Читать книгу Expecting the CEO's Child - Yvonne Lindsay - Страница 8

Two

Dylan swung his SUV into the traffic and fought to control the anger that roiled inside him like a building head of thunderclouds.

She was pregnant. No wonder she’d been as skittish as one of Sage’s newborn foals when he’d arrived. He was probably the last person on earth she either expected, or wanted, to see.

His baby? The timing would be about right—unless she was the type of woman who indulged in casual assignations with just about any man she met. The thought made his stomach pitch uneasily. He needed to know for sure if their encounter had resulted in pregnancy. God, pregnancy. A kid of his own. And with her.

It wasn’t hard to recall how his eye had been drawn to her that cool March Friday. He’d wanted her, right there, right then.

He remembered his first sight of her as she flitted about like some exotic bird, her attention solely on the flower arrangements she’d designed for his sister, Angelica’s, wedding rehearsal dinner—a dinner that had ended before it began when his adoptive father, J.D., had collapsed with a fatal heart attack—for a wedding that had been called off, permanently now it seemed.

The building had been full of people doing what they did best, but Jenna stood out among them all in her jewel bright colors. An effervescent energy simply vibrated off her. Their initial banter had been fun and she’d given as good as she got. But the real craziness had started the moment he caught her hand in his and pulled her into an alcove where he kissed her, so he could see for himself if she tasted as intoxicating as he’d imagined.

She’d spun out of his arms the instant he’d loosened his hold on her but the imprint of her slight frame against his body had stayed with him through the course of the next hour, until he’d known that one kiss was definitely not enough. Satisfied the catering team in the kitchen knew what they were doing, he’d hunted Jenna down as she’d applied the finishing touches to the floral design she’d created for the entrance to the Cheyenne Depot—a historic railroad station that had been converted into a popular reception hall. Hunted her down and entrapped her in his arms for what he’d planned to be just one more kiss.

One more kiss had turned into a frenzy of need and they’d found their way into the coat closet at the front of the building. In its dark recesses, they’d discovered just what level of delight they could bring each other to.

He’d never been the kind of guy who waited for anything to come to him. No, he always went out and got it. And he’d certainly gone out and gotten her—both of them swept along on a tide of attraction that still left him breathless whenever he thought about it. He’d had casual encounters before, but this had been so very different. But then his father had died and his world had changed.

By the time the formalities here in Cheyenne had been taken care of, he’d had to race back to L.A. to continue his duties as CEO of the Lassiter Grill Corporation. Hassling Angelica for the contact details of the florist she’d used for that night—a night from which repercussions continued to cause his sister pain—had seemed a cruel and unnecessary thing to do. Besides, he’d had enough on his plate with work. Now, it seemed, he had a great deal more.

His inattention to the road forced him to jam on his brakes when the traffic ahead slowed suddenly. He swore softly. Two hours. He’d give her two hours to call him about dinner—max. If she hadn’t phoned by then, he’d sure as heck be calling her.

In the end it was fifty-eight minutes exactly before his cell phone began vibrating in his pocket. He took it out, a smile curving his lips as he saw the name of her store come up on the screen.

“I was thinking we could make it tonight,” he said without preamble. “My place, seven o’clock.”

“Y-your place?”

He rattled off the address. “You know where it is?”

“Sure. I’ll find it,” she answered, her voice a little breathless.

“Maybe I ought to pick you up. Don’t want you changing your mind at the last minute.”

“I won’t, I promise. I’ll see you at seven.”

She hung up before he could say another thing. His mouth firmed into a grim line as he slid his phone back into his pocket. It was a rare thing indeed to find a woman of so few words. Even when they’d first met they’d been bigger on action than conversation.

That was certainly going to change. He had a list of questions as long as his arm and he wasn’t letting her go until she’d answered every last one.

One thing was certain. If she was carrying his child, he was going to be a part of that baby’s life. Losing his own parents when he was young, then being raised by his aunt Ellie and her husband, J. D. Lassiter, Dylan knew just how important family was. He’d been too young to remember his mom and dad properly, too young to mourn more than the sense of security he’d taken for granted from birth. After his parents died, however, that all changed, until Aunt Ellie and J.D. stepped in and ensured that he, his brother, Sage, and sister, Angelica, never wanted for a thing. Even after Ellie Lassiter passed away, her sister-in-law, Marlene, had become a surrogate mom to them. It had been family that had gotten them through.

Now, with J.D. gone, too, the whole concept of family was even more important to him than ever. His brother thought he was nuts putting so much store by it. At constant loggerheads with J.D. and determined to make his own place in the world, Sage had always insisted that the only family he needed was Dylan. As close as they were, Dylan had always wanted more. And, if Jenna Montgomery’s baby was his, it looked like he might be getting it.

* * *

Jenna reluctantly got ready to go out to Dylan’s place. He was a complication she would rather ignore right now, but clearly, he wasn’t about to let that happen. She quickly showered, then took her time rubbing scented moisturizer into her skin. So what if she had just shaved her legs—they needed it. She certainly hadn’t done it for his benefit.

Nor had she applied the makeup she barely ever wore anymore for him, either. She was doing this all for herself. Pure and simple. If it made her feel good, feel stronger, then she was doing it. The same principle applied to the clothes she’d chosen to wear tonight. The royal purple stretch lace dress flattered her figure, even with the additional curves that now showed. It empowered her, as did the black spike-heeled pumps she teetered on.

She paused for a moment to assess herself in the mirror. Too much? Her eyes scanned from her dark brown hair, worn loose and flat-ironed dead straight, to her shiny patent leather shoes. She swiveled sideways. This was a total contrast to the kind of thing she’d worn in recent weeks. And, yes, it was definitely too much—which was why she wasn’t going to change a thing.

She grabbed her purse from the bed and told herself she was not nervous about this meeting. That’s all it was. A meeting. She’d tell Dylan what she’d been planning to tell him all along, and that would be that.

She wouldn’t be swayed by the depth of his blue eyes, or the careless fall of his hair, which always looked as if he’d just tumbled from bed. She knew he was handsome; she’d fallen prey to that so easily. She also knew he was successful and intelligent and had a charm that could melt a polar ice cap. But she’d be immune to all that now, too. At least she hoped she would be.

She’d had weeks to think about this. Weeks in which to decide that while Dylan should know about his baby, she was most definitely bringing it up on her own. She knew full well what not to do when raising a child. Her own parents had been the prime example of that. No, her baby would want for nothing. He or she would grow up secure in the knowledge of Jenna’s love and protection.

A man like Dylan Lassiter, with his cavalier lifestyle, a girl for every day of the week, every week of the year, not to mention his celebrity status, which ensured he traveled constantly, did not fit into the picture at all. She’d taken a walk on that wild side of his and yes, she had enjoyed every precious second. But life, real life, had to be lived in a far more stable and measured way. She owned her own home and had a business that was doing well.... With a few economies she could and would do this all on her own.

With those thoughts to arm her, she locked up and walked out to her car. Checking the map one more time, she headed north to the address he’d given her, on the outskirts of town.

Doubts began to assail Jenna as she pulled in between the massive gated pillars, each adorned with a wrought-iron, stylized L, at the entrance to the driveway. The drive itself had to be several football fields long. She knew the family was wealthy, but seriously, who did this? Who kept a property this immense when they spent only about two months of every year living here? The Lassiters, that’s who. It was a stark and somewhat intimidating reminder of the differences between herself and Dylan, and it struck a nervous chime deep inside her.

What if he used his money and his position to make things difficult for her? She had no idea what he was really like, although she remembered, without the slightest hesitation, how he’d felt and how he’d tasted. He was forbidden fruit. The kind of man every woman, no matter her age, turned her head to watch go past. The kind of man every woman deserved to savor—as Jenna had—at least once in her lifetime. But he wasn’t a forever kind of guy. She’d been thankful he hadn’t contacted her after their...their...tryst, she reminded herself again. She definitely wasn’t looking for the roller coaster ride or the intrusive media publicity a relationship with him would offer.

Almost everything she knew about Dylan Lassiter she’d gleaned from social media and word of mouth around town—of which there was plenty. He’d basically gone wherever whim had taken him, spurning the opportunities and advantages afforded him by his adoptive father, and refusing to go into the family business or even attend college. Jenna sighed. What would it have been like, she wondered, to be able to be so carefree? She knew he’d traveled widely, eventually training in Europe as a chef and then coming back to L.A. and building a solid name for his skills, together with a certain celebrity notoriety at the same time. His life, to her, just seemed so...indulgent.

Her upbringing had been as different from Dylan’s as a bridal bouquet was from a sizzling steak platter. And from her perspective, while there was plenty about Dylan Lassiter to recommend him to anyone who liked to run fast and loose, there was very little to recommend him as father material.

That said, this baby was their creation. Dylan had rights—and she had no plans to stand in the way of those. But she also wanted her child to grow up secure, in one place, with a stable and loving parent. Not used in a tug-of-war between parents, as she had been. Not dragged from pillar to post as her father moved from country to country, then state to state in pursuit of some unattainable happily-ever-after. And certainly not implicated by her father’s fraudulent schemes or left abandoned at the age of fifteen because her sole surviving parent was doing time in jail.

No, Jenna’s baby was going to have everything she hadn’t.

She gently applied the brake and her car came to a stop outside the impressive portico. She rested a hand on the slight mound of her belly, determined not to be totally overwhelmed by the obvious wealth on display before her. This baby had rights, too, and yes, he or she was entitled to be a part of what stood before Jenna. But right now she was the baby’s only advocate, and she knew what was best for him or her. And she’d fight to her very last breath to ensure her child got exactly that.

She grabbed her bag and got out of the car. The front door opened as she walked toward it, and Dylan stood on the threshold. Jenna’s heart did that little double skip, just as it had the very first time she saw him. It was hard to remain objective when the man stood before her. He’d tamed his hair slightly, giving him a more refined look, and he’d changed his suit for a pale blue cotton shirt that made his eyes seem even bluer than before.

“You found the place okay?” he asked unnecessarily as she ascended the wide steps.

“Hard to miss it, don’t you think?” she replied, not even bothering to keep the note of acerbity from her tone.

She didn’t want him to think even for a minute that he had the upper hand in this meeting. He inclined his head slightly, as if acknowledging she’d scored a valid point.

“Come on in,” he invited, opening the door wide. “You must be ready to put your feet up after working all day. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Just mineral water, if you have it, thanks.”

She hadn’t drunk alcohol since she’d known she might be pregnant. In fact, there were a lot of things she didn’t eat or drink as a result of the changes happening deep inside her body.

“Sure, take a seat,” he said, gesturing to the large and comfortable-looking furniture that dominated the living room off the main entrance. “I’ll be right back.”

He was as good as his word. She’d barely settled herself against the butter-soft leather of a sofa big enough to sleep on before he was back with two drinks. An ice-cold beer for himself and a tall glass of sparkling water for her.

“Thank you,” she said stiffly, taking the glass from his hand and studiously avoiding making eye contact.

But she couldn’t avoid the slight brush of fingers, nor could she ignore the zing of awareness that speared through her at that faint touch. She rapidly lifted the glass to her lips to mask her reaction. The bubbles leaping from the water’s surface tickled her nose, further irritating her. She swallowed carefully and put the glass on the coaster on the table in front of her.

Dylan sprawled in the seat opposite, his large, rangy frame filling the chair. His gaze never left her face and an increasingly uncomfortable silence stretched out between them. Jenna cleared her throat nervously. Obviously, she was going to have to start this conversation.

“I—I wanted to say how sorry I was about your father’s passing.”

“Thank you.”

“He was much respected and I’m sure you must miss him very much,” she persisted.

“I do,” Dylan acknowledged, then took a long draw of his beer.

Damn him, he wasn’t making this easy for her. But then again, what had she expected?

“He’d have been proud of the new restaurant opening here in town,” she continued valiantly.

“That he would.”

“And you? You must be pleased with everything being on time.”

“I am.”

A muscle tugged at the edge of his mouth, pulling his lips into a half smile that was as cynical as it was appealing. Jenna suddenly had the overwhelming sense that she shouldn’t have come here. That perhaps she should have waited a day or two before calling him. Hard on its heels came the contradictory but certain knowledge that she definitely should have been in touch with him long before now.

Was this how a mouse felt, she wondered, just before a cat pounced? Did it feel helpless, confused and frightened, with nowhere to look but straight into a maw of dread?

She watched, mesmerized, as Dylan leaned forward and carefully put his beer on the table. He rested his elbows on his knees, those sinfully dexterous hands of his loosely clasped between them. Warmth unfurled from her core like a slowly opening bud, and she forced her eyes to lift upward, to meet the challenge in his.

She fought to suppress a shudder when she saw the determination that reflected back at her. She reached for her water and took another sip, shocked to discover that her hand shook ever so slightly. She dug deep for the last ounce of courage she possessed. Since he was determined to make this so awkward, she’d find some inane way to carry the conversation even if it killed her.

“Thank you for asking me to dinner tonight. It’s not every day I’m catered to by a European-trained celebrity chef.”

She was surprised to hear Dylan sigh, as if he was disappointed in something. In her?

“Jenna, stop dancing around the issue and cut to the chase. Are you pregnant with my baby?”