Expecting the CEO's Baby

“Not yet. I’m still trying to absorb it. Dad was so against the insemination in the first place. This is going to really throw him.” She shook her head. “I’m afraid it will put more distance between us.”

“Has the distance always been there?” Blake asked gently. He thought about his own father, the distance between them. After his mother’s death when Blake was twelve, his dad had pulled away from life and drowned his grief in a bottle of gin. Then, Blake hadn’t understood his father’s self-pity and sadness. He himself had dealt with the grief by playing sports harder, boxing a friend’s punching bag and studying late into the night. He and his dad had grown farther and farther apart. Everything had been unsaid for years…so much that should have been said before his father committed suicide. If they’d been able to talk…if Blake had stayed in Fawn Grove and made his father get help…or if he’d returned sooner…

“I can’t remember if Dad was different before my mother died,” Jenna answered, pulling Blake back to the here and now. “I seem to remember that he was warmer, not so serious. But afterward, it was as if he pulled the shutters closed and turned inward. And after we moved here…”

“Why did your dad move here?”

“He said he wanted Gary and me to grow up away from hustle and bustle of city life. He was pastor of a much larger congregation in Pasadena.”

When she came closer to Blake, she apologized, “I’m sorry if he was a bit rude to you. I didn’t know quite how to handle our being together today. He’s never seen me with any man but B.J. And it’s not as if we are together.”

She was enchantingly shy and altogether out of her depth. This time he did take her hand. “Jenna, I know we really haven’t worked out anything today. But I’d like you to think about joint custody.”

He saw the anguish on her face at the thought of not having her baby all the time, and he knew the same turmoil. If he was going to be a father, he really wanted to be a father twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. He’d never been committed to anything but his work, yet now he wanted to be committed to this baby. Everything he’d always worked for suddenly seemed to have a purpose.

“There isn’t going to be an easy solution to this, and I think you know that. So think about joint custody, all right?” he suggested again.

When she nodded, he could see how tormented she was by the idea, but he couldn’t do anything about that.

After she walked him to the door, they stood there in silence. He didn’t really want to go, but he knew he didn’t have a good reason to stay. “I’ll call you.” Taking a business card from the pocket of his slacks, he handed it to her. “Or you can call me. The cell phone number will get you through immediately. I never turn it off.”

She gave him a weak little smile. “Or let it go uncharged.”

He grinned. “Once in a while I forget.”

“I think you’re just trying to make me feel better. You’re the kind of man who never forgets anything,” she murmured.

“One afternoon and you think you have a handle on my character?” He was partly joking, partly serious.

“I don’t know about a handle on your character, but I think I’ve gotten to know a few things about you just as you’ve gotten to know a few things about me—a lot more about me. Rafe’s not going to be happy about that.”

“We have to find a way clear for us that’s going to be good for this baby, no matter what Pierson or my lawyer think.”

“I know that,” she said. “You should have my cell phone number, too.”

“Tell me. I’ll remember it.”

Jenna’s forehead was damp from the heat, her cheeks still rosy as she rattled it off, and he committed it to memory. His physical response to her wasn’t anything he understood. Maybe away from her he could figure it out.

Opening the door, he asked, “When are you going to tell your father about this?”

“When the time is right.”

Gazing into her velvety brown eyes, he wondered how she was going to know. He wanted to take the kiss he hadn’t taken on the boat. He wanted to hold her and let her rest her head against his shoulder. He wanted his child…and that might or might not have anything to do with Jenna.

“Take care of yourself,” he said, his voice husky.

Then he left, before needing and wanting and longing took him back more years than he wanted to count.

When Jenna let herself in the back door of the parsonage the following morning, it was a little after eight and Shirley was already busy in the kitchen. Her father’s secretary and housekeeper was in her late fifties. Her black hair was streaked with gray now and cut in a short hairdo that looked easy to maintain. She wore navy slacks and a paisley blouse this morning with an apron tied around her waist.

“It smells good in here,” Jenna said. The back screen door closed behind her.

“I’m so glad you’re joining your dad for breakfast. He’s on the phone in his office. I’m not sure Gary’s up yet.”

Jenna suspected Shirley had had feelings for her father for many years. But she never let them show, and Jenna didn’t even know for sure if her dad had noticed his secretary was interested in him. “As soon as Gary smells food, he’ll be here.”

Shirley laughed. “You’re right about that. How are you feeling?”

“I’m still having trouble with the nausea now and then, but other than that, I’m feeling great.”

Gary came into the kitchen then, dressed in jeans and a red T-shirt, his dark brown hair tousled as if he hadn’t combed it. “Hey, sis. I didn’t know you were coming to breakfast. What’s the special occasion?”

“No special occasion. I just thought I’d take advantage of Shirley’s cooking before she leaves for a few days.”

“I forgot about that. Dad and I are going to be eating a lot of fast food.”

“I’ve put enough casseroles in the freezer to last until Tuesday. You won’t starve. In fact, I doubt if your father will even miss me.”

Jenna wondered if Gary heard the wistfulness in Shirley’s voice, too.

Her brother was already pouring himself a glass of juice. “Are you still going to help me with that video project tonight?” he asked Jenna.

Picking that moment to walk into the kitchen, their father asked, “What video project?”

Gary’s goal in life was to become a movie director. Their dad disapproved of the idea and did everything he could to squelch it. But Gary had boundless enthusiasm when it came to using a secondhand camcorder he’d saved for and bought when he was ten.

“It’s for that extra class I’m taking this summer,” he said patiently.

“I thought you were taking a history course.”

“It is. I can do a paper or something more innovative on the history of Fawn Grove. I’m going to do a video. But I want to brainstorm with Jenna for the best ideas for scenes. It sure beats doing a research paper.”

Her father sat down at the head of the table.

“I can use this video when I apply to film school,” Gary added, as if testing the water again on the subject.

“You’re not applying to film school. We’ve discussed this.”

“No, we haven’t discussed it. You told me what you thought. You didn’t listen to what I thought.”

Though Jenna gave Gary a warning glance, he didn’t heed it. “So what time tonight, sis?”

“You have to trim the hedge,” her father reminded his son.

“What time do you get off work today?” Jenna asked gently. Her brother was working at the local grocery store for the summer.

“I’ll be off at five-thirty, but till I do the trimming, take a shower, get something to eat…”