Bound By The Baby

“More than this.”

“I disagree.”

He seemed about to argue but didn’t. “It’s rustic,” he offered after a moment.

She shook her head, amused. He was skirting around saying what he really wanted to, apparently trying to keep the peace between them for the moment. Obviously he wanted something.

“What do you expect, Devlin? It’s a cabin in the woods. Rustic fits the environment,” she said, getting down two mugs. “The roads are plowed in the winter, and I’ve got the fireplace and a generator if the power goes out. It’s perfect.” It’s mine. She poured the hot chocolate into the mugs and passed him one, then cupped hers in both hands, treasuring the warmth. She was sorry she’d let him come in, was too tired to deal with him, just as she’d said.

“Did you know who I was?” he asked.

“I looked you up in the database.” She watched him over the rim of her mug as she took a tentative sip, testing its heat.

“When?”

“In the morning, after I left your suite.”

“Not before?”

She frowned. “Before, I was standing at the blackjack table with you. Before that I was passing through the casino on my way to my boss’s office when I stopped to talk to a friend, a fellow employee. You caught my attention, and I stayed to watch for a minute. Then you wouldn’t let me leave.”

“You were my good luck charm.”

“So you said.” She gestured toward her sofa, which faced the unlit fireplace. “Are you asking if I recognized you or something? Stalked you?”

“Did you?” he asked as they sat at opposite ends.

“The answer is no, to both questions. How could I know who you are? You’re not a celebrity, are you? And even if I’d recognized your name from the reservations—which I wouldn’t have—you didn’t get a room until after I left the table.” She was working up a little righteous anger at his ego. “And how could I accidentally run into you in the elevator? There were twelve banks of elevators. What were the chances the one I was in would stop on the right floor at the right time to run into you again?”

“I—”

“I understand you don’t want to believe this baby is yours,” she said, “but you seem to be an intelligent man, a logical one. Nothing was preconceived,” she added, trying to lighten the mood.

He didn’t smile even a little bit at her joke, hadn’t smiled once since he’d asked if it was his. “It wouldn’t be the first time a woman falsely claimed a child’s paternity.”

Nicole’s attempt at patience evaporated. “DNA testing has taken care of that problem. It makes it impossible to lie.”

“So why didn’t you tell me?” He set his untouched mug on the coffee table. “If you knew you could prove it, why keep it from me?”

“I did try to tell you. I even went to your house.”

“When?”

“The day after I found out. The day before I was set to move here.”

“I wasn’t at home?”

“You pulled up to your house moments after I got there.” She’d parked in front of his Society Hill town house, the beautiful building confirming her fears—that he came from wealth and status. “But you weren’t alone.”

The woman on his arm had worn a short, sexy black dress and very high heels. He’d slipped his coat jacket around her, then kissed her before they’d climbed the stairs arm in arm and disappeared into the house. Soon after, a light had gone on upstairs. He’d stood silhouetted in the shade-drawn window for a long moment and undone his tie, then he’d moved out of sight.

“I waited for hours,” she said. “Eventually I decided it was fate that you weren’t available, because as I sat there I came to the conclusion that you would think I was shaking you down for money. I figured I should wait until…Well, I thought you had a girlfriend. It sure looked like it. I decided to wait until I was settled in here.”

“You’ve been here for two months.”

She nodded. What could she say? She’d been stalling. Who wouldn’t?

He leaned forward, his arms resting on his thighs, his gaze on the fireplace, even though it wasn’t lit. “What do you want from me?”

She sat back. He hadn’t disputed having a girlfriend. “Nothing.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“To quote you from earlier—tough.” Annoyed, she stood. She was too tired to argue with him. “You need to leave now.”

He hadn’t taken even one sip of his drink, but he headed to the door, grabbing his coat along the way. He hesitated, his hand on the doorknob. “Why’d you do it, Nicole?”

“Be specific.”

“Go to my room with me that night. You were upset about something, enough to cry.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, memories slamming into her, then made eye contact. “Yes, I was hurting, and you offered a kind of comfort. But you were upset about something that night, too.”

He nodded slightly. “I’m usually scrupulous about using condoms. And I assumed you were on the Pill. I should’ve asked.”

“I can’t tolerate the Pill, and I should’ve said so. I don’t know why I didn’t, except that I was a mess that night. But you need to know that I’m not sorry.” She curved her hands over the child she already loved and wanted. Not that she’d accepted her situation instantly, but it had taken a surprisingly short amount of time to do so. “I really don’t expect anything from you.”

Hope was another matter altogether, however. She’d felt something powerful that night, a connection she couldn’t even describe. Yes, she hoped.

“A decent man doesn’t abandon a woman pregnant with his child,” he said.

“We’ll come to some agreement, Devlin. But not tonight, please. I’m exhausted.”

He nodded. “I’ll see you at ten-thirty.” He shut the door behind him.

As his car pulled away she poured his cocoa down the drain then leaned against the sink to sip hers. He was a cool one—unemotional and practical—so different from their night at the hotel, when he’d bombarded her with emotion in the form of incredible sex, intense and challenging and satisfying. Tonight she’d seen the businessman. She’d looked him up on the Internet and learned his family’s business was banking, with several branches in the Philadelphia area.

Old money. Old values, too, she guessed. The privileged son of such a family wouldn’t get involved with a strictly middle-class someone like her—except for a night of anonymous sex.

She wondered how he was going to explain it to his family. If he was going to, that is. Maybe he’d offer her a payoff to keep quiet about the child’s paternity. Wasn’t that the usual way of things in his world?

Just how much was her uncomplicated world about to change?

Three

At exactly ten-thirty the next morning, Nicole pulled into the driveway leading to the grand entrance of the lodge where Devlin was staying. She’d fallen asleep easily after he left and slept well, not waking until almost nine. She felt ready to face him.

Like everyone else in the community, she’d been dying to see inside the lodge, situated outside the small community called Hunter’s Landing. The locals had been abuzz about the house—a 9,000-square-foot, multilevel, log-and-stone structure that had taken almost a year to complete. She’d climbed the path to peer inside at the end of construction, amazed by the number of fireplaces and the majestic staircases. Building permits had been issued to a nonprofit corporation in Los Angeles, the Hunter Palmer Foundation, information deemed newsworthy enough for the local paper. But beyond that, details had been stingy. Curiosity had died when the house was completed and nothing happened, except that a man had stayed there in March, then a different one in April.