Claimed: The Pregnant Heiress (5 page)

She stiffened. “What are you talking about?”

“I'm talking about the fact that my parents were never married. I'm talking about the fact that I was labeled a bastard from day one. I'm talking about the fact that I'll never allow any child of mine to go through what I did.” He swung around, his eyes like slate and his jaw set at an uncompromising angle. “I'm talking about marriage, Emma.”

C
hase watched every scrap of color drain from Emma's face.

She stared in disbelief. “You cannot be serious.”

“I'm dead serious,” he assured her.

She moistened her lips and he could see her groping for understanding. “Let me get this straight,” she said. “You expect me to marry you because your parents weren't?”

He nodded. “In a nutshell, yes.”

“Because people labeled you a bastard?”

He hesitated. As the clock edged closer to midmorning, pedestrian traffic in the area picked up and he didn't want to risk their conversation being overheard. Before he could suggest a change in venue, a cheerful voice rang out.

“Emma! Emma, over here!” A lovely woman in her mid-twenties approached, her dress a vibrant splash of sunset hues that hugged her shapely curves. Dark brown hair curled softly around her face, drawing attention to beautiful espresso eyes that sparkled with pleasure. “Fancy meeting you here,” she
said, enveloping Emma in a tight hug. “I was hoping I'd run into you before I returned to Los Angeles.”

Emma returned the hug with a laugh. “Ana, how great to see you.” She pulled back. “Are you just down for the day or all week?”

“Just the day, I'm afraid.” She made a face. “Then it's back to the grindstone.”

Emma's brows drew together, revealing her concern. “The grindstone? I thought you loved your costume design job, not to mention helping to dress all those fabulous Hollywood stars.”

Ana spared Chase a quick glance. “I'll tell you about it later,” she murmured, then turned to him and offered a bright smile, along with her hand. “I didn't mean to intrude on your conversation. I'm Ana Rodriguez.”

Emma shook her head in dismay. “I'm so sorry. Ana, this is Chase Larson, Rafe Cameron's brother. Rafe is negotiating the purchase of Worth Industries from Dad.”

Ana's gaze grew speculative. “I heard there might be a change in ownership, though I never thought I'd live to see the day.”

“Nor did I,” Emma said with feeling. “Ana and I consider each other sisters,” she explained for Chase's benefit. “We were raised together from the time I was ten. Her mother, Nilda, is our housekeeper. And her father was our gardener until he retired. He redesigned the entire landscaping of the grounds and oversaw the installation of our greenhouse. I swear, every last one of Juan's fingers is a green thumb.”

Ana glowed with pride. “Absolutely true, every word.”

“And you're a costume designer? I don't suppose you also design your own clothing?” Chase asked. He indicated the dress she wore. “This, for example?”

Rosy color bloomed in Ana's cheeks. “As a matter of fact, I did.”

“Impressive.” There was no doubting the sincerity in his voice. “I'm sure you've heard this before, but you are seriously
talented. You could have one hell of a career in New York if you ever decide to go into clothing design rather than costume.”

“Well, thanks.” She flashed a grin at Emma. “I like this guy. You should hang on to him.”

Emma shot Chase a wry look. “I don't think I could get rid of him if I tried.”

Ana laughed. “Listen, I have to run. But let's get together the next time I'm in town.”

“I'd like that. Call and we'll set something up.”

With a final hug, the two women parted. Chase waited patiently until Ana was out of earshot before turning to Emma. “We need to go someplace private where we can talk,” he stated. “Clearly, this isn't it.”

“We can be as private as you want. It still isn't going to change anything. I'm not going to marry you,” Emma warned.

“And I'm not going to discuss the subject standing on a sidewalk in the middle of Vista del Mar.” He paused to consider. “Why don't you follow me to the condo?”

She shook her head. “That feels too much like your territory.”

So much for that idea. “Well, I flat-out refuse to have this discussion at the Worth estate.”

Emma considered their options. “Okay, I know a place. We can take my car.” She gestured toward the medical building parking lot, daring to tease, “Unless, of course, you don't consider that territory-neutral enough. I wouldn't want my Beemer to intimidate you.”

“It'll be a challenge,” he deadpanned. “But I'll do my best not to let your car throw off my negotiating skills.”

“What a relief. Tell you what, I'll even drive you back here, afterward. With luck, no one will catch us fraternizing.”

“Why does this feel like we're sneaking around?”

Emma smothered a laugh. “Because we're sneaking around?”

“Yeah, that must be it.”

Her expression sobered. “Come on. Let's get this over with.”

Chase bit back a sharp retort. The ramifications of her pregnancy weren't something to get over, any more than their child was. He forced himself to remain patient and hold fire while they crossed the street to her BMW, a pretty white Cabriolet convertible with tinted windows and a hard-shell top that was currently up instead of retracted behind the backseat.

Emma drove through the downtown area toward the ocean and took the winding coast road that climbed above the city. Redbud, acacia and palm trees, as well as the occasional creosote bush, filled in the dots between gorgeous ocean-view homes. It didn't take long to reach her destination, a secluded bluff high above Vista del Mar with a view of both the town and the ocean.

“Let me guess,” Chase said. “The local Lover's Lane?”

“Something like that, though not at this hour,” Emma replied. She set the parking brake and swiveled in her seat to face him. “Actually, it's called Busted Bluff.”

He choked on a laugh. “Busted Bluff? I'd forgotten that. That's what the locals called this place, isn't it?”

She shared in his amusement. “That's right. When the cops started cracking down on all the kids who'd come up here to drink and party.”

“And make out?”

“And make out,” she confirmed with a tiny smile.

“How many times did you get busted?”

“Never.” She sounded scandalized at the mere idea. “My father would have had my head, the keys to my car and various body parts of any boy reckless enough to be caught messing with me.”

“So you never came up here and fooled around?”

She grinned. “I didn't say that, now did I?” Her smile faded, perhaps because she'd “fooled around” last November and now
faced the unexpected consequences. “What do you say we skip the idle chitchat and get serious?”

“Especially since our situation is serious?”

“Very.” She released a sigh rife with frustration. “You just proposed marriage in order to prevent our child from being labeled a bastard.” She made a sweeping gesture with her hand. “Why don't you pick it up from there, since I wouldn't begin to know where to go with it.”

“When you put it like that—”

“What other way is there to put it?” Her pansy-blue eyes filled with a sharp intensity. “I get that you don't want history repeating itself. But I need more information. Why don't you start with your parents. Explain to me what happened with them. You said they weren't married, right?”

“My family dynamics are complicated,” he warned. “Here, let me show you.”

He searched through his pockets and pulled out a pen and notepad. It only took a moment to create a quick chart listing the key players. He leaned in toward Emma to show her what he'd written.

A soft, potent fragrance drifted off her. He couldn't tell whether it was a combination of perfume, soap and shampoo, or just her natural scent. Whichever, he found it swamped his senses and kicked in the irrepressible urge to do far more with her than sit in a car and explain his various family connections. Other than the light January breeze buffeting the car, the only sound was the quiet give-and-take of her breath. The knowledge that he could change it to something faster and more urgent threatened to overwhelm him.

One kiss and he could alter the entire tenor of the moment.

She must have picked up on his thoughts because she drew back. “Not now, Chase.”

He shot her a hot, ravenous look. “You sure?”

“Positive.” But she didn't look positive. In fact, she looked just as hungry as he felt.

He reached for her and tugged her toward him. “How positive?”

“This positive.”

Her arms came around his neck and she pulled him down so she could take his mouth in a blistering kiss. How was it possible? Back in November she was supposed to have been a one-night stand, and yet the morning after when he'd discovered her gone, he had wanted her every bit as much as the first time he set eyes on her. Then when he'd found her again, he'd tried to sate his need for her—several times, in fact—and it still didn't make a bit of difference to how he felt now.

One touch and he was desperate to have her again. She was pregnant with his child and all he could think was thank God he didn't need a condom, since he sure as hell didn't have one on him.

He tore off his suit coat and tossed it into the back of the car, followed by the purse she'd placed as a barrier between them. He must have missed the seat because he could hear the bounce and spill of the contents. Later. They could reorganize later. Right now, he needed to touch her. Kiss her. Feel her silken flesh under his hands and wrapped around his body.

The buttons of her blouse surrendered beneath his assault, and he next tackled the tiny catch of her bra. Why the hell didn't they make the fastening large enough for a man to unhook it without requiring a magnifying glass and surgical instruments? Finally the scrap of silk and lace parted, allowing him to stroke the fullness of her breasts.

She moaned into his mouth and he pulled back slightly, not certain if the sound was one of pain or pleasure. “Am I hurting you?”

“Not really. My breasts are sensitive, but good sensitive if you know what I mean.”

“Not even a little, but if it feels good that's all that matters.”

“It feels wonderful.”

Chase pulled Emma up and over the small console that
separated the two seats so she sat on his lap, facing him, her legs parted and resting on either side of his. The flowing silk of her skirt rode high on her thighs. Her blouse hung open and her sweet breasts trembled in front of him, just at kissing height. He took immediate advantage.

Her head fell back and another moan sighed from between her lips. He slipped a finger along her velvety inner thigh to the crotch of her panties and dipped inward. She instantly came apart in his hands. He didn't think he'd ever seen anything more glorious.

He started to reach for the zip of his trousers, then hesitated. Instead his hands slipped farther upward beneath her skirt and splayed across her abdomen. He found it almost impossible to believe that his child dwelled there, safe and snug, and not much larger than the lima bean it resembled.

Chase leaned in and pressed his mouth to the section of skirt covering their child. “Hey, bean,” he whispered.

The full ramifications hit him then and he closed his eyes and rested his head back against the leather seat. A baby. Dear God, a baby. He looked at Emma. Her mouth and cheeks were ripe with color, and passion glittered in those gorgeous forget-me-not eyes. Even knowing she carried his child, he still wanted to make love to her.

“I can't remember the last time I did this in a car,” he murmured.

“I can. Right here on my eighteenth birthday.” She winced, the memory causing the desire to leach from her. “Dear heavens, what in the world am I doing?”

“Making love,” he offered helpfully. Or maybe it was hopefully.

She pulled back and swept the edges of her blouse closed. “Making love. In a car in the middle of the day on top of Busted Bluff. Pregnant, no less.”

“Seems appropriate, don't you think?”

She laughed despite herself. “Not even a little,” she informed him with mock severity.

She scrambled off his lap and climbed over the console, back into the driver's seat, somehow still looking graceful and elegant in the process. He couldn't help but notice that her fingers trembled as she rehooked her bra and buttoned her blouse, tucking it into the waistband of her skirt. He also couldn't help but notice the glint of frustrated desire that remained in her eyes.

Before he could act on that desire, she glanced around. “What happened to your notebook and that little chart you drew for me?”

He released a gusty sigh. Time to throttle back. Both of them were far too old to be screwing around in a car. What if someone had driven by and seen them? A town this small, the news would have spread faster than wildfire whipped by a Santa Ana wind. “I tossed it in the back with your purse. Hang on.”

He leaned over the seat and shoved through the paraphernalia littering the floor from when he'd upended her purse. It took a minute before he unearthed the notepad. His BlackBerry was resting on top of it where it must have fallen out of his jacket and he grabbed that, as well, shoving it into his pocket. Emma leaned in and tapped the diagram he'd drawn.

“Okay, explain this to me.”

He pointed to the circle in the center of the page. “That's my mother, Penny Larson.”

“Your mom's a circle?”

“Actually, she's more of a free-form design, but circles and squares and the occasional triangle are the extent of my artistic ability.”

“Got it. So, go on, who's the big messy square?”

“My father.” His mouth tightened. “While working at Worth Industries, my mom met and had an affair with New York
über
-businessman Tiberius Barron—The Barron, as I tend to call him—who was in town working one of his mega-million-dollar deals with Ronald Worth. I was the result of their affair.”

“I've heard of Tiberius Barron. But then, who hasn't, right?” She waved her hand. “Go on.”