose to tangle with hers. “I’m coming with you.”

Further argument would be useless. The successful businessman was back.

She nodded, accepting defeat. “They live in Bayside.”

A half hour later, Jane fought back nausea as Gabe pulled his shiny, black Ram 3500 pickup to the curb of the quiet, tree-lined street. She stared at the gigantic wreath hanging on her parents’ front door. For a moment, she considered asking Gabe to park around the corner. Forget the fact her mother still wasn’t speaking to her. Caroline Whitmore was going to take one look at Gabe and start plotting his part in fulfilling the demands of Grandmother’s bequeathal. If her mother spotted the high-end luxury truck, she’d be on the phone with Father Martin before they made it over the threshold.

She lost her chance when Gabe stepped from the vehicle. Joining him on the sidewalk, she led him up the walkway and didn’t bother knocking. She used her old key. “Mother. Dad.”

Gabe shut the door at their backs, sweeping the Stetson from his head and brushing fingers through his thick, black hair.