Falling for King's Fortune / Seduction, Westmoreland Style: Falling for King's Fortune

She saw understanding dawn on his features. His eyes opened, his firm mouth relaxed a little and his gaze, when it shifted to Mia, was this time, more stunned than angry or suspicious.

“The sperm bank,” he muttered.

“Yes.” Casey shifted in her seat a little, uncomfortable discussing this with anyone, let alone the “donor” who’d made her daughter’s birth possible.

He shook his head, scrubbed one hand across his face and said, “That’s just not possible.”

“Clearly,” she said, “it is.”

“No, you don’t understand.” His gaze locked on hers again, silently demanding an explanation for how this could have happened. “Yes, in college, I admit, I went to the clinic with a friend of mine. We’d lost a bet and—”

“A bet?”

He frowned at her. “Anyway, I went, made the donation and didn’t think about it again until about five years ago. I realized that I didn’t want a child of mine, unknown to me, growing up out there somewhere. I told them I wanted that sample destroyed.”

A chill swept through her at those words. She glanced at her daughter and as a wave of love rushed through her, she tried to imagine a life without Mia in it. And couldn’t. Somehow, through some bureaucratic mishap, Jackson’s order had gotten lost in the shuffle, overlooked and ignored. She could only be grateful. Knowing how close she’d come to never having Mia only made her treasure her daughter even more.

She smiled. “Well, I’m glad to say they didn’t do as you requested.”

“Obviously.”

It wasn’t hard to judge his current feelings. He was now avoiding looking at Mia at all. And that was fine with Casey. She didn’t want him interested in her daughter. Mia was hers. Her family. Casey was only here because she’d felt that Jackson had a right to know he had a child.

“I thought sperm banks were anonymous,” he said a moment later.

“They’re supposed to be.” When she’d gone to the Mandeville clinic, she’d specifically made sure that she would never know the identity of her child’s father. She wasn’t looking for a relationship, after all. She didn’t need a partner to help her raise a child. All she’d wanted was a baby to love. A family of her own.

When she was assured that their donors’ identities were very strictly protected, Casey’d been relieved. And that relief had stayed with her until about a month ago.

“I got an e-mail almost four weeks ago,” she said softly. “From the Mandeville clinic. It listed my name, the donor number I’d selected and identified you as the man who’d made the original deposit.”

He winced a little at that.

“Naturally, I was furious. This whole thing was supposed to be anonymous, remember. I called the clinic to complain,” she told him and with the memories flooding her mind, she felt again that helpless sense of betrayal she’d experienced when she first read that e-mail. “They were in a panic. It seems someone hacked into their computers and sent out dozens of e-mails to women identifying the fathers of their children. It wasn’t supposed to happen, of course, but it was too late to change anything.”

“I see.”

Two words, said so tightly it was a wonder he’d been able to squeeze them out of his throat. Well, fine. Casey understood that this was a surprise. But he had to understand that she wasn’t happy about this, either.

“I didn’t want to know the name of my daughter’s father,” she said firmly. “I wasn’t interested in the man then and I’m not interested now. I didn’t go to a sperm bank looking for a lasting connection, after all. All I wanted was a baby.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched and an emotional shutter was down over his eyes, preventing her from getting the slightest impression of what he was thinking. “And you found this out a month ago.”

“Yes.”

He tapped his fingertips against the table. “Why’d you wait so long to tell me?”

Though his tone was even, his voice quiet, Casey had no problem identifying the anger behind that statement.

She took a gulp of her now cold coffee and grimaced as it slid down her throat. “Frankly, I’d considered not telling you at all at first.”

His eyebrows arched.

“But soon enough, I realized you had the right to know if you actually were Mia’s father.”

“You doubted it?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” she countered. “Just because some hacker got into the clinic’s computer system doesn’t mean he did a good job of it.” Then she looked him straight in the eye. “Besides, you are definitely not the kind of father I wanted for my baby. When I went to Mandeville, I specifically requested the sperm of a scientist.”

For a second, insult flashed across his face, then he snorted a laugh again and shook his head as if he couldn’t believe they were even having this conversation. “A scientist?”

“I wanted my child to be smart.”

He glared at her. “I graduated magna cum laude.”

“With a degree in partying? Or women?”

“I happen to have an MBA, not that it’s any of your business.”

She had already known that, thanks to her research, but the point was, she knew very well what Jackson King considered most important in his life. And it wasn’t intellectual pursuits.

“It doesn’t really matter anymore,” Casey said with a sigh. “I love my daughter and I don’t care who her father is.”

“Yet, as soon as you found out her father was Jackson King,” he countered, “you came to me. So what’s this little meeting really about?”

“I beg your pardon?” She sounded as stuffy as her late aunt Grace.

“You heard me, Casey Davis. You came here to present me with my daughter—”

“My daughter,” she corrected, wondering why this conversation was suddenly feeling like more than a verbal battle.

“So it makes a man wonder, just what it is you really want from me? Money?” He reached into the breast pocket of his suit and pulled out a black leather wallet. “How much are you after? Looking for some child support? Is that what this is about?”

“That is just typical,” she said, feeling a slow burn of anger start to build within. “Of course you think this is about money. That’s how you see the world, isn’t it? Well, I already told you, I don’t want anything from you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

She hissed in a breath and devoutly wished she’d never told him about Mia. “You can think whatever you like. I can’t stop you. But I can leave. This little conversation is over.”

Turning in her seat, she unstrapped her baby from the booster chair, lifted Mia into her arms and cuddled her close as she scooted out of the booth. Feeling Mia’s warmth against her was a soothing balm to the anger churning inside her. It didn’t matter what Jackson King thought or did. She’d done the right thing, now she could put him behind her. She could concentrate on her daughter.

When she was standing, her purse hanging from her shoulder to slap against her jean-clad thigh, Casey looked down at Jackson. And this time there was pity in her eyes. Because he couldn’t grasp just how much he was missing, not knowing the child he’d helped create.

“I thought you had a right to know that you’d helped make this beautiful little girl possible, whether or not it was done willingly,” she said, disgust pumping into her words. “But I can see now that was a mistake. Don’t worry though, Jackson. Mia will never know that her father thought so little of her.”

“Is that right?” He smiled up at her, clearly believing her outrage just another part of the act. “What will you tell her about me?”

“I’ll tell her you’re dead,” Casey said quietly. “Because as far as I’m concerned, you are.”