The Pregnancy Clause

“I’ll figure out something. She won’t be home for weeks. I have plenty of time. And as far as asking Kat goes, I disagree. With a few ground rules—” She jumped up. “I have to go home and figure out how to contact him.”

She kissed her sister’s cheek, then raced down the stairs to her truck, yelling goodbye to Danny as she climbed into the driver’s seat. In the rearview mirror, she could see Honey standing on the porch, mouth agape, hands outstretched, as if wondering what just happened. For once, she’d left her older sister speechless.

Emily didn’t have to wonder what had just happened. She’d had an epiphany. Kat had always helped her before. Why not this time? All she wanted was one healthy, enthusiastic sperm to conceive her baby. Surely he could spare one. Besides, he owed her for running out on her.

KAT SETTLED into the black leather chair across from J. R. Pritchard. Pritchard looked more like a successful CEO than a P.I. Navy suit, burgundy-and-beige tie executed in a perfect Windsor knot beneath the button-down collar of a crisp, white shirt. Definitely not the Bogart type Kat had anticipated.

“Mr. Madison—”

“Kat.”

Pritchard raised an eyebrow. “Kat. What can I do for you?”

Reaching into his back pocket, Kat extracted a worn, brown leather wallet. From it, he pulled a slip of paper, which he unfolded, then passed to Pritchard. “This is a rubbing off the end of a handmade cradle. I want to know who made the cradle and who it was made for.”

Pritchard studied the design, one Kat was very familiar with: a hand-carved, crude reproduction of a rose twined around an equally crude heart, all enclosed in a circle.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before.” Pritchard continued to study the rubbing. “There’s a good chance that someone might recognize it for that very reason. There’s also a good chance, again for that very reason, that you’ll never find out who carved it.” He tossed the paper on his desk. “Why is it important that you find the artist? Is this cradle an antique or something?”

An explanation hung on Kat’s lips. No one knew about the cradle or his adoption. He didn’t like sharing that knowledge. “The rubbing might have something to do with my birth parents. I was adopted by Hilda and Charles Madison when I was ten months old.” He pulled another folded sheet of paper from his wallet. This one showed the wear marks of having been unfolded many times. He handed it to Pritchard.

He nodded, then looked at the paper. “Ah, so you’re looking to be reunited with your birth parents.”

“No.” Kat’s tone was much sterner than he’d planned. Pritchard’s head jerked up. “No emotional reunions. Just find the artist and the information I asked for, then call me. I’ll take it from there.” All Kat wanted to know was why anyone would abandon a ten-month-old infant to strangers and walk away. He didn’t need Pritchard digging around in his life—not that he had anything to hide. But some things were better off staying between a man and his conscience.

Pritchard stared at him for a long time, then shrugged, as if he really didn’t care to know Kat’s reasoning and that suited Kat just fine. He had no intention of sharing it. “Any hurry on this?”

Kat shook his head. “None.” He’d already spent sixteen years searching, he could wait a while longer.

IT HAD BEEN a full two days since Emily had talked to Honey, her decision to ask Kat to father her child already taking form in her mind. Trouble was, when she got home, her nerve had deserted her. After the things she’d said to him, how could she now ask for such a monumental favor?

She leaned against the rail fence separating the corrals. She still hadn’t forgiven him for deserting her all those years ago, but that was something she’d have to worry about later. Right now, she didn’t have time to waste. She needed a father for her child. Correction. She needed Kat to father her child.

The ring of a hammer pounding nails into wood echoed across the west pasture. Her fingers unconsciously sought and curled around the tiny key lying against her collarbone. The smooth metal, warmed by her body heat, and its familiar shape gave her courage. After doing one last mental check of her list of stipulations, she swallowed hard and headed toward Kat’s house.

Plan A was officially in motion.

Chapter Three

Kat laid the pry bar aside, pulled a soiled rag from his back pocket, then wiped the perspiration from his face and upper torso. Standing back a few paces, he gazed at his former home. He nodded to himself in satisfaction, then smiled.

He’d been very careful about his plans for renovating the old Victorian house. The last thing he wanted to do was remove the things that gave it character, and, he had to admit, the familiarity he cherished. Thankfully, only the corner where the living room had been would have to be rebuilt. The rest of the house had survived. He had only a few more boards to pull off, then he’d check the studs for fire damage. By next week, he could start to rebuild. If all went well, he’d have the house ready to go on the market in about four weeks.

A noise behind him drew his attention from the house. He swung around. Emily stood just inside the line of trees dividing their land, a blanket folded over her arm and a picnic hamper at her feet. Sunlight danced off her rich brown hair, which was caught back in a long braid. Her face, devoid of all makeup, creased in a tentative smile that tore at his insides. Her curves, encased by jeans and a bright yellow sweater, reminded him again that Emily had become a woman. Something inside him mourned missing the transformation from the little girl with the dirty face and the ripped jeans into this breathtaking beauty.

What had brought her here? After their last encounter, he’d thought she would avoid him at all costs. As she walked past him to the base of the large oak hanging over most of the yard, the smell of perfume drifted to him. Emily? Perfume? She’d never smelled like anything but the horses she loved.

“Hi.” She set the basket down, then spread the blanket in the shade.

“Hi, yourself.”

“I thought you might want some lunch.” She pointed at the picnic basket, the same one they’d hauled on many picnics as kids. Then she half-smiled. “Actually, it’s kind of a peace offering.”

Why did she feel compelled to come with a peace offering, when he was the one who should be apologizing? Tempted to lighten the moment by chiding her about her cooking, he held back. With the ease of their past association gone and the tension that hung between them, he didn’t feel comfortable teasing her anymore. Instead, he offered a weak, “Great! My stomach was beginning to think my throat had been cut.”

Avoiding his gaze, Emily opened the basket.

“Rose is away, so I had to make the sandwiches.”

“Rose?”

“My housekeeper. She came here after…well, after.” Fumbling with the contents of the basket, she looked at him expectantly. “I made—”

“—peanut butter and banana sandwiches,” Kat finished for her.

She brightened, as if pleased that he remembered her favorite sandwich. He smiled back. Her expression became hesitant, as if his smile made her uneasy. She quickly turned away. “Cooking was never my strong suit.” She fussed with laying out the contents of the basket, then glanced at the house. “What are you going to do with it when you get it done?”

“Sell it.” He noted the stiffness in her body begin to drain away. Relief that he wouldn’t be right on her doorstep? Her next words answered his question.

“Then you’re not planning on living here?”

Was that a note of hope in her voice? “No.” An honest answer, if a bit evasive; he didn’t plan to live in the house. Again, Kat thought he saw relief in her posture. The intense surge of disappointment he experienced took him by surprise.

The air between them became thick enough to ride a horse over. Kat searched for words, any words. Anything was better than this tension. Anything to bridge this gulf separating them. He sighed. Only one thing would do that and he had to be the one to do it.

“Emily, I’m sorry that I took off and never said anything to you.”

She turned slowly toward him.

“It was unfair. I wish I could tell you why I did it, but I can’t. Not yet.” He took her hand. “I promise that someday I will, but not right now. Trust me, okay?” Her fingers tightened around his. That small gesture brought something alive inside him that had been cold and dead. “I want to be friends again. Is that possible?”

Even as he said the words, currents of awareness raced up his arm from their clenched hands. For the first time in his life, Kat wasn’t sure exactly what he felt for Emily. Was it just friendship?

Before he could decide, she removed her hand from his. “I don’t know. Can we?”

The pain of Kat’s leaving still sat heavy on Emily’s heart. She wanted to know why he’d gone, but he obviously wasn’t going to tell her.

He’d promised long ago that he’d always be there for her, and he hadn’t been. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Kat’s promises were about as substantial as her father’s. She’d trusted him when they were kids. Dare she trust him again?

“I’d like us to be friends, Squirt.”

She looked into his dark eyes for a long time, trying to assess his sincerity. He winked. That familiar gesture, coupled with the use of the nickname he’d given her years ago, gave birth to a warm rush of contentment inside her. She’d missed Kat, but she truly hadn’t realized just how much until she’d come face-to-face with the one person who’d made her childhood tolerable. She wanted him in her life, but not just for the sake of fathering her child. She wanted her friend back, even if she wasn’t sure she could ever trust him again.

KAT SIGHED, laid aside the core of the apple he’d just devoured for desert and then leaned back against the old oak. Shadows covered his face.

“Squirt—” He studied her, then brushed at a stray strand of hair the slight breeze had deposited on her cheek. “I guess I’d better find a new name for you. You went and grew up on me.”

Emily wanted to remind him that, if he’d stayed around, he’d have been here for her growing-up, but she was too busy fighting the tingles of awareness racing the length of her body. She abruptly leaned away, breaking contact with his fingers.

What was wrong with her?

This was Kat, her buddy, not some hunk trying to seduce her. Resisting the urge to touch her cheek, she pushed the feelings aside. She had to concentrate on wording what she’d come here to ask him.

“Oh, oh. I remember that look. What’s going on in that devious little mind of yours?” He leaned down to see her face. “What do you want me to jump off this time?”

She shook her head, trying to produce a wide-eyed look of innocence.

Kat sat up, then leaned toward her. “Nope. That look hasn’t washed with me since you were six, and I took the blame for you almost burning up the field while you were practicing your Girl Scout campfire skills. You’re forgetting I know you too well. I haven’t forgotten that your teeth nibbling on your bottom lip means you’re up to something.” He smiled, then gently pried her lip free. “Out with it.”

It annoyed her that she hadn’t been aware, until he’d pointed it out, that she’d been gnawing on her lip or that she’d slipped so easily into their familiar ways. And it annoyed her even more that his casual touch had started those tingles up again.

Concentrate, Emily.

He’d given her the perfect opening. Instead of worrying about some crazy hormonal reaction, she needed to be thinking about how to form the words to get his agreement. After all, it wasn’t every day that she asked a man to father a child for her.

“I’m going to have a baby.” The words tumbled past her lips before she could stop them. Cautiously, she glanced at Kat.

His skin had paled slightly. He pushed himself to his feet. His mouth hardened. “What do you want me to say? Good going, Em?”

The bite in his words surprised her. What was he getting his shorts in a knot about? Then it hit her. He thought she meant she was pregnant already.

Before she could rectify her blunder, he turned away from her. “And who’s the lucky man?”

The edge in his voice cut through her confidence. She lowered her gaze. “You.” When he didn’t reply right away, she glanced up.

Kat had swung around, his eyes wide, his mouth hanging agape. “Excuse me? Would you remind repeating that?”

“I said, you.” Oh damn! None of this is going the way I planned. Emily stood, then hurried to him, trying to ignore how the noon sun kissed his bronze skin. She had to stop this stupid preoccupation with the man Kat had become and keep her mind centered on business. “I’m not pregnant already. I need to get pregnant. Kat, I need to have a baby, and I want you to be its father.” She touched his forearm, but he moved away.

His obvious confusion brought his thick dark brows together in a frown. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Impatient with herself and fumbling for the right words, Emily stamped her foot. “If you’ll sit down and stop roaming around like a grazing horse, I’ll tell you.”

Glaring at her, Kat flopped down at the base of the tree, then ran his hands through his hair. Resting his forearm across his bent knee, he waited. “Start talking and try to make it understandable this time.”

Emily retook her seat on the blanket. She tucked one leg beneath the other, then raised her chin to face him. She cleared her throat. “Lawrence Tippens called me to his office a few days ago. He said he’d found a codicil to my father’s will.”

Sitting a little straighter as Emily related what Lawrence had told her, Kat listened intently. She explained why adoption or any of the other options wouldn’t do. Then she waited while he digested the information.

He couldn’t believe his ears. Frank Kingston had done some pretty outrageous things, but where did he get off blackmailing his own daughter into having a child? “I take it you’re going to do it.”

She nodded. “There was never any question about it.”

“And exactly how do I figure into this?”

“I want you to donate your…sperm and father the baby.”

He laughed, but stopped abruptly when he saw her frown. “You’re serious aren’t you?” He had to be dreaming.

She scowled at him. “If I wasn’t serious, do you think we’d be having this conversation? I don’t make it a habit of popping out babies just for ha-has.”

“No, I mean about me donating my sperm. Why was I chosen to be the lucky one?”

She shrugged. “We’ve known each other forever. You know how much the farm means to me. You must know I’d never ask this if I could find another way to keep the farm.”

Suddenly aware of an unfounded anger rising in him, Kat fought to keep it tamped down. “So you’re bringing a small life into this world just to save your farm?”

Emily jumped to her feet and stood over him, her face flaming red, her fists jammed on her hips. “Are you crazy? Do you think I’d do that to any child? I want this baby for me. I’d want it even if I’d never had the farm.” She waved her hand. “I’ll admit, I didn’t want it at first. After all, it did come as somewhat of a shock. It still scares the hell out of me. But I’ve had time to think and I really want the baby, Kat—for myself.” Her face softened. “Really.”

Maybe he was nuts, but he believed her. “Okay. Sit down and cool your heels.” He waited while she resumed her seat. “Have you given any consideration to doing this the way most people do? You know, love, marriage, bed, two people….” He had no reason to finish the sentence. The blush that rose to her cheeks told him she’d gotten his drift.

“That’s out of the question. The last thing I’m looking for is emotional involvement.” She pulled a piece of paper from her jeans. “I wrote down the conditions.” She unfolded it and began ticking off the things she’d listed. “You’ll need a complete physical. When the doctor says you’re healthy, you’ll donate the sperm, then I’ll be inseminated and you can go your merry way. No attachments, not complications, no responsibilities, no—”

Kat jumped to his feet, his anger boiling to the surface and out of his control, not that he even tried to control it. “Let me get this straight. You want me to agree to my child being the end result of an hour in a locked bathroom with a paper cup and a girly magazine? Then I’m supposed to walk away as if the child didn’t exist?”

“That’s putting it a little crudely, but essentially, yes, that’s right.”

He raked his hands through his hair in an effort to keep from shaking her senseless. Gazing out over the meadows, stretching beyond the back of the house and dotted with grazing horses, he closed his eyes and saw a small wooden cradle holding a tiny baby and sitting on a stranger’s doorstep.

“No.”

“No?” She scrambled to her feet. “You mean, no, you won’t do it?”

He swung on her. “You got it, Em.”

“But you’ve always helped me out when I needed you. Why not now? I won’t make any demands on you as the father. I promise. You’ll be free to leave.”

She just didn’t get it. He wanted demands made on him. He wanted to take part in the life of any child that carried his blood and his genes. He would not do to a child what had been done to him. But he couldn’t tell her that without telling her everything, and he wasn’t ready to share any of that until he got the answer he craved.

“We’re not kids anymore, Em. You’re not planning to swipe apples from Old Man Watkins’ orchard. I’m not going to blindly follow your lead this time. This is too damned important.”

“Don’t you think I know that? I’m not asking that you blindly follow my lead. I’ve told you everything I expect of you. All you have to do is agree to the terms.”

“And after the baby’s born. I just walk away, right?”

“Free to forget us.”

He ran his fingers through his wind-rumpled hair. “Em, I’d jump out of a tree again for you, with or without a parachute, but this time I think it’s going to hurt too much when I land. You need to find yourself another guinea pig.” He stepped to her side. “I may be an oddball, but by damn, no kid of mine will be.” Skirting around her, he stalked toward the house, grabbed the pry bar, then began tearing at a burned board.

A vehicle turned into the driveway. Ignoring the new arrival, Kat glanced over his shoulder in time to catch the flash of Emily’s yellow sweater disappearing into the trees. The remains of their picnic lay scattered over the blanket at the base of the tree.

His heart hurt for Emily and himself. Didn’t she know that he’d gladly give her anything she asked? Anything—except the right to raise his child without him?

The door on the newly arrived vehicle slammed. Kat turned toward the sound, his heart still heavy about the conversation he’d just finished with Emily. Dave Thornton strode toward him.

“Hi. I was out this way to attend a meeting and thought I’d drop by to see what kind of progress you’re making.”

Throwing down the pry bar and glancing once more toward where Em had disappeared into the trees, Kat turned to his visitor. “I’m doing okay. Right on schedule.”

“Schedule?”

“I’d like to put the house on the market in a month.” He shrugged. “It’s not written in stone, but it gives me a target.” He gestured toward two saw horses. “Have a seat.” Once Dave was settled, Kat searched for something to take his mind off Emily’s proposition. “You say you’re out here for a meeting?”

“Yeah. The Horseman’s Benevolent Association.” He flushed. “I’m president this year. I don’t need the extra work, but it’s a good cause. We’re knee-deep in planning our annual charity drive.” Dave grinned. “I don’t suppose I could talk you into donating the house when it’s done?”

“No. The only charity that’s gonna see the money from this house is Kat Madison.”

“Too bad. It’s a nice house in a prime location.” He pulled a business card from his jacket pocket. “I’m a real estate broker, too.” He grinned sheepishly. “Hey, with a kid on the way and two more at home, every little bit helps.” He handed Kat the card. “When it’s ready, give me a call. I’d be happy to show it for you.”

Kat took the card, then walked Dave to his car, but he was barely aware of him pulling out of the driveway.

Kat’s attention was on the line of trees. Here he was talking about selling his home, and Em was fighting to keep hers. And he’d refused to help her. He felt like a louse.

SINCE EM and Dave had left, Kat had got nothing done. His mind was everywhere on everything but his work. Anger at Emily and her harebrained proposition still churned in his gut.

Methodically, as if compartmentalizing his thoughts also, he began gathering his tools and placing them precisely in the toolbox. The exercise served to cool his anger enough to be able to think rationally.

Once he got past the anger, the idea of having a baby with Em wasn’t at all unappealing. He thought about her tight jeans, her sweater clinging to her endless curves, her sweet kissable mouth, about—

Yes, the more he thought about it, the more appealing it became. The one aspect that stopped him, however, was leaving after the baby was conceived. Deserting his duties as a father to his own child? Missing out on its life? How could she even ask such a thing of him?

He wondered just how much Em wanted this baby. Was she just looking for a way to keep her home? He recalled her passionate words and the pleading look on her face.

I really want the baby, Kat—for myself. Really.

Not a doubt remained in his mind that she did want the baby. By why, if not for legal reasons? Could Em just be so in need of love that she felt a baby would fill the hole in her life?

The answers eluded him. But of one thing he was sure. Em needed him. He could help her. The rest would have to sort itself out. Besides, he’d be living right here, so she’d have to let him see his child. Wouldn’t she?

He threw the last of the tools in the box, snapped the lid closed, then hefted it into the back of his truck. He rinsed off in a bucket of water, then grabbed his shirt off the porch railing. He slid his arms into the sleeves and left the front open. As he walked past the oak tree, he glanced down at the remains of their lunch. Good excuse as any to show up on her doorstep.

AS EMILY entered the house through the kitchen door, the phone rang. She hurried to pick it up.

“Hello.”

“Hello, sweetheart.”

“Rose! Hi!” After the episode with Kat, Emily really needed the sound of a comforting voice. “Where are you?”

“Still in Mexico. I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

Emily wasn’t about to go into long-distance details of what was going on in her life. Time enough for that when Rose came home. Besides, Emily needed time to figure out how to tell Rose what was going on.

As if Rose could see it, she smiled. “I’m fine. What about you? When are you going to stop this globe-trotting and come home?”

A high-pitched laugh filled the phone. “We’re in Mexico City. Right on schedule. We won’t be home for another two weeks. Although, if Carol and I had our way, we’d put Helen on the next flight to Albany.”

“Oh? Something wrong?” Last time Emily had spoken to Rose, her two traveling companions were fine.

“Nothing that being in the good ol’ US of A wouldn’t cure. Helen drank some of the water down here and she’s been feeling a little peaked for the last couple of days, if you know what I mean.”

Emily knew. She’d heard horror stories about what happened when you drank the water in foreign countries.

“Carol and I have been trying to get her to go home. She’s got her back up and flatly refuses.”

Standing straighter with concern for her housekeeper’s elderly friend, Emily frowned. “Is she going to be okay? Maybe you should just stick her on the next flight home.”

Again Rose laughed. “She’d kick and scream all the way to the airport. She’s determined to stick it out. Says she saved for ten years for this vacation, and she’s gonna make the most of it, even if it’s from the inside of a bathroom.” A door closed in the background. “Gotta go. Carol just came back with lunch. You take care and I’ll see you in a couple of weeks.”