His Black Sheep Bride (13 page)

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Authors: Anna DePalo

BOOK: His Black Sheep Bride
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And yet…and yet a part of her was terrified.

What would Sawyer's reaction to her pregnancy be? Surprise? Shock? Withdrawal?

Her arrangement with Sawyer was supposed to get her business off the ground. A baby wasn't part of the deal. She knew the reason why Sawyer had married her, and it wasn't so the two of them could have a happily-ever-after.

These past weeks as Sawyer's wife had been pleasurable—she couldn't deny it. But Sawyer had never so much as hinted
their sleeping together was anything more than a nice little dividend to their arrangement. He'd never said he loved her.

She felt a pang.

We'll work it out.

Sawyer's words came back to her.

Unexpectedly, he had a chance to make good on his promise. She prayed that his reaction would be all she hoped for and more.

But first, she had to tell him her news.

Tamara checked her watch. It was six in the evening, but she knew Sawyer would still be at his office. He'd told her that he had a late meeting.

Tamara wandered out of the bathroom and into the bedroom that she and Sawyer shared. First, she called her ob-gyn's office to schedule an appointment.

Then she paced. She could wait until Sawyer arrived home, trying to tame her restlessness until then, or she could try to intercept him at work. With any luck, she'd arrive at Melton Media when his meeting was over, or just a little before.

Impulsively, she grabbed her purse from where she'd dropped it on a nearby chair and hurried out of the bedroom. When she reached the town house foyer, she asked Lloyd, who happened to be around to drive her to Melton Media.

Within the hour, she was at Sawyer's offices. Building security recognized her as the new Countess of Melton and waved her by without the need to check in.

She rode the elevator up, and when she reached Sawyer's executive floor, she crossed the reception area, her footsteps muffled by carpeting.

Sawyer's office door was half-open, but just as she was about to peek inside, she froze at the sound of her father's voice coming from within.

“I'm glad to hear most of the due diligence has been completed,” her father said.

“My attorneys have said the merger documents will be
ready for our review in the next couple of weeks,” Sawyer responded. “Then we can pick a closing date.”

Tamara could see neither man from her vantage point, but their words reached her distinctly.

“Splendid,” her father replied. “Of course, the deal won't close until I know that you've upheld your part of the bargain and gotten Tamara pregnant.”

Tamara sucked in a breath.

“Naturally,” Sawyer responded, his tone dry but easy.

She was suspended by shock and disbelief for several moments before realization sunk in, followed by hurt and anger.

She felt as if a boulder had come crashing down on her spirit…and her heart.

The villain.

The double-dealing toad.

She flattened one hand against the office door, pushed and walked inside.

Sawyer's gaze immediately connected with hers from where he sat behind his desk. He rose at the same time that her father swung around in his chair.

Tamara could tell from Sawyer's expression that he'd understood everything about her sudden appearance. “Tamara—”

“I see I've come at an inconvenient time,” she announced, ignoring Sawyer's warning tone.

How dare he warn her. If anything, he was the one who needed to be cautious given how she was feeling at the moment.

Her father belatedly stood, too. “Now, Tamara, I don't know what you heard…”

She held up a silencing hand. “Enough to know that you'll never change. It's Kincaid News you're concerned about first and foremost, isn't it? And it always will be.”

Her tone was bitter, but her true rancor was directed at Sawyer, whose face was inscrutable.

“Tell me,” she said, willing her voice not to waver as she lowered her hand to clench it at her side, “was any of it real? Or were you faking the emotion even when you slept with me?”

You're beautiful.

He'd seduced her. And she'd fallen for it.
For him.

Her heart squeezed.

She might not be an ingénue like her mother had been, but she'd nevertheless let herself be swept away by flattery and pretty words.

Her father cleared his throat, his expression grim. “I will leave you and Sawyer to discuss this matter between yourselves.”

“Isn't it a little late to decide to stop meddling?” she tossed out as her father made his way to the door.

“Where I come from,” her father responded, turning back, “it's called looking out for one's interests, and it's gotten me to where I am, though you and your sisters stubbornly refuse to recognize it.”

“I hardly have a choice about recognizing it in this case, do I?” she retorted. “You and your—” she glared at Sawyer “—ilk have seen to it.”

Silence reigned then as her father exited the office.

When she heard the office door click, she swung back to face Sawyer.

“All this time I thought you were deceiving my father,” she charged, “but I was the one that you were keeping in the dark about the truth, wasn't I?”

Sawyer looked implacable, his eyes flinty. “I was aboveboard with you that day at your loft when I suggested a marriage of convenience. It was only later that Kincaid attached another condition to the merger—”

“And you agreed!”

She took his silence for an admission of the truth.

“I thought you forgot to think about contraception because you were swept up in the moment,” she accused. “But you didn't forget, did you? You intentionally didn't ask!”

She'd
been swept up in the moment, while
he'd
been planning his next move with the deliberation of a chess master.

The realization stung.

“I was nothing more than a pawn in your game,” Tamara said. “All of it was a lie.”

Sawyer's jaw set. “Is that what you think?”

“What else can I think? Are you going to deny you deliberately set out to sleep with me?”

“No, I'm not going to deny it.”

Tamara lowered her shoulders.
So.

“I'm not going to deny that I did everything in my power to get you into my bed because I desired you,” Sawyer said. “Because whenever I was around you, all I could think about was repeating that first kiss and then some. Because I couldn't get you out of my mind, and I didn't want to.”

She shivered, but then steeled herself against his words. Sawyer was an expert at seduction, she reminded herself.

“Why should I believe you?” she demanded. “Why shouldn't I think this is just another ploy to win? You'll do anything to get your hands on Kincaid News, won't you? You'd even seduce your rival's daughter. You're just as ruthless as my father.”

“These past few weeks, I'd do anything to get my hands on you,” Sawyer shot back, “and as far as I can tell, you felt likewise.”

“Yes,” she admitted, “and more fool me.”

Sawyer stepped toward her, but she raised a hand to ward him off. “Don't, please. There's nothing you can say to make this better for me.”

“Tamara—”

“It's over.”

Sawyer's tawny eyes kindled, and his stony facade finally cracked. “The devil it is.”

“Are you worried about your precious merger falling through?” she demanded accusingly.

“No, damn it,” Sawyer said with quiet force.

“I guess this is what they call a Pyrrhic victory,” she tossed back, and then spun on her heel and made for the door.

Sawyer didn't attempt to stop her, though some tiny irrational part of her hoped he would.

We'll work it out.

As she hurried to the elevator, she knew there wasn't any way to fix this situation.

Or her heart, either.

Thirteen

T
amara knew that returning to the town house wasn't an option. Instead, telling Lloyd, who was waiting for her outside Sawyer's offices, that she wouldn't need to be chauffeured, she hailed a cab and went straight from Sawyer's building to her SoHo loft.

Once there, she loosened the reins on her hurt and humiliation. Tears pricked her eyes.

What was she going to do?

She stared at the four walls around her. What had she given up to keep this? She'd made a devil's bargain, and now she was alone and pregnant.

She dropped her purse on the glass-topped table and covered her face with her hands.

She took several deep, steadying breaths.

She could handle this.
She could handle Sawyer.
She'd forged her own path in the world.

Dropping her hands, she waited a moment and then picked
up the phone. Pia and Belinda had always been there for her, and she knew they'd lend moral support now.

She tried Pia's number first, and felt some of her tension ebb when her friend picked up.

“Are you in Atlanta?” she asked after an exchange of greetings.

“No, back in New York,” Pia responded. “The Atlanta wedding was last weekend.”

“Well, I have some news to tell you, but first I'm going to conference in Belinda.”

“Okay,” Pia said, her tone suddenly curious.

When Tamara reached Belinda, she asked, “Where are you?”

“I'm at the airport. Newark, to be precise. I'm flying out to appraise some artwork.”

“I hope you and Pia are sitting down, because I have some news.” She paused and took a deep breath. “I'm pregnant.”

Pia and Belinda gasped.

“I knew this marriage of convenience with Sawyer was a bad idea!” Belinda said.

Tamara could only silently second that judgment.

“I should have known,” Belinda said darkly. “Sawyer is Colin's friend. Those aristocratic types make a woman do what she never dreamed of doing.”

Tamara wasn't sure which situation Belinda was talking about—hers or Tamara's own. Maybe both.

“At least I got off with an ill-advised elopement. But pregnancy!” Belinda sighed. “Oh, Tamara.”

Tamara imagined her friend chewing her lip, her brow puckered with concern—though Belinda was always warning that frowning caused wrinkles.

“What does Sawyer think?” Pia asked.

“I haven't told him.”

“You haven't told him?” Pia repeated.

“It's a good thing I don't often cross paths with Sawyer,”
Belinda said. “I'd hate to be in the position of keeping this from him.”

“Are you going to tell Sawyer?” Pia asked, going to the point. “Or should I say, when are you going to tell Sawyer?”

“I'd like to keep this news under wraps until there's no denying the obvious,” Tamara announced. “Aren't there celebrities who've hidden their pregnancies until the ninth month?”

She knew that despite everything, she was going to raise this baby. Her hurt and anger right now hadn't altered her feelings about the pregnancy.

“Wow,” Pia remarked. “How are you going to keep this, uh, development from Sawyer while you live with him?”

“Simple. I won't have to because I've left him.”

“What?
Why?

“Apparently, our marriage of convenience wasn't merely convenient,” she elaborated. “I was kept in the dark about the fact that Sawyer agreed to my father's condition of a grandchild, or at least a pregnancy, before the merger of Melton Media and Kincaid went through.”

For her friends benefit, she quickly outlined what had happened when she'd unexpectedly arrived at Sawyer's offices. Humiliating though it was, she divulged her discovery that Sawyer had agreed to seduce her for his own gain.

“You should have his head on a platter,” Belinda declared unequivocally when Tamara was done recounting what had happened.

Tamara couldn't agree more. “If only.”

“Maybe you and Sawyer can work it out,” Pia surprised her by saying. “You know, for the sake of the baby.”

“Stay married, you mean?” Tamara asked incredulously. “Are you joking?”

“I've see you two socialize since you've been married. You glow when you're around him.”

Pia's bald statement gave Tamara momentary pause, but everything inside her right now—anger, hurt, pain—made her rebel against it.

“Of course I glow,” Tamara responded. “It's what happens when my temper has been lit.”

“He can't take his eyes off you,” Pia said with quiet certainty. “Trust me. I've observed many couples.”

Pia was a romantic, Tamara reminded herself. “Sexual attraction, nothing more,” she said succinctly. “Where did I read about how much men think about sex?”

“Probably
Cosmo.

“Well, on at least one occasion, Sawyer more than thought about it,” Belinda quipped.

Tamara felt herself flush. “Yes, well…I'm swearing you both to secrecy.”

“Of course,” Belinda said. “And if there's anything I can do to help, all you have to do is ask. You know I'd help you and the baby any way I can.”

“I second that,” Pia said. “But Tamara, what are you going to do?”

It was, Tamara thought, the question of the hour. “Well, for starters, I refuse to be under the same roof as Sawyer,” she said. “I'm at the loft, and I'll be staying here for the time being.”

“And then?” Pia prompted.

And then…

She hadn't let herself think about it. Though after Sawyer's betrayal, they obviously couldn't continue on together.

Her heart constricted.

“I haven't thought through a plan yet,” Tamara admitted, “but Sawyer and I will go our separate ways. It's what we planned all along.”

Tamara knew the pain she felt was only a fraction of what she'd feel in the coming days, weeks…years even.

“I don't know,” Pia said doubtfully. “What is it you told Belinda recently—I don't see him going away quietly?”

 

It was closing in on nine in the evening when Sawyer let himself into the town house. Richard, his butler, had the evening off.

It was dark. Quiet. Unaccustomedly so.

He'd grown used to coming home to someone.

Tamara. His wife.

Except now she was gone.

He loosened his tie with one hand.

Tamara hadn't said anything about where she was going when she'd left his office. In New York, she could be any number of places. Hotels, sublets and short-term rentals abounded. She could also be staying with Belinda or Pia.

Damn.

Lloyd had phoned him soon after Tamara had left Sawyer's building, wanting to know if he should wait to drive Sawyer back to the town house.

After some questioning, Sawyer discovered Tamara had waved off the chauffeur as she'd exited his offices, stating that she preferred to take a cab to her next destination.

Sawyer could tell from Lloyd's tone that he was concerned something was amiss between his employers. Nevertheless, not caring that he'd be feeding Lloyd's suspicions, he'd instructed his chauffeur that he'd find his own way home.

Now he faced a house and a future without Tamara.

What a mess.

And most damningly of all, he'd had a hand in creating it.

He wasn't usually one to imbibe, but tonight he felt like drinking himself into a stupor.

His arrangement with Tamara had been for their mutual convenience, but it had become one for their mutual pleasure and enjoyment, as well.

At least, he'd thought so.

In fact, he'd begun to think he and Tamara should stay married. Things were working out well. It had been surprisingly easy to share a bed and a roof with her, which he'd never done with any other woman.

Why rush into a divorce? Instead, he'd begun to think they should take their time and see where things led.

But now, there'd be no wife and no baby.

Paradoxically, he felt the sting of loss for a child that had never come into being. His child and Tamara's.

Quite apart from his deal with Kincaid, Sawyer realized he'd been looking forward to having a child with Tamara—a little girl with her red hair and green eyes, or a child that blended both their features.

An image flashed through his mind of Tamara's face when she'd stepped into his office and interrupted his meeting with Kincaid.

Despite her charged words, she'd looked crushed.

Sawyer cursed under his breath.

He should never have agreed to Kincaid's secret condition. The only reason he had, he admitted to himself now, was because the idea of bedding Tamara had already begun to have irresistible appeal.

When he reached the library, he went straight to the wet bar and mixed himself a Manhattan. Maybe after a couple of drinks, he'd forget Tamara's devastated look in his office.

Sure enough, a couple of hours later, he was slumped in an armchair, sitting in the dark, his tie hanging loose around his neck. He was right where he wanted to be—well on the way to oblivion.

He felt a low, steady throb at his temples, and his gaze came to rest on the blinking light of his phone.

He stared unseeingly at it. He'd noticed the message signal earlier, but had ignored it. He didn't care who it was if it wasn't Tamara—and he knew the message wouldn't be from her.

Now, though, he was far gone enough, and idle enough, he just might believe in a snowball's chance in hell.

So languidly, he picked up the receiver.

After the standard automated voice intoned that the first message had been received at seven o'clock, Sawyer listened to the call.

“Mrs. Langsford, this is Alexis from Dr. Ellis's office,” a woman's voice said. “I'm sorry for the confusion, but I inadvertently scheduled you for a day that Dr. Ellis will not be in the office. Please call us to reschedule your obstetrical appointment.”

Even through his current haze, Sawyer stiffened, his senses going on alert.

If Tamara had an obstetrical appointment, then that meant…

Pregnant.

The call was either a mistake—had the woman meant to say gynecological appointment?—or Tamara was pregnant.

Sawyer grasped the arm of his leather chair as a mix of emotions roiled him. Shock was followed by exploding joy.

He was going to be a father.

And then his gut tightened and his next thought was,
Hell.
An unholy mess had just deepened into a life-altering event.

Tamara had known she was pregnant, and she hadn't told him. Had she meant to tell him tonight? Instead, she'd left him.

It's over.

His jaw tightened. Like hell.

 

In the process of fishing her keys out of her purse, Tamara looked up, saw him and froze.

Despite herself, longing and a sweet piercing pain shot through her.

Sawyer looked grim and uncompromising as he dropped
his folded arms and straightened from his position lounging against his car.

Rather than being dressed in a business suit, he was casual in a blue shirt and pants. He was unshaven, and pronounced creases bracketed his mouth.

Why hadn't she noticed him and the car before?

Her only excuse was that the sidewalk had been crowded with lunchtime traffic. People still walked rapidly in both directions, and the curb was congested with street peddlers.

But now, as if the crowd were parting before a mighty personage, he came toward her.

She muttered under her breath, and then fumbled and dropped her keys. She bent to retrieve them, but somehow he was there first.

“Allow me,” he said smoothly.

Sawyer picked up the keys from the ground and inserted the correct one in the front door of her building.

“After you,” Sawyer said, as he pushed the door open with one hand.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

She was the one who'd been wronged, she reminded herself, and yet he was turning the tables on her.

Sawyer quirked a brow and nodded around them. “Do you really want to have this conversation on a busy street?”

“You helm a media company. The last thing you'd want is a public scene.”

He smiled mirthlessly. “Try me. There's always a first time. And you'll find different rules apply to the boss.”

Her chin jutted out. “Pulling rank?”

“Pulling strings, if I have to,” he replied.

“Charming.”

“I'm glad you're still impressed by my charm, among my other sterling qualities.”

Abruptly, she turned, leaving him to follow her into the vestibule of her building.

“Pressing your case?” she tossed out as they crossed to the elevator and she jabbed a button. “I think we've said all there is to say.”

“Hardly,” he contradicted, his voice too close for comfort.

Out on the busy street, at least the forcefulness of Sawyer's presence had been muted by the crowd. Here in her building, though, she felt its full, unmitigated effect.

He was big and overpoweringly male, and despite herself, she felt a primitive awareness.

They rode up in the elevator in silence, and then he let them into her loft with her keys.

She should have bristled at his presumption, but the truth was, she admitted to herself with disheartening frankness, if not for Sawyer, Pink Teddy Designs would no longer even exist.

And yet, he didn't own
her.

She dropped her purse on her desk and turned to face him.

“I have to admit,” he said with unreassuring calm, “it didn't occur to me initially to look for you in the most obvious of places. You've surprised me.”

She felt her pulse thrum through her veins. “I'm not hiding, Sawyer. I just chose to leave you. Unlike you, I have nothing to hide.”

“Don't you?” he said, his facial features tightening, and anger lacing his soft words.

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