Expecting the CEO's Baby

“I’ll tell you how you can thank me. This has been a rough day for you. Get yourself a lemonade, put your feet up and try to do something mindless until tomorrow. I’ll get back to you with the time of the meeting.”

After Jenna had thanked Rafe again and given him her cell phone number, she hung up knowing she couldn’t stay here in the apartment in the heat. She’d stop at the ice cream parlor for a frozen lemonade and then go to the library. Maybe there in the air-conditioning, she could use their computers and do research concerning custody cases on her own. What bothered her the most about all of this was the quickening of her pulse and the roller coaster waves she’d felt when she’d looked into Blake Winston’s eyes. B.J. had been the salt of the earth, the consummate common man. He’d been a roofer and never aspired to more than that, living each day as it came. Through their years together, he’d convinced Jenna to do the same. She’d loved him with all her heart.

But she’d never had the reaction to B.J. that she’d had to Blake Winston. This rich man, the father of her child, made her pulse race in a way that had nothing to do with her pregnancy. That troubled her, almost as much as Blake’s warning that she’d hear from his lawyer.

As Rafe escorted Jenna on Tuesday afternoon into the same conference room where the bomb had been dropped on her yesterday, her gaze passed over her physician, Dr. Palmer, the clinic’s director, Thomas Franklin, the clinic’s counsel, Wayne Schlessinger, and a man she didn’t know. Then her gaze locked to Blake Winston’s. His smoky-gray eyes told her he was a complicated man. The fluttering of her stomach, which she’d like to attribute to anxiety and fear—but couldn’t if she wanted to be honest with herself—told her something else entirely. Seated at the end of the conference table, he was wearing a light blue polo shirt, navy casual slacks and supple leather loafers. Just noticing all of this made her feel as if she were betraying B.J.’s memory. Yet noticing Blake Winston’s clothes was a far better distraction than noticing the width of his shoulders, the beard line along his jaw, the vitality of his thick black hair.

“Mrs. Winton,” Wayne Schlessinger said in greeting.

“Mr. Schlessinger,” she acknowledged, and gave a little nod to everyone else, including her adversary.

After Schlessinger shook hands with Rafe, he motioned Jenna and her lawyer to two chairs on the opposite side of the table from the clinic’s representatives. Jenna found herself seated beside Blake, and an uncomfortable situation became unbearable. She was too aware of his cologne, too aware of his appraising glance as his gaze passed over her white-and-blue smocked maternity dress.

Schlessinger addressed Rafe. “I take it you’ve carefully read our settlement offer?”

“Yes, I have. But I haven’t advised Jenna to sign it.”

“May I ask why not?”

“I want her to be sure that she’s ready to waive her rights to any future lawsuits before she signs anything. It was unfair of you to pressure her to take the offer yesterday.”

“There was no pressure, Mr. Pierson.”

Jenna clasped Rafe’s arm, telling him she wanted to speak for herself. “Having a $100,000 check ready for me to endorse was pressure in itself, Mr. Schlessinger.” She looked at Blake. “Are you taking their offer?”

He repeated what he’d told her yesterday. “The clinic’s money isn’t the issue. My child is.”

“Mr. Winston,” Schlessinger interrupted. “We’ve gathered everyone here today to try to resolve this.”

“Resolve this?” Rafe asked wryly. “My client entered into a contract with you in good faith. She’s carried this child for six months. Do you think any amount of money is going to make up for the mistake your clinic made?” He directed his attention to Blake. “Do you think any amount of money will convince my client to give up her child?”

There was frustration on Blake’s face as well as a blaze of anger in his eyes as he answered. “If money won’t do it, then the law might. I’m the biological father of this child and I have rights. Joint custody at the very least. You’re right about one thing, Mr. Pierson, this isn’t going to be resolved today. Not unless your client is willing to sign a surrogate agreement and give up rights to the child when it’s born.”

Feeling as if she’d been struck by a lightning bolt, Jenna realized her child meant so much to this man that he’d use all of his power and influence to take away her baby. Although she’d been dealing with the situation since yesterday, she suddenly felt overwhelmed by it all. The information she’d read on the Internet hadn’t been encouraging, and the idea that she was having a child that wasn’t B.J.’s filled her with the same grief she’d experienced after he died. In the midst of the grief, she heard her father’s voice warning her against being artificially inseminated because it wasn’t natural.

Now she was going to have to tell her father she wasn’t even carrying B.J.’s child! She was carrying a stranger’s child, and this stranger wanted to take her child away from her—or at the very least, share custody with her.

Tears she’d been holding at bay for more than twenty-four hours sprang to the surface. There was no way she could hide them. Yet she wasn’t going to make a fool of herself in front of all these people.

Pushing away from the table so fast her chair tipped over, she fled the conference room. She heard Rafe’s voice but didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop…not until she’d rushed through the waiting room, pushed open the door and fled around the corner of the building to the parking lot. There under the shade of a live oak, she let the tears freely fall while she covered her face with her hands, wishing against all odds that this was a nightmare and she’d soon awaken.

When she felt a hand on her shoulder, she took a breath, choked back a sob and looked up, expecting to see Rafe. But it wasn’t Rafe who stood there. It was Blake Winston, the man who wanted her baby for his own, the man who’d replaced B.J. in her dreams last night.

She turned away from him, trying to hide her tears, trying to hide feelings she didn’t understand.

Chapter Two

Blake hadn’t chased after a woman since he was eighteen. That escapade had ended in disaster with a sense of betrayal that yawned so wide he hadn’t been interested in a serious relationship since. Yet when Jenna Winton had run out of that conference room, he’d known he was the reason. What he’d seen on her face was genuine distress.

Now, for the first time since his meeting with the director of the clinic yesterday, he tried to put himself in her shoes. She’d loved her husband—so much so that she wanted to carry his child even when he was gone. The news that she wasn’t carrying B.J. Winton’s child must have been devastating. Another woman might have wanted nothing to do with the baby. That’s fully what Blake had expected. Compensating Jenna Winton for her pregnancy and her services as a surrogate had seemed a reasonable and perfect solution to him.

Yet apparently she’d formed a bond with this child already and didn’t want to let go. If she was that kind of woman, she would make a wonderful mother.

“Jenna,” he murmured, using her given name as if it was his right. She was still turned away from him, and he realized she didn’t want him to see her tears.

Women used tears to manipulate. They used tears to bring a man to his knees, didn’t they?

Watching the sunlight play on the blond strands in Jenna’s light brown hair, seeing the tension in her small shoulders as she tried to keep her turmoil from him, compassion he hadn’t felt in a very long time stirred in his heart along with something else…something else he didn’t want to identify or examine.

Clasping her shoulder, he nudged her around. Still she kept her head bent, and he couldn’t keep from lifting her chin so she’d meet his gaze.

Her skin was soft, a creamy ivory under his tanned thumb. The few freckles on her nose attested to the fact that she wasn’t wearing makeup. Her lips were a bit pinker than natural and he suspected she’d applied lipstick. Not that sticky, shiny concoction that made women’s lips look like they were painted, but a creamy soft pink that suited her well. It was her dark brown eyes that made his chest tighten. They were swimming with tears and anguish, testifying to the fact that this wasn’t a performance for his benefit.

“I’m sorry if I upset you,” he said gently, realizing he meant it.

When she tried to blink away her tears, they rolled down her cheeks and she swiped at them self-consciously. “After B.J. died, I felt lost. Then I became pregnant and life seemed to have meaning again. Now you’re threatening to take away my baby and—”

The urge to take this woman into his arms was so strong Blake had to fight it with every ounce of his self-control. She had to look up a good six inches to meet his gaze, and although she was pregnant, she still looked slender and fragile. Yet from the way she’d stood up to him already, he suspected she wasn’t fragile at all.

“I do want this child, and I imagined I’d go about it just as I have everything else over the past twenty years,” he found himself explaining. “I’ve always set goals and reached for them, not letting anything alter my course.”

A tear she hadn’t managed to wipe away stole down her cheek. Before he thought better of it, he caught it and let his finger glide over her skin. This time her eyes didn’t waver from his, and he found himself aroused by simply touching her. The space around them seemed to be charged with a current that could shake the leaves from the trees.

“I can see now,” he went on hoarsely, “having a baby is quite different from opening a branch of my firm in another city, finding the best people to work with me, or topping last year’s revenue.”

The hum of cars on the street in front of the clinic was a backdrop to the most important conversation of his life.

Jenna’s gaze was troubled as she asked, “How can we settle this if we both want the same thing and neither of us will let go? You just learned about this child yesterday. I’ve been nourishing this baby and talking to it and playing music for it for the past six months. This is my child, Mr. Winston.”

“Blake,” he corrected her. “It’s Blake,” he said again. “Do you mind if I call you Jenna? Formality will only get in the way of whatever decisions we have to make.”

“That’s just it, Mr….” She stopped herself. “Blake. What decisions can we make if we both want to be parents?”

“I don’t know. I do know I think you and I have to talk about this without our lawyers. We need to spend some time together and discuss what all of this means to our lives.”

“I wouldn’t advise that, Jenna,” Rafe said from behind Blake’s shoulder. “Mr. Winston has had a lot more practice than you persuading other people to do his bidding.”

Stepping back, Jenna made space to include Rafe in the discussion. “I can listen to him, Rafe. Mr….” she stopped herself once more. “Blake isn’t going to convince me to do anything I shouldn’t.”

Then she gave her lawyer a weak smile. “I have to persuade twenty-five children every day to do exactly what they’re supposed to do. My persuasive skills might be on par with Mr. Winston’s.” She looked up at him almost apologetically for forgetting to use his first name again.

No matter how upset Jenna Winton was, she had spirit and a determination of her own that would give him a run for his money…or his child. “Let’s go for a drive,” Blake suggested.

She looked surprised. “Now?”

“Yes, right now. We can stop and get something for an early supper.”

“Jenna…” Rafe warned.

Moving closer to her lawyer, she put her hand on his arm. “It’s all right, Rafe. Really. I’m sure Mr…. Blake doesn’t have anything underhanded up his sleeve. After all, you’re a witness that he’s asking me to supper. I promise I won’t sign or agree to anything without consulting you.”

Looking unhappy with the whole idea, Rafe asked, “Do you have your cell phone?”

She blushed. “No. It wasn’t charged so I left it in the apartment.”

“I do have a cell phone.” Blake dislodged it from his belt and handed it to Jenna. “You take this. Apparently Mr. Pierson thinks you may have to send out a mayday.”

With a shake of her head, Jenna returned the phone to him. “I’m pregnant, gentlemen—not incapable of looking after myself or using my common sense.”

Blake almost smiled and knew he was right about Jenna not being fragile.

Rafe plowed his hand through his hair. “I can’t talk you out of this?”

“No, but just to make you feel better, I’ll call you when I get back.”

“I understand she’s pregnant, Pierson,” Blake assured her attorney. “I won’t take any chances with her or with my baby.”

“All right,” Rafe finally decided. “But there’s just one more thing before you go. Jenna, can I see you privately for a few minutes?”

Seeing that Pierson was obviously Jenna’s friend as well as her lawyer, Blake knew when to let well enough alone. “I’ll tell Schlessinger and the others that the meeting is concluded for today. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Fifteen minutes later, Jenna sat beside Blake in his Lexus feeling nervous and unsettled. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all. There was something about Blake Winston that made her feel electrified. When he’d touched her in the parking lot…

Blake hadn’t spoken much but instead switched on the CD player. She supposed the music was supposed to relax her. It was instrumental—piano, violins and guitar that at any other time she might have enjoyed. But as the man beside her glanced over at her, she knew she had to make conversation. She knew she had to figure out what she was doing here with him.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“I’m heading for the Delta. My boat’s there.”

“Your boat?”

“It’s a cabin cruiser. I thought we might take it out.”

“I’ve never been on a boat before. What if I get seasick?”

He smiled at her. “If you do, I’ll bring it back to the marina. Nothing else on earth is as relaxing as being out on the water.”

“You think being relaxed is going to help us?”

“It won’t hurt. Don’t you think better when you’re relaxed?”

She didn’t know if he was teasing or not. “I’ve never considered it.”

He laughed at that and she liked the sound. It was rich and deep, like his voice.

“What was the last-minute advice Pierson gave you?”

She could see no harm in passing on Rafe’s warning. “He warned me not to tell you too much about anything. He doesn’t want me to inadvertently help you make your position stronger.”

Blake’s mouth tightened and his jaw set. As he pulled up to a red light, he turned to look at her. “How long have you and Pierson been friends?”

“About three years. His wife, Shannon, is a psychologist. I consulted with her about one of my students.”

“He seems to be as much of a friend as a lawyer.”

“He is. He and Shannon were both terrific through everything…everything that happened.” Although Shannon had children to care for—Janine, Rafe’s daughter whom she’d adopted, and Amelia, the child she and Rafe had had together—she’d been the best friend Jenna could have ever had. When B.J. was in the hospital, Shannon had dropped by often and encouraged Jenna to eat and go for walks to maintain her own health. After B.J. died, Shannon and Rafe invited her to the ranch every weekend. She didn’t know what she would have done without them.

“How long was your husband ill?”

When she hesitated, Blake frowned. “Jenna, I’m a security expert. This is information I can access easily.”

“You can access medical records? I thought they were supposed to be confidential.”

“Any computer specialist can find out exactly what he wants to know. Most private investigators can now, too.”

“Because you can do it yourself, you wouldn’t have to resort to hiring one of those, though. Right?”

Her temper had a terrifically long fuse, but Blake had just activated it. Maybe everything Rafe Pierson had suspected about him was true. “In fact,” she added, “I bet you already know all about me and you just want to see how honest I am with what I tell you. Maybe this little ride is a mistake. Maybe we should turn back right now.”

Finally Blake said, “I do know a few things about you. I’d like to know more, including what kind of mother you’d be. I won’t find that out by doing a background check.”

“Why do I suddenly feel as if I have to pass some kind of test?”

Without another word, Blake pressed his foot to the brake and pulled his car to the side of the road. “If we go back now, our lawyers are going to fight this out, probably in court. Is that what you want?”

She finally realized why Blake had suggested this drive. If they went about this with lawyers and paperwork, they’d do it mechanically, seeing facts and figures, not the person they were dealing with. What good would that do either of them?

“No, that’s not what I want,” she murmured.

“Does that mean I shouldn’t turn around?”

Looking into his gray eyes, she sensed what a ruthless man he could be. In her case, though, he was making her face what was best for both of them. “I don’t want you to turn around, but I don’t know if I’m too thrilled about going out on your boat, either.”

His gaze was still locked to hers when he nodded. “Fair enough. We can get supper from the marina’s deli and eat on the deck. Afterward, you can decide if you want to venture onto the water.”

“Fair enough,” she repeated, knowing she’d have to stand her ground with this man, knowing she’d have to be careful what she did, what she said and what she felt.

When they stopped at the deli, Blake insisted on buying everything. Since she wasn’t really hungry and her stomach was tied up in knots, she simply pointed to a turkey sandwich and let him purchase that for her. He didn’t stop with the sandwich order, though, but added fruit salad, rice pudding and an assortment of cookies for dessert. A few minutes later, she followed him to his covered berth and saw immediately that his cabin cruiser, the Suncatcher, was much more than a boat to take out on weekends. He could easily live on it.

Blake boarded first, and the step down was a large one.

“I could lift you down,” he said with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

“If you just give me your hand, I think I’ll be fine.” She didn’t know any other way to do it safely, and she wasn’t about to let him scoop her up into his arms—as if a man would do that in this day and age.

He was standing close to the step. “Use my shoulder to lean on, too.”

Dismay coursed through her when she realized that would help. She wasn’t about to take a chance on falling. When she clasped his shoulder, she could feel the strength there, the hard muscles beneath his knit shirt. This little excursion seemed suddenly altogether too intimate. Still, it was too late to back out now.

When she seemed at a loss for a moment, Blake took her hand and she quickly made the descent into the boat. Hoping to put distance between them again, she moved across the deck, examining its cushioned captain’s chairs, burled walnut fittings, and conveniences she’d only imagined could be on a boat. Suddenly she realized she wasn’t going to get much distance from Blake here.

Although he’d released her hand moments before, she still felt the tautness of his skin. His heat seemed to be part of her now.

He motioned to one of the chairs. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get plates and silverware and cups in the galley.” Then he disappeared down the stairs before she could tell him she could drink her lemonade out of the carton.

“You’ve really never been on a boat before?” Blake asked her fifteen minutes later as they shared supper and gazed out over the water.

She found herself watching him as he ate. He was obviously hungry, as he downed a twelve-inch sub. When he licked mayonnaise from a finger, she found herself watching his lips. They were sensual, mobile, as fascinating as the gray of his eyes.

Giving herself a mental shake, she realized he’d asked her a question. “No, I’ve never been on a boat.”

“So…what do you think?” he asked with a half smile.

“It’s nice,” she said. “Sort of like an outdoor restaurant.”

After he laughed out loud at that, he said, “I’ve never heard it put quite that way before. Would you like a tour? There are two bedrooms, a galley and the head downstairs. That’s the bathroom.”

“That term I’m familiar with. I’ve never been on a boat, but I’ve read about them. Still, I don’t think I’ll need a tour. It doesn’t sound as if I’d get lost using the bathroom.”

“Afraid to go below with me?”

He was much too perceptive for her own good. These quarters were close enough. “Of course not. But I imagine it’s hot down there…”

“I have air-conditioning I can flip on.” Finished with his sandwich now, he leaned forward, his knees almost touching hers. “I’m sorry if I make you nervous.”

She was sure she was blushing now. “It’s just this whole situation,” she said honestly.

“Help me understand,” he requested quietly.

Not sure he could understand, she still attempted to explain. “Discussing artificial insemination with someone other than my husband and doctor isn’t something I’ve done before. Now a whole gaggle of people are talking about it. I’m a minister’s daughter, for heaven’s sake. I still don’t swear in front of my father or anyone who would carry stories to him. I have to talk to him about all of this, and I don’t know how I’m going to do it. On top of that, I’ve driven off with a strange man against my lawyer’s advice. There isn’t anyone here within shouting distance and…” She trailed off, not knowing how to explain the rest. She certainly wasn’t going to tell him she felt things when she looked at him, especially when he got too close.

After studying her for a full two heartbeats, Blake leaned back as if to give her a little space.

“Why would it be so hard to explain all this to your father even if he is a minister?”

“Dad’s very…conservative. He didn’t agree with my decision to become artificially inseminated. He insists that if I was supposed to be pregnant with B.J.’s child, it would have happened before he died.”

“From the background info I read on you, I saw that your mother died when your brother was a year old. You were nine then?”

It bothered her to think he’d accessed information about her so easily. But now she had to make it more than mere words to him. “Yes, I was nine. So I’ve always been more like a mother to Gary than a sister.”

“Did you take care of your father, too?”

“No. We always had a full-time housekeeper-secretary who cooked and baby-sat.”

“I imagine being a minister’s daughter is rough.”

She shrugged. “Not having a mother was rough. Fortunately I wasn’t the wild type to begin with.”

When she mentioned not having a mother, she thought she saw a shadow cross Blake’s face.

After he took a few swallows of soda, he asked, “How about your brother? Is he the wild type?”

“Not really. Gary has just always hated Fawn Grove. We left Pasadena and moved here when he was two. He has his eye on bigger things than a small community can give him. Rafe told me you’ve been back in Fawn Grove for three years. Do you intend to stay?”

“I intend to make it my home base. It was my home when I was a kid, but I’m in Sacramento more than I’m in Fawn Grove. I travel to L.A. and Seattle a lot, too. There’s a charter service I use that makes traveling efficient.”

“We lead very different lives,” Jenna said softly as she thought about his boat and mansion, flying off to another city at the drop of a hat.

“What are you thinking, Jenna?” he asked, his gaze steady on hers.

Again she was chagrined that he could read her so well. She remembered what Rafe had said about not telling this man too much, and yet she had to follow her instincts. “I’m thinking that you can give this child a lot of advantages I can’t, and how a court would look at that.”