His Unexpected Heir

“I’m working,” she pointed out, waving her hand at the counter and customers behind her.

“Take a break.” Jack felt everyone watching them and an itch at the back of his neck urged him to get moving. But he was going nowhere without Rita. He needed some answers and he wasn’t going to be denied. She was here. She was pregnant. Judging by the size of her belly, he was guessing about six months pregnant. That meant they had to talk. Now.

She frowned a little and even the downturn of her mouth was sexy. Which told Jack he was walking into some serious trouble. But there was no way to avoid any of it.

While he stared at her, he could practically see the wheels turning in her brain. She didn’t like him telling her what to do, but she was so surprised to see him that she clearly wanted answers as badly as he did. She was smart, opinionated and had a temper, he recalled, that could blister paint. Just a few of the reasons that he’d once been crazy about her.

Coming to a decision, Rita called out, “Casey,” and a cute redhead behind the counter looked up. “I’m taking a break. Back in fifteen.”

“Right, boss,” the woman said and went right back to ringing up the latest customer.

“Might take more than fifteen,” he warned her even as she started past him toward the door.

“No, it won’t,” she said over her shoulder.

Whatever her original response to seeing him had been, she was cool and calm now, having no doubt figured out that he deliberately hadn’t contacted her when he got home. They’d talk about that, too. But not here.

People were watching. The redhead looked curious, but Jack didn’t give a damn. He caught up with Rita in two steps, took hold of her upper arm and steered her past the crowd and out the door. Once they were clear of the shop, though, Rita pulled free of his grip. “I can walk on my own, Jack.”

Without another word, she proved it, heading down the block toward the Seal Beach pier. The tree-lined street offered patches of shade and she moved from sunlight to shadow, her strides short, but sure.

He watched her for a couple of minutes, just to enjoy the view. She’d always had a world-class butt and damned if it wasn’t good to see it again. He’d forgotten how little she was. Not delicate, he told himself. Not by a long shot. The woman was fierce, which he liked and her temper was truly something to behold. But right now, it was his own temper he had to deal with. Why was she here? Why was she pregnant? And why the hell hadn’t he known about it?

His long legs covered the distance between them quickly, then he matched his stride to hers until they were stopped at a red light at Ocean Avenue. Across the street lay the beach, the ocean and the pier. Even from a distance, Jack could see surfers riding waves, fishermen dotting the pier and cyclists racing along the sidewalk.

While they waited for the light to change, he looked down at her, and inevitably, his gaze was drawn to the mound of her belly. His own insides jumped then fisted. Shoving one hand through his hair, he told himself he should have written to her as he’d said he would. Should have contacted her when he came home for good. But he’d been in a place where he hadn’t wanted to see anyone. Talk to anyone. Hell, even his family hadn’t been able to reach him.

“How long have you been home?” she asked, her voice nearly lost beneath the hum of traffic.

“Four months.”

She looked up at him and he read anger and sorrow, mingled into a dark mess that dimmed the golden light in those dark brown eyes. “Good to know.”

Before he could speak again the light changed and she stepped off the curb. Once again he took her arm and when she would have shaken him off, he firmly held on.

Once they crossed the street, she pulled away and he let her go, following after her as she stalked toward a small green park at the edge of a parking lot. Just beyond was a kids’ playground, and beside that, the pier that snaked out into the sea.

The wind whipped her ponytail and tugged at the edges of his suit jacket. She turned to look up at him and when she spoke, he heard both pain and temper in her voice.

“I thought you were dead.”

“Rita—”

“No.” She shook her head and held up one hand to keep him silent. “You let me think it,” she accused. “You told me you’d write to me. You didn’t. You’ve been home four months and never looked for me.”

Jack blew out a breath. “No, I didn’t.”

She rocked back on her heels as if he’d struck her. “Wow. You’re not even sorry, are you?”

His gaze fixed on hers. “No, I’m not. There are reasons for what I did.”

She folded her arms across her chest, unconsciously drawing his attention to her belly again. “Can’t wait to hear them.”

Two (#u9409c86c-b21e-52c5-98a5-86a8650e3065)

Rita was shaking.

Her hands clenched, she tried to ease her galloping heartbeat and steady her breathing. But just standing beside Jack Buchanan made that almost impossible. She slid a glance at him from beneath lowered lashes and her breath caught. Even in profile, he was almost too gorgeous. That black hair, longer now than it had been when they met, those ice-blue eyes, strong jaw, firm mouth, all came together until a knot of emotion settled in her throat, nearly choking her.

For one magical week six months ago, she had been in love and she’d thought he felt the same. Then he was gone, and she was alone, waiting for a letter that never came. So the last several months, Rita had been convinced he was dead. Killed in service on his last tour of duty. When they met, she knew he was a Marine on R and R. Knew that he would be returning to danger. But somehow, she’d convinced herself that he would be safe. That he would come back. To her.

He’d promised to write and when she didn’t hear from him, Rita had mourned him. She’d had to face the stark, shattering truth that he was never coming home again. That he’d made the ultimate sacrifice and everything they’d found together so briefly was over.

And now, he was here.

“How did you find me?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t. I was just walking down the street. Heard your laugh and it stopped me cold.”

Oh, God. Just an accident. A whim of Fate. He hadn’t been looking for her. Had probably forgotten all about her the moment he left her six months ago. And what had she done? Mourned. Grieved. The memory of that pain fueled her next words.

“I thought you were dead,” she finally said, and hoped he couldn’t hear the pain in her voice.

He took a breath, blew it out and said, “I wanted you to.”

Another blow and this one had her reeling. He’d wanted her to mourn him? To go through the pain of a loss so deeply felt that it had been weeks before she’d even been able to function? The only thing that had kept her going, that had gotten her out of bed in the mornings, was her baby. Knowing that Jack had left her with this gift, this child, had given her strength. She’d gone on, telling herself that Jack would want her to.

Now she finds out he wanted her to believe he was dead?

“Who are you?” she asked, shaking her head and blinking furiously to keep tears she wouldn’t show him at bay.

“The same guy you used to know,” he ground out.

“No.” She stiffened her spine, lifted her chin and glared at him. “The Jack I knew would never have put me through the last six months.”

For an instant, she thought she saw shame flash across his eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, so Rita put it down to wishful thinking.

“This isn’t about me,” he said quietly and she heard the tight control in his voice. “You’re pregnant.”

“Very observant.” God. She wrapped her arms around her belly protectively.

“How far along?”

Shocked, Rita bit back the words that first flew to her mouth. Temper spiked, and she had to wrestle it into submission. She knew what he was asking—who’s the father? And she didn’t know if she was more hurt than angry or if it was a tie between the two.

“Six months,” she said pointedly. “So your cleverly veiled question is answered. You’re the father.”

Not that she was happy about that at the moment. She loved her baby, had loved its father. But this stranger looking down at her through icy cold eyes was someone she didn’t even recognize.