Читать книгу Bound By The Baby - Susan Crosby, Susan Crosby - Страница 9

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.

As exiles went, Lake Tahoe was more than palatable. He’d intended to spend some of his time setting up his career move and some exploring the region, maybe throw in a little gambling now and then.

He hadn’t counted on…Nicole. In the past few months he’d wished for more information to go on to find her, but she had seemed to be a tourist, like him. A couple of times during their night together he could’ve sneaked a look at her wallet and learned more about her, but he’d resisted. They’d had a tacit agreement that they would share that night only, each of them easing an unspoken need.

But she had dropped into his mind since then, memories of her lush body tantalizing, her lips soft and hungry. She hadn’t hesitated, hadn’t just taken, but had given in ways he’d dreamed about since. A true partner, physically.

He’d wondered why she cried but figured she would tell him if she wanted to. She didn’t. Nor had she yet.

What could have been so horrific that she would forget she should’ve insisted on using birth control? She was obviously intelligent.

He could say the same thing about himself, of course. It was stupid not to have taken care of the protection. Stupid. Which only proved how much Hunter’s letter had affected him that day.

He should’ve just stayed home and gotten drunk instead.