Expecting the CEO's Baby

Blanking out the image, he motioned to the hall entrance to guide her ahead of him. As they walked down the second-floor hall, Blake saw two other apartment doors were open—probably because of the problem with the air-conditioning. If there was a breeze, the residents were trying to pull it through.

An exotic-looking woman who appeared to be near forty came to the door when she saw Jenna pass. “Jenna,” she said fondly. Her hair was fixed on the top of her head with a yellow banana barrette, her cutoffs were short, and her stretch top barely contained her breasts.

Jenna greeted her neighbor with a smile and a wave. “Hi, Ramona. Staying cool?”

“I’ve been sharing Trina’s Popsicles. Want one?” The orange treat in question dripped onto her hand.

“No, thanks. I just want to get a cold shower and turn in.”

Blake asked, “Any word on when the air-conditioning will be fixed?”

Ramona looked him up and down appraisingly. Apparently liking what she saw, she smiled. “Not any time soon. The landlord said he’s waiting for a part. You know how that goes. By the way, Jenna, you have a visitor.”

Jenna stilled. “A visitor?”

“I didn’t want you to get a heart attack when you walked into your apartment. Your father’s there.”

“Do you know why?”

With a shrug, Ramona shook her head. “I dunno. When I saw him using his key, he just said something about not being able to get hold of you.”

Jenna looked chagrined. But then her expression eased again as she asked her neighbor, “Did he say anything about another counseling session?”

“No. I made sure he knew Joe was gone for good. I took Trina to church on Sunday and your dad seemed pleased. I owe him a lot. He wants Trina and me to stay safe. I want that, too.”

“You haven’t heard from Joe since you sent him packing, have you?”

“Nope. Word has it he’s in San Francisco. I don’t know why I let him treat me like I did. If it wasn’t for you sending me to your dad, I might have ended up with more than a few bruises.” As if she was embarrassed by her admission, she asked with a wink, “You been out on a date?”

Flustered, Jenna glanced at Blake. “Oh, no. No. Just business.”

“Uh-huh,” Ramona drawled with a wicked smile. “Looks to me, you know how to pick ’em.”

When Jenna turned beet red, Blake felt sorry for her. “Business” didn’t quite cover why he was here. Still, he rescued her. “Maybe we’d better see what your father wants.” He was curious about Jenna’s father and welcomed the opportunity to meet him.

Obviously relieved by his cue, Jenna said to her neighbor, “Give Trina a good-night kiss for me.”

“Will do.” Ramona was still smiling as she turned and went back into her apartment.

“She’s a friend of yours?” Blake asked, surprised.

“Ramona’s been terrific. I’ve had morning sickness on and off throughout the pregnancy. When she doesn’t hear me up and about, she knocks on the bathroom wall. It’s thin and we can talk through it. She can check on me that way.”

“Her husband was violent?”

“Joe was her boyfriend. Whenever he got drunk…” Jenna shook her head. “It was a bad situation. But after dad counseled her, she finally did what she had to do to protect her daughter.”

As Blake and Jenna stood outside her apartment door, he asked, “Why would your father be here?”

“He probably just wants to make sure I’m all right.”

Blake could certainly understand that feeling. He’d felt protective about Jenna as soon as he learned she was carrying his baby.

The table lamp beside the sofa was glowing when they stepped inside her apartment.

Jenna’s father eyed Blake suspiciously as he stood and approached her. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick.”

Glancing at Blake, she looked embarrassed. “I spent the afternoon with Mr. Winston.” She motioned toward him. “Blake, this is my father, Reverend Charles Seabring.”

Reverend Seabring looked Blake up and down again. “I’ve seen your picture in the paper, haven’t I? You own a security company and have very…” He hesitated, then continued, “Important clients.”

Unfortunately, Blake often did make the newspapers, usually coming away from a charity event with a tall blonde on his arm. He knew he had a reputation for being a jet-setting bachelor who never intended to settle down. That image hadn’t bothered him before. Now he knew the reverend would disapprove of any time his daughter might spend with Blake. “My company’s based in Sacramento and, yes, sometimes I am in the papers. I understand you’re a minister?”

“Yes, I am. I should be preparing my sermon for Sunday, but I was too distracted by visions of my daughter lying in a ditch somewhere. Why didn’t you answer your cell phone?”

Squaring her shoulders, she stood up to him. “Because I didn’t have it with me. I forgot to charge it last night and I was in a hurry when I left today.”

“I got that phone for you so you’d have it in an emergency. That means you have to keep it with you.”

Apparently Jenna had had enough of her father’s protective streak. Spots of color appeared on her cheeks. “I’m twenty-six, Dad. You told me that cell phone was a gift and that’s why I took it. But if it comes with strings, you can have it back. I’m not going to report in to you three times a day.”

Her father ran his hand through his thinning and graying brown hair and finally smiled. “I suppose once a day is too much to ask?”

Her expression softened. “Once a day is fine. I would have called you within the next half hour.”

Charles peered at Blake with a penetrating gaze that Blake recognized. Danielle Howard’s father had looked at him in just the same way with a mixture of fatherly disapproval and righteousness that still angered him.

“I suppose your evening with Mr. Winston isn’t over yet?” he asked Jenna.

“We have a few things to discuss,” she replied softly.

Blake could see Charles Seabring was dying to ask what, but he didn’t. Blake was sure if Jenna had been a few years younger, he would be the one who was leaving first.

“I see,” Seabring said. “Will you stop by the parsonage tomorrow?”

“I told you I would. Shirley’s going to go over everything with me so I’ll know what to do when she leaves. I’ll stop in for breakfast with you and Gary first. All right?”

Her father nodded. “I’ll tell Shirley to make those apple pancakes you like so much. Eight-thirty too early for you?”

“Eight-thirty’s fine.” Jenna walked her father to the door, and at the threshold she gave him a kiss on the cheek. When he didn’t hug her as most fathers would have, Blake decided that the minister wasn’t a demonstrative man.

Two minutes later, Jenna had closed the door and leaned against it, sighing heavily.

“Those apple pancakes come with a price, I bet,” Blake remarked. “Your father’s going to give you the third degree tomorrow, isn’t he?”

“Most likely.”

She looked so troubled, Blake wanted to take her hand. Vetoing that thought, he asked, “Does he know this baby isn’t your husband’s?” He didn’t like using that term, but he didn’t know what else to say.