Claimed: The Pregnant Heiress (13 page)

“Did you notice the table and chairs?” He came to stand behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders. “I'll bet they go out there at lunchtime and eat together.”

She leaned into his embrace. “Or share a glass of wine while they watch the sunset.” She sighed. “I wonder why they're giving up such a magnificent place?”

He gestured toward a cane resting in the corner. “Maybe the steps have become too much for one of them. A shame, really. It's a beautiful home.”

Her heart went out to the owners. “Yes, it is.” The kind of home she'd choose for herself.

He must have read her mind. “Why don't you have your own place?”

She shrugged, hoping he didn't pick up in the tension that
gathered in the muscles beneath his hands. “No point. Not with that huge estate standing practically empty.”

“I don't suppose it has anything to do with the fact that if you moved out it would leave your father all alone on that huge estate?”

“That might play some small part in my decision,” she admitted.

“It's going to happen, Emma, and soon.”

“You're assuming too much.” She pulled free of his hold. “We haven't decided to marry. And if we don't, it makes sense for me to live with our son or daughter in the home where I grew up.”

“Not a chance.”

She swung around to face him. “Why not? It's a reasonable solution.”

“No, the reasonable solution is to marry and for the three of us to live together as a family.”

“In New York? In your apartment? I mean, it's nice. But it's not where I'd choose to raise a family,” she objected.

He hesitated. “Would it influence your decision to marry me if I said I'd be willing to shift my base of operations to Vista del Mar?”

It took a moment for his offer to penetrate. “You'd actually consider that?” she asked in an odd voice.

“Yes, I would. I have zero interest in being a long-distance parent. If you're adamant about remaining in California, then I'm willing to consider moving out here.”

She hesitated, then approached, surprising them both by wrapping her arms around his neck. “I don't know what this is between us….” She hesitated, attempting to put words to the confusing jumble of emotions racing through her. “Whether there's something more between us than just a baby.”

“You're right. There is.”

“Maybe so. All I know for certain is that I'd like to find out.” Truth time. She refused to give him false hope or false expectations. “I'm not ready to marry you, Chase, not even to
give our child the legal right to your name. I can tell you that I won't marry you for that sake alone. But the fact that you're willing to move here in order to establish a relationship with our baby—”

“And with you.”

A slow smile lit her face. “I'd like that, Chase. I'd like that very much.”

He leaned down, his mouth hovering above hers. “Shall we make it official?” he asked, his eyes gleaming with laughter.

She planted a hand on his chest to hold him at bay. Taut muscles rippled beneath her fingers. “Is this how you make all your deals official?” she asked. “That's a rather peculiar investment firm you're running.”

“Only with you, sweetheart. Only with you.”

And then he kissed her.

I
nstantly, Emma fell into Chase's embrace, lost to their surroundings. She couldn't get enough of him. He tasted so incredible, while the restless stroke of his hands drove her emotions into a total frenzy. She'd been raised to be polite and calm and poised even in the most egregious of circumstances. Yet, Chase managed to utterly decimate that ability.

When had she become so vulnerable to his touch, so completely open and defenseless? She could guess when. The seeds were planted the first time they were together, when she'd discovered that a single night didn't come close to satisfying her. And how had she handled it? She'd run. She never dreamed that he'd find her again. Or that more seeds had taken root that night than an emotional susceptibility to him.

Her fingers slid deep into his crisp dark blond hair and she anchored him close, opening to him and allowing all that was most intensely feminine respond to all that was most imperatively male. She had the sneaking suspicion that if they'd been anywhere else, their clothes would have long since
disappeared and they'd have made the rug their bed. Instead, he reluctantly pulled back. “Emma.”

“No,” she murmured, wanting more. Needing more. “Not yet.”

“I know, sweetheart, but someone's coming.”

She stiffened within his arms, hearing them for the first time. The sound of their voices came from a few feet away. She'd been deaf to their approach, so lost in Chase's embrace that she didn't doubt for a moment the real estate agent and prospective buyers would have walked in on a moment of explosive passion if Chase hadn't come to his senses.

With a soft gasp, she ripped free of his arms and crossed swiftly to the doors leading onto the balcony. Exiting the house, she stood at the railing, her arms wrapped around her waist. She stared out across the water and dragged air into her lungs like a woman drowning.

Control. She needed to regain her self-control. But deep down she knew that when it came to Chase, she asked the impossible. She forced herself to straighten and tuck her blouse into her slacks. Then she smoothed the collar of the cropped jacket she wore. The wind tossed her hair, adding to the tangles their embrace had created. Nothing she could do about that. Finally, she opened her purse and removed her lipstick and compact and outlined the swollen contours of her bare mouth.

A moment later, Chase joined her, closing the door behind them to protect their privacy from the party being escorted through the house. “I don't understand any of this,” she informed Chase without turning around. She snapped her compact closed and tossed it and the tube of lipstick into her purse. “I don't know how to handle it.”

“Don't try,” he advised.

“Whatever is going on with me must be hormonal. It's the only explanation.”

“Is it?”

Something in his tone had her spinning around. “What else
could it be?” Tears threatened again. “If it's not hormones, that leaves lust or love. Take your pick.”

He thrust his hands into his trouser pockets and leaned against the frame of the door. “Is it important to define what we're feeling at this point?”

“It would help,” she retorted defensively.

He looked out across the water, much as she'd done. “This house is perfect, you know.”

He'd changed the subject. Or maybe he hadn't. Maybe he attacked it from a different angle. She glanced around, taking in house, grounds and ocean. Her throat closed over. “It is perfect, isn't it?”

“I can see us living here.” He shot her a smile that turned her insides liquid. “I can see us sharing that office. You could work on your paperwork for the shelter and the thrift shop while I did the same for Larson Investments.”

His comment threw her off balance. “Your firm isn't a one-man operation, is it? Wouldn't you want an actual office downtown, with staff to run it?”

He shrugged. “Sure. But that doesn't mean I have to go in every day, especially after the baby's born.”

She stared at him, stumbling to keep up with the flow of the conversation. For some reason, she couldn't quite grasp the implications. “I… You would stay home?” The concept seemed so foreign she couldn't wrap her brain around it. “With the baby?”

He raised his shoulders in a casual shrug. “Of course with the baby. If you need to put some hours in at the shelter, I don't see why it would be a problem for me to watch Junior. We'd have to arrange our schedules around feedings and juggle who goes into the office when. I'm sure there'll be the occasional work conflict. But with a little consideration and cooperation, we'll manage.”

“My…my father practically lived at the office,” she said, her voice faltering.

It was the wrong thing to say. Chase's expression darkened.
He straightened from his stance and approached. “Let's get something clarified right up front. I am not, nor will I ever be, like either your father or my own. And I strongly urge you to never attempt to compare me to either of them again.”

She lifted her chin. “You can't deny certain similarities.”

He snagged that aggressive little chin and leaned in. “All men have a few things in common, as do all women. Other than that, I prefer to be judged on my own merits. In case you haven't noticed, if I were anything like my father, I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't for one tiny moment consider moving my base of operations to Vista del Mar. And I sure as hell wouldn't be standing on this balcony with you, seriously tempted to write out a check for this house, here and now.”

Emma's heart gave an odd tug. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious. I would like to take a look at the master bedroom suite and make certain there's a suitable room for the nursery. But other than that, this place is perfect for both of us and you know it. It might as well have been built with both our tastes in mind.”

His comment matched her earlier thoughts. Longing welled up, threatening to overflow and spill out in great, messy waves. He'd seen it, too. All this time she'd thought him oblivious to how beautifully suited they were to this home and how well it conformed to their needs. Instead, he'd taken it all in and recognized it for what it was. Perfection. She should have known. Chase missed very little. Even so, to buy a house of this magnitude on a whim. On a chance. On a dream that might never become reality…

“Oh, Chase,” she whispered. “Please don't do this. Not if it's just an attempt to convince me to marry you.”

He fisted his hands on his hips. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn't.”

“That's just it. I don't have any good reasons,” she confessed. “And that terrifies me.”

He reached for her, pulled her into warmth and passion and promises of a glittering future. “Take a chance, Emma.”

“Not marriage, Chase. I can't agree to that. Not yet.”

“Then agree to the house. Agree to move in with me while we make our decision. If it doesn't work out, you can always return to the estate.”

She closed her eyes, fighting the temptation with all she possessed. But she couldn't. She wanted the dream. Taking a deep breath, she leaped, praying she would fly instead of hurtle to the ground.

“Okay, let's do it.”

 

The next week passed in an endless round of meetings that kept Chase busier than he would have liked. Inch by excruciating inch, they drew closer to finalizing the sale of Worth Industries to Rafe. Hour after excruciating hour they hammered out a contract filled with ifs, ands and buts that required the lawyers to pick apart every word. All the while Chase's team of accountants put in countless time figuring out how each addendum and change would affect the bottom line.

At the end of one particularly grueling session, Rafe approached Chase. “Lucky you. Your part in all this is almost over.”

Chase scrubbed his face in exhaustion. Hell, he needed a shave. Again. “I couldn't be that lucky. Why is Worth dragging his feet? Every time I turn around he's trying to shove another change into the contract.”

Rafe thrust a hand through his pale hair. “And every time he shoves in another change, my team of lawyers runs up more fees picking them back out again. It's nothing new. You know that. He's stalling because this is his baby. And on some level he may suspect what I'm about to do.” Rafe's expression hardened. “Not that it's going to stop me.”

“You haven't changed your mind on that front?”

“Not even a little.” He lowered his voice. “Which brings me to what I need from you.”

“Name it.”

“Get Emma out of town. I have a feeling we're going to wrap this thing up over the weekend and it would help if she wasn't around to cause any last-minute trouble.”

“As it turns out, I won't have to get her out of town. She's already going.”

Some of the edginess eased from Rafe's voice. “That's the first piece of good news I've heard all day. Where's she going?”

“We. We're going.”

Rafe considered. “That won't be a problem. Like I said, your job is just about through.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Is it a secret or are you planning to share?”

“We're going to San Francisco.”

“Nice.”

“Not so nice. Some little bird dropped the news in The Barron's ear that Emma's pregnant.” Chase shot a disgruntled glare in the direction of the conference room. “I can guess who. Anyway, the great man himself is flying in to check on some office building he's constructing and he's ordered us to make a command appearance.”

Rafe laughed. “Tell you what, feel free to take my jet up to San Francisco. So long as Emma is out of the picture and not running her mouth to reporters—”

Chase stiffened. “Careful,” he warned.

The quiet forcefulness of his tone got through to Rafe where anger wouldn't have. “Seriously?” He made an impatient sound. “Okay, I can see you're dead serious. Damn it, Chase. It's gotten to the point where I can't talk to you at all, anymore.”

“You can talk to me. You just need to stop making derogatory comments about my future wife and the mother of my child.”

“Hell.”

Chase slapped his brother on the shoulder. “It's rough, but I have confidence in you. You'll get the hang of it.”

“Whatever you say.” He bared his teeth. “Give your father my best regards.”

Chase winced. “That was low, even for you.”

“My pleasure.” Rafe checked his watch. “Come on, bro. Let's get back in there and find out what Worth has tried to sneak by my sharks in the last five minutes.”

The next few days flew by and as the weekend approached the deal teetered on the edge of completion. They were well past the point of no return, Chase decided, satisfied. Not that he'd mention as much to Emma. If her father elected to say something, that was his choice. Discretion appealed far more, particularly when it came to his bride-to-be, and particularly since she still needed more convincing to go from bride-to-be to done deal.

At long last, Saturday morning dawned bright and clear and the flight to San Francisco in Rafe's luxurious business jet proved uneventful. A car waited to transport them into the city. It couldn't have gone any smoother. For some reason it made Chase wonder at what point the weekend would all go hideously wrong.

At a guess, the minute Tiberius Barron entered the picture.

“Where are we meeting your father?” Emma asked, proving once again that she possessed an uncanny knack for reading his mind.

“He has a building under construction downtown. We're to join him there.”

She paused and he could tell she chose her words with care. “We're meeting him at a construction site?”

“I believe the actual construction phase is complete. They're working on the finishing touches.” He offered a cool smile. “My father is a man who believes in multitasking.”

“So I gather.” She touched the bracelet she wore with a troubled expression. It was the one his mother had designed and purchased for Emma. Noticing her attachment to it filled Chase with fierce pleasure. “He can't spare time to sit down over lunch or even a cup of coffee and talk?”

“My father is a busy man.”

“I see.”

She didn't say anything more for a long time, but Chase could tell she was mulling over his words. He could practically see the bullet points she busily created, an entire relentless row of the nasty little suckers. She would connect the dots from this point onward until he wouldn't be able to take any more and snapped.

He didn't want to snap. Not at Emma. He steeled himself against the coming conversation. Being the thorough, detail-oriented sort, she started with dot number one.

“Has your father always been this busy?” she asked.

“I never saw much of him growing up,” he explained, pleased with the mildness of his response.

“Why not? You were living with him.”

“No, actually I wasn't.”

She released a sigh of exasperation. “I'm sorry. Maybe the baby is using up all my brain cells, but I really don't understand any of this. I thought you went to live with your father when you were ten.” And here came dot number two, dropping with a splat, like a gift from the back end of a seagull. “How could you live with him and not see him?”

Damn. He really didn't want to get into this. Not now. He'd hoped, not ever. Foolish to think Emma wouldn't ask at some point. “The same way you never saw your brother after the age of fifteen. I arrived in New York and was immediately shipped off to prep school. Living with my father was just a euphemism for being under his control and having my upbringing orchestrated by him.”

“Oh, Chase! That's appalling.”

He shrugged. “That's The Barron for you.”

“And when you weren't at school? Where did you go?”

“Our…agreement, I guess you'd call it, permitted me to spend my summers and holidays with Mom.” He reflected on the conclusion he'd reached long ago regarding that particular arrangement. “No doubt because my stepmother, Karis, wanted nothing to do with me. Understandable, I suppose.”