Eva sent her a level look. ‘What on earth did you see in him anyway? He bored Nick and I to tears, but we figured he must be a wild man in the sack. Although apparently not.’

‘I thought we were well suited,’ she mumbled, realising how lame and ridiculous that sounded. What had she been thinking? Sticking with a guy for so long who did absolutely nothing for her, in bed, or out of it? Had she actually been that shallow? That obsessed with appearances? That desperate to have what she considered a suitable boyfriend? No wonder she’d gone off like a firecracker with Graystone without any encouragement at all. She’d been sex-starved and desperate.

‘Hmm.’ Eva gave a low hum, her eyebrow lifting in a sceptical frown. ‘But not all that well suited in one particular area.’

‘Not in any area really,’ Tess agreed, ashamed of herself. How could she have spent a whole year dating a guy who didn’t mean that much to her?

‘Enough about Dan.’ Eva leaned forward. ‘Tell me about Firecracker Guy? Who is he?’

Tess huffed. ‘He’s not Firecracker Guy. He’s Complete and Utter Disaster Guy. His name’s Nate Graystone. And I stupidly went to see him first thing this morning after taking the pregnancy tests, because I thought it was the logical next step…’ Tess paused, gulped down the swell of nausea, and finally admitted to herself that was a big fat lie. She hadn’t rearranged her appointments for today and hightailed it over to Graystone’s offices to tell him about the baby because she thought he needed to know.

When those little blue crosses had appeared, she hadn’t been thinking about logic or taking steps. She’d been in a state of shock, and so terrified all she’d really been thinking about was passing the buck—and making this pregnancy Graystone’s problem as well as her own.

Eva grasped her hands again. ‘Stop it, you’re doing the shell-shocked thing again. What did this Nate Graystone say? When you told him about the baby?’

The word baby echoed in Tess’s head, making her flinch.

‘It wasn’t what you’d call a roaring success.’ Tess lifted up shaking fingers and tried to sound flippant. ‘First he hit on me,’ she said, counting off the injuries she’d suffered that morning and praying for some fortifying anger to make the crippling feeling of inadequacy go away. ‘Then he said the bab…’ She paused. ‘He said it wasn’t his.’

If only she could have been mad at him, instead of simply terrified. The sudden realisation of how pathetic she’d been had the tears she’d been holding back flooding over her lids.

‘Oh, Tess.’ Without a pause, Eva placed an arm round her shoulders and gave her a hard hug. ‘Don’t cry. This is not that bad.’

‘How could it be any worse?’ Tess said, the choking sobs lodging in her throat. ‘I got dumped by the most boring man in the universe. I’m pregnant by a guy who I don’t know and who thinks I’m a liar. I don’t have a stable job. Or decent health insurance. I just moved into a flat that costs three thousand two hundred dollars a month.’ She took a deep breath and finally said the thing that she had feared the most. ‘All of which means I should have an abortion. But just the thought of it makes me feel…’ she gulped in air, the hideousness of her situation assailing her for the first time ‘… that I’ve failed. That I’m a stupid, terrible, selfish…’ The sobs finally burst out of her mouth, the warmth of Eva’s arms only making her feel like more of a fraud. She didn’t deserve Eva’s sympathy. She didn’t deserve anyone’s sympathy.

‘Shh.’

At long last the sobs eased off, and Eva shifted back. The dampness in her friend’s eyes almost set Tess off again, but she refused to give in to the pity party.

‘The first thing you need to ask yourself is do you want to have an abortion?’ Eva asked softly.

‘I don’t think so,’ Tess answered instinctively. The tears spilled over again. ‘I’ve been trying really hard to pretend it’s not a baby. Not yet. But the minute I knew, I felt…’ she paused, lifted tear-soaked eyes to her friend ‘… different somehow. Connected. But I’m not sure I have any other options,’ she said dully. The one thing she couldn’t be now was insane. She’d been insane enough already.

Eva glanced at her son, who was happily bouncing in his swing like a gymnast going for Olympic gold. And then looked back at her, the smile in her eyes oddly peaceful. ‘If you want the baby, you should have it. Everything else is just logistics.’

Tess looked up at Eva, her heart shattering. If only it were that simple. ‘I can’t have it.’ But even as she finally said the words, she knew that it wasn’t an It any more, however hard she’d tried to make it one. It was a baby. It was her baby. And the fear of what she would have to do rose up her throat and wrapped its claws round her neck.

‘Yes, you can, Tess,’ said Eva gently. ‘This is your panic talking. You need to stop and think. You’re going to have to change your life, but all we’re talking about here is practicalities. You’ve got seven months to sort your life out before it arrives. And don’t forget you happen to be a master at planning for special events.’

The seconds ticked by as Tess struggled not to hope. ‘That is true.’

Eva took her hands, squeezed tight. ‘You don’t have to make the decision right away. But it is an option. One you should consider properly.’

Tess took a shuddering breath and placed her palm on her stomach, the feeling of connection that she’d tried to deny all morning surging back full force. ‘I do want to have it.’ Just being able to admit the truth out loud made the nausea settle. ‘But it’s not just the practicalities, the lifestyle changes I’ll have to make.’ That had just been a convenient excuse really, she could see that now. ‘How do I know I’ll be any good at it? Being a mother, I mean?’

Eva sighed. ‘You don’t. No one does. Not until they’ve had kids. Everyone has to learn parenthood on the job.’ A smile lit up her features. ‘It’s exciting and terrifying and exhausting and never, ever easy, but that’s what makes it the grandest adventure of your life.’

‘B-but you’re so good at it. Look at Carmy,’ Tess stammered. ‘You’re a natural. I’m not sure I am.’ Her own mother had died so long ago she could barely remember her. And her father had hardly filled the gap.

‘That’s sweet, Tess, but you have no idea how many mistakes Nick and I have made with Carmine. Luckily for us, he’s surprisingly forgiving of all our faults. All you can really promise a child is that you’ll love them. And that you’ll do the best you can. You’ll figure out the rest. You’re not stupid.’ Her pure blue eyes brightened with enthusiasm. ‘And we’ll help. You have friends. A support network and there’s always the possibility the father will want to help when he’s got used to the—’

‘He won’t,’ Tess interrupted. And no way would she ask him again.

Whatever silly fantasies she might have had about Graystone sharing some of the burden had been knocked out of her this morning. And she wasn’t going to resurrect them, not now she knew that the man lurking beneath that sexy and charismatic exterior was as cold and judgemental as her own father. She hardly needed another one of those in her life.

If she was going to have this baby, she would be doing it solo.

‘Okay, let’s put the question of the father aside for now,’ Eva said, carefully. ‘The important thing is that you do what feels right, or you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.’

A lone tear trickled down Tess’s cheek, her palm settling again on the belly she jogged eight miles every morning to keep flat and toned.

She let her head drop back and blinked at Eva’s newly painted ceiling, realising that her flat belly would be history soon. And it didn’t bother her a bit. Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes as the giddy swell of excitement thumped at her chest. ‘I’m actually going to be a mummy,’ she whispered.

Eva covered Tess’s hand and laughed. ‘Welcome to the grand adventure, Mummy.’

CHAPTER THREE

‘ZANE, thanks for coming.’ Nate got up from the booth and pressed his hand to his best friend’s shoulder. ‘How was the drive up?’

‘Sweet.’ Zane Montoya flashed his trademark grin and Nate was immediately thrown back in time to their childhood, when that grin had only ever meant one thing—trouble. ‘I opened the Sixty-Seven up on 101 and she took those curves like a pro.’ Zane relaxed into the booth, his long legs stretching under the table.

Nate signalled the waitress to bring two Mexican beers before joining his friend in the comforting darkness. He’d wanted privacy for this chat, and luckily Murphy’s, the small neighbourhood bar a block from his offices, offered just that.

‘The Sixty-Seven?’

‘My latest acquisition,’ Zane replied, the face that had seduced a thousand women taking on a boyish glow of enthusiasm. ‘Sixty-Seven Mustang, soft top, Cobra Jet V8 engine, reconditioned gearbox and white-wall tyres.’

Nate gave a low whistle. ‘Where did you pick that up?’

‘Little old lady in Pasadena.’ Settling into the booth, Zane rested one arm across the back of it. ‘Who drove a mighty hard bargain. It needed a heck of a lot of work after spending forty years gathering dust in her garage.’

Nate doubted Zane minded a bit, as fooling around with cars and engines had been his passion since high school. That and chasing women—of every size, age, shape and religious persuasion.

The waitress arrived and placed their order on the table, gazing dreamily at Zane, then letting out a flirtatious giggle when he saluted her with his bottle.

Nate took a slow lug of the icy beer as the girl sauntered off, swinging her hips for all she was worth, and remembered that Zane had never had to chase any woman very far, because they all wanted to be caught. Usually sooner rather than later.

‘So what’s on your mind, Kemosabe?’ Zane asked, his gaze finally leaving the waitress’s butt as she disappeared into the crowd round the bar.

Nate cleared his throat and placed his beer bottle back on the table. ‘Remember that hook-up I told you about? A month or so ago?’

‘The British girl?’ Zane supplied. ‘Who you did in a janitor’s closet.’ Zane gave a rough laugh as Nate felt the flush burn the back of his neck.

‘Yeah, that girl.’ What had he been thinking mentioning it to Zane? His friend would be getting mileage out of it for the rest of their natural days. But at the time he’d been feeling raw and confused at the way she’d disappeared so abruptly—and he’d covered up the need for his friend’s input by boasting about it. Right now, though, he needed a lot more than just Zane’s advice.

‘She came to see me, last week.’ He paused, the niggling suspicion that had been digging away at the back of his mind ever since their meeting making him feel uneasy. ‘She says she’s pregnant.’

Zane’s eyebrows rose a fraction and his smile died. ‘That’s a complication.’

‘It’s not mine,’ Nate replied flatly, but the certainty he’d had a week ago failed to materialise. Why couldn’t he get that look of anguish in her face out of his head? Why hadn’t she argued? Why hadn’t she even attempted to persuade him? It didn’t add up.

‘You sure about that?’ Zane asked.

Nate thrust a hand through his hair, not liking the flat note in Zane’s voice. ‘I used a condom.’

‘Condoms fail,’ Zane replied, placing his beer down on the table with steely calm. ‘If a woman I slept with got knocked up, I’d want to know for sure it wasn’t mine.’

Nate realised he should have expected this response. Had probably wanted it on some level. The circumstances of Zane’s birth and his childhood meant that he took a hard line when it came to fathering children without taking responsibility. And who could blame him?

‘Which is where you come in,’ Nate replied. ‘I want you to get one of your guys to check it out. Find out if she’s actually pregnant. And whether I’m the father or not. I’ll pay the going rate.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘What? Why not?’ Nate growled, annoyed. He might have expected this reaction, but getting Zane involved was the obvious solution.

Zane owned and ran the most prestigious private detective agency on the West Coast. Based in a huge glass office overlooking Big Sur, Montoya Investigations had a well-earned reputation for being classy, efficient, discreet and painstakingly thorough. And Graystone Enterprises had helped with the start-up finance four years ago, right after Zane had quit the LAPD. They were friends. Surely that should stand for something?

He and Zane had a history. They had grown up together in the huge coastal mansion his great-grandfather had built. They were as good as brothers. The familiar agony flickered through his consciousness as he ruthlessly cut off the wayward thought. Right now, he needed a friend, damn it, not another critic.

Zane scowled, not looking very friendly. ‘Montoya doesn’t take that kind of domestic work if we can help it. And getting your girlfriend investigated is a bit cold, don’t you think?’

Nate felt the headache that had been brewing most of the week pound against his temple. ‘She’s not my girlfriend,’ he clarified. But the accusation still stung.

He wasn’t cold. He was cautious. He’d been burned once before. No way in hell was he going to get burned again.

‘And this isn’t just dirty laundry,’ he snapped back. ‘This is about whether Tess Tremaine is telling the truth or not.’

He wanted a conclusive answer. Proof that she had been lying to him. Then he could stop thinking about the reproach in her eyes. What was so wrong about that?

‘Damn it, Nate, if you want to know the truth, you need to get out of your ivory tower and go have a conversation with the woman, like any regular guy.’

Nate flinched, the accusation slicing right through his composure and his control. ‘I’m not my father.’ He rubbed a clammy palm on the denim of his jeans, acknowledged the vicious stab of guilt at the mention of the man they both despised.

Zane’s face hardened, his crystal blue eyes glittering with enmity in the shadowy booth. ‘Yeah?’ He ground out the single word, then reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, and flicked a ten-dollar bill on the table.

Nate’s fingers fisted under the table. ‘What the hell makes you think she’d tell me the truth anyway?’ he said, still determined to get Zane on side. Tess Tremaine had an unpredictable effect on him that he wasn’t sure he could control. She’d proved that twice already. And until he knew he could control it, he didn’t want to go anywhere near the woman.

Zane stood, his eyes softening. ‘Look, man, not every woman’s Marlena.’

Nate stiffened.

Zane tucked his hands into his back pockets. ‘And you’re not your old man. I wouldn’t give a damn about you if you were.’ Zane’s voice sobered. ‘But that’s exactly why you’ve gotta clean up your own mess. You don’t need a private investigator. Go talk to her. It’s that simple.’ He cursed under his breath. ‘If you’re still stuck after you’ve spoken to her, I’ll make a few calls. But you’ll need a DNA test to find out for sure if you’re the father. I’m a detective, not a doctor.’ A mocking smile edged the corners of his mouth. ‘Then again, you could always find a convenient closet and seduce the truth out of her.’

‘Good thinking, Batman,’ Nate muttered, annoyed by the familiar surge of heat. ‘That’s what got me into this fix in the first place, remember.’

‘Oh, yeah,’ Zane drawled before taking one last slug of his beer. ‘Good luck, Kemosabe—and stay the hell away from janitors’ closets.’

Nate watched as his friend sauntered over to the waitress’s station and whispered something into the young woman’s ear. The girl laughed flirtatiously and gave Zane a playful punch on the arm, then gazed dreamily at his retreating back as he strolled out of the door.

The band around Nate’s temples tightened into a vice.

Sure it was simple for Zane. Zane understood women as well as any mortal man could. He actually seemed to enjoy uncovering those dark secrets that most men couldn’t even begin to fathom.

But even a guy like Zane would have trouble handling someone as unpredictable as Tess Tremaine.

CHAPTER FOUR

NATE clicked on his smart phone to double-check the address Zane had texted as he sat in his Jeep on the tree-lined street in Parnassus. Then stared at the duplex opposite.

Four-Five-Six Carl, Apartment Two. The address listed on a Miss Theresa Tremaine’s driver’s licence.

He contemplated the building’s pale yellow frontage, the row of buzzers on the door panel, and the shutters covering the second-floor window. Then glanced down the street at the Japanese café on the corner.

This was nuts. How could he possibly have fathered a child with someone whose apartment he’d never even been inside of?

Because you’ve been inside her, you dumbass.

He shifted in his seat, disconcerted by the inevitable swell of heat that accompanied the thought. The possibility she had been telling the truth might be slight, but it was there.

She hadn’t contacted him since that one brief meeting in his office, which kind of confirmed his suspicions. She’d been there to ask him for money and, when she’d realised he wasn’t playing ball, she’d decided not to push her luck.

But that image of her face, the distress in her eyes, still refused to go away, so he’d speak to her one last time—to make sure.

He straightened, catching sight of the slim young woman who jogged round the corner and waved to someone in the café. Baggy sweats hung low on her hips, allowing a strip of taut creamy skin to peak beneath the tank top that hugged her breasts. She moved with an easy comfortable grace as she leapt up the steps of the apartment block and then checked what he guessed had to be a pedometer on her wrist. Her dark blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail, her bangs covered by a wide purple sweatband, and her face cast into shadow by the branch of an overhanging maple tree, but recognition burned through his system and the swell of heat started to pound.

She went through a series of stretches as he recalled the feel of slender, sleekly muscled thighs wrapped round his waist. She stopped to key in a door code, then shouldered open the apartment door with a hard thud. The sound reminded him of the soft thud as her back had hit the locked door of the janitor’s closet.

He gave his head a swift shake, forcing himself back to reality. Grabbing the keys from the ignition, he jumped out of the car and jogged across the street.

There were going to be no more closet interludes for him and Tess Tremaine. Letting his libido torpedo his common sense once had been enough. What he needed now was to concentrate on his goal. No matter how damn sexy she was.

‘Tess,’ he shouted. ‘Wait up.’

She swung round as he took the steps two at a time to join her on the stoop.

The sheen of sweat glowing on her cleavage above the scooped neck of her tank top drew his eyes and brought with it another hot jolt of memory.

‘What do you want?’ she snapped.

His gaze lifted to her face, and he had the uncomfortable thought that even without a lick of make-up on, and the wisps of hair framing her face matted with sweat from her morning run, she had to be the most extraordinarily beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. Her impossibly high cheekbones and those sultry green eyes and full kissable lips were only accentuated by the rosy flush of exertion on her cheeks.

He cleared his throat. ‘I want to talk to you,’ he managed at last.

The sultry green flashed molten fire and her bee-stung lips pursed into a thin line. ‘Well, I don’t want to talk to you,’ she shot back, slapping a hand on her hip. The antagonistic stance made her full breasts flatten against the thin cotton of the tank top and his eyes nearly bugged right out of his head. Had her breasts got a size larger in the last ten days?

‘Now go away.’

The hurled words startled him and she was almost in the door before he managed to claw his mind back out of his pants. He wedged his palm against the door just in the nick of time.

She shoved her shoulder against it, so he leaned in harder. She was tall, the top of her head almost level with his chin as she struggled to close the door, but she couldn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds. He waited patiently, easily holding the door ajar.

‘Either we talk out here, and let the whole neighbourhood know our business, or we talk in your apartment, and keep this private,’ he said, his voice hoarse as he kept his gaze riveted to her flushed angry face, and off that mind-boggling cleavage. ‘Your choice.’

‘Oh, for Pete’s sake!’ she muttered, but finally surrendered the door. ‘Fine. Come in.’ She stomped off up the stairs, pointedly turning her back on him. ‘You’ve already ruined my morning.’

He followed her up the stairs, and judiciously kept his gaze off her moist cleavage as she yanked on a thin gold chain round her neck, and lifted out a key. She opened the apartment door on the second floor, leaving him to grab it before it shut in his face as she waltzed inside. He took in the light, airy and compact apartment, glad that her attitude had changed since their last meeting. Hostility was a lot easier to handle than fake fragility.

Hardwood flooring complemented the plain white walls of the living room, but apart from a stack of boxes on the floor there wasn’t a single piece of furniture in the whole room. He heard the sound of running water, then looked across to see her walk out of the galley kitchen, which was also bare except for another large box resting on the countertop.

She took a deep swallow of the water, then lifted her tank top to wipe her face. He ignored the throb of heat at the quick glimpse of a white cotton sports bra, and the smooth translucent skin stretched taut across her narrow waist.

Strike one to him: there was no visible sign of a baby there. Her belly was as flat as he remembered it. Plus what sort of woman went jogging when they were pregnant? His spirits lifted a little.

‘What could we possibly have to talk about?’ she said as her tank dropped back into place covering up that incriminatingly flat belly. ‘I think we covered just about everything the last time we met, don’t you?’

Despite being hacked off by her snippy tone, and the instant effect she had on his libido, he held off launching into his newest suspicion about her condition. One of them was going to have to be a grown-up about this. And it looked as if that person would have to be him.

‘Where’s your furniture?’ he asked, keeping his tone admirably civil.

‘I’m just about to move out, not that it’s any of your business,’ she said in a sing-song voice that was obviously meant to be a dig. She straightened away from the door frame and rested a palm on her hip, the stance doing that weird optical illusion thing to her breasts again. ‘And by the way, how did you get my address?’

‘You can lose the hostility,’ he said, losing his own civility as the heat resolutely refused to die. ‘If you didn’t want to have anything to do with me, you wouldn’t have contacted me last week.’

Tess glared at the man standing in the centre of her empty living room—his imposing build filling up most of the available space and taking up all the oxygen too. She’d hardly pushed herself this morning, settling on a very leisurely four-mile run, so why the heck couldn’t she breathe?

‘That was then.’ She glared harder. ‘This is now, and I don’t want to have anything to do with you any more.’

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