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

Sounded like a cat mewling. Justice moved toward the sound with slow, uncertain steps. Just one more reason to hate his damn cane and his own leg for betraying him. A few months ago he’d have stalked down this hallway with long strides. Now he was reduced to an ungainly stagger.

He followed the sound to the last door at the end of the hallway. The room Maggie was to stay in while she was on the ranch. At least he’d been able to order that much. He’d wanted her as far from his bedroom as possible to avoid the inevitable temptation.

Outside her door he cocked his head and listened. The house made its usual groaning noises as night settled in and the temperature dropped. Seconds ticked past and then he heard it again. That soft, wailing sound that he couldn’t quite place. Was she crying? Missing him? Regretting coming to the ranch?

He should knock, he told himself. But if he did and she told him to go away, he’d have to. So instead, Justice turned the knob, threw open the door and felt the world fall out from beneath his feet.

Maggie.

Holding a baby.

She looked up at him and smiled. “Hello, Justice. I’d like you to meet Jonas. My son.”

Chapter Four

“What? Who? How? What?” Justice jolted back a step, hit the doorjamb and simply stared at the woman and baby on the wide, king-size bed.

Maggie’s gaze locked on his as she answered his questions in order. “My son. Jonas. The usual way. And again, my son.”

Pain like Justice had never known before shot through him with a swiftness that stole his breath and nearly knocked him off his feet.

Maggie had a son.

Which meant she had a lover.

She was with someone else.

Everything in him went cold and hard. Amazing, really, how big the pain was. He’d told himself he was over her. Assured himself that their marriage was done and that it was for the best. For both of them. Yet now, when he was slapped with the proof that what they’d shared was over, the sharp stab of regret was hard enough to steal his breath. The thought of Maggie lying in another man’s arms almost killed him. But then, what had he expected? That they’d get a divorce and she’d join a convent? Not his Maggie. She had too much fire.

Clearly, it hadn’t taken her too long to move on. Her son looked to be several months old, which meant that she’d rolled out of his bed into someone else’s real damn fast. Which made him wonder whether she’d been involved with someone else already when they’d had that last weekend together. That thought chewed on Justice, too. All the time they’d been rolling around in his bed, she’d had another guy waiting for her? What the hell was up with that?

He wanted to shout. To rage. But he didn’t. He locked up everything inside him and refused to let her see that he was affected at all. Damned if he’d give her the satisfaction of knowing that she still had the power to cut him.

He had his pride, after all.

“Not going to say anything else?” she asked, swinging her legs off the bed and lifting the baby to sit at her hip.

He wiped one hand across his whiskered jaw and fought for indifference. “What do you want me to say? Congratulations? Fine. I said it.” His gaze stayed locked on hers. He wouldn’t look at the chubby-cheeked infant making insensible noises and gurgles.

“Don’t you want to know who his father is?” she asked, moving closer with small, deliberate steps.

Why the hell was she doing this? Did she really enjoy rubbing the fact of her new relationship in his face? He hoped she was enjoying the show because, yeah, he did want to know. Then he wanted to find the guy and beat the crap out of him. But that wasn’t going to happen. “None of my business, is it?”

“Actually, yes,” she said, turning her head to plant a kiss on the baby’s brow before looking back at Justice. “It sort of is. Especially since you’re his father.”

Another jolt went through Justice, and he wondered idly how many lightning strikes a man could survive in one night. Whatever game she was trying to run wouldn’t work. She didn’t have any way of knowing it, of course, but there was no possible way he was that baby’s father.

So why the hell would she lie? Was the real father not interested in his kid? Is that why Maggie sought to convince Justice that he was the father instead? Or was it about money? Maybe she was trying to get some child support out of this. That would be stupid, though. All it would take was a paternity test and they’d all know the truth.

Maggie wasn’t a fool. Which brought him right back to the question at hand.

What was she up to?

And why?

He stared at her, reading a challenge in her eyes. He still couldn’t bring himself to look at the child. It was there, though, in his peripheral vision. A babbling, chortling statement on Justice’s failure as a husband and Maggie’s desire for family, provided by some other guy.

Pain grabbed at him again, making the constant ache in his leg seem like nothing more substantial than a stubbed toe.

“Nice try,” he said, fixing his gaze on her with a cold distance he hoped was easily read.

“What’s that mean?”

“It means, Maggie, I’m not his father, so don’t bother trying to pawn him off on me.”

“Pawn him—” She stopped speaking, gulped in air and tightened her hold on the baby, who was slapping tiny fists against her shoulder. “That’s not what I’m trying to do.”

“Really?” Justice swallowed past the knot in his throat and managed to give her a tight smile that was more of a baring of his teeth than anything else. “Then why is he here?”

“Because I am, you dolt!” Maggie took another step closer to him, and Justice forced himself to hold his ground. With the weakness in his leg, if he tried to step back, he might just go down on his ass, and wouldn’t that be a fine end to an already spectacular day?

“I’m his mother,” Maggie told him. “He goes where I go. And I thought maybe his daddy would like a look at him.”

One more twist of the knife into his gut. He hadn’t been able to give her the one thing she’d really wanted from him. Now seeing her with the child she used to dream of was torture. Especially since she was looking into his eyes and lying.

“I’m not buying it, Maggie, so just drop it, all right? I’m not that kid’s father. I’m not anybody’s father. So why the song and dance?”

“How can you know you’re not?” she argued, clearly willing to stick to whatever game plan she’d had in mind when she got here. “Look at Jonas. Look at him! He has your eyes, Justice. He has your hair. Heck, he’s even as stubborn as you are.”

As if to prove her point, the baby gave up slapping at her shoulder for attention, reached out and grabbed hold of Maggie’s gold, dangling earring. He gave it a tug, squealing in a high-pitched tone that made Justice wince. Gently, Maggie pried that tiny fist off her earring and gave her son a bright smile.

“Don’t pull, sweetie,” she murmured, and her son cooed at her in delight.

That softness in her voice, the love shining in her eyes, got to him as nothing else could have. Justice swallowed hard and finally forced himself to look at the child. Bright red cheeks, sparkling dark blue eyes and a thatch of black hair. He wore a diaper and a black T-shirt that read Cowboy in Training and was waving and kicking his chubby arms and legs.

Something inside him shifted. If he and Maggie had been able to have children, this is just what he would have expected their child to look like. Maybe that’s why she thought her ploy would work on him. The kid looked enough like Justice that she probably thought she could convince him he was the father and then talk him out of a paternity test.

Sure. Why would she think he’d insist on that anyway? They had been married. The timing for the child was about right. She’d have no reason to think that he wouldn’t believe her claims. But that meant that whoever had fathered the boy had turned his back on them. Which, weirdly, pissed him off on Maggie’s behalf. What the hell kind of man would do that to her? Or to the baby? Who wouldn’t claim his own child?

He watched the boy bouncing up and down on Maggie’s hip, laughing and drooling, and told himself that if there were even the slightest chance the boy was actually his, Justice would do everything in his power to take care of him. But he knew the truth, even if Maggie didn’t.

“He’s a good-looking boy.”

Maggie melted. “Thank you.”

“But he’s not mine.”

She wanted to argue. He could see it in her face. Hell, he knew her well enough to know that there was nothing Maggie liked more than a good argument. But this one she’d lose before she even started.