Читать книгу Falling For The Pregnant Heiress - Susan Meier - Страница 11

ANYONE WHO LOOKED at Sabrina McCallan usually did a double take. With her blond hair, blue eyes and nicely kept curves, she was physically perfect. Add impeccable manners, poise, charm, grace and intelligence, and Trent “Ziggy” Sigmund thought the woman was class in Chanel.

Until today.

As a bridesmaid in her brother Seth’s August wedding, standing by a church pew, waiting for her turn in the after-ceremony pictures, she seemed frazzled. Nervous. Plus, a strand of yellow hair had sprung from her up-do and she hadn’t tucked it back in.

Which was why Trent couldn’t stop staring at her.

Sabrina’s partner in Seth and Harper’s wedding, Trent was supposed to be aware of where Sabrina was when their names were called for the pictures, and her fidgeting confused him. He wasn’t staring because he was attracted to her. She wasn’t his type. She was perfect, flawless, and he liked things a little messy. Not a disaster. But wild hair on a pillow, sleepy eyes, torn jeans and scruffy tennis shoes were more his speed.

Still, something was up with Sabrina and he had responsibilities as her partner in the wedding, more as her brother’s best friend. He and Seth had lived together in a run-down apartment, both earning their living as waiters, as they finished school. They’d shared spare change and food, knew the bus and subway schedules like the backs of their hands and played wingman when one or the other spotted a girl they liked. Though Seth had dropped out of his family for a time, the second McCallan son still knew “people” and that had helped Trent get his first job, which had resulted in his learning the right things at the right time to develop his genius, strike out on his own and become rich.

In some ways they were like brothers. In other ways they were closer than brothers. Trent would be a fool if he didn’t realize he owed Seth. And Trent wasn’t a fool.

Which was why Seth’s little sister’s fidgeting was like a red alert alarm. The groom, Seth, was too busy to notice. Even Jake, Seth and Sabrina’s older brother, was busy with his toddler and pregnant wife. Only Trent had time to see the McCallan daughter was off her game today.

When his name and Sabrina’s were called for their picture, Trent sauntered across the church aisle to stunning Sabrina. Her pale purple dress highlighted her blue eyes. Her yellow hair would have been perfection, except for that one wayward strand, which to Trent’s way of thinking, actually made her more beautiful.

He offered his arm. The way he and Sabrina had grown up might have been worlds apart, but twelve years of knowing a McCallan had taught him how a gentleman behaved.

“Ready for pics?”

Sabrina smiled politely as she slid her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Yes.”

He nearly told her she looked elegant and feminine in the simple lilac dress Harper had chosen for her bridesmaids, but he figured she’d probably heard that thirty or forty times already today.

They walked to the space the photographer pointed out, stood by Seth and Harper and smiled as the middle-aged man snapped a picture. He took at least a hundred more shots with Seth and Harper and the members of their bridal party, Harper’s parents, Seth’s mom Maureen, Seth’s brother Jake and his wife, Avery, and then a few final shots of everyone—a big mob of men in tuxes, women in gowns and little girls in dresses with so much tulle and ruffles, Trent wondered how they could stay upright.

Seth’s mom and Harper’s parents said their goodbyes. Harper’s parents were taking Harper’s daughter, Crystal, home for a nap before the reception. Seth’s mom was going home for a nap herself. Jake and Avery’s nanny hustled Abby to their Upper East Side condo for some quiet time. The rest of the wedding party took limos to Seth and Harper’s penthouse for a few pre-reception drinks.

Thanking everyone for joining him in the celebration of the happiest day of his life, Seth popped the cork on the first bottle of champagne, then servants scurried over to open more champagne, fill glasses and distribute them for a toast.

Leaning against the bar, Trent kept his attention on Sabrina. She took a glass of champagne, happily raised it when best man Jake made a toast, then pretended to sip.

Trent’s eyes narrowed. She had absolutely pretended to sip. Three toasts later, she still had a full glass of champagne.

The bride and groom mingled through the small crowd. Waiters brought out trays of hors d’oeuvres. Seth told stories of his misspent youth, and with Harper by his side, he spoke fondly of her deceased husband, Clark, the third roommate in the trio of Clark, Seth and Ziggy, who now preferred to be called Trent. Trent joined him in one final story. Then the conversation drifted to more current topics, and before Trent knew it, it was time to go to the Waldorf Astoria for the reception.

He had to hunt for Sabrina. When he found her, she looked to have gotten lost in the shuffle. A woman who ran a nonprofit that helped startups turn into corporations did not get lost in any shuffles.

He added her obvious confusion to her not drinking and came up with a conclusion so startling it almost made him whistle—the way his stepfather always had when he realized something outlandish, something farfetched, something so out of the realm of reality that only a physical gesture or a reverently whispered “Wow” would do.

* * *

Sabrina held up as well as she could through the small party at Seth and Harper’s. When Ziggy found her—again—to ride with her to the reception, she wanted to throttle him. She needed some alone time to figure things out and her brother’s best friend, her groomsman partner, always seemed to be two feet away.

She’d think he’d suddenly gotten a thing for her, but she knew better. If the wild-haired waifs he dated were anything to go by, she wasn’t his type. But he wasn’t her type, either. He was good-looking enough. His black hair curled into sexy ringlets on his collar. His heavy-lidded dark eyes never missed a thing. But he was scruffy. He liked things like dimly lit jazz bars and kicking back with a beer by the lake. Any lake. She was pretty sure he owned houses on three of them.

Then there was his name. She’d never get used to calling him Trent. First, because her brother had called him Ziggy for at least a decade. Second, because to her the name Ziggy fit the laid-back billionaire much more than Trent.

And nobody really wanted to be dating a guy named Ziggy, let alone a high-profile professional woman. She ran a respectable nonprofit. Her public persona determined whether she got contributions and grants to assist the hundreds of people who came to her with ideas every year.

Trent helped her into one of the black limos that had pulled up to the curb in front of Seth and Harper’s building.

She smiled politely. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

The driver closed the door behind them, walked to the front of the long car and took his seat behind the steering wheel.

Trent pushed the button that raised the glass between passengers and the driver. “Are you okay?”

“What? Yes! I’m fine.”

“Nothing you want to tell me?”

She gave him the side eye. “Of course not.”

“I’m just saying you look like a woman who might need a shoulder to cry on or maybe somebody to offer advice.”

She fought the urge to close her eyes and kept her poise strictly intact. He couldn’t know that she was pregnant. She’d only found out that morning. One stupid week of loneliness had her flying off to Paris to Pierre—with whom she’d made the mutual decision to break up the month before—and spending a reckless weekend that resulted in a child.

She’d sensed a bit of regret on Pierre’s part when she’d left to return to New York, but not enough for him to call her. Which was for the best. As a woman who didn’t believe in love, she’d accepted Pierre’s romantic advances four years ago because she knew there was no danger that anything would come of their affair. A gorgeous, passionate artist, Pierre was a lot of fun and they spoke the language of art. They both lived and breathed art. But Pierre was the product of a marriage more dysfunctional than Sabrina’s parents’ marriage had been, and he’d decided to make up for his parents’ neglect by giving himself everything he wanted. He’d also taken a solemn vow never to marry or have kids. Which was okay because they weren’t long-term anything. They had a safe, long-distance relationship, with no possibility of things getting messy with talk of love.

And now that she was pregnant?

Well...

They’d broken up. He didn’t want to be a father. She’d never wanted him in her life permanently. Nothing had changed.

At least she didn’t think so. But that was the problem. There hadn’t yet been time to think this through. She hadn’t had two quiet minutes since she’d seen the stick turn blue, and her nerves were beginning to fray. Part of her wanted to enjoy her brother’s big day and celebrate. The other part wanted to go home and cry. Except—

She didn’t know if she wanted to cry out of fear or happiness. She’d always wanted to be a mom. She’d envisioned herself having as close of a relationship with her child as she’d had with her mom, guiding her little boy or girl into a wonderful, fulfilling life, choosing good schools, taking her baby to the park, maybe even getting a dog—

She’d just always thought it would be sometime in the future.

“I’m fine.”

“Okay. Keep your secrets.”

An arrow plunged into her heart, scaring her to death at the way he’d made secret plural. Secrets. Being pregnant wasn’t her only secret. She also painted. Temperamental, brilliant Pierre was one of a handful of people who knew Sabrina McCallan was the reclusive artist Sally McMillan. She’d taken a pseudonym because as Sabrina McCallan she was New York high society. Her one and only showing had been mobbed by people buying her paintings to win favor with her now-deceased tycoon father.

She’d been on the verge of quitting painting altogether when her mother had suggested a pseudonym. And it worked. She didn’t go to her showings, didn’t schmooze or pander to the public. Her art stood on its own.

Still, Ziggy couldn’t know that. Seth, Jake, Avery and Harper all knew the stakes. Seth would not have spilled her secret. None of them would.

Ziggy was bluffing.

“Maybe I should ask you if you need some counseling.”

He laughed.

She lifted one eyebrow. “Afraid your business won’t stand up to the scrutiny of a professional?”

“Honey, my business wouldn’t stand up to anybody’s scrutiny. I have a couple simple formulas. I read five newspapers a day and a few dozen blogs. Once I get all the information I need in my head, I grab a fishing pole and go to the lake, or I slip off to Spain and let it all sink in. After a few days I might make a move, or I might not.”

“That’s really not a business.”

“Didn’t I just say that?”

The train of limos arrived at the Waldorf. Doormen scurried out to release the passengers and escort the bridal party into the hotel. When Sabrina and Ziggy arrived at the four-story, two-tiered ballroom, the place was lit with dim purple lights that made the space shimmer romantically. Long, rectangular tables outlined the room, while round, more intimate tables filled the area beside the open dance floor.

Sabrina murmured, “This is lovely.”

Ziggy looked around. “Your family does know how to throw a party.”

His casual way of looking at things hit her all the wrong ways. “We aren’t throwing a party. We’re celebrating a marriage.”

“Potayto, potahto.”

“It’s not the same thing! A party can be four guys and a beer bong. We’re celebrating my brother and his wife finding love.”

He faced her with a goofy smile, his dark eyes gleaming with mischief. “You’re a romantic.”

She almost laughed. Her? A romantic? She was exactly the opposite. She was a woman who believed romance and the mythical concept of “love” only caused problems—especially for women. She would never let herself be so vulnerable as to fall in love.

“I’m not a romantic. You know as well as anyone that our family had a rough time.” A dad who couldn’t be faithful and a mom with three kids who lived in fear of his temper. “I never thought either of my brothers would get married.”

Ziggy nodded. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

She straightened to her full five feet six inches—five-nine with heels—and still she only came up to about his nose. Odd that she’d notice that with so much on her mind. “You’re damned right, I’m right. Now, if you’ll excuse me, don’t follow me to the ladies’ room.”

He laughed.

She strode away, feeling more like herself than she had all day. There was nothing like righting a wrong to get her blood flowing. Having her spunk back helped her to weed through some of the confusion in her brain.

Number one, she wanted the baby. Because of her parents’ abysmal marriage, she’d vowed never to marry, but she wanted to be a mother. This pregnancy might have sped up her timetable, but she was ready—

No. She was eager to become a mom.

Number two, she had to tell Pierre. She expected him to be appalled and tell her that he wanted nothing to do with their child. But she’d chosen him as a lover, someone with no intention of falling in love, not a father for her children, so that was okay. She had no qualm about raising this baby alone. In fact, she’d prefer it.

Number three and four, telling her mom and telling her brothers couldn’t happen until she told Pierre.

She had to go to Paris.

She walked into the elegant lounge section of the ladies’ room and leaned across a vanity to get a peek at her makeup. Now that she wasn’t falling apart internally, her face had gone back to normal. She could have nitpicked every tiny imperfection. She could have second-guessed her choice of lipstick color. Except she looked like the lady her mother had raised her to be. She might not be perfect, but she was firmly in her role.

She drew a long breath and left the restroom, heading back to the ballroom. She spotted Ziggy and walked in the opposite direction. Jake was about to introduce Seth and Harper and the bridal party. She ambled up to Harper, who looked elegant in her simple satin dress. Her short, dark hair gave her the look of a pixie. Her blue eyes sparkled with love—for Sabrina’s brother. Sabrina could never appreciate anyone more than she did Avery and Harper for helping her brothers to heal. Theirs were the rare unicorn of relationships that did revolve around love, exactly what her brothers needed.

But Sabrina didn’t need to heal as her brothers had. A daughter, not a son, she hadn’t endured the kind of cruel mistreatment from their dad that her brothers had. Her chauvinistic father didn’t see her as a businesswoman, so he had no reason to “train” her. But she had seen how he treated her mom, how her mom had cried over his infidelities and worried for her sons. At fourteen, Sabrina had promised herself no man would ever treat her the way her dad had treated her mom. And she’d kept that promise.

“Anything I can do for the bride?”

Harper hugged her. “No. We’re fine. I’d just like to get to dinner already. I’m starved.”

“You should have had some hors d’oeuvres at your penthouse. They were wonderful.”

“I was saving my appetite for the Beef Wellington.”

As Jake began announcing the wedding party, Ziggy walked up to her and escorted her to her seat. Jake then introduced himself and his wife, Avery, who joined him by the podium. He introduced Seth and Harper and the room broke into joyous applause.

Tears filled her eyes. She really couldn’t express how grateful she was to her two sisters-in-law for saving her brothers, healing them, helping them to believe in love and lead normal, happy lives.

Harper finally got her Beef Wellington and the dinner progressed with Ziggy making small talk with her one minute and turning to his left to talk to her mother the next. She supposed he was an okay guy—

All right. He was sort of a great guy, considerate of her and kind to her mother. She shouldn’t have snapped at him.

She never snapped at anyone.

But there was something about Ziggy today. Something about the sexy way he looked in a tux—or maybe the way he’d asked if she needed someone to talk to—

She didn’t know. Her hormones were a mess and so were her reactions. But now that she’d worked everything out in her head, she could get back to normal.

The band announced Seth and Harper’s first dance, and her brother escorted his bride to the dance floor. When the music ended, the band announced Jake and Avery, who joined Seth and Harper, then Trent and Sabrina, who walked out onto the dance floor with them.

The band began a slow, romantic song for the bridal party dance, and Sabrina drew a quiet breath. Trent slid his arm around her waist. She put her hand on his shoulder—his very solid shoulder.

That was a surprise. Pierre was a tall, thin man, and touching someone more solid sent a jolt through her. She hadn’t expected Ziggy to be buff.

“Do you work out?”

He waggled his eyebrows. “Liking my muscles?”

She rolled her eyes. “Can you be serious for one second?”

“I tried to be serious in the limo. You shut me down.”

“You weren’t being serious. You were prying into my life.”

“See, there you go again. Making distinctions that don’t need to exist.”

The music shifted into something faster for mere seconds, but Trent took advantage of those seconds to spin them around. Silly though it was, the movement lightened her mood. She laughed.

“See? That’s what I wanted to hear. A laugh. A spontaneous one at that.”

She shook her head. “You’re weird.”

“No. We’re opposites.”

She inclined her head in agreement.

“Which means if you told me whatever was troubling you, I’d come up with an out-of-the-box solution that might help you.”

This time she didn’t try to deny that she was in the throes of figuring out a problem. “You can’t help me.”

* * *

Her honesty surprised Trent. Not only did it mean she trusted him, but also, he’d never been able to do a real, solid favor for Seth. The McCallans wanted for nothing. If he could do something kind for the sister of the guy who’d given him the boost he’d needed to become the success he was, he was at her beck and call. “You’re so sure.”

She looked away. “Yeah.” She caught his gaze. “Can you keep a secret?”

Without hesitation Trent said, “Absolutely.”

“There’s not really anything you can do about the fact that I’m pregnant.”

Trent didn’t react. He’d already guessed that. “I have three getaway houses in the US and a condo in Spain. I have a yacht that’s really nice for privacy when you need it. If nothing else, let me give you a place to think this through.”

She caught his gaze. “I don’t need to think it through. I need to go to France to tell the baby’s dad. I can’t use one of the McCallan jets because my family will know where I’ve gone. And I don’t want them to know.” She bit her lower lip. “At least not yet. I have to tell the baby’s father before I tell my family.”

He perked up. “I have three jets.”

Her blue eyes filled with hope. “You’d lend me one?”

“Sure.”

The hope in her eyes turned to skepticism as the song ended. “And you wouldn’t tell Seth?”

He made a cross on his chest. “I’ll keep all of this a secret until you have a chance to tell everyone yourself. When do you need the jet?”

“Tonight.”

“So soon?”

“I just want to get this over with. You know, get myself moving forward again.”

He tucked his hands in his trouser pockets. “Okay. I’d give you the keys, but if jets have keys I’m pretty sure my pilot has them.”

She laughed and impulsively hugged him. “Thanks.”

The strangest feelings rattled through Trent. She was softer than he’d thought she’d be. Of course, he rarely dated women with curves, so that explained the surprise that hit him. But he felt a warmth, too. Probably the result of doing a good deed. It couldn’t be attraction. She wasn’t his type.

He wasn’t exactly sure why he needed to remind himself of that.

But he did.

Twice.