Her Baby's Father

“So…” He leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms over his well-developed chest and waited.

“So?”

“Why are you pale? Having second thoughts?”

She should have known he’d come back to the heart of the matter. He wasn’t the type to give up. Why couldn’t he be? This interview process would be so much better if she’d been able to control the reporter. If he’d been the kind of guy she could distract with her legs or a bit of cleavage. Okay, that wasn’t the best way to operate, but it worked. Men usually were easily distracted by her looks, but not this guy.

His gaze probed hers, and irrationally she thought he might have read her thoughts. Might have ascertained that she’d been thinking of lying. Don’t lie, she thought. Honesty is always better, even when it’s painful.

“Second and third and fourth thoughts,” she said.

“And?”

“It always comes back to wanting a baby more than anything else.”

“Anything?”

She felt his gaze slip over her body and her nerve endings tingled. No, there were other things she wanted. But the baby was the safest thing to discuss with him.

“Yes,” she said, and the word sounded weak to her ears.

“More than a man in your life?”

“Yes,” she said a little stronger.

“More than—”

“Yes, I want a baby—a family—more than anything else in this world.”

“Very well. Then stop having doubts.”

“It’s not that easy,” she said.

His eyes shuttered. “I know.”

Sabrina stared at him. She’d taken him at face value and never wondered if anything kept him up at night, if demons crept out from his past and haunted him. But she saw now that they did.

The happy gurgle of a child’s laugh drew her attention. A mother and baby walking past the café had stopped. The mother bent double to her child, tied his shoe and tickled the precious, fat little leg. A wave of envy swept through her. She wanted to be that woman so badly her heart felt like it skipped a beat.

Tears stung her eyes before she could cover her face with her hands. She no longer saw the small child in the stroller, but the unborn child she’d miscarried at nineteen. A baby whom she’d wanted badly, but through her own carelessness had lost.

She started to cry in earnest. Reese placed his hands on her shoulders and kneaded deeply, trying in vain to relax her. She had to get away. To escape from the pressure she’d invited by agreeing to these interviews. She’d thought she’d gotten past her guilt and the anger and fear. Obviously she hadn’t.

Reese tugged her to her feet, wrapped his arms around her and rocked gently. Why was he doing everything she’d always dreamed a man could do? Why was he fulfilling her fantasies of Mr. Right when she knew he wasn’t even close to being that mythical man?

“Don’t worry. Fears are natural in first-time mothers. You’ll be a great mom.”

His words made her feel worse. How could she be? Yet it was what she wanted. It was her secret dream. The one that made her save her money and sit home nights instead of going out with her friends. The one that made her work two jobs and hoard her money like a miser. The one that had shaped who she was so completely that without it she was afraid she wouldn’t exist.

“How do you know?” she asked.

“My secretary had the same reactions when she first learned she was pregnant.”

“How did she deal with it?”

“That’s where a man comes in handy. Her husband distracted her.”

“How?” she asked. Reese Howard was a nice man, she thought.

“Well, let’s just say she wouldn’t give me all the details.”

“Oh.” She hated the out-of-control feelings coursing through her.

“I have an idea. Why don’t we take my boat out on the bay and forget about this story for the afternoon.”

It sounded like paradise. And his arms around her felt forbidden. “I don’t know.”

“Come on. Pretend we’re friends.”

She didn’t want to pretend. She wanted a real friendship with Reese, but knew that could never happen. He had a job to do and she was the job. “I don’t have any male friends.”

“You do now.”

A sense of rightness assailed her. For the first time since her parents’ deaths she didn’t feel alone.

Three

Reese knew there were certain things in life that couldn’t be measured. The hours he spent on the Time Lapse were one of those things. His thirty-foot sailing yacht was his baby. His car was older and needed a paint job. His house was nice and had a great view of the bay, but he could afford better. His boat was in mint condition. There was no nicer sailing vessel in the marina. He spared no expense when it came to the Time Lapse.

The time he spent on the boat worked to counteract the stress of working fourteen-hour days—simply thinking about the boat soothed him. Now that he had left Los Angeles for Sausalito, he spent as much time in the marina and on his yacht as he could spare.

He didn’t know what had upset Sabrina. He only knew that he wanted to soothe her. He wanted to bring her closer to him, to bridge the gap she’d put between them when she’d seen the mother and child. He wanted to take her to some place private to explore her depths, and not just for his articles.

He motored out of the marina and headed for the bay. From her seat on the deck Sabrina watched him. Though her large designer glasses covered her eyes, he felt her gaze on him as he steered the boat. When they passed the last buoy and entered the bay, he throttled down and lifted the sails.

The work was hot and the sun burned through the layers of cotton and denim. He wanted to strip naked, to be at one with the elements, but he wasn’t alone. And he didn’t think the lady would appreciate an elemental male basking in his testosterone.

He removed his shirt and tossed it under his seat. He heard her breath catch and cursed silently. He’d forgotten about the old scars. Not totally forgotten, of course, they were a constant reminder of the past. It was simply that being at sea had lulled him. He pulled his shirt back out and put it on.

He motioned for Sabrina to join him. She moved slowly, as if unsure. Reese couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t been at home on the water. He crossed to her and guided her to the steering wheel.

“Reese—”

“Ever been on a boat before?” he asked, cutting her off. He wasn’t answering any personal questions. This was his interview. And it was just an interview, he reminded himself again. She wasn’t a woman he could seduce into his bed, no matter how badly he wanted her there. And he wanted her in his bed very badly.

“No,” she said.

Her hair whipped in the wind like living silk. If he leaned closer it would surround him. For a minute he was tempted to do just that.