Covert Conception

Natalie repeated her mother’s name under her breath. “Give me a few minutes to compose myself, and then let’s have that chat with her.”

Definitely.

And he prayed that Macy would have answers.

“YOU WON’T be able to see your mother this evening. She’s had a difficult day, and I don’t want her disturbed.”

Natalie stared at her mother’s personal assistant, Troy Jackson, as he delivered his message. Troy, the blond, blue-eyed, beefcake pretty boy, was doing his best to block the front door so that Natalie and Rick couldn’t enter.

No amount of blocking would work this evening. Rick rolled his eyes and just muscled Troy aside.

Troy might have a weightlifter’s body, but Natalie figured he was essentially a wimp and wouldn’t attempt to take on Rick. She didn’t blame Troy. With Rick’s fierce expression and don’t-mess-with-me demeanor, it was clear he meant business.

So did she.

Natalie was tired of having lost control over her life. She was tired of having things happen that didn’t make sense. She was especially tired of not having a logical explanation for what had happened. Only after Rick and she got that explanation would they be able to figure out what their course of action might be.

“You tell Macy that we have to speak to her,” Rick called out as Troy barreled up the stairs—probably to tattle to Macy that they’d barged their way in. “If she’s too tired or upset to come down, we’re coming up. Because one way or another, we’re talking to her tonight.”

Rick was obviously so furious that Natalie considered trying to calm him down. But she wasn’t in a calming-down sort of mood herself. She was pregnant, and someone either wanted to scare her, torment her or kill her. And it was entirely possible her mother could give them some clues as to why this was happening.

Nope.

There’d be no calming down, and this conversation was going to take place.

“Are you sure you’re up to this?” Rick asked.

She glanced at him and saw that he was watching her. Studying her, really. Probably because she didn’t look too steady. “Trust me, I’m up to it.”

“Because if you’re not, I can do this alone.” His attention drifted down to her stomach.

Oh.

She understood then.

Rick was questioning her delicate condition. Not a bad term for it, either. She did feel delicate. Fragile. Dazed. And confused. But fortunately, the need for answers outweighed the early symptoms of pregnancy and the adrenaline fatigue caused by the incident with the SUV.

“I could do this alone as well,” she countered.

But the sudden steel in Rick’s jaw let her know that he was staying put.

That didn’t surprise her. Rick was the sort of take-charge man who was rock-solid in a crisis. He would indeed stay put and stand by her.

For how long though?

That was a sobering question. Natalie would have preferred someone else’s help—anyone else’s—but she had to admit that Rick had a vested interest in this.

He was the baby’s father.

Just thinking about that little fact caused Natalie’s stomach to sink. Fate certainly had a strange sense of humor.

“You need to sit down,” she heard Rick insist. But he didn’t just insist, he caught onto her arm and led her into the adjacent living room.

Natalie nearly protested the kid-glove treatment, but she quickly realized it was necessary. She was indeed dizzy, and Rick had no doubt noticed that she wasn’t too steady on her feet. He plopped her down on the sofa and went to the bar to pour her a glass of water.

She took the water from him, meeting his gaze over the top of the cut-crystal glass. “Thank you.”

Before Natalie said that last part, he’d looked ready for battle, but the steel in his jaw softened a bit, and after a heavy sigh, he eased down on the granite coffee table across from her. “I don’t want you to worry,” he said. “I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

She believed him. However, Natalie believed in her abilities as well. They would get to the bottom of it. But that wouldn’t change one vital point.

“No matter who’s responsible, I’m still four weeks pregnant.”

“I know.” He groaned and scrubbed his hand over his face. “I can’t go back and change that. Sorry.”

He was sincere. Natalie didn’t doubt that. She also didn’t doubt that this was as much of a life-changing experience for him as it was for her. Which led her to the next question.

What were they going to do about the baby?

It wasn’t as if they were a couple. They could barely tolerate being in the same room with each other.

Well, that wasn’t exactly true at the moment.

They were in the same room together. On the same side, so to speak. With a huge shared concern.

Their baby.

Even though she couldn’t recall the sex that had created the child, the pregnancy itself created a new sort of intimacy between them. An intimacy that she was certain neither of them was prepared to deal with.

“What are the odds?” Rick asked. He didn’t wait for her to ask what he meant. “That we’d have drugged sex at the very time you’d be ovulating?”

Natalie had already been through this during her frantic pregnancy tests and trips to the doctor. Unfortunately, that little detail only made all of this seem more sinister. Had someone planned that, too? Other than herself, there weren’t a lot of people who knew about the timing of her menstrual cycle. Kitt, maybe.

Perhaps even Macy.

Rick opened his mouth. Closed it. And it seemed as if he changed his mind a dozen times about what he wanted to say. “Will you, uh, keep the baby?”

“Yes.” Natalie answered so quickly that he probably believed she’d given it no thought. She had. Plenty of it. “Call it my personal beliefs, whatever, but this child is mine… Ours,” she corrected. “I’ll definitely keep it.”

Though that ours had not come easily.

It might take her a lifetime to begin to feel comfortable including Rick in any part of her life. Still, that discomfort didn’t extend to the baby. Now that she was beginning to come to terms with the fact that she was indeed pregnant, she had also come to realize that she would love this child no matter how it had been conceived.

Rick nodded, but she couldn’t tell if that was a nod of approval or if he simply didn’t know how else to react. She didn’t have time to ask because Natalie heard footsteps. Macy’s footsteps, no doubt. Caused by a pair of ridiculously high spike heels coming down the staircase.

Natalie set her water glass aside and watched her mother make her way from the foyer and into the room. Macy didn’t seem too steady on her feet, perhaps because of the heels. The footwear complimented her outfit: a short, slim lipstick-red dress that would have been more appropriate for a college student on a date than for a fifty-two-year-old woman. Not that Macy looked her age. Far from it. Of course, at least a half dozen cosmetic surgeries and a pampered lifestyle were responsible for that.

“Rick. Natalie,” Macy greeted. But it wasn’t much of a greeting. As Macy walked closer, Natalie could see that her mother’s eyes were red, and her mascara was smeared as if she’d been crying. The extra proof of that was the wadded-up handkerchief she held in her right hand.