For Their Baby

Everyone except Kitty Hemmings and David Gerard, apparently. She’d seen the shock in his eyes when she announced that she was pregnant. And then she’d seen the cynicism, the disdain, the quick up-and-down glance that said he thought she was lying.

If only she were.

The last thing in the world she wanted was to have a baby right now. With her life so up in the air, no roots under her feet. With a man she barely knew. A man who thought she was, at best, a little island tramp and, at worst, a sociopathic gold digger.

But she was going to have a baby, and it was his, and he’d have to come to terms with the idea, just as she’d had to.

The restaurant door opened, letting in a long rectangle of light briefly, then shutting it out again as it closed. David was here.

Her heart lurched a little, partly fear, partly just the same reaction any female would have to someone that good-looking. And of course he’d brought the tallest, best-dressed lawyer in San Francisco, doubling the intimidation factor.

She held up a hand to help them find her, although she knew her green hair was as good as a neon sign. David glanced at the other man, who slowly nodded, his gaze piercing even from ten yards away.

She felt a blush creep over her cheeks.

Temper, temper. Getting mad at David wasn’t just counterproductive—it was unfair. He hadn’t forced her to have sex that night. Far from it. She was honest enough to admit it had been entirely her idea.

And he certainly hadn’t poked holes into the condom. He was just as shocked and confused as she’d been when she found out a couple of weeks ago. By bringing a lawyer, he clearly just intended to protect himself. What was wrong with that?

In the end, wasn’t that what she was doing, too? The only difference was, she was also protecting her child.

“Kitty.” He had reached the table, and managed to summon up a smile. That was nice, anyhow.

“David.” She didn’t rise or hold out her hand because it felt wrong. Everything about this meeting felt wrong.

“Kitty, this is my attorney and friend, Colby Malone. He’s advising me today.”

Malone didn’t seem to have any scruples about the standard courtesies. He probably dealt with awkward situations every day. He held out his hand with such authority it didn’t occur to her not to take it. “Hello, Ms. Hemmings. I hope you don’t mind if I sit in on the meeting.”

She shook her head. “No, of course not. Whatever.”

Both men sat, and Kitty shifted her glass over, just for something to do with her hands. What a pair. Their pictures were probably in the dictionary, illustrating the phrase “looks like a million bucks.”

Malone smiled at her, his eyes cool but kind. “Ms. Hemmings, David is—”

“No.” David lifted his palm. “Colby, thanks, but…let me.”

Malone hesitated briefly, then leaned back in his chair, putting his elbows on the padded arms to signal his easy agreement. “Of course. Sorry.”

David cleared his throat, then began.

“Kitty, I—”

The waitress, of course, took that moment to come by. The men ignored the woman’s flirtatious blinks and calmly ordered coffee. Kitty decided to get an order of unbuttered toast. For the past few weeks, her stomach had been unsteady, not just in the mornings and not just when she was arranging the future of her unborn child. She’d always heard what a tough time her mother had with pregnancy, and apparently she’d inherited the problem.

In fact, it was when she puked on Sugarwater’s best beach bar customer that she’d lost her job.

“Kitty.” David turned to her one more time. “I want you to know, right from the beginning, that if this baby is mine I don’t intend to shirk responsibility.”

She pressed her hands together in her lap. “If?”

David was careful not to glance at Malone, though Kitty could see that the other lawyer was listening very carefully to this part. He looked as serene as ever, but Kitty could sense the spiked awareness. He was ready to intervene should David utter a syllable that wasn’t in the script.

“I have to assume you’ve come to me because you’re looking for some kind of financial commitment. And if the baby is mine, you’ll get one. I don’t walk away from my mistakes. But first I’m going to need indisputable proof that this is my mistake.”

Malone’s eyes flickered. He might as well have groaned out loud. He obviously knew, even if David didn’t, how damned rude that sounded.

She felt her throat tightening. “No, David. First you need to wrap your mind around the idea that this is a child, not a mistake. And then, you need to take your legalese baloney and—”

“Ms. Hemmings.” Malone smiled again. “I think what David is trying to say—”

“I know what he’s trying to say. He’s trying to say I’m such a tramp the baby could be anyone’s. But I’m not, and it isn’t.” She looked at David. “Unless…you don’t have me mixed up with Jill, do you? I was the first one.”

Neither man looked surprised. That hurt, because it killed her last real hope that Jill had been lying when she said she’d gone to see David after Kitty left. It destroyed the illusion that David hadn’t really slept with Jill, too, as if he’d booked a room at an amusement park of sex.

But he wasn’t even trying to deny that there had been a second whirl on the roller coaster that night. Her heart hardened a little, processing its disappointment.

The unruffled demeanor of both men also answered another question: whether David had shared all the dirty details with Malone. She wondered when David had told him. Just today, to prepare for the meeting with her? Or eight weeks ago, when David had arrived home from the Bahamas with a good tan and a great locker-room story?

“I’m perfectly clear about the two of you,” David answered coldly. “But I have no idea what you might have done before that night, or in the eight weeks since.”

She scowled, then leaned forward, her mouth open, her cheeks as hot as if he’d held a match to them. “I don’t—”

“Kitty, listen,” David said, forestalling her. “I can understand why you might think I’m a fool, because I certainly acted like one in the Bahamas. But I’m not. Before I accept…” He stopped, and for the first time he looked uncertain. “I need to establish beyond a doubt that the child is mine.”

Suddenly she was precariously close to tears. Damn these hormones. She blinked hard and narrowed her eyes.

“Well, we’d better find a way to establish that in a hurry. I lost my job because of this pregnancy, although of course they cooked up some other excuse. And I don’t have insurance. This pregnancy isn’t going to be easy. I’m Rh negative, but you’re probably not, which is a problem. My mother had two miscarriages, and my family has seen three sets of twins in the past three generations. I’m not a high-risk pregnancy, but it’s not exactly a cakewalk, either. So if you think I’m going to see some quack at some third-rate charity clinic, where God only knows—”

“Hey.” He put his hand over hers. It was the first physical contact since that night, and even through her anger she sensed the warm sizzle of skin against skin. She moved her hand up onto the table. She didn’t want his pity pats.

“Kitty, please,” he said. “Relax. It’s absurd for us to—”

She lifted her chin. “Too late,” she said. “This whole thing is absurd, and believe me, I know it. But, still, here it is.”

David shook his head, as if he didn’t quite know what to do with such an emotional female. Well, let him try being pregnant. Let him try being jobless and homeless, and counting pennies, and waking up in the night doubting yourself, wondering if your own child would be better off adopted…

“There’s a test we can have done right away,” he said.

She frowned. “It’s too early for an amniocentesis.”

“I know, but—”

Everyone fell silent as the waitress set down coffee and toast. Great. The kitchen had buttered the toast, though Kitty had made a point of asking for it dry. Little greasy yellow puddles glistened on the brown surface. Nausea twisted Kitty’s stomach. She swallowed hard and pushed the toast to the side, out of sight behind the silver coffee carafe.

When they were alone again, Malone took over, as if handling Kitty were a relay race, and the baton had been passed to give David a rest.

“The test David’s referring to is called CVS, which stands for Chorionic Villus Sampling. It’s quick—a week, maybe ten days at most for the results. If it’s done properly, through an obstetrician we mutually agree upon, David will accept the results as definitive.”