His Shotgun Proposal

“Probably because it was the other way around. You seduced me.”

“That’s not the way I remember it.”

“No, that’s not the way you want me to remember it.”

She sighed. “Okay, let me see if I’ve got your version of events down correctly. I planned the whole seduction. Bumped into you at the bar on purpose. Insisted on secrecy—no names, no phone numbers, no personal information. Had my wicked way with you all night, intentionally getting pregnant in the process. Slipped away the next morning, already plotting to run into you, by accident, five months later so I could make nefarious demands on your pristine name and fabulous fortune, which of course, I have researched to the last penny. Oh, yes, and then there’s your oh-so-precious royal blue blood, which I traced all the way back to Lawrence of Arabia. Did I miss anything, Your Highness?”

He’d spent hours now going over just that scenario and, although it sounded ridiculous the way she said it, he thought there was as much evidence to support his theory as her claim that it was all sheer coincidence. Plus, he had the advantage of firsthand experience on just how duplicitous a woman could be and the lengths she would go to in order to get a wedding ring. “Only one small detail,” he said, attempting to pierce her facade of innocent outrage with a hard stare. “I don’t believe for a second I’m the father of that baby.”

Her breathing grew instantly agitated at the implication and it seemed to take her several seconds to find the raspy sounds that passed for her voice. “All I can say is that if you’re really a prince, the world is hard up for royalty.”

“I don’t believe my character is the one in question here.”

“Well, you’ll have to debate that with someone else.” She turned and started to walk away. Barefoot. She was barefoot.

Mac pushed away from the dock rail and fell into step beside her, wondering if he should offer to carry her across the gravel driveway so she wouldn’t hurt her bare feet. But she stopped short and faced him with a contemptuous glare. “What part of leave me alone do you not understand?”

Her chest rose and fell with each angry breath and he had a sudden, compelling impulse to rip off her concealing white shirt and bare her breasts so that he could see them full and ripe with her pregnancy. He found the idea of the changes in her body not just sexually titillating but exciting. Very exciting. And that realization unsettled him even further and made his voice scratchy and sharp. “You made a big mistake in coming to the Desert Rose. I don’t know what you thought would happen here, but I can personally guarantee that you won’t be happy with the outcome.”

“That’s already quite apparent,” she said with an irritated sigh. “Because the only request I’ve made of you so far is to leave me alone.”

He ought to do just that. He should take her lack of denial as validation and walk away from her right now. But this was his ranch, his home, his dock, and she’d contaminated them, along with the memories of the one night they’d spent together. He didn’t know why the latter charge seemed the most offensive, but he’d be damned if he’d let it bother him. “I want you to leave tomorrow,” he stated firmly, and hated the way his gut twisted in protest. “I know Jessica will try to persuade you to stay, but—”

“But it would be so much more comfortable for you if I go. You don’t have to draw me a map. I understand I’m to make no claims on you for myself or for the baby.” Her lips curved with a wry contempt. “But you know what? I can do that right here.”

Mac frowned, waiting for fury at her defiant manner to sweep over him. “Do what?”

“Leave you alone, of course.” Her chin was up, her eyes shining, as she gave an arrogant, decisive little toss of her head. “I’ll stay here and work with Jessie as I planned and you’ll stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours. Voilà, we both get what we want.”

“You can’t stay here,” he said, not only not furious, but a little panicked. “That would be very unwise.”

“Why? Are you going to run around behind my back, assuring everyone you’re not the father of my baby?” She smiled, obviously of the opinion she had the upper hand. “That’s only going to make them think it’s a possibility.”

“I have every right to defend myself.”

“Against what? This?” She patted the slope of her belly. “Sorry, but you’re a little late for that.”

“You’re not staying,” he said, determined she would not best him in this argument. “Tomorrow, you’ll tell Jessica that you’ve changed your mind and you must leave. Tomorrow, I’ll drive you to the airport and pay for your ticket, if need be. But one way or another, tomorrow, you are leaving this ranch.”

She turned her gaze back to the lake, looking both determined and satisfied with herself. “No, I don’t think so.”

“This isn’t your decision.”

Her eyes returned to him with the fire of her resolve. “Yes, Mac, it is. For five months now, I’ve rocked along, pretending this wasn’t happening, putting off decisions, believing that if I ever met you again, you’d help me make the right choices for our baby. But I realize now, I am the responsible party here. And I will make the decisions without benefit of your advice. So, as far as I’m concerned, you and your arrogant, self-important opinions can take a flying leap into this lake and swim all the way to the Gulf of Mexico before I’ll give half-a-second’s consideration to what you want.”

“My family will never permit you to claim any portion of the Desert Rose for your child.”

“Your family will never know this child has every right to make such a claim unless you tell them.”

“You expect me to believe you haven’t already told them?”

“I’ve told no one. Except you. And believe me, if I could think of a way to take it back, you wouldn’t know, either.”

What could she hope to gain with this tack? Time? Opportunity? Support? “So you intend to hold me hostage here on my own property, while you wait for the right moment to drop your little bombshell?”

“I intend to stay as far away from you as you and the boundaries of this ranch will permit. But even if we step on each other every time we turn around, I am not going to be forced into leaving simply because my presence here makes you uncomfortable.”

“You’re making a mistake, Abigail Jones.”

She stared silently into his eyes for a moment, then spun around and walked back to the end of the dock, reaching up with both hands to push the bulky weight of her hair off her nape. “Well, I made a mistake in not bringing a swimsuit, that’s for sure.”

Did she think she could simply announce her intention to make his life a living hell and then change the subject? Well, he could turn the tables as well as she. “What a pity,” he said, unbuttoning his shirt. “A midnight swim would undoubtedly clear your head and enable you to think more clearly. It might even soothe your heartburn. But then again, probably not.”

“If you were a gentleman, you’d go away and the swimsuit would be a non-issue.”

His eyebrows went up. “And leave you to swim alone? Now, that would be very ungentlemanly.”

“So it’s okay to swim without a swimsuit as long as I don’t do it alone?”

“Got it in one, Abigail Jones.” He shrugged out of his shirt and tossed it over the rail, then his hands dropped to the buckle on his belt. “The question is, are you going in with me or are you going to run away like a frightened little chicken?”

She turned around just as he unsnapped the top of his jeans. Her gaze flickered down the shadowy vee of hair on his chest to his abdomen, then rose in a guilty rush. “Are you daring me to take my clothes off in full view of the house?”

“This is a working ranch. Anyone who’s not asleep by this hour won’t be worth a damn tomorrow. Besides, it would take a pair of high-powered binoculars to see this section of the dock from any of the ranch buildings in broad daylight, much less now.” His gaze lingered on the exposed white skin of her inner arm as she continued to hold the weight of hair off her neck. Unbidden, he recalled the soft, sweet taste of her flesh in his mouth and knew the memory was as treacherous as her look of innocence, as tantalizing as the thought of her swimming naked beside him. He wanted to touch her, kiss her, bend her to his will. He wanted her to be who he’d believed she was, and that was impossible. Leaning against the dock rail, he balanced on one foot and pulled off first one boot, then the other. “So, little liar, are you brave enough to skinny-dip with me?”

“Brave, enough, yes. But not stupid. You’d probably try to drown me.”

“Ah, good. You are afraid.” He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his jeans and she abruptly turned her back. “Although, I’d never resort to violence. As you’re well aware, I have nothing to gain by harming you.” He smiled at the stiff set of her shoulders and thought, with another nudge or two, she’d be eager to leave tomorrow. “So you see, Abbie, there’s no reason for you to stand here in the heat and humidity, blaming me for depriving you of your swim. I already know you have no modesty.”

Her chin came up as she whirled to face him, barely blinking at his state of undress. “You know nothing about me.”

“I know you aren’t going to risk letting me get a good look at a body heavy with the weight of another man’s child. That could be detrimental to your plans.”

If he’d been wearing any, his underwear would have gone down in flames. “You are the only man I’ve slept with in over a year,” she said, her voice shaking with desperate anger. “And you are the father of this baby.”

Mac considered her claim for a long moment, wondering, calculating the possibility, but he couldn’t bring himself to believe her. He just couldn’t. “Then, I guess you’ll have to come up with another excuse to stay out of the water, won’t you, little chick?” He walked to the edge of the pier and stretched lazily, glancing at her over his shoulder. “Oh, and don’t bother pulling some juvenile stunt like stealing my clothes as you leave. I promise it would turn out to be far more embarrassing for you in the long run, if I have to walk back to the house in my birthday suit.” Feeling that he’d successfully called her bluff, he made a clean, leisurely dive into the cool, cleansing water.

Abbie was reaching for the buttons of her shirt even before Mac completely disappeared beneath the surface. She’d show him she wasn’t afraid of him or his stupid threats. She didn’t care if he saw her body, rounding with the shape of the pregnancy. It was his fault she was in this shape, anyway. Another man’s child. She should drown him for saying such a thing. For being such a jerk. How could she have been so stupid as to fantasize about him for the past five months, turning him into some kind of movie-idol hero in her mind, never imagining he’d reject her and the baby out of hand. It had never once occurred to her that he wouldn’t believe her, that he’d accuse her of the blackest of lies and an attempt to trap him into marriage, as well.

Her fingers fumbled with the buttons. Going skinny-dipping to prove her point was only stooping to his level. It would do nothing more than make an awkward situation worse. But she couldn’t just walk away, either. Retreat felt too much like surrender. She watched him, swimming in long, powerful strokes against the dark water, his muscular arms, legs, shoulders and buttocks visible in intermittent flashes of moonlit gold.

Okay, so if she wasn’t going to strip naked and follow him in and she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of her retreat, what other option did she have? Jumping in, fully clothed? Well, she was only wearing a white cotton shirt and a pair of maternity underpants, which would both be disgustingly revealing when dripping wet. If she’d had any idea she’d see anyone on this late night quest for a few moments of peace, she’d have put on something more suitable, although perhaps not as comfortable in this heat. On the other hand, if she’d known Mac was still out roaming the countryside like an alley cat, she’d never have ventured from her room in the first place, much less worried about what to wear.

Her gaze shifted to the clothes he’d flung carelessly across the dock railing. A paid of boots, socks, a belt, a pair of jeans, a denim…shirt. The first smile of the evening lifted her spirits. It wasn’t the comeuppance she’d like to deliver him, by a long shot. On a scale of annoyance, it would barely rate a one and a half or a two, but it looked like her only option and therefore, it would have to do. In a matter of minutes, she was wrapped in his shirt, while hers hung, dry and waiting for her return, on the railing. As she rolled up the sleeves and turned down the collar, the scent of him surrounded her in a tide of memories that would be best forgotten. But for just a second…one little flashback of a moment…she remembered him as he’d been—as she’d thought he was—and wished things might have turned out differently. Then, arcing her hands high over her head, she dove straight and true into the water.

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