Читать книгу The Pregnancy Project - Kat Cantrell - Страница 9
ОглавлениеAll of the blood in Dante’s brain drained out. “You’re...what?” he whispered.
“Pregnant,” she repeated and the word still sounded like pregnant.
“With a baby?”
“Science has not yet successfully crossed human DNA with any other species, so yeah,” she confirmed darkly. “I didn’t want to tell you this way but you gave me no choice.”
Blindly, he stuck out a hand and sought the nearest hard surface to sink onto. Happened to be an end table in the adjacent living area but so what? His knees wouldn’t have held up much longer.
“I don’t understand how this happened. Are you seeing someone?”
There was no way. Not as eagerly as she’d responded to his touch. Not as close as he’d have sworn they were. She’d have said something about a man in her life. Wouldn’t she? He thought back to the last time she’d mentioned a guy—all the way back in college.
She shook her head. “No. Artificial insemination.”
“Why in the world would you do something like that?” He bit off the syllables, not bothering to temper the harshness.
Babies needed a family. A father. She’d deliberately set herself up to be a single parent. It was inexcusable.
Her face froze as she took in his expression. “I wasn’t interested in sharing parenting duties with anyone long-term. So a donor who was willing to sign away his rights seemed ideal.”
This got better and better. Or worse and worse, more likely. He laughed without humor. “Most people have a life partner they decide to have kids with. Because they’re in love and want to raise a family together. Did that ever enter your thought process?”
“Not once.” She tossed her red hair. “A romantic relationship would only complicate everything.”
“A baby needs a male influence,” he insisted. “That’s not an opinion. Study after study shows—”
“I know that, Dante!” Hands on her hips, she towered over him as he perched on the end table. “Why do you think I said I needed you, you big moron? That’s why I’m here. I want you to be the male influence. Dummy me, I thought our friendship was strong enough to add a baby and then you had to go and kiss me.”
Dumbfounded, he blinked. “Did you think to ask me about this before you got pregnant?”
Because he would have talked her out of it if she had. This was the most ridiculous idea she’d ever heard.
“It’s my life and my body,” she announced as guilt flashed through her expression.
She must have guessed he might react like this, because she knew his history, knew how he felt about kids. And had done it anyway. “You know anonymous donors don’t always tell the truth about their medical history on those questionnaires. There’s no telling what kind of genetic mess you’ve created in there.”
He jerked his head toward her abdomen. She had a baby in her womb and it was suddenly a sacred place, not available for desecrating with the kind of activities he’d had in mind mere minutes ago.
He’d actually been strategizing on how to get her back into his arms so they could finish that kiss. How else would he exorcise his attraction to her? What small taste of her he’d been granted had thus far only whetted his appetite for the main course. Hers, too, obviously, despite her denial.
Dante was an expert after all. She wanted him as much as the reverse was true.
But she was already shaking her head. “That’s why the donor wasn’t anonymous. I did a lot of research into this before I made my decision and I carefully selected my baby’s father. Dr. Cardoza is the perfect—”
“Dr. Cardoza? Dr. Tomas Cardoza is your baby’s father?” Red stained Dante’s vision, his hands curling and uncurling as he fought to keep from unleashing his frustration on the drywall.
“He’s a renowned chemist,” she explained as if he might be confused about Cardoza’s contribution to the planet.
“I know,” Dante somehow got out through clenched teeth. “If you recall, he’s the reason I didn’t win the Nobel.”
Harper’s eyes widened. “Well, yeah. But that was ages ago. Surely you’re over that, especially given that you’ve moved into another field.”
He couldn’t help it. The laugh bubbled out and he pinched off his glasses to wipe his eyes. Of all the people she could have fathered a baby with, she’d picked Cardoza, the sorriest excuse for a human being that ever walked the earth, and that included Dante’s parents, whoever they were.
No. He wasn’t over it. Cardoza was the reason Dante had been forced into TV. If Cardoza hadn’t cheated on his methodology, he’d never have won the Nobel and Dante would have at least had a fair shot. After Cardoza had won, all the interest in Dante’s research had dried up, leaving him lab-less, fundless and desperate for someone to give him a new opportunity.
The Science of Seduction had been born.
Of course, it had been lucrative beyond his wildest fantasies. But a nine-figure bank account didn’t make up for having his long-held scientific goals stolen out from under him.
“Just out of curiosity,” he said once he thought he could talk without betraying the wash of emotion beating at his breastbone. “How did you manage to pick Cardoza?”
Of all freaking people.
“Oh. I ran into Tomas at a convention recently. The thing I told you about in St. Louis? He was presenting a paper and I loved his conclusions. When I saw him later in the hotel lobby, I introduced myself and we got to talking.”
“Got chummy, did you?” Dante practically sneered. Tomas. Like they were all friends here.
“Sure, he’s a brilliant man. Great cheekbones. His genetics were the main reason I became interested in him.”
Something black bloomed in Dante’s chest. “He hit on you.”
“What? No. Well, okay, yeah, I guess if you count the fact that he asked if I’d consider getting pregnant the old-fashioned way ‘hitting on me.’” she accompanied her words with air quotes, oblivious to the way Dante’s stomach had lost its lining. “Then I guess he did.”
Dante massaged the ice pick that had formed between his eyes. “Please, for the love of God, tell me you said no.”
She scowled. “Of course I said no. I have no interest in that kind of relationship with any man.”
Relief flooded his chest so fast, he almost saw stars. The thought of Cardoza putting his filthy paws on Harper—he swallowed the bile. Thankfully, she’d handed the horrible man his hat.
With anyone else, this would be the point when he’d ask if she meant that she preferred women. But he’d felt her reaction when he’d held her in his arms.
She was straight, 100 percent. “No interest in any man except me, you mean.”
“Uh, no. Not with you, either,” she corrected. “Haven’t you been listening?”
Oh, he’d heard every word, much to his chagrin. “You’re interested, Harper. You’re so interested you can’t stand it.”
The way she’d curled into him when he’d kissed her, the thrill of her eagerly offered tongue against his—he’d be reliving that in need-soaked dreams tonight. She was interested. And not happy about it, clearly, as her reaction to the kiss had prompted this little game of true confessions.
Pregnant. As mood killers went, that one took the cake.
“I don’t know when you developed that industrial-sized ego,” she said primly. “But it can go anytime.”
“Please.” He snorted. “Lie to yourself, but you can’t lie to me. Not when my mouth was on yours. I could feel your interest clear to my bones.”
Not ego talking. Okay, maybe a little, because it did warm him up plenty, even now, to recall how fervently she’d responded. She’d thrown herself into the kiss, no holds barred, like she did everything, practically climbing into his pants while he kissed her, and he’d have let her.
The attraction between them was mutual. Whether she liked it or not.
A blush worked its way across her cheeks. “That’s just hormones.”
That got a chuckle out of him. “Yeah. That is generally the way it works, or have you forgotten everything you learned in college?”
To his surprise, she sank onto the couch and buried her head in her hands. Her shoulders started shaking and that’s when his bad mood vanished in favor of the mood he should have had all along—concern for the woman he cared about.
He wedged in next to her on the couch and gathered her into his arms, holding her without a word because what would he say? He’d already ruined her big announcement, one she’d only made under duress because he’d been pushing her past her comfort zone.
In another shocker, she relaxed into his embrace and it almost felt like normal. Sure, the smell of her hair crossed his eyes like it always did, but he’d been ignoring the physical pull of Harper for a long time. He could buck up for his friend, who’d spelled out her need for him in no uncertain terms.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured into her hair and she nodded. “I just don’t understand. Why a baby? And via artificial insemination to boot?”
“I told you,” she mumbled against his shirt. “Romance is not my thing. It’s all a bunch of chemical reactions that people mistake as an emotion greeting card companies tell you is love. Then those reactions stop and what are you left with? My way is so much easier.”
The arguments against all the mistakes in her theory bubbled to the surface and he almost started firing back facts from the hours and hours of research he’d done into the chemistry between people, but he cut it off at the last second. She didn’t need his opinion, professional or personal. Not right this moment. Not when she’d already made the decision.
“Congrats, regardless.” He bit back the rest of that, too. Foster care had colored his view of people who had children and the various ways they ended up making the kid’s life hell. Until he could be objective about Harper’s baby, he’d shut up. “For the record, those chemical reactions come with a hell of a kick.”
“I wouldn’t know,” she said, her voice so muffled he almost didn’t hear her.
All at once, the subtext whacked him over the head and he realized she wasn’t talking solely about love. “You’re still a virgin?”
Pieces of this puzzle started falling into place at a rapid clip. She’d confessed as much one night back in college, but he’d assumed that somewhere along the way she’d—but then, she’d probably have told him if she had. Idiot.
She froze. “I’ve been busy getting a doctorate and then building Fyra’s product line from the ground up. Who had time?”
His head fell back against the couch and he stared at the ceiling. Some doctor of seduction he was. He’d totally missed the most important aspect of the dynamic at work here.
Harper was scared of what he’d made her feel. He’d tied up a normally fearless woman in knots because she’d never been properly introduced to the pleasures between a man and a woman. That was a travesty of the highest order.
And a blessing. His resolve solidified. Dante had been gifted an amazing opportunity to be her first. Then he’d finally have one up on Cardoza, that was for sure, and he wasn’t going to apologize for being smug over it. He and Harper could burn off their attraction, get back to being friends, and go on. Win-win in his book.
“It doesn’t change anything,” she said defensively. “I’m still pregnant and I still need your support, regardless of your opinions about my choice of donor or methods of impregnation. I can’t do this alone. Can I count on you to be my friend? To be there for me?”
The realities of the situation crashed down on him. His best friend was pregnant with the offspring of his most hated rival and all he could think about was claiming Harper in some kind of testosterone-filled territory grab.
She knew him well enough to hone in on his biggest conflicts, but naming it and claiming it didn’t change his views on babies. If he said he supported her, he had to do it. Keeping his word meant something to him. This friendship meant something to him. He had to put his money where his mouth was.
“Of course you can count on me.”
And she could. But he wasn’t going to back away from the attraction between them. Instead of scaring him off, she’d inexplicably created a challenge he couldn’t ignore. He wanted her. Perhaps even more now than he had before, thanks to her confessions.
New plan. Nothing but a full-bore seduction would do, and he had an undeniable urge to put every ounce of his energy into verifying the strategies he promoted on his TV show actually worked. Even on a woman who’d never had a lover before. Even on a friend. A pregnant friend. Was he an expert or not?
Dante had the next two weeks to find out.
* * *
Dante’s sprawling home in the Hollywood Hills had enormous charm and Harper loved it. A housekeeper showed her to the guest suite, pointing out the kitchen, the dining room, the back terrace with the multilevel swimming pool on the way.
Wow. Harper craned her neck as the housekeeper breezed past the triple set of French doors overlooking the pool. Cerulean water rippled in the sunlight, and beyond the bougainvillea and palmetto palms camouflaging the wrought-iron fence around Dante’s property, Los Angeles unfurled at the base of the hills, urban and busy, but stunning despite the layer of smog.
Dr. Gates had done very well for himself.
Heavy exposed beams stained the color of triple-strength espresso held up the high ceiling in the breezeway to the back of the house. The housekeeper opened one of the doors and stepped back. Harper blinked at the lavish sitting area off to one side, complete with a flat-screen TV. A large mission-style bed had been placed opposite the sitting area. What a beautiful room.
“The bathroom is through those doors,” the housekeeper pointed with a polite smile. “You need anything, you let me know. I’m Mrs. Ortiz, and my daughter, Ana Sophia, cooks for Mr. Dante. No request too small or too big. We live in the old coach house near the gate, and Juan, my husband, keeps the grounds.”
“Oh, okay.” Dante had servants. More than one. Had any of them overheard the conversation in the foyer earlier? Harper shut her eyes for a beat. Too late now. Would have been nice for Dante to warn her that they weren’t necessarily alone as she went around blabbing about personal stuff.
But then, he’d apparently decided to make blindsiding her a habit. She didn’t especially care for it.
“Thanks, Mrs. Ortiz,” Harper said as graciously as she could. It wasn’t this nice lady’s fault her boss had gone slightly off the deep end.
The housekeeper nodded and closed the door behind her as she left. Harper spent a few minutes unpacking but it didn’t take nearly long enough to settle her trembling insides.
After that fiasco of a kiss had forced her to drop the pregnancy bomb, Dante had melted away, presumably to give her time to settle in, but probably more to give them both breathing room. Or was she the only who’d needed it?
Before she’d gotten on a plane to LA, her relationship with Dante had made sense. Her feelings for him were uncomplicated, easy and eternal, unlike what would inevitably happen in a romantic relationship. That was why she’d never entertained the slightest notion of having one with any man, let alone one she liked as much as Dante. Friendship had so much to recommend itself.
Until Dante had flipped everything upside down by kissing her.
What could she do to get back to the place where she had her friend by her side, holding her hand through this new adventure?
Because she needed him. Badly.
Pregnancy was freaking her out.
She was scared she’d made the wrong decision. Scared that she’d picked the wrong time, given that her career might be in the toilet. Scared that she’d failed to cross some T when dealing with the legal aspects of using a donor. She’d never second-guessed a decision like this and the only thing she wanted to do was crawl under a blanket, let Dante stroke her hair and tell her everything was going to be okay.
That was all wrong. She’d wanted pregnancy to be a happy experience. One that would create a new bond with Alex and Cass, who were also new mothers or soon-to-be, and strengthen the bond she had with Dante because of course he would be her baby’s favorite...uncle-like person.
She hoped.
The look on his face when she’d said, I’m pregnant...she never wanted to see that again. But the shock coloring his expression replayed in her mind on an endless loop. Apparently she’d miscalculated how he’d feel about it, but she couldn’t figure out if he was upset because she hadn’t consulted him or because he still had residual bitterness over losing the Nobel Prize. Or both.
There was every possibility that despite claiming he’d be there for her, Dante might change his mind. He might end up not wanting anything to do with her baby. That would be devastating.
Angst was killing her. What had happened to her usual logic and reason? Poof. Add a baby and suddenly she was a mess.
She changed out of her plane suit and slipped on an unstructured sundress with spaghetti straps that she’d bought in anticipation of an expanding waistline. Wishful thinking, since she hadn’t confirmed her pregnancy until this morning.
None of this heated introspection would resolve the open issue—how to get back to normal. Harper worked best with absolutes and only Dante could give her those.
Get the data, formulate the problem and then solve it.
Her relationship with Dante was going to be the same today as it was yesterday, or she’d die trying to keep it that way. She refused to let either the baby or the kiss put a wedge between them, not when so many other things were out of her control. The FDA rejection being exhibit A.
Determined, she wandered through the open floor plan toward the kitchen in hopes of finding Dante and a cup of hot tea, and not necessarily in that order.
“Called it in one,” she murmured as she caught sight of his dark head bent over something.
She walked in and skirted the island. Dante glanced up.
His gaze softened behind his lenses, instantly turning his gorgeous eyes the color of melted chocolate. If he looked at other women like that, it was no wonder they were tripping over themselves to get to him.
Which was a totally uncomfortable thought, all at once. Did he look at other women like that, with that same blend of concern and affection? And why would she care? She didn’t. Dante was her friend and he could look at a woman any way he chose.
Except her. Definitely he could not look at her like that.
“I was just about to make a pot of tea,” he said as if nothing had changed.
Nothing had changed, she reminded herself sternly. He’d kissed her in some sort of misguided notion that there was something between them. She’d disabused him of that notion, and it was over. “That would be great.”
She cleared the squawk from her throat and wished the tension could be so easily dispelled.
Tea was one of their shared passions, one she cherished. When Dante came to Dallas, he always picked up a fresh bag of Gyokuro Imperial Green Tea—her favorite—from the Teavana shop at DFW airport and they drank it on the patio of her condo, which overlooked Victory Park. She loved their ritual more for the conversation and easiness than the tea, though it only took the barest whiff of the scent to make her mouth water.
He handed her a press pot and nodded to the loose-leaf tea in a container printed with Chinese symbols, which sat on the counter near his elbow. “I’ll boil the water if you scoop the tea.”
The familiar rhythm soothed her, and she moved around both the kitchen and the man with more ease than she would have expected. Maybe the weirdness was all on her. If she acted like everything was cool, it would be.
Tea made, they took their mugs onto the lanai that overlooked the lush pool and outdoor kitchen. Dante settled onto a cozy love seat and patted the next cushion, which she gratefully sank onto.
“Your house is beautiful,” she commented. “Why did it take me so long to visit?”
“A fair question.” He nodded once. “And the answer is?”
“Busy.” Her gaze drifted back to the landscape as she searched for the truth. “Fyra’s been a mess lately and Cass and Alex have had personal things going on. Leaves me and Trinity to hold the seams together.”
Regardless, Dante had always made time to come visit her. She’d written it off as a function of his insane travel schedule; of course it was easier for him to pop into Dallas. It was one of the major US airport hubs.
In that moment, with every nook and cranny of their relationship under a microscope, it felt...wrong. Unbalanced.
“Why did you come this time?” he asked quietly, and it was the opening she’d been looking for.
“I took my first pregnancy test this morning,” she admitted and forced herself to go on, no matter how uncomfortable the subject. Because regardless of what he’d said earlier, it still felt like an elephant in the room that they had to work through. “And then I took the next three.”
Surprisingly, he flashed a smile. “Because four gives you better odds of getting an accurate result.”
“You know me so well,” she joked automatically, but when his jaw tightened, she wished she hadn’t said it.
“I’m hoping to learn more,” he returned cryptically. “How did it feel? When you saw that it was positive?”
So many things had flooded her chest in that instant. How did she catalogue them for someone else—and a man at that? “The clearest sense of awe. Glee. Accomplishment.”
She’d picked the right donor, clearly, since the procedure had worked the first time. Of course she had. She’d done extensive research into genetics, legalities, odds—and Dr. Tomas Cardoza had been the obvious choice. Tomas had two doctorates, impressive Spanish ancestry and dark skin that would hopefully guarantee her child wouldn’t have to slather on as much sunscreen as its Irish mother. He’d agreed to be her donor, including signing away any paternal rights, and that was that.
Somehow, she didn’t think Dante would appreciate those details.
“I hate this.” She set her mug down and swiveled to face him, one leg bent underneath her. “I feel like I’m walking on eggshells, like I have to watch what I say or it’ll start another fight.”
He cocked his head. “Another fight? We’re not fighting. Are we?”
“Well...yeah. Earlier. When I told you I was pregnant. That was a fight.” Wasn’t it? He’d been so angry and disappointed in her.
“It was a conversation,” he corrected and set his own mug down in favor of taking her hand, holding it tight as he caught her gaze. “About something going on in your life. I didn’t handle it well. You surprised me, that’s all. But I care about you and want to know everything. It’s not okay that you think you have to hold one single thing back.”
Warmth spread across her palm, feathering outward. She stared at Dante and all at once, he morphed back into the man she’d loved for ten years. And then the warmth climbed into her chest as he smiled at her. It was so normal—and such a relief—she nearly wept.
Except she was changing things. That was really her biggest fear, that she’d irrevocably damaged their relationship by getting pregnant. She and Dante told each other chemistry jokes and talked about quantum mechanics, not diapers and breastfeeding.
She centered herself with a string of biofeedback techniques. Everything was going to be okay.
“Then I want to start over. Dante, I’m pregnant.”
His eyebrows shot up in mock surprise, bless him. “That’s fantastic news. Congratulations. I can’t wait to meet the little version of you swimming around in there.”
And that, against all odds, made the whole thing real.
She had a life growing in her womb. A baby. One that would be hers and hers alone, who would be a brilliant addition to the world of science from an early age. She would raise him or her with all the best educational opportunities and be this baby’s everything, since she’d be a single parent.
That was when the panic started.
It was a baby. A helpless tiny thing who couldn’t communicate its needs. She’d have to figure it out. By herself. The flutter behind her breastbone grew nearly audible. And then she realized that was the sound of her heightened pulse thundering in her ears.
Breathe. And again. She’d wanted it this way. Love between mother and child was absolute. Preordained. There was no potential for error, like there was when romance entered the picture, confusing everything with signals her brain couldn’t interpret. Thus, this baby would fill a need in her life that no man could ever hope to. She’d never be lonely again, yearning for something she couldn’t quite put a name to.
Plus, it would solidify her place among her business partners who valued the institution of motherhood. Or at least Alex and Cass did. Trinity had and always would march to the beat of her own drum, but regardless, she and Harper had long agreed about the value of a permanent man in their lives—zero.
Except this one. She squeezed Dante’s hand and swallowed. “I’m scared.”
“What? Why?” Clearly puzzled, he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and smoothed it back, exactly as she’d envisioned he would when she admitted her fears. “You’re the most capable woman I’ve ever met. You’ve got this, hands down.”
“There’s some...other stuff going on. Fyra is in trouble.”
“What’s going on?” he asked softly. “Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it.”
The thick bands around her chest loosened. She’d come to LA precisely because Dante was the one person in her life she could turn to. If she could just talk about it, maybe a plan would come to her, some way to haul herself out of the professional hole she’d fallen into. Then the pregnancy decision wouldn’t seem so...ill-timed.
“Something happened with Fyra’s FDA approval for Formula-47,” she blurted out. A sudden burning behind her eyes mortified her. She never cried. Was this how it was going to be then? Emotions out the wazoo around the clock?
“What? Tell me,” he demanded instantly.
Formula-47 had been her first baby, conceived and crafted in her lab with one sole purpose—to heal scars and wrinkles better than plastic surgery because it used revolutionary nanotechnology that she’d developed. It was brilliant. And it might never see the light of day.
No. She would fix it.
She took a deep breath. “Phillip—Senator Edgewood—you know how I told you he was helping us grease the FDA wheels in Washington?”
“Sure, because you’re releasing your first product that requires FDA approval. I remember.”
“The committee suspended the request.”
It was nearly the worst moment of her life to hear those words come out of Phillip’s mouth. The process should have been easy. Submit an application for approval for Formula-47, which she’d poured two years of her life into perfecting, give the committee a tour of the lab, explain her formulary methodology, send samples and research. Done. Approval to sell the formula as a product would be in the bag.
Nothing had gone according to plan.
“What?” Dante’s expression mirrored the righteous indignation of his tone. “Why would they suspend the request?”
“They had questions about my samples. And my lab.”
The expletive Dante muttered made her smile.
“Your methods are beyond reproach,” he groused. “How dare they question anything about your lab.”
She couldn’t help but revel in his unconditional support, which was precisely what she’d come for. None of her partners really understood what the allegations had meant to her professionally. Personally.
Dante got it. Understood instantly why the whole thing felt like someone had driven a railroad spike through her gut.
“There’s more. I think the questions cropped up because someone deliberately sabotaged the samples.” Even uttering that heinous suspicion aloud nearly caused her stomach to revolt.
Because that was the bottom line. She had a traitor in her lab. Her lab. Her sanctuary.
Until she got that sorted out, she was afraid she’d never fully embrace or enjoy the next nine months.
