Читать книгу Her Baby's Father - Anne Haven - Страница 12

JENNIFER WATCHED DREW saunter into the study with his cocky, self-assured stride, and wondered what she’d ever seen in him. As a teenager or as an adult.

He rescued you, she told herself. And he charmed you. And he made you feel special when you couldn’t do it for yourself.

And look where it got you.

Ross stood in the doorway. He met her gaze and she read his expression.

I’ll be fine, she tried to telegraph. I can handle this. And she could. She knew she could. Because she knew from Drew’s demeanor exactly what would happen.

Ross stepped back and closed the door.

The study was simple, with a wall of medical books and a wide wooden desk. Jennifer sat behind it in Ross’s large padded chair. His laptop computer rested, lid down, to her right. A single window looked out into the side yard. She liked the room’s masculine feel—and the idea that Ross spent time in here gave her a kind of strength, though she didn’t want to question that fact too deeply.

Drew sat down on one of the chairs across the room. He leaned back and rested one ankle over a knee, smooth and relaxed, hands resting on his thighs.

She took a deep breath, reminding herself not to give up on him without giving him a chance.

“I’m sure this comes as a bit of a shock,” she said.

He seemed unaware of her meaning, though he’d seen her full belly behind the desk. He flashed her a casual smile.

“How’s it going? Must have been a long drive from California in that old car.”

She stared at him. His appearance was the same as it had been last December. Lighter hair than Ross’s, boyishly handsome face, great body, expensive blue suit. He did absolutely nothing for her.

“That’s not what I’m here to talk about.”

“Ah,” he said. “Your pregnancy.”

“Yes.”

“You do look quite different from the last time we saw each other. But pregnancy suits you. What are you—five, five-and-a-half months along?”

He should know exactly how far along she was. But perhaps his math skills weren’t up to par. “Twenty-seven weeks,” she said.

“I always forget how it works. Is that twenty-seven weeks since your last period or twenty-seven weeks since you conceived the child?”

“This child was conceived on December twenty-second,” she said, ignoring his question and his mention of her period, which was no doubt intended to embarrass her.

He betrayed no reaction. “So you’re trying to suggest it’s mine.”

She’d expected the indirect denial but couldn’t stop the shudder of pain it caused. “I’m carrying your child.”

“Do you have any proof of your allegation?”

“There’s a risk of early labor or injury to the baby with any of the sampling techniques.”

“So, that would be no.”

“No.”

“You’re asking me to take you at your word.”

She forced herself to remain calm. He was acting like the lawyer he was, but she wouldn’t let him intimidate her or provoke her into saying something she would regret. “I’m not a liar,” she said.

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you implying that I am?”

“You’re married.” And Jennifer felt truly sorry for his wife. She would rather be in her current predicament, if the alternative included marriage to a man like Drew. If it included the awful disillusionment Lucy was sure to experience with the person she’d chosen as her life partner.

“Yes,” he said.

“You told me you weren’t.”

“Did I?”

“Yes.”

“Think carefully.” Drew paused. “You asked me if I was in a relationship. I said, ‘Who would have me?’ You didn’t pursue it. You could have. I understood that you didn’t really want to know.”

“You remember your exact words? Six months later?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

Jennifer realized why. Because he’d used those same words before or since. They worked. They’d worked on her because she hadn’t wanted to believe he would take her to dinner if he was in a relationship. And they might work on other women who didn’t care, as long as they didn’t have to face facts head-on.

“It was a lie of omission,” she said as evenly as she could.

“I’m not responsible for your assumptions.”

“You weren’t wearing your ring.”

He glanced at the gold band on his finger, then waved away the issue. “Let’s return to the matter at hand. And let me tell you how it will appear to an impartial observer.

“You’ve come to me with a claim you refuse to support, and you know your allegations could have a detrimental effect on my marriage. That smells of extortion. For all anyone knows, the child belongs to some other man, who won’t acknowledge it, and you plan to hit me up for some quick cash and disappear before my paternity can be disproved. Now, I’m not saying that’s what you’re doing. But it could look that way.”

Jennifer refused to back down. He could spin things any way he wanted. In the end, he was still the father. She cut to the chase. “When the baby turns out to be yours,” she said, staying cool, “what are you going to do about it?”

“If that were to happen,” he said, “which I very much doubt, then we would work something out.”

“You’ll be a father to your child?”

Drew looked at her as if she’d said something mildly idiotic. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes.”

He gave an uncomfortable laugh and shifted around on his chair. “I would have thought Ross had told you. My wife is pregnant. Our child is due in a few months. I can hardly be a father to yours, can I?”

Thank goodness she had known about his other baby, she thought, or his careless announcement would have rattled her composure further. “So what do you plan to do?”

“Jennifer, this is all a surprise. I can’t make any promises without time to consider. But if it’s mine, we would come to some agreement.”

Hadn’t he just told her how he’d lied to her by relying on her assumptions? She wasn’t about to assume the best in this case. “Please answer my question.”

“For all I know, this is just a hoax.”

“So your answer is nothing. You won’t be accountable.”

“Please don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Then, tell me yes or no. Will you be a father to your child?”

Drew brushed at the knee of his pants. “I want to be very clear about something, Jennifer. I don’t like blackmail. Your unwillingness to take the simple step of backing up your allegation makes your case weak. And I warn you that if you attempt to use your pregnancy against me by involving my family, you will pay a large price.” He paused, checking his Rolex—the same one that had spent several hours on her bedside table six months ago. “It’s late. I need to go home. And I urge you to think very carefully about your course of action from here on out.”

He went to the door.

“So your answer is no,” she said from her seat, in a voice that surprised her for its clarity.

He didn’t turn around. “Good night, Jennifer.”

ROSS HEARD THE SOUND of the study door and stepped from the living room into the front hall.

Drew appeared to be his usual confident self, but Ross thought he saw a little strain at the edges. Just a hint of tension around his eyes and a tight pull to his mouth.

“Well?” Ross asked.

“She’s pregnant,” Drew said. “She looks good pregnant.”

Ross waited.

“It’s not mine.” Drew crossed his arms. “She tried to tell me it was. I’m sure she told you the same thing.”

“She did.”

“And you believed her.”

Ross walked over to the front hall table. He picked up his silver letter opener—a wedding gift—and slit open a piece of junk mail from a wireless phone company.

The action was just the sort of thing Drew would do. Reading his mail while Ross tried to discuss something important with him. He knew it was rude. He regretted it. But it was the only way he could keep from hitting his brother.

Ross had never been a violent person. Outside of some martial arts training in his early twenties, he didn’t recall striking anyone in his life. His brother was the only person who ever made him feel this way, and he hated the power it gave Drew.

He scanned the contents of the envelope, not seeing it. Tossed the papers into the trash. “Yes, I believe her.”

Drew didn’t have anything to say to that. Ross expected him to make a fuss about family loyalty, about believing a virtual stranger over his own brother, but he was probably aware of how ridiculous that would sound.

Speaking of loyalty, he wondered what Drew knew about that summer, about what had happened between Jennifer and him. Because when you got down to it, his actions hadn’t been any more honorable than his brother’s. And he would have done a lot more than kiss her if she hadn’t called it to a halt.

“What are you going to do?” he asked Drew.

“Nothing. It’s not my baby.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Go to hell,” Drew muttered.

Ross took it as an admission of the truth, though he was sure Drew didn’t mean it that way. He felt his relationship with his brother shifting. Drew had failed the test. Things could never be the same. In the past he’d treated his brother with a kind of respect, had kept his hands out of Drew’s business. He’d suspected things, of course, but he’d refrained from digging, hadn’t wanted to know the truth.

And people who didn’t want to know the truth often got slapped with it.

“Lucy,” he said.

“What about her?”

“Think about it.”

“I’m thinking,” Drew said, in a tone that implied he saw absolutely nothing worth considering. “And I can’t think why she would find out Jennifer is trying to blackmail me.”

“Why wouldn’t she?”

“They don’t exactly move in the same circles.”

Lucy was wealthy. Not a snob, but from a world different from Jennifer’s. Under normal circumstances they would be unlikely to meet.

“I don’t plan to cover for you,” Ross said.

“Is that a threat?”

If you want to take it that way.

“Anyhow,” Drew continued, “I don’t see the problem. I looked up an old friend on a business trip. I took a girl I used to know in high school to dinner. Why would Lucy care?”

A lie. An outright lie. That was how Drew planned to play this. If confronted, he would deny everything but the fact that he’d seen her. He would claim they’d had an amicable dinner and nothing more. He would say she’d gotten herself in trouble and decided to blame it on him because she knew he had money. And how convenient that she chose to do it now, before a simple blood test could expose her lie—because no conscientious doctor would perform amniocentesis just to prove the identity of the father.

“You’ll have to face it eventually,” Ross said.

But his brother had never been much good at facing things. And God knew he probably just hoped he wouldn’t have to deal with this, either. That if he simply pushed it from his mind it would go away. That she would give up and leave town, or that someone else would step in to take care of things.

Someone like him.

Hell, he already had. He’d offered her money. A place to stay. And if Jennifer chose to keep his brother’s actions secret, he would have to be grateful for their mother’s sake, even though it meant he would be helping Drew and lying to Lucy in the process.

Lucy deserved to know the truth, but it wasn’t Ross’s place to tell her. She wouldn’t trust his motives. She might not believe him. She might not want to know. Hell, maybe she had lovers on the side, too.

Hard to imagine. But maybe she would accept Drew’s straying if she did find out, forgive him in order to keep what they had together. The outward success, the beautiful house, the social standing.

The family they’d started… Been able to start.

But Jennifer’s baby complicated everything. A couple could survive a simple extramarital affair with therapy, time and hard work on the relationship. But a child was something else. An embodied reminder, forever, of the moment of infidelity. A human being requiring care and attention from Drew, if he had such to give.

Which he surely didn’t.

It pissed Ross off that what was probably best for Jennifer and was definitely best for his mother—at least, right now—would also benefit Drew: for her to accept Ross’s help and stay, with her baby, out of Drew’s life. His brother would be getting off scot-free. But wasn’t that what he always managed to do? Obtain what he wanted from people, whether they liked it or not?

Ross wondered when he’d gotten so sour. When he’d started to want Drew to be shown up for what he was, to pay for his actions.

Drew jangled his keys, ready to go.

“So that’s it,” Ross said.

His brother shrugged. “Seems so.” He inclined his head toward the driveway. “Where’s she headed, anyway?”

Ah, so he wasn’t so unconcerned. Ross detected a trace of desperation in the question, a need to know that was more than the bland curiosity Drew tried to convey.

“Here.”

“Here, here?”

That, at least, got Drew worried.

“Portland. She left San Francisco.”

“Any chance she’ll go back?”

“I don’t think so. Not for a while.”

“Huh,” Drew said. “Interesting.”

Ross got the strangest sense that along with whatever anxiety his brother felt, a part of him also relished this series of events, treated it as a game, a negotiation. A tricky situation he could wriggle out of with charm and intelligence. Like a rock climber attempting a perilous route, he loved the adrenaline rush.

And the hell of it was, he might escape cleanly.

ROSS WAITED until Drew pulled out of the driveway before he opened the door to his study. Jennifer was sitting very still behind his desk.

He watched her, waiting for her to speak. When she didn’t, he broke the silence.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” She rose, pushing down on the arms of the chair.

He supposed he’d thought she would have tear tracks on her cheeks. She didn’t. Her gaze was clear and direct, but her mouth was tight.

“You were right,” she said.

He shrugged. “My brother’s an ass.”

“I should have known.” She tucked a chunk of hair behind her right ear, leaving the other side to swing free. “I did know.”

“He denied sleeping with you.”

Her expression didn’t change. “I figured he’d do that.”

“He has things he’s trying to protect.” A lame excuse, which sounded lame on his lips.

“We all have things we’re trying to protect.”

“He doesn’t realize it’s too late.”

“People never do.” She walked toward the door. “I’m exhausted. This has been a long day. Thanks for giving me a bed—I think I’ll go use it.”

UPSTAIRS, JENNIFER SAT on the cream-striped duvet and stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror that stood in one corner. She saw herself as Drew must have. As a liability.

Badly cut hair, tired eyes, discount-store clothes.

Swollen belly.

She was a man’s worst nightmare. A pregnant lover. She was evidence, proof. She was a lapse in judgment.

Yet Drew had acted confident during their brief meeting downstairs. As if he’d already considered this eventuality and braced himself for it, talked him self through the steps to deal with it. What kind of man could do that?

Her image stared back at her, quiet and still. Her mother’s statement returned to her, overheard so many years ago. No one can resist a baby. Andrea Burns had said the words to a friend, regretting she hadn’t gone to visit Jennifer’s father until Jennifer was well past infancy. No one can resist a baby, not even a man like him.

Jennifer had often wondered what a man like him—her father—was supposed to be. After she’d tried Drew’s fake phone number in January, she’d suspected he was a similar type. Now she was convinced.

No one can resist a baby.

But a pregnant woman wasn’t a baby. A pregnant woman was terrifying.

If she hadn’t lost her apartment and been so far in debt, she might have waited. She might have been able to show up in Drew’s life with an adorable baby who would smile and coo and gurgle, and would trap his heart. Proving her mother’s theory.

Except, it wouldn’t have worked. He would already have had a baby to whom he would have given whatever fatherly love he had to give.

She imagined the scene as it might have played out. Sitting on a chair in Ross’s study, a baby on her lap. Drew walking in. Saying to him, This is your daughter, or This is your son. And having him stand there with a blank, shielded look, telling her he didn’t believe her, telling her she should have come to him sooner, within the first trimester.

That would have been worse than this, she told herself. It was better not to have false hopes. But much more depressing.

Jennifer roused herself, scooting off the bed. She reached for the lilac knit maternity tank and shorts she used as pajamas.

Enough self-pity and despair. She had tomorrow to think about. She had to figure out where to go from here.

Buck up, honey. Time to be strong.

ROSS LAY IN BED, listening to the quiet creaks of the house settling onto its foundation for the night. Light from the street outside filtered through the venetian blinds, providing enough illumination for him to see the outlines of familiar objects around the room. The photographs of family and friends on the dresser. The carriage clock he’d inherited from his grandmother, silent since he’d allowed it to run down a few weeks ago.

To have Jennifer in his home, sleeping down the hallway, felt strange. It made him aware of the house in a way he usually wasn’t. Of how large it was for one person to live in. Of course, when he’d bought it he hadn’t been alone, and he’d imagined there would someday be children to fill it.

Probably he should move, he thought. Get a condo in a downtown high-rise. Give in to the inevitability of it. Accept what life had offered him.

But he knew he wouldn’t. What was really wrong, after all, with a big, empty house? Except that, sooner or later, it made you lonely. Made you enjoy having a houseguest more than you should, and look forward to seeing that houseguest in the morning with an unsettling amount of anticipation.

It was just one night, he reminded himself. One night and one morning, because anything more than that would be too complicated.

And Jennifer was once again off-limits.

But as his brother had demonstrated on more than one occasion, just because you shouldn’t get involved with someone didn’t mean you wouldn’t.