Expecting the CEO's Child

“It’s a start,” he said, his voice deepening.

Hot color danced in her cheeks—due to anger or something else? he wondered. Something like desire, perhaps?

“Not for me it isn’t. Look, can we agree to disagree on the subject of marriage? I’ve already said I won’t stand in your way when it comes to seeing the child. Can we leave it at that for now?”

“Sure, for now. But, Jenna, one thing you will learn about me is that I never give up. Especially not on something this important.”

Four

Jenna’s heart hammered a steady drumbeat in her chest. He looked deadly serious. This wasn’t how she had imagined their meal together going, not at all. She certainly hadn’t imagined that he’d spring an offer of marriage on her like that.

Sure, there was probably a list as long as her arm of women who would jump at the opportunity. But she wasn’t like that. And she’d meant it when she’d said his life was in L.A. and not here, because it was. While it was true that he’d been in Wyoming more often lately, it was only because of the new Grill opening in town. Once that was up and running he’d be straight back to the West Coast. Back to his high life and being featured in the celebrity news with his beautiful women.

No, marriage to Dylan Lassiter didn’t even bear thinking of, she decided as she forced herself to take another bite of the melt-in-your-mouth perfection of the meal he’d prepared. He might be spending more time in the boardroom these days, she mused, but he hadn’t lost his knack in the kitchen.

Maybe it would be worth marrying him just to have meals like this every day, she thought flippantly. An image of him barefoot and in the kitchen, wearing an apron and not much else, hovered in her mind, sending a pull of longing through her.

No, get a grip on yourself, she chided silently. She’d never settled for anything less than perfection when it came to a relationship. It was why she so rarely dated. That was why her behavior with Dylan back in March was such an aberration.

Once people began to notice her pregnancy, she had no doubt there’d be a whole ton of questions asked. Uncomfortable questions. Her hard-fought-for privacy would be invaded—her reputation open for all of Cheyenne to discuss. It shouldn’t bother her, but it did. She knew what it was like to be the focus of unwanted attention, and she’d worked hard to stay out of the public eye ever since.

“I’m glad you acknowledge that our child is important. I happen to agree, which is why I’m not going to rush into anything or make any decisions today,” she finally stated.

“You’re important, too, Jenna,” he answered softly.

For a second she felt a swelling in her chest—a glimmer of something ephemeral, an intangible dream emerging on the periphery of her thoughts. Then reality intruded. She shook her head.

“Don’t lie to me, Dylan. We both know that since March neither of us has made any attempt to contact or see one another, until today. In fact, if you didn’t have the restaurant opening coming up, we probably wouldn’t even be here right now.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’ve thought about that evening a lot.”

Jenna couldn’t stop the warm tingling sensation that spread from the pit of her belly at his words.

“Don’t!” she blurted.

“Don’t what? Don’t admit that we were blisteringly good together? Tell me you haven’t thought about us, about what we did—and haven’t wanted to try again. Even just to see if it wasn’t some kind of weird fluke.”

“I—”

Her throat closed up, blocked by a swell of need so fierce it overwhelmed her. She forced herself to erase the visual image that now burned in the back of her mind. An image he’d put there without so much as a speck of effort because it was always there, always waiting to be brought out into the light and examined, relived. She squirmed on her seat, suddenly uncomfortable, aching. For him. For more.

“Fine,” she muttered curtly. “We were good together, but that’s no basis for a future. We are two totally different people. Our lives barely intersect.”

“That’s not to say that they couldn’t. Don’t you want to just try it?”

He looked so earnest, sitting there opposite her at the table. It would be all too easy to give in, but she’d worked too hard for too damn long to even consider giving up her hard-won freedom, not to mention her hard-earned respect from the community.

She herself had been the product of a hurried marriage, one that hadn’t worked on any level and had led to hardship and unhappiness for all concerned. She would not inflict that on her baby. No matter how enticing that baby’s father was. No matter how much she wanted him.

What did he know of marriage, of commitment? Their own liaison was a perfect example of the impulsive life he led. See something? Want it? Have it, then just walk away without a backward glance. She couldn’t risk that he’d do that with their child, let alone her. Not now, not ever.

“No,” she said firmly. “I don’t. Please don’t push me on this issue, Dylan.”

“Okay,” he acceded.

She felt her shoulders relax.

“For today,” he amended.

And the tension was right back again. He cracked a smile and she was struck again by his male beauty. There was not a thing about him, physically at least, that didn’t set her body on fire. As to his morals, well, that was something else entirely. But her behavior didn’t reflect so well on her, either, she reminded herself.

“Don’t look so serious, Jenna. We’ll declare a truce for this evening, all right?”

His voice was coaxing, warm. And almost her very undoing.

“Truce, then,” she agreed, and applied herself again to her meal.

It truly was too good to ignore and, much as she hated to admit it, he was right that she should be eating better. Weariness had been quite an issue for her, and while prenatal vitamins and supplements were helping, nothing really substituted for a healthy diet and plenty of rest.

“More?” Dylan asked when her plate was empty.

“I’m stuffed,” she said, leaning back in her chair with a smile on her face. “That was excellent, thank you.”

“Just part of the package,” he said with a smile. “So, are you too stuffed to think about dessert? Can I tempt you with some raspberry and white chocolate cheesecake?”

“Tempt me? Are you kidding? Of course I want dessert.”

When he took the dish from the refrigerator she almost dissolved into a puddle of delight.

“You made that, too?” she asked as he sliced a piece for her. She reached out and nabbed a white chocolate curl from off the top, laughing as he went to slap her hand away and missed.

“Not me personally this time. It’s one of the desserts we’re trialing for the steak house,” he said, sliding her plate toward her. “I picked it up this afternoon.”

She spooned up a taste and then another.

“Good?” Dylan asked.

“Divine. Don’t talk to me, you’re messing with my concentration.”

He laughed aloud and the sound traveled straight to her heart and gave it a fierce tug. Oh, yeah, it was all too easy to think you could fall in love with a man like Dylan Lassiter, she told herself. He was the whole package. Not just tall, dark and handsome, but wealthy, entertaining to be with and bloody good in bed. Well, in a coat closet, anyway. And then there was the near orgasmic cooking.

Don’t go there, she warned herself. But it was too late. Arousal spread through her like a wildfire. Licking and teasing at her until she felt her breasts grow full and achy, her nipples tightening and becoming almost unbearably sensitive against the sheer fabric of her bra. She knew the very second Dylan’s line of vision moved, the precise moment he became aware of her reaction.

“Remind me to feed you cheesecake more often,” he said, his voice slightly choked. “I’m going to make coffee. Can I offer you some, or a cup of something else, maybe?”

“Hot tea, please,” Jenna answered, fighting to get her wayward hormones back under control.

Dylan stood and turned away from the table, but not before she noticed he wasn’t exactly unaffected himself. So it seemed the crazy attraction between them showed no sign of abating. What on earth was she going to do about it?

Nothing. Abso-freaking-lutely nothing at all. They’d get through the rest of this evening. They might even discuss the baby a little more. But they were not going to do a single thing about this undeniable magnetism between them. After all, look where it had led them the last time.

* * *

Dylan ground fresh coffee beans and measured them into his coffeemaker, taking his time over the task. This was getting ridiculous. Why couldn’t she see just how suited they were to one another? Why wouldn’t anyone want to take that further? Her physical attraction to him was painstakingly obvious. Not that he needed any help in that department, but it was a natural trigger for his own.

There was a lot to be said for being a caveman, he thought as he switched on the electric kettle and heated the water for her tea. He’d never before felt so inclined to drag a woman by her hair into his lair and keep her there—making love to her until she no longer wanted to leave. He gave himself a mental shake. No, that image was completely unacceptable. He liked his women willing. He’d never used force or coercion before and he wouldn’t start now—no matter how tempting Ms. Jenna Montgomery made the idea seem. Somehow, he had to make her see that they’d be good together. Good enough for marriage and raising a kid.

He heard the scrape of her spoon on the plate as she finished her cheesecake, and he returned to the table with their hot drinks on a tray.

“Shall we take these back through to the living room?” he suggested.

“Sure.”

She got up to follow him and his eyes drifted again to her belly, to where his baby lay safely nestled. It roused something feral in him. Something he’d never experienced before today. Something he knew, deep in his heart, would never go away. He knew it was possible to love another person’s child—knew it from firsthand experience, from being that child, from being loved. For some reason, though, knowing it was his son or daughter she carried made Dylan feel as if he could give a certain superhero a decent run for his money in the leaping tall buildings department.

He also knew he’d do anything, lay down his life if necessary, to provide the best for his kid.

Jenna returned to her seat on the sofa and Dylan sat next to her, a sense of satisfaction spreading inside when she didn’t scoot away from him.

“When’s the baby due?” he asked, after taking a sip of his coffee.

“First week in December, all going well.”

“A baby by Christmas,” he mused aloud, struck by how much his life could change in a year.

“Life will be different, that’s for sure.”

“So what have you planned so far?”

Suddenly he needed to know everything she’d already done, and what she wanted to do for the rest of her pregnancy. This should involve him.

“Well, I’ve started getting a few things for the spare room in my house, you know, to turn it into a nursery. I found a bassinet at a yard sale last weekend. I’m going to reline it and get a collapsible stand. That way I’ll be able to use it in my office at the store as well as at home, until the baby gets a little bigger.”

Dylan suppressed the shudder that threatened to run through him at the thought that his child would have secondhand anything. Did that make him a snob? Probably. He and his brother had shared things as they grew up, and there’d been nothing wrong with that. It didn’t stop him from wanting to race out to the nearest store and buy all new equipment for his child, though.

Jenna, sensitive already, obviously picked up on his thoughts. “What’s wrong? You think our baby is too good for a secondhand bassinet?”

“Actually,” he started, thinking he needed to tread very carefully, “I was thinking more along the lines of what I could do to help out financially.”

If she was scouring yard sales, maybe she was a bit stretched when it came to money. She had the store, but also had her own home. Financing both took a lot of hard work and determination. And dollars and cents.

“I can manage, you know,” she said defensively.

“The point is you don’t have to manage,” he said. “I meant what I said when I told you I’m going to be a part of this baby’s life, and I don’t just mean the occasional visit. I’m happy to support you both.”

She looked as if she was about to bristle and reject his words, but then she slumped a little, as though a load had been lifted from her slender shoulders.

“Thank you.” She sighed softly. “It won’t be necessary, but I do appreciate the offer.”

“Hey,” he said, taking one of her hands in his and mentally comparing how small and dainty it felt in his much larger palm. It roused a fierce sense of protection inside him. One he knew would be smacked straight into next week if he showed her even an inkling of how she made him feel. “We got into this together, and that’s how it’s going to stay.”

She looked up at him, her dark eyes awash with moisture. “Do you think we can do that? Stay friends through this?”

“Of course we can.”

“It’s not going to be easy.”

“Nothing worthwhile ever is,” he commented.

At the same time he promised himself that no matter what, she would not be doing this on her own. And one way or another, he’d get her to change her mind about marrying him. Now that he had her back in his life, he didn’t want to let her go again. There was a damn fine reason why he hadn’t been able to shake her image from his thoughts every single day. Now he had every incentive to find out exactly what that reason was.

Five

By the time Jenna rose to leave, weariness pulled at every muscle in her body. She was grateful tomorrow was Sunday. A blessed day of rest, with time to weigh up everything that had happened since Dylan Lassiter had walked back into her life. Maybe she’d get to work in the garden for a while, too—she always found that restful. Or even a lazy stroll around the Cheyenne Botanic Gardens might be nice.

“It’s late,” she said, stifling a yawn. “I’d better get home. Thank you for tonight. I mean that.”

“You’re welcome,” Dylan replied, getting to his feet and putting his hand at the small of her back again.

Despite her exhaustion, her body responded instantly. It would be so easy to give in. To turn toward him, press her body against his large hard frame and sink into the attraction between them. To allow him back behind the barriers she’d erected when the reality of their encounter had hit home. Instead, she put one foot in front of the other and headed for the door.

“Are you okay to drive?” he asked, a small frown of concern causing parallel lines to form between his brows. “I don’t mind dropping you home. I can always bring your car to you tomorrow.”

“No, I’ll be all right. Thank you.”

“You know, independence is fine and all that, but accepting help every now and then is okay, too.”

“I know, and when I need help, I’ll ask for it,” she answered firmly.

She could feel the heat rolling gently from his body, bringing with it the leather and spicy wood scent of his cologne. It made her want to do something crazy, like nibble on the hard line of his jaw, or bury her nose in the hollow at the base of his throat. Man, she really needed to get out of here before she acted on those irrational thoughts.

“Thanks again for tonight,” she said.

“You’re welcome. We still have plenty more to discuss. Okay if I get in touch?”

She hesitated, wishing she could say no, and knowing she needed to say yes. Given the way he tugged at her, emotionally and mentally, she knew it wasn’t going to be easy sharing a baby with him. Jenna settled for a quick nod and all but fled down the stairs. But he was right at her side, so that when she got to her car it was his hand that opened the door for her. He leaned down once she was settled inside.

“Red fluffy dice?” he asked with a chuckle when he saw the things dangling from the rearview mirror of her ever-so-practical station wagon.

“I have dreams of owning a red convertible one day. Had dreams,” she corrected.

With the baby on the way, that was one dream that would have to be shelved for a while. Maybe even forever.

“Classic or new?” Dylan persisted.

“Classic, of course.”

He gave her a wink. “That’s my girl.”

She felt an almost ridiculous sense of pride in his obvious approval, and forced herself to quash it. It didn’t matter whether he approved of her dreams or not. They weren’t going to happen, not now. She was doing her best to hold everything else together. Luxury items were exactly that: luxury. An extravagance that was definitely not in her current budget.

“Well, good night,” she said, staring pointedly at his hand on the door.

To her surprise he leaned down and reached for her chin, turning her head to face him, before capturing her lips in an all too short, entirely too sweet kiss.

“Good night. Drive safe,” he instructed as he swung her door closed.

Her hands were shaking as she started the car and then placed them on the wheel. As she drove around the turning loop to head down the driveway, she sought refuge in anger. He’d done it on purpose, just to prove his point about compatibility. The thing was, she knew they were compatible sexually. Now they had to be compatible as parents. Seemed to her they’d definitely missed a few steps along the way, and now there was no going back.

His proposal of marriage was preposterous. She sneaked a glance in her rearview mirror at the two-story house, fully lit up from the outside and looking as unattainable as she knew a long-term relationship with a man like Dylan Lassiter was, too. Jenna forced her eyes forward, to focus on the road ahead, and her future. One where she’d have to fight to keep Dylan Lassiter on the periphery if she hoped to keep her sanity.

By the time she rolled her car into her garage and hit the remote to make the door close behind her, she felt no better. Seeing Dylan again had just put her well-ordered world into turmoil. She’d had enough chaos to last a lifetime. It was why, when she’d been placed with Margaret Connell after her father was jailed, she’d put her head down and worked her butt off to fit in and to do things right. Mrs. Connell’s firm but steady presence had been a rock to a fifteen-year-old teetering on the rails of a very unsteady life.

Mrs. Connell had not only provided a home for her, she’d provided a compass—one Jenna could live by for the rest of her life. The woman had also provided a sense of accountability, paying Jenna a wage for the hours she spent cleaning up in the florist shop after school and learning how to put together basic bouquets for people who came in off the street and wanted something quick and simple.

By the time Jenna had finished high school, she’d known exactly what she wanted to do. She’d put herself through business school, spending every spare hour she wasn’t studying working in the flower store, which she’d eventually bought and made her own. Mrs. Connell was now enjoying a well-earned retirement in Palm Springs, secure in the knowledge that all her hard work, both with Jenna and the business, hadn’t been in vain.

Jenna calculated the time difference between here and Palm Springs. It probably still wasn’t too late to call Mrs. Connell, and she so desperately needed the guidance of someone else right now. Someone older and wiser. Someone stronger than she was. But that would mean disclosing how she’d gotten herself into this situation. Telling someone else about behavior that she wasn’t terribly proud of. The last thing Jenna wanted to hear in her mentor’s voice was disappointment.

She climbed out of her car, went inside the house and got ready for bed. For all that Dylan had said about wanting to be a part of everything, she’d never felt so alone in her life, nor so confused.

Would he be so keen, she wondered, if he knew exactly who she was and what her life had been like? It was hardly the stuff of Disney movies. Her father had come home from work one day when she was nine, to find Jenna alone after school—her mother having abandoned them to sail, from New Zealand and her family, with the outgoing tide and pursue her dream of being a singer on a cruise ship. He’d pulled up stakes by the time Jenna was ten, and taken her to his native U.S.A., where he’d told her again and again that they’d strike it lucky any time, and that happily-ever-after was just around the corner for them both.

Unfortunately, his idea of luck had been inextricably linked to fleecing older, vulnerable women of their wealth, and using his looks and charm to get away with it. Until one day he’d gone a step too far.

Jenna pushed the memory to the back of her mind, where it belonged. She’d learned the hard way what it meant to be an unwitting public figure, and how cruel the media could be. Given the Lassiter family profile, any relationship between her and Dylan would be bound to garner attention—attention she didn’t want or need. For her own sake, and that of her unborn baby, she would do whatever it took to keep a low profile.

She slid between the 800-thread-count bed linens she’d happily picked up in a clearance sale, and smoothed her feet and legs over the silky soft surface. She might not be in his league financially, but she didn’t do so badly. She could provide for her baby, who certainly wouldn’t want for anything. So what if some of their possessions were a little care-worn or threadbare or—Jenna grimaced in the dark, remembering Dylan’s reaction—secondhand. She would manage, and her private life would remain that way: private.

* * *

Dylan whistled cheerfully as he drove away from the classic car dealer, relishing the sensation of the wind ruffling his hair. The thrum of the V8 engine under the shiny red hood before him set up an answering beat in his blood. Today was a perfect day for a picnic and he had just the partner in mind to share it.

After swinging by the Grill to make sure everything was running smoothly, he put together some food and drink, checked the GPS on his phone and headed toward Jenna’s address, which he’d happily plucked from a phone book. He was curious to see where she lived—where she’d planned to raise their baby. Planned being in the past tense, because now that he was on the scene, he didn’t intend for them to live apart. All he needed to do was convince Jenna.

When he turned into her driveway he had to admit he was surprised at where she lived: it was a new neighborhood, the streets lined with modern homes. Skateboards, bikes and balls littered the front yards. He could see why she’d be comfortable here. Even though he hadn’t seen anyone yet, there was a sense of community and projected longevity about the area.

He saw curtains in windows on either side of her house twitch as he turned off the ignition and sat a moment in the car. A smile played at his lips. Neighborhood watch, no doubt. It was good to know Jenna had people looking out for her when he wouldn’t be.

Dylan got out of the car. He couldn’t wait to see her face. He strode up the path that led to the front door and pressed the doorbell. Nothing. He waited a minute and tried again.

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