Bound By The Baby

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known this day would come. She’d planned to tell Devlin—just probably not until the baby was born and DNA testing could be done, because she knew he would require that.

She couldn’t blame him for not trusting her. They’d been strangers, without reasons to trust each other. All he knew of her was that she’d fallen into bed with him without knowing him, without any prelude at all. The sex had been like nothing she’d thought herself capable of—anonymous, all-consuming and with little tenderness—exactly what she’d needed that night. And even without the reminder growing inside her, she would’ve remembered everything about those hours with Devlin. She’d cried in his arms more than once. He’d never asked her why but had simply held her, then made love to her—with her—again. And again. And again.

In the morning, she hadn’t sneaked out, but woke him up to tell him thank you, kissing him goodbye. That was supposed to be the end of it. No regrets.

Surprise!

Nicole closed her eyes, keeping the swing moving, remembering the exact moment two months after that incredible night when she’d realized that it wasn’t lingering grief making her feel so miserable, but pregnancy. Now in her second trimester, the morning sickness gone, she felt healthy and strong and capable of dealing with Devlin.

She shivered, but whether from the cold or the anticipation of contending with Devlin, she wasn’t sure. She needed sleep, would try again and hope for better results than the past hour of tossing and turning.

As she stood she saw headlights coming up the road. The vehicle slowed at her driveway, stopped for a few seconds, then turned in and eased up the twenty feet to her house. Not recognizing the big black SUV, she sat again, grateful she’d turned off the porch light.

The car door opened and a man got out. Devlin. She held her breath. What was he doing? How had he found her? Did he plan to bang on the door and wake her from what should’ve been a sound sleep?

Apparently not. He just stood there looking around. After a minute he walked around the side of the house, out of sight, then reappeared shortly.

She wondered about his reaction. She loved her little cabin. It was only seven hundred square feet, but cozy and comfortable and hers—or in twenty-nine years and eleven months it would be hers. She’d always rented before.

Dead leaves and pine needles crunched under Devlin’s shoes as he came close again, this time veering toward the porch. His hands tucked into his jacket pockets, he put a foot on the lowest step but went no farther.

“Looking for someone?” she asked, figuring he would spot her soon enough.

He swore, which made her smile. She liked that she’d been the one to do the startling this time.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, coming up the remaining stairs. “It’s freezing.”

Vanity had her wishing she wasn’t in a robe, flannel pajamas and fuzzy slippers, and free of makeup. “How’d you find me?”

“Typed your name into the White Pages on the Internet. I wasn’t going to knock. I just wanted to see where you live.” Without invitation he sat next to her on the swing. His breath billowed in front of him, as hers did. “You couldn’t sleep, either?”

She shook her head. She was cold to the bone now, but she wasn’t about to let him know that. And her entire body reacted to being so close to his. Memories invaded, warming her, arousing—

“Invite me in,” he said, leaning toward her slightly.

Apparently the word please wasn’t in his vocabulary. “We’ll talk tomorrow, as scheduled,” she said.

“You’re not sleeping. I’m not sleeping. Why not talk now?”

“Because we’re both overtired. One of us is bound to misspeak.”

“I don’t misspeak.”

“Then you must be immortalized in some comic book with those other superhumans.”

“You’re shivering,” he said, ignoring her remark. “It can’t be good for the baby.”

“I don’t do anything to put this child at risk.” What was she doing? Acting like an idiot just to prove a point—that she was doing fine without him and would continue? She’d already been headed into the house when he’d shown up. She was twenty-eight years old and acting like a teenager. “Want some hot chocolate?” she asked.

To his credit he didn’t look smug but stood and held out a hand to her. He’d kept his in his pockets, so they were warm compared to hers. She let go as soon as she was standing, then led the way into the house.

Nicole had almost finished decorating. She had combined yard-sale finds with consignment-shop treasures, had reupholstered, painted and sewed, with only the baby’s room to go.

The living room, dining nook and kitchen were visible from the front entry. She laid her quilt over a chair, tightened the sash on her robe and headed into the kitchen. She pulled out a saucepan, milk and cocoa mix.

“Mind if I look around?” Devlin asked, tossing his jacket atop her quilt.

“Go ahead.” She was glad to have him wander off for a minute. Her bedding was jumbled, but what did it matter? She’d gone to bed, tried to sleep. He would know that. On the other hand, the place was so small he would be back before the milk had even gotten warm.

“Do you own or rent?” he asked, returning and leaning against the refrigerator, watching her.

“Own.”

“It’s small…to raise a child.”

“How much room does a child need?” she countered.

“More than this.”

“I disagree.”

He seemed about to argue but didn’t. “It’s rustic,” he offered after a moment.

She shook her head, amused. He was skirting around saying what he really wanted to, apparently trying to keep the peace between them for the moment. Obviously he wanted something.

“What do you expect, Devlin? It’s a cabin in the woods. Rustic fits the environment,” she said, getting down two mugs. “The roads are plowed in the winter, and I’ve got the fireplace and a generator if the power goes out. It’s perfect.” It’s mine. She poured the hot chocolate into the mugs and passed him one, then cupped hers in both hands, treasuring the warmth. She was sorry she’d let him come in, was too tired to deal with him, just as she’d said.

“Did you know who I was?” he asked.

“I looked you up in the database.” She watched him over the rim of her mug as she took a tentative sip, testing its heat.

“When?”

“In the morning, after I left your suite.”

“Not before?”

She frowned. “Before, I was standing at the blackjack table with you. Before that I was passing through the casino on my way to my boss’s office when I stopped to talk to a friend, a fellow employee. You caught my attention, and I stayed to watch for a minute. Then you wouldn’t let me leave.”

“You were my good luck charm.”

“So you said.” She gestured toward her sofa, which faced the unlit fireplace. “Are you asking if I recognized you or something? Stalked you?”

“Did you?” he asked as they sat at opposite ends.

“The answer is no, to both questions. How could I know who you are? You’re not a celebrity, are you? And even if I’d recognized your name from the reservations—which I wouldn’t have—you didn’t get a room until after I left the table.” She was working up a little righteous anger at his ego. “And how could I accidentally run into you in the elevator? There were twelve banks of elevators. What were the chances the one I was in would stop on the right floor at the right time to run into you again?”

“I—”

“I understand you don’t want to believe this baby is yours,” she said, “but you seem to be an intelligent man, a logical one. Nothing was preconceived,” she added, trying to lighten the mood.

He didn’t smile even a little bit at her joke, hadn’t smiled once since he’d asked if it was his. “It wouldn’t be the first time a woman falsely claimed a child’s paternity.”

Nicole’s attempt at patience evaporated. “DNA testing has taken care of that problem. It makes it impossible to lie.”

“So why didn’t you tell me?” He set his untouched mug on the coffee table. “If you knew you could prove it, why keep it from me?”

“I did try to tell you. I even went to your house.”

“When?”

“The day after I found out. The day before I was set to move here.”

“I wasn’t at home?”

“You pulled up to your house moments after I got there.” She’d parked in front of his Society Hill town house, the beautiful building confirming her fears—that he came from wealth and status. “But you weren’t alone.”

The woman on his arm had worn a short, sexy black dress and very high heels. He’d slipped his coat jacket around her, then kissed her before they’d climbed the stairs arm in arm and disappeared into the house. Soon after, a light had gone on upstairs. He’d stood silhouetted in the shade-drawn window for a long moment and undone his tie, then he’d moved out of sight.

“I waited for hours,” she said. “Eventually I decided it was fate that you weren’t available, because as I sat there I came to the conclusion that you would think I was shaking you down for money. I figured I should wait until…Well, I thought you had a girlfriend. It sure looked like it. I decided to wait until I was settled in here.”

“You’ve been here for two months.”

She nodded. What could she say? She’d been stalling. Who wouldn’t?

He leaned forward, his arms resting on his thighs, his gaze on the fireplace, even though it wasn’t lit. “What do you want from me?”

She sat back. He hadn’t disputed having a girlfriend. “Nothing.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“To quote you from earlier—tough.” Annoyed, she stood. She was too tired to argue with him. “You need to leave now.”

He hadn’t taken even one sip of his drink, but he headed to the door, grabbing his coat along the way. He hesitated, his hand on the doorknob. “Why’d you do it, Nicole?”

“Be specific.”

“Go to my room with me that night. You were upset about something, enough to cry.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, memories slamming into her, then made eye contact. “Yes, I was hurting, and you offered a kind of comfort. But you were upset about something that night, too.”

He nodded slightly. “I’m usually scrupulous about using condoms. And I assumed you were on the Pill. I should’ve asked.”

“I can’t tolerate the Pill, and I should’ve said so. I don’t know why I didn’t, except that I was a mess that night. But you need to know that I’m not sorry.” She curved her hands over the child she already loved and wanted. Not that she’d accepted her situation instantly, but it had taken a surprisingly short amount of time to do so. “I really don’t expect anything from you.”

Hope was another matter altogether, however. She’d felt something powerful that night, a connection she couldn’t even describe. Yes, she hoped.

“A decent man doesn’t abandon a woman pregnant with his child,” he said.

“We’ll come to some agreement, Devlin. But not tonight, please. I’m exhausted.”

He nodded. “I’ll see you at ten-thirty.” He shut the door behind him.

As his car pulled away she poured his cocoa down the drain then leaned against the sink to sip hers. He was a cool one—unemotional and practical—so different from their night at the hotel, when he’d bombarded her with emotion in the form of incredible sex, intense and challenging and satisfying. Tonight she’d seen the businessman. She’d looked him up on the Internet and learned his family’s business was banking, with several branches in the Philadelphia area.

Old money. Old values, too, she guessed. The privileged son of such a family wouldn’t get involved with a strictly middle-class someone like her—except for a night of anonymous sex.

She wondered how he was going to explain it to his family. If he was going to, that is. Maybe he’d offer her a payoff to keep quiet about the child’s paternity. Wasn’t that the usual way of things in his world?

Just how much was her uncomplicated world about to change?

Three

At exactly ten-thirty the next morning, Nicole pulled into the driveway leading to the grand entrance of the lodge where Devlin was staying. She’d fallen asleep easily after he left and slept well, not waking until almost nine. She felt ready to face him.

Like everyone else in the community, she’d been dying to see inside the lodge, situated outside the small community called Hunter’s Landing. The locals had been abuzz about the house—a 9,000-square-foot, multilevel, log-and-stone structure that had taken almost a year to complete. She’d climbed the path to peer inside at the end of construction, amazed by the number of fireplaces and the majestic staircases. Building permits had been issued to a nonprofit corporation in Los Angeles, the Hunter Palmer Foundation, information deemed newsworthy enough for the local paper. But beyond that, details had been stingy. Curiosity had died when the house was completed and nothing happened, except that a man had stayed there in March, then a different one in April.

And now Devlin, who said he would also be staying there for a month.

What had he called his trip? Not business, but someone else’s idea of pleasure? What could that possibly mean? It must somehow tie in with the other solo occupants who’d lived there for only a month. She wondered what the connection was.

Nicole approached the tall oak entry doors flanked by stone columns. She reached to ring the bell but the doors opened and Devlin stood framed there, looking very much like the lord of the manor in his jeans, boots and plaid shirt, the sleeves rolled up. It wasn’t his clothing that labeled him, but his posture and inborn confidence.

She wanted to walk into his arms, as she had in the elevator that night. “Good morning,” she said instead.

“Did you sleep okay?” he asked, stepping aside, giving her room to enter.

“Yes, fine.” She faced an enormous staircase that split into two different directions at the top. “Did you?”

“No.” They moved side by side up the stairs, then up another flight. “Have you eaten?” he asked when they reached the top of the staircase. “Would you like some coffee?”

“I’ve eaten, thanks, and I stopped drinking coffee.”

“Then we’ll go into the great room instead of the kitchen.”

Could she ask for a tour? Maybe she should ask now, in case she never got another chance. But then she saw the view from the great room and stopped to stare. The sight of Lake Tahoe rimmed by trees never got tired, and this particular view was stunning. Boats were already cruising, specks on the lake, including the paddle-wheeler sightseeing boats that ran year-round. She kept promising herself she would take one of the tours but hadn’t gotten around to it.

“Have a seat,” he said.

He’d lit a fire in the immense stone fireplace. She sat in a burgundy leather chair next to it. He didn’t sit but stood, his arms crossed, staring at the fire. She waited, getting more nervous by the second. Which was the real Devlin? Was it the caring, perceptive, sexy man she’d known in Atlantic City or this stern-faced one who seemed to have a steel backbone?

“I’m sorry you didn’t sleep well,” she said into the long silence. She locked her fingers together in her lap. Her waist-band cut into her. If she could just unbutton her skirt…. She slipped her hands under her jacket, behind her back, trying to unobtrusively unfasten—

“What’s wrong?” he asked, looking at her intently.

“Nothing.”

He raised his brows.

She stopped short of sighing. “My skirt is too tight. I’m trying to unbutton it. Okay? Satisfied?”

“You’re cutting off your circulation, which is bad for the baby.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. I’m not endangering the baby. And I’m getting some maternity uniforms today. I seemed to expand all of a sudden.”

His gaze slid down her body. She automatically folded her arms in front of her.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, then left the room.

She let out a long, slow breath, not realizing she hadn’t been breathing normally until she did. Why was she letting him intimidate her? It wasn’t like her at all. He was just a man, flesh and blood.

And what great flesh…

She’d dreamed about him for weeks after their night together, had hunted for him among the blackjack players, hoping he would return. She remembered every detail. How he’d looked naked. The feel and scent of his skin. His amazing hands. The incredible way he used his mouth—everywhere. He’d bombarded her senses, and she’d become someone she’d never known she could be. The night had been all about pleasing—and forgetting. She’d gotten the sense that it had been the same for him.

Nicole decided not to be sitting when he returned. If he was going to stand, so would she. The small, internal rebellion giving her a bit of satisfaction, she wandered closer to the floor-to-ceiling windows. Snow still frosted the mountain peaks but had melted from the ground. The lake was too cold for swimming, but from where she stood, the blue depths looked inviting.

Devlin came up beside her and passed her a piece of paper. “I need you to fill this out.”

There was no heading, just a questionnaire with spaces for her answers: name, address, birth date, social security number and other personal information. Like a credit application or something.

“What’s this for?” she asked.

“My lawyer wants to run a background check.”

“On me?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, your lawyer wants it.” She almost laughed at the absurdity. While she had no doubt his lawyer had provided the form, Devlin wanted it. Wanted her to sign on the bottom line giving him permission to delve into her private life—which he would undoubtedly do with or without her permission. It was just tidier with her permission.

“If we’re going to be married,” he said, “I need to know who you are.”

The words on the page blurred. She lifted her head. His jaw flexed, his eyes bored into her. She wished she knew him well enough to interpret his expression. Accusation? Anger? She wasn’t sure.

“Who said anything about marriage?”

“No child of mine will be born out of wedlock.”

“So you believe the child is yours?”

He barely hesitated. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“For the same reason I slept with you that night.”

“What reason was that?” she asked, intent.

“Damned if I know. Instinct.” He paused. “Look, Nicole, DNA testing will prove paternity. Anyway, I’m laying the groundwork for our union so there will be no delays later.”

How romantic. The thought stung. Just the kind of marriage proposal every woman hopes for. “This isn’t the Dark Ages.”

He smiled slightly, coolly. “Feels like it to me.”

Well, she hadn’t expected him to be thrilled, after all. “I expect you to fill out one of these forms, too,” she said just as coolly. “For my lawyer.”

His mouth quirked. In appreciation? Admiration? Irritation? She didn’t know, couldn’t tell if he was laughing or mocking.

“That’s fair,” he said.

“I’ll bring your form back to you tomorrow. I expect yours to be ready then, too.”

“I’ll stop by the hotel when you get off work, and we can exchange papers.”

“Mine won’t be ready by then. I’ll do it at home tonight, after work.”

“You have a lunch break, don’t you?”

“I eat on my lunch break. And put up my feet. And relax. It’s good for the baby.” Ha! He couldn’t argue that point.

He crossed his arms. “I also want your doctor’s name and number. When is your next appointment?”

“In three weeks. I was just there last week.”

“Make an appointment for us to see him together this week.”

“Her. My obstetrician is a she.” No wonder she hadn’t told him yet about the baby. Subconsciously she’d known he was sexist and paternal and accustomed to having someone jump at the snap of his fingers. Well, not this someone. “When things are more settled with us, I’ll make that appointment.”

“Then I’ll go without you. I have questions.”

“Which she won’t answer without my permission.”

“A reasonable person wouldn’t have any problem sharing the information I need as the father of this child.”

What was left of her patience went up in smoke. So now she was witless? She’d tried to be understanding, she really had. “I’ll drop off the paperwork tomorrow on my way to work,” she said, then walked past him a few feet before stopping and turning back.

“Here’s a hint to getting to know me, Devlin. Try talking to me. With me.” She went down the stairs and out of the house. It would take thirty minutes to drive to the Sterling. Time enough to calm down before starting work.

He just needed time, too. She’d been able to come to terms with the baby and all the changes it would entail. So would he.

She hoped.

Dev watched her drive off. She didn’t burn rubber to get away, didn’t even speed, but he knew she was angry. He didn’t blame her.

While no one would accuse him of being easygoing, he wasn’t usually a jerk. He’d also never been responsible for a pregnancy before. But he was now—to a woman he knew only sexually.

He shoved his fingers through his hair, clasped his hands at his nape and blew out a slow breath. Exhaustion was too mild a word for what he was feeling. He hadn’t slept a minute last night.

He’d made this trip—this forced trip—with the intention of firming up a plan to redirect his career. He’d reached a point where he could afford to take some risks, was willing to risk what he’d earned. He planned to get out of the family business, where he’d been stagnating, a realization brought home to him when he received the letter in January that would send him to Lake Tahoe for the month of May.

He needed to be his own boss. He had achieved huge success for the bank, beyond what his father or grandfather had done before him. Now he wanted individual success, not just financially but personally. He’d been aiming toward it all his adult life. But how could he take that risk now, with a child to provide for?

And a wife.

That much he’d decided during the night. Nicole would marry him, period—even though his lawyer had tried to talk him into waiting until the child was born.

Maybe he was being a fool. Maybe it was old-fashioned and inflexible, but some values were ingrained too deeply to be ignored, like not wanting his child born out of wedlock.

Sometimes Dev felt constrained by the conservative label he lived with, personally and professionally. But when people entrusted you with their money, they expected someone who might take a few risks, but only calculated ones. Losing someone else’s money was a direct path to career suicide.

His expertise was in commercial real estate investments, and he had a reputation for having the Midas touch, even with his hands tied by the bank’s board of directors some of the time. Another reason for him to go off on his own.

Dev climbed two flights of stairs to the loft. When he’d wandered through the house during his sleepless night, he’d come upon the well-equipped office on the top floor. He’d also discovered a corkboard on the wall onto which photographs were tacked, all reminders of a time when his life had been carefree. During college he’d been required to have good grades and establish lifelong contacts. Beyond that, his parents asked little. Until he graduated. Then everything changed.

Dev hadn’t looked too closely at the photos last night, having too much on his mind to clutter it with the past. But as he glanced at them now, he realized he didn’t know much about any of the men portrayed anymore. He remembered a remarkable camaraderie, but he couldn’t pick out one as a best friend at the time, except Hunter. Maybe Ryan…

He turned his back on the past and put himself squarely in the present again by sending an e-mail to his lawyer asking him to fill out the form for Nicole and fax it back, then he grabbed a cup of coffee and headed onto one of the decks overlooking the lake. The direct heat of the sun turned the chilly air bearable. He sat on a lounge chair and watched the boats make their way across the expanse of water.