Committed to the Baby: Claiming King's Baby / The Doctor's Secret Baby

“Funny,” she said, “feels like a lifetime to me.”

“I guess it would.” Justice didn’t want her in here. This was his office. His retreat. The one room in the whole place that hadn’t been colored by her scent. By her presence. But it was too late now.

As she wandered the room, running her fingertips across the leather spines of the books in the shelves, he told himself that from now on, he’d see her here. He’d feel her here. He’d be able to close his eyes and imagine her with him, the sound of her voice, the sway of her hips, the way the sunlight through the window made her hair shine like a fire at midnight.

Squirming uncomfortably in his chair now, Justice said, “You know, if you don’t mind, I’ve got some paperwork to catch up on. Things pile up if you don’t stay on top of them. Think I’ll skip the exercises this morning.”

She gave him the sort of smile she would have given a little boy trying to get away with cutting school. “I don’t think so. But if you want, we can change things up a little. Instead of a half hour on the treadmill, we could walk around the ranch yard.”

Sounded like a plan to him. He hated that damn treadmill with a raging passion. What the hell good was it, when a man had the whole world to walk in? Who would choose to walk on a conveyor belt? And if she didn’t have him on that treadmill, she had him doing lunges and squats, with his back up against the wall. He felt like a lab rat, moving from one maze to the next. Always inside. Always moving and getting exactly nowhere.

The thought of getting outside was a blessing. Outside. Into the air, where her perfume would get lost in the wind rather than clinging to every breath he took. “Fine.”

He pushed up from his black leather chair, and as he stepped around the edge of the desk, Maggie approached and held out his cane. He took it, his fingers brushing against hers just enough to kindle a brand-new fire in his gut. He pulled back, tightened his grip on the head of the blasted cane and started for the door.

“You’re walking easier,” she noted.

Irritation spiked inside him. He remembered a time when she had watched his ass for a different reason. “Yeah,” he admitted. “It still hurts like a bitch, but maybe it’s a little better.”

“Wow. Quite the compliment to my skills.”

He stopped and turned to look at her. “Maybe I’m doing well enough to just cut the therapy short.”

“Ooh, good effort,” she said and walked past him toward the front door.

Now it was his turn to watch her ass, and he for damn sure wasn’t doing it to check out her ability to walk. Then something struck him: the fact that she didn’t have her son on her hip. “Uh, don’t you have to watch…”

“Jonas?” she provided.

“Yeah.”

“Mrs. Carey has him. She loves watching him,” Maggie said, striding down the hall to the front door. Her boots, which clacked against the wood floor, sounded like a quickening heartbeat. “Says he reminds her so much of you it’s almost eerie.”

Justice scowled at her back. She managed to get one or two of those pointed digs in every day. Trying to make him see something that wasn’t there. A connection between her son and him.

He should just tell her, he thought, snatching his battered gray felt hat off the hook by the door. Tell her that he was sterile and be done with it. Then she could stop playing whatever game she was playing and he wouldn’t have to put up with any of this anymore.

But if he did that, she’d know. Know everything. Why he’d let her go. Why he’d lied. Why he felt less than a man because he hadn’t been able to give her the one thing she’d wanted. And, damn it, once he told her the truth, she’d feel sorry for him—and he couldn’t stand that. Better for him if she thought him a bastard.

* * *

Maggie listened to the uncertain steps of her husband coming up behind her and stopped on the porch to wait for him. She took that moment to admire the sweep of land stretching out in front of her. She’d missed this place almost as much as she’d missed Justice. The wide yard was neatly tended, the flower beds were spilling over with bright, colorful blossoms and from somewhere close by, the lowing of a cow sounded almost like a song.

Just for a second or two, all of Maggie’s thoughts and worries drifted away, just drained out of her system as if they’d never been there. She took a deep breath of the sweet air and smiled at two herd dogs, a mutt and a Lab, chasing each other across the front yard. Then she sensed Justice coming up behind her, and in an instant tension coiled deep in the pit of her stomach.

She would always sense him. Always be aware of him on a deep, cellular level. He touched something inside her that no one else ever had. And when they were apart, she felt his absence keenly. But feeling connected to a man who clearly didn’t share the sentiment was just a recipe for disaster.

“It’s really beautiful,” she whispered.

“It is.”

His deep voice rumbled along her spine and tingled through her system. Why did it have to be him who did this to her? she wondered and glanced over her shoulder at him. He wasn’t looking at the ranch; he was watching her, and her knees went a little wobbly. Maggie had to lock them just to keep upright. The man’s eyes should be illegal. His smile was even more lethal—thank heaven she didn’t see it often.

“You used to love it here,” he said quietly, letting his gaze slide from her to where the dogs chased each other in dizzying circles.

“I did,” she admitted and took a deep breath.

From the moment she had first seen this ranch, it had felt like home to her. As if it had only been waiting for her to arrive, the ranch had welcomed her. Maggie had always been amazed that she could stand on her porch and feel as though she were in the middle of the country, when in reality the city was just a short freeway ride away.

Here on the King Ranch it was as if time had not exactly stood still but at least had taken a break, slowed down. She’d always thought this would be a perfect place for her children to grow up. She’d imagined watching four or five King kids racing through the yard laughing, running to her and Justice for hugs and kisses and growing up learning to care for the ranch as much as their father did.

But those dreams had died the night she’d left Justice so many months ago.

Now she was nothing more than a barely tolerated visitor, and Jonas would never know what it was like to grow up among his father’s memories.

Or to grow up with his father’s love.

Justice was deliberately closing himself off from not only her but also the child they’d made together. That was something she couldn’t forgive. Or understand. Justice had always been a hard man, but he was also a man devoted to family. To his brothers and the King heritage. So how could he turn his back on his own son?

In the past three days, Justice had done everything in his power to avoid so much as being in the same room with Jonas. Her heart twisted painfully in her chest, but she wouldn’t force him to care, even if she could. Because then his love wouldn’t mean a thing. To her or her son. So she would be professional and keep her emotions tightly leashed if it killed her.

“Loving this place didn’t keep you here,” he pointed out unnecessarily.

“No, it didn’t,” she said. “It couldn’t.”

He shook his head and frowned, squinting out from beneath the brim of his hat. “It could have. You chose to leave.”

“I’m not going over that same old argument again, Justice.”

“Me neither,” he said with a shrug. “I’m just reminding you.”

Maggie inhaled slowly, deeply. She told herself to bank her temper, to not let him get to her. It wasn’t easy, especially since Justice had always known exactly which of her buttons to push to get a reaction. But as satisfying as it would be to shout and rage and give in to her frustration by telling him just what she was thinking, it wouldn’t do a darn bit of good.

“We should walk.” She spoke up fast, before her temper could override her more rational side. Then she turned to offer him her arm so she could assist him getting down the short flight of steps leading from the porch to the yard.

Instantly, he scowled at her and stepped around her, the tip of his cane slamming down onto the porch. “I’m not completely helpless, Maggie. I can get around without holding on to your arm. You’re half my size.”

“And trained to help ambulatory patients get around. I’m stronger than I look, Justice. You should remember that.”

He shot her one hard, stony glare. “I’m not one of your patients, damn it.”

“Well, yeah,” she countered, feeling the first threads of her patience begin to unravel, “technically, you are.”

“I don’t want to be—don’t you get that?”

She felt the cold of his stare slice right into her, but Maggie had practice in facing down his crab-ass attitude. “Yes, Justice. I get it. Despite the great trouble you’ve taken in trying to hide how you feel about me being here, I get it.”

His mouth flattened into a grim line, and she glared right back at him.