All He Needs (All or Nothing) (32 page)

“I know the sheriff and his father, and grandfather, for that matter, and they know me. I give ’em a few bottles now and then. Everything’s copacetic. Sit over there at that table. I’ll get us a drink. Blueberry okay with you?”

He almost smiled, remembering his mother’s face when he’d brought up Nana’s hobby at lunch that day in Hong Kong. “Blueberry would be just fine,” he politely replied.

Two drinks later, after Dominic had asked Nana about Roy, about Kate as a child, about small-town living, which was like an alien universe to him; after he’d heard about the new roof on the gym thanks to his gift and the eight teachers they’d been able to hire back with five-year contracts, Nana set her glass down, speared him with her gaze, and said, “You must have set Katie up in business.”

“Not personally. Six times removed. I’ve been able to send a few clients her way, but her success is her own. I have nothing to do with it.”

“She liked the flowers you sent when she and her partner, Joanna, set up in business. Purple iris, I heard. Three or four baskets.”

It took him a fraction of a second to answer, the room in the Garden House suddenly too vivid in his mind, rocking his world. “I’m glad she liked them.”

“She’s making lots of money.”

“That’s the idea.”

“Why doesn’t she know you’ve done this for her? It’s clear as day.”

“You raised her not to be cynical. She’s remarkably innocent despite her intellectual accomplishments. It’s one of her great charms.”

“Hmmph. From an arch cynic.”

“I didn’t have the advantage of her upbringing. She was fortunate.”

“So you’re saying money doesn’t buy happiness.”

“Pretty much.”

“And you’re wondering if she can fill that void for you.”

“I don’t know. It’s more than that. But she’s on my mind a lot. I thought I’d come and see how she was doing, that’s all. I should go. I’ve taken up enough of your time.” He came to his feet.

“I won’t ask you to promise me you won’t pester her because I can see that you will. But she’s like her grandpa. You mess with her, she fights back.”

He smiled faintly. “I’m aware of that.”

“You mess with her and
I’ll
make trouble for you. Roy came back from Nam a little bit crazy and some of it rubbed off. Just so you know.”

“I have no intention of hurting her.”

Nana softly exhaled. “I don’t envy you. You don’t know exactly what you want.”

His smile was sweetly boyish. “I’m trying to figure it out. Or maybe I need to understand how to get it.” He pointed at the bottle on the table. “If you ever want to go into business, let me know. Your vodka is first class. I’m always looking for new investments.”

She smiled. “You trying to buy your way to my granddaughter?”

He laughed. “I’m not so foolish. Katherine doesn’t care about money. I’m assuming she learned that from you.”

Nana met his gaze. “Life’s about almost everything
but
money. I’m not saying you don’t need enough to keep a roof over your head, but after that”—she shrugged—“it’s about the people you love. That’s what makes life worth living. Sorry about the lecture. I’m an old school teacher. It’s in the blood.”

“I don’t mind. And let me know what more you need for the school. I mean it. My educational foundation is one of my pet projects. Let me give you my cell phone number.”

“I already have it.”

Dominic’s brows shot up.

“Where do you think my baby girl learned to love computers? There’s no privacy left in the world. I don’t have to tell you that.”

Dominic laughed. “In that case, give me a call if you need something.”

“Or if I hear something from Katie?”

Kate would have recognized that small startle reflex.
“I’d like that,” Dominic said a moment later. “I like to know how she’s doing. Thanks for the drink and conversation.”

Nana stood on the porch and watched the wealthy young man walk through the snow in his sandals, get into his rental car, and drive away.

She’d never met anyone so alone
, she thought.

T
heir separation wasn’t any easier for Kate. Dominic had married another woman. And there was no question in her mind, no matter how she dissected and reviewed their last conversation, that he’d been lying through his teeth.
I have to marry her.
Bullshit. A man like Dominic, who controlled everything as far as the eye could see and beyond? As if he could be coerced into marriage. He didn’t want her; he just wanted someone else.

So get over it.

But she must have been reading the wrong
Cosmo
articles. Because getting over someone wasn’t supposed to blacken out the sun, shut out the music from the world, bring down the curtain on one’s life, or as Gramps would have said, “Make you fire off that last round.”

Gramps had always said that like it was a good thing. Like it was time to move on. So she tried.

She dealt with her misery by burying herself in work; she put in long hours, audited source codes and cleaned them up, wrote programming script to stave off cyber attacks, developed new code to keep the site from collapsing under an overload, closed one after another vulnerability on the bank’s website. And after Dominic left, she started helping a fellow contractor on weekends in a small office on Bond Street. Together, she and Joanna pounded
keyboards and crunched numbers and codes and when Kate was finally ready to collapse, she’d go home and try to sleep. But she wasn’t sleeping well, she wasn’t eating well, she was trying to distract herself from a cloud of despair that wouldn’t lift.

Dominic was in the habit of checking on Katherine’s location a dozen times a day, the GPS on her cell phone his personal surveillance, his lifeline to hope, to better times and rosier prospects. When the three months were over, when his divorce was rubber-stamped, he was going to do whatever he had to do to win her back.

There was no question in his mind.

And if she’d ever talked to him, he would have told her that.

He’d also had Max set up security teams to watch Katherine in the event Gora went off the deep end. Each evening, Max reported to Dominic, but his account never varied. “All she does is work. We’re running eight-hour surveillance shifts but she isn’t. She barely sleeps. CX Capital is getting their money’s worth. Her new partner apparently doesn’t eat or sleep either.”

And so things continued through March and April.

Until a day in early May.

While Kate had become accustomed to not eating or sleeping, her nausea couldn’t be so easily ignored. Particularly when she finally paid attention enough to recognize she was sick only in the mornings. After a few moments of panic, she turned to a search on the Web—needing reassurance.

But her search wasn’t reassuring.

She still could be wrong, she told herself. Really, how could it possibly be when Yash had given her the shot in Singapore? There must be some reasonable explanation. Recalling a conversation with Justin’s wife, Amanda, jogged Kate’s memory. Amanda had mentioned her obstetrician’s roster of celebrity clients and the doctor’s name had sounded movie star-like as well. Bryce Clifton. So Kate called Dr. Clifton’s office and made an appointment. Not because she was interested in the celebrity factor, but she expected someone like Amanda would chose a good physician.

Two days later, her nausea not improved, Kate was nervously flipping through a magazine in Dr. Clifton’s waiting room, which resembled a cozy country house parlor rather than the chrome and plastic decor normally found in doctors’ offices. She was the only person waiting. Apparently, posh doctors didn’t stack up patients like they did in the clinic back home.

A nurse came in, summoned Kate in a hushed murmur, and led her to another cozy room painted in warm colors—save for the white-sheeted, stainless-steel examining table. Kate was handed a flower-print hospital gown to put on and directed to a cheerful little dressing room with rose garlanded wallpaper, pink leather chairs, and paintings of pretty landscapes on the walls.

If the goal was to make you relax, it was working.

When Dr. Clifton came in, he introduced himself with well-mannered charm, as if they were meeting over tea, even made similar small talk. Then, he said with a smile, “Let’s see what we have here,” the nurse helped her lie
down, and as he examined her, he spoke softly to the nurse in a kind of medical shorthand.

Then, disposing of his surgical gloves, he helped Kate sit up and said with another smile, “Congratulations, Miss Hart. You’re going to have a baby.”

“Impossible!” she blurted out.

Dr. Clifton’s smile broadened. “You’re not the first one I’ve heard say that.”

“But I’m on the contraception shot.” Kate schooled her voice to a more polite tone. “How is it possible?”

“The shot isn’t infallible, my dear. Were you not told?”

“But I was told the percentages were extremely small. Obviously,” she said, trying to remain calm, when her pulse was racing, “not small enough. Have you any idea how far along I am?” she said, frantically trying to count back.

“You’re approximately twelve weeks, Miss Hart. When was your last period?”

She told him that since the shot she’d hardly had a period. And he did some calculations. “You’re due in early November—I’d say the tenth.”

Kate went pale. A bona fide date made it terrifyingly real.

The doctor patted her shoulder. “Would you like to lie down for a few minutes? Many patients need a moment or so to absorb the news. Or would you like me to call someone to come and see you home?”

“No!”

“Well, then,” he said tactfully, because he’d seen other young women like Miss Hart who were concerned with
their privacy, “the nurse could show you to a quiet room where you could rest.”

Kate shook her head, sat up straighter. “Thank you, but that’s not necessary. It’s just a shock—when you think you’re protected.” And stark and clear, the words
Don’t use that. Okay?
rang through her mind. It had been her decision that first night they were together in Singapore.

So she couldn’t blame Dominic for not using a condom, although she’d love to, since he’d broken her heart—twice.
She
was to blame though. No one else. Which just went to show how much havoc a tall, dark, shockingly handsome man could cause when a woman wanted him.

Soon after her return to work, Kate realized she couldn’t possibly maintain the pretense of professionalism when her life was in complete free fall. So she begged off sick, telling her fellow consultant and weekend accounting partner, Joanna, “It’s just a migraine. I’ll be fine tomorrow.”

An unfortunate lie, since Joanna actually had migraines, which meant that Kate had to endure a recitation of a long list of remedies that were only marginally effective, and she had to try to discuss her symptoms with some personal awareness. She mostly punted by nodding at appropriate moments and repeatedly saying, “That’s it—exactly.”

After making her escape, overcome with nausea, she quickly ordered a pot of tea in the café downstairs, found a quiet corner seat by the window, and immediately drank down half a cup. Tea actually helped her queasiness she’d discovered.

Then sitting quietly, nursing her tea, she felt her stomach settle, and resorting to the slow countdown she’d
learned from Gramps, she tried to relax. There were times he’d waited for days in enemy territory for a target to come into his sights, he’d said, and when he could barely move for days on end, he needed to say calm. Jesus, she missed him. Her eyes filled with tears. She missed Nana too and she smiled, thinking of what Nana would say when she told her she was going to be a great-grandmother. She’d probably say,
Beat that news, Jan Vogel,
because Jan was always bemoaning the fact that she didn’t have grandchildren. And in a hidden away spot that had resisted all her best attempts to scour her life of Dominic’s presence, she wondered for a fleeting moment what Dominic would say.

Nothing probably. He was good at not answering.

Then she saw a young mother pushing a pram and she was instantly transfixed. She watched until they moved out of sight and then began to notice other prams and strollers with babies in the passing pedestrian tide—and toddlers, and girls and boys on their way home from school. She’d catch her breath from time to time, as though suddenly the sight of babies and young children left her breathless and spellbound. As if she were aware for the first time of the miracle of birth.

But a small panic also underlay her astonished wonder.

And a faint unsettling doubt washed over her in irresolute waves.

Jesus, what was she going to do with a baby?

That same afternoon, Dominic was surprised to get a call from Max well before their regularly scheduled time.

“I just wanted to let you know, Katherine went to Harley Street,” Max said.

“Yes, I already know.”
GPS in action: map, street, address, name
.

“She went to see a doctor.”

“Yes, I know. To get her contraception shot. It’s been three months.”

“She didn’t get her shot.”

Dominic shifted slightly in his desk chair and glanced at the clock in his Paris office as if on some subconscious level the time was significant. “You know that?”

“You wanted me to be thorough.”

“And? Cut the drama. If you have something to say, say it.”

“She’s pregnant.”

Dominic sat up like a shot. “Impossible.”

“Apparently, that’s what Katherine told the doctor.”

Dominic swore softly. “A fucking three percent chance? And the casino still wins? Jesus.”

“I didn’t know the odds, but the nurse mentioned it. I chatted her up. Nice older woman, two children, a new grandchild—”

“Christ,” Dominic muttered. “You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

“Fuck.” He slumped in his chair, shut his eyes.

“Katherine might decide she doesn’t want it.”

Dominic’s eyes snapped open and a collection of raw memory raced through his brain, images of Katherine fifty different ways. “I’m not sure that’s a solution,” he said, a brooding note in his voice.

“It might be for her.”

“We’ll see about that,” Dominic curtly replied. “Have
a car waiting at Heathrow. I should be there in an hour, twenty.” Dominic was already punching numbers on his desk phone.

“Katherine’s still at work. You probably shouldn’t embarrass her there.”

“I’ll see the doctor first. George, file a flight plan for London. I’ll be at the plane in fifteen minutes.” Dominic slammed down the desk phone, came to his feet, and spoke into his cell. “Thanks, Max. Gotta go.”