They had agreed not to see each other again, then she shows up out of the blue on his doorstep?

Then he realised he was nervous.

Nervous and excited to see her, even though he knew any relationship between them would lead to a dead end.

The attraction, the soul-deep connection that he’d tried to write off as a fluke, was apparently no fluke after all. His first instinct was to tug her into his arms and kiss her senseless.

“This is awkward, huh?”

“Yeah. I seem to recall that we agreed not to see each other again.”

“I know,” she said. “And I’m sorry, but the situation has changed.”

He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back. “Which situation is that?”

She took a deep breath and blew it out, then looked him in the eye and said, “The situation that arose when I found out I was pregnant.”

MICHELLE CELMER

lives in a southeastern Michigan zoo.

Well, OK, it’s really a house, but with three teenagers, three dogs, three cats (are you seeing a pattern here?) and a fifty-gallon tank full of various marine life, sometimes it feels like a zoo. It’s rarely quiet, seldom clean, and between after-school jobs, various extracurricular activities and band practice, getting everyone home at the same time to share a meal is next to impossible.

Accidentally Expecting

Michelle Celmer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Courtney

You may be my niece,

but in my heart you’ll always be my sister

Chapter One

Married to a bully? Have you had enough? Emotional abuse leaves no bruises, breaks no bones, still the damage runs deep. Think it’s impossible to prove? Think again. A tape recorder or hidden camera can be a girl’s best friend.

—excerpt from The Modern Woman’s Guide to Divorce (and the joys of staying single)

She was going to seduce him.

Miranda Reed sat in the shadows at the back of the hotel lounge, sipping her apple martini, eyes on her prey. He sat alone at the bar, his attention on the football game, unaware that he was being watched. His suit jacket lay draped on the bar stool beside him, and he’d rolled the sleeves of his shirt and loosened his tie. Even in this casual, relaxed state he stood out from the other businessmen. Everything about him was slightly and subtly exaggerated.

At six-two, Zackary Jameson stood a hair taller than most men, with a physique toned to perfection, dressed in a suit and shirt that were obviously tailor-made to accentuate every one of his assets. She was especially impressed by the “asset” resting on the bar stool.

She did so appreciate a man with a nice rear end.

He somehow managed a perpetual tan, without ever looking leathery or sun baked, and any signs of age on his face made him look more distinguished than old. His short dark hair had that sexy, mussed look, as if he’d just run his hands through it wet, but in reality probably took hours in front of a mirror to perfect. His mouth was wide, his smile warm and genuine, and his teeth just white and straight enough. Caps, she was guessing. No one had teeth that perfect naturally.

He carried himself with casual authority, an ease and male grace that made people stop and watch. She’d never met a man who radiated such confidence, who was more comfortable in his own skin.

Too bad he was an overopinionated male chauvinist pig whose ideologies fell out of fashion with covered wagons and hoop skirts.

When asked to do the radio show with the renowned relationship guru, a man who had built an empire around the principles of traditional family values, her publicist assured her the promotion for the book she cowrote, The Modern Woman’s Guide to Divorce (and the joys of staying single), would be invaluable.

Big mistake.

He’d argued so logically and twisted her words so skillfully that by the end of the show her message had been lost and she’d come out looking like a radical feminist man hater.

She couldn’t forget the way he’d watched her with those piercing blue eyes, eyes deep enough to swim in, with not a hint of the superiority and satisfaction he must have been feeling for discrediting her. In fact, as she’d become angrier and more aggressive, he’d stayed calm and reasonable, the drivel he preached pouring out of him, smothering her every point like hot fudge over cold vanilla ice cream.

Call it petty and uncivilized, but she was in the mood for some good old-fashioned revenge. Even if she would be the only one who knew.

She was going to put his high ideals to the test and see if he really believed all that garbage he spouted about marriage and family. Specifically, his views on intimacy. The slightly updated version of no sex before marriage. The idea that a man and a woman should be committed, preferably with plans of marriage, before consummating a relationship.

They would just see about that.

Miranda watched as the waitress delivered the drink she had ordered him, saw the look of curiosity on his face. The waitress pointed in her direction, and when he turned, she pasted on an alluring smile and waggled her fingers at him. One of those heart-stopping grins curled the corners of his mouth when he recognized her.

He tossed a few bills on the waitress’s tray—a man like him would of course be a generous tipper—grabbed his jacket and drink and headed to her table, his eyes never leaving her face. She’d worn her hair down and let it fall in silky waves over her shoulders, its dark color bringing out the green in her eyes. It was a little unnerving the way he stared with such intensity, as if the world around them no longer existed. As he drew closer she even felt a little breathless, as if he’d sucked all the air from the room and there was none left for her.

This night could definitely prove to be satisfying, in more ways than one.

“Mr. Jameson,” she said as he stopped beside the table.

“Ms. Reed,” he replied, with an affable tip of his head. He had the voice of a radio DJ—deep and mesmerizing. A voice that held captive auditoriums full of his loyal supporters for hours on end. “May I join you?”

She gestured to the empty seat, taking care to make the move look as gracefully seductive as possible. If there was one thing she’d learned on her journey to becoming a modern, independent woman, it was how to seduce a man. “Please.”

He set his drink on the table and hung his jacket on the back of the chair before he slid into the seat, casual yet so controlled, as if he thoroughly planned each and every move before executing it. “Are you enjoying your stay in New York?”

“It’s been…interesting.” Not to mention frustrating and humiliating. “Between the book signings and the interviews it’s been an exhausting couple of days. I’m looking forward to getting back to Dallas.”

“I had hoped to have time to speak with you after the broadcast.”

“So you could rub the victory in my face maybe?” she asked, keeping her tone sweet.

He smiled. “No, so I could tell you what a pleasure it was to meet you. I enjoyed our discussion. I was impressed.”

She shot him a disbelieving look. “Could have fooled me.”

He just smiled. “Do you still practice law?”

“Not recently, no. The book seems to have dominated my life.”

“I take you’re not a litigator.”

“Gee, what tipped you off?”

He relaxed back in his seat and sipped his drink, studying her for a long moment. “I could tell you exactly what you did wrong during that interview. How you lost control.”

She folded her arms and leaned forward, resting them on the table, giving him a nice view of her cleavage, thanks to her very-low-cut, scoop neck silk blouse. “This should be good.”

His eyes didn’t stray from her face. “You attacked me. You spent all of your time trying to convince me that your way is better. That your opinions hold more credibility.”

“Isn’t that exactly what you do?”

“Quite the opposite. I never once said that what you believe is wrong.”

She opened her mouth to argue, then paused, trying to remember a single thing he’d said to debunk her. But damned if he wasn’t right. Not once had he directly challenged her opinion or disagreed with her. While she’d been quick to accuse him of being old-fashioned and closed-minded he’d simply stated his point of view logically and calmly.

She hadn’t lost control. She’d never had it.

“It is not my goal or intention to persuade people to live a cardboard-cut-out lifestyle,” he said.

She let out a very uncouth, unsexy snort of disbelief. “That is exactly your goal.”

“I disagree.” He was so damned calm and rational. It was as annoying as it was fascinating. “What I do is give people options. A very basic principle of family dynamics. Whether they choose to adopt that lifestyle, or how they integrate it into their own lives, in whole or part, is entirely up to the individual.”

As much as she hated admitting she was wrong, and hated being wrong even more, in his books, which she’d grudgingly skimmed, and the seminar she’d rented on DVD, she couldn’t recall a single incident when he’d said his way was the only way. Maybe that was what made people so receptive to his ideas.

She tried a different angle. “You’re not married. In fact, I read that you’ve never been married.”

“Not yet,” he agreed.

“Why not?”

He shrugged. “I guess I just haven’t met the right woman.”

“Maybe that’s because the kind of woman you’re looking for doesn’t exist.”

“I don’t believe that. Everyone has a soul mate. I just haven’t met mine yet.”

“Considering your views on sex before marriage, you must lead a very…lonely existence.”

“I believe in waiting until the relationship becomes exclusive and committed before sex. And though I’ve never been married, I’ve been in several committed relationships.” He leaned forward slightly, flashing her a playful, sexy look that had her toes curling in her spiked heels. “Very satisfying committed relationships.”

Oh, boy, who was doing the seducing here? Or maybe he was just a tease. Either way, she was having far too much fun. And he had no idea who he was messing with. Considering his conservative views on relationships, she could only assume he would be equally conservative in the bedroom. Given her preference to be in charge, the arrangement would work well for her. Maybe she could teach him a thing or two.

She sipped her drink, looking up at him through the fringe of her lashes. “How can a man who has never been married be an authority on marriage?”

“Does a psychiatrist have to have schizophrenia to treat it? Does a defense attorney have to be a criminal to represent his client?”

The man had an answer for everything, didn’t he? Yet it was fascinating to watch, really, to see the way his mind worked. He was passionate without being arrogant, staunch in his views but not intolerant of her opinions. It also didn’t hurt that he was gorgeous, had a body to die for and a more than decent sense of humor.

As they chatted and sipped their drinks, she found herself lulled by his voice, trapped in the depths of his eyes. There were women all around them but he never spared one a single glance. His eyes were on her only. His steady gaze made her feel as if she were the only one in the universe.

More than two hours and several drinks later, despite the fact that she was beginning to feel more than a little tipsy, they were still at it. Still talking and debating. And all she could think about was getting him up to her room, liberating him from his clothing and showing him a thing or two about real women. What would his lips feel like? How would he taste? Would he take charge, or would he lie back and let her be in control?

Her yearning for revenge was overshadowed by a much more basic instinct. Good old-fashioned sexual attraction. She and Zack may have had completely opposite views on relationships, but they also had chemistry. A lethal combination of hormones, pheromones and testosterone.

She could tell that he felt it, too. The longer they sat there, the more aware of each other they became. Aware and distracted. His eyes began to stray to her cleavage, their gaze as intimate and exciting as a caress, but pure somehow. He watched her mouth as she sipped her drink, making every move feel slow and exaggerated. Seductive and sexy. When his foot bumped hers under the table, she didn’t doubt the move was intentional. Instead of feeling violated, she wanted to be closer. She became aware of herself leaning in toward him and saw that he was doing the same. As if they both felt compelled to be closer. The pull of attraction was irresistible.

Had it not been for the table between them and the fact that they were in public, she didn’t doubt that they would be wrapped around each other by now.

She looked around and realized the bar had nearly emptied. Zack looked at his watch. “It’s late.”

“Up past your bedtime?” she asked, attempting to keep a teasing tone, so he wouldn’t see her disappointment. Had she misread his signals? Was he not as turned on as she was? Or did he really stick by the no-sex rule?

“I was thinking maybe it was past yours. Could I walk you to your room?” He flashed her another one of those sexy smiles, gave her a look that said he wanted to do a lot more than just walk her to her room, and she felt a zing of excitement from her scalp down to the tips of her toes and some very interesting places in between.

She had him right where she wanted him.

Or did he have her?

“I had a good time tonight,” Miranda told Zack as they stepped off the elevator onto her floor. When they’d been standing side by side, she’d been even more aware of his size, his imposing presence. She’d always considered herself average in height, but in three-inch heels she was still a good five or six inches shorter than him.

The grace of his movements, the sheer masculinity, was hypnotizing. This was a man who looked good and he knew it. Yet he managed not to come off as arrogant.

How did he do that?

Her hands itched to touch him, to unfasten the buttons of his shirt and explore the skin underneath. But she had to play this just right. She had to be subtle. He’d been a perfect gentleman in the lobby and while they rode up the twenty-two floors alone in the elevator. The only physical contact he’d made was to gently touch her elbow. Not that she’d expected him to ravage her in public.

Not that it wouldn’t have been exciting to know he was so taken he couldn’t resist her.

“I had a good time, too,” he said, flashing her a grin. “It’s refreshing to have a discussion with someone who doesn’t agree with everything I say.”

“You’re different than I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

“Truthfully? I expected you to be an arrogant male-chauvinist pig.”

He didn’t look offended. In fact, his smile widened. “You wouldn’t be the first person to accuse me of that. I understand that my philosophies can be tough to swallow for some people.”

“If it’s any consolation, I may not agree with your ideas, but I do respect them. It would be great if life really worked that way. Unfortunately, I know better.”

They reached her room and she dug in her purse for the key card, but her fingers didn’t seem to be working as well as usual. When she found it, he plucked it from her fingers and unlocked the door. He held it open and she stepped into her room, turning to him with every intention of inviting him in. Before she could get a word out, he’d backed her inside, shut the door and pulled her into his arms.

Chapter Two

Pressed up against the long, warm, solid length of Zack’s body, Miranda had no doubt of his attraction for her. The man was definitely turned on, and he was apparently big all over.

A lamp beside the bed shed soft light in the room and she could see the desire in his eyes. Her first instinct was to resist, to push him away. He had stepped in and taken control of a situation she’d intended to direct and she felt the tiniest bit apprehensive. But her body wouldn’t listen to her head. She didn’t know if it was the drinks making her fuzzy or the two hours of verbal foreplay blurring her good sense, but she trembled all over. She caught the hint of a subtle and clean-scented aftershave mixed with some familiar brand of soap, neither of which covered his own unique masculine scent.

She hadn’t expected this. She was the one who was supposed to be seducing him. She had to do something to win back the control.

“All I’ve been able to think about tonight was touching you,” he rasped, caressing her face. The move was gentle and firm at the same time. Then he kissed her—deep, intense and disarming—and she went limp with desire. He was a man on a mission. He knew what he wanted and wasn’t shy about taking it.

How could something so wrong feel so good? When it came to sex she was always the aggressor; she called the shots. This all seemed to be moving too fast, yet she didn’t make a move to stop him.

She didn’t want to stop him.

He kissed her mouth, her throat, tasting and nipping her skin, as if he wanted to devour every inch of her. He bit her earlobe hard enough to make her gasp with surprise and her body shudder in ecstasy.

He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it aside, but when she tried to unbutton his shirt he manacled her wrists and held them behind her, backing her against the door. A move like that would earn any other man a swift knee jerk to the crotch, but no other man had ever made her feel so willing to let go.

He trapped both of her wrists in one large hand and used the other to unfasten the buttons on her blouse. She probably could have broken loose, but at this point she didn’t want to be free.

He pushed her blouse off her shoulders. It slipped down her arms and caught on her wrists. She wasn’t exactly large-busted, but her breasts sat firm and high and were nicely shaped. With the exception of her ex-husband, who found fault with everything, she’d never heard a single complaint.

Considering the way Zack was looking at her, he wouldn’t be complaining, either. His assessing eyes burned her skin like hot coals. She’d worked damned hard for this body. She knew she looked good and he appeared to agree.

He lowered his head, biting her though the lacy fabric of her bra, blowing hot breath on her skin. She moaned and arched her back.

“I don’t do this,” he said, looking at her with an intensity that gave her chills. “I don’t have affairs with women I just met and hardly even know.”

“I don’t, either,” she admitted.

“I’ve never wanted a woman the way I want you right now.”

Zack’s words filled her with a thrilling kind of satisfaction. But for all the wrong reasons. Reasons that had nothing to do with revenge. This was all about wanting Zack. Wanting him to ravage her. She would go so far as to say she needed him, but she didn’t need anyone.

He cupped the back of her thigh, dragging her skirt up, growling with pleasure when he realized she was wearing a garter belt. Since her divorce from a man who didn’t think sexy underwear was “appropriate,” she’d spent hundreds of dollars on all the racy things he had never let her wear. It was nice to meet someone who appreciated her taste.

Zack let go of her wrists and her blouse fell to the floor. He unzipped her skirt and smoothed it down her hips, leaving her in only a scandalously brief and sheer bra and thong set, a lace garter belt, black silk stockings and spike heels. She’d never felt so sexy in all her life.

He dropped to his knees in front of her and nuzzled his face against her bare stomach, his beard stubble abrading her skin, making her shiver. Every part of her felt alive with sexual awareness and heavy with lust. He nibbled her stomach, ran his tongue over the tiny gold hoop in her navel, gripping her hips in his big hands.

He tugged roughly on her thong and she heard it rip apart in his hands, but she was too excited to care that he’d ruined her favorite one. He could rip it all if that was what he wanted, if that would excite him even half as much as he’d excited her.

Her body felt shaky and weak, and she tunneled her fingers though his hair to hold herself steady. Her breath was coming faster, her anticipation mounting, and when he finally buried his face between her thighs she cried out. Her body arched, fingers tangled in his hair. Her knees gave out, but he caught her before she could fall and hooked her leg over his shoulder. She was on the verge of a cataclysmic explosion, the sparks sizzling ever closer to the end of her fuse.

When it reached her core, the explosions rocked through her. It was so good, so perfect, she wanted to cry. In her life no one had ever made her feel this way. It scared her half to death and thrilled her beyond belief.

She was too limp to even think twice as he lifted her off her feet and deposited her on the bed. Too sated to do anything but watch as he undressed. His body was just as amazing as she’d thought it would be.

He knelt on the bed beside her and pulled her shoes off one at a time, tossing them to the floor. When she reached up to undo her bra, he stopped her.

“Keep it on.” His eyes raking over her as he knelt between her thighs. He hooked his hands around the backs of her knees and tugged her closer, the coarse hair on his legs tickling her skin. His actions were demanding and almost overpowering, yet somehow managed to be tender.

Then he closed his eyes and cursed, a four-letter word she didn’t think men like him used.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just realized, I don’t have protection.”

No protection? What man in this day and age didn’t carry condoms?

The kind who didn’t have sex until he was in a committed relationship, which she was guessing typically took more than two hours and three Scotch on the rocks.

Lucky for him a modern woman was always prepared. She had been anticipating this.

“In my purse.”

He reached over and grabbed it for her, and after she dug a condom out, he tried to take it from her.

“Oh, no,” she said, ripping it open. “This is my favorite part.”

She watched him watching her, the heat in his eyes as she rolled it on. Then she reached up and threaded her fingers behind his neck, pulling him to her, his warm weight sinking her into the mattress without squashing her. Every part of him felt warm and strong and solid.

He kissed her, the deep soul-searching kind, while he tortured her with small thrusts of his hips. She clung to him, sinking her nails into his shoulders, his backside, her body arching with impatience. She’d never felt so out of control, so swept away with lust. It was as if Zack wanted to see her beg for it, wanted her to know she was completely under his control, and she was. She would do anything he wanted right now. Anything he asked.

It frightened her almost as much as it turned her on.

After that, everything became a mystifying blur of intense sensation. Sights and sounds and feelings all jumbled together into something so overpowering she couldn’t even name it. And when they reached the peak together, she knew her idea of what sex was supposed to be had been inexplicably changed.

This was what it felt like to really connect with another person. To be separate, but one.

And she could never see Zachary Jameson again.

* * *

Zack sat in his home office at the computer, where he did most of his work these days, attempting to write the syndicated monthly column that was due on the editor’s desk by the end of the week. Unfortunately, all he’d been able to think about in the past two months since his trip to New York was Miranda Reed.

He wasn’t typically attracted to strong, independent women, and he’d never slept with a woman on the first date. Not since college, anyway. But there was something about her he’d found impossible to resist, something that prompted him to reject his own morals and put his reputation on the line.

A million little things, which all wrapped up together, had him craving her company, her touch.

But they had agreed, despite their attraction, that to pursue any kind of relationship would be a waste of time. Not only did they live a thousand miles from each other, they had conflicting beliefs and values. She wasn’t interested in a commitment and he had no desire for a short-term relationship based solely on sex.

What they had was an extreme case of opposites attract. Two people who had nothing in common but good sex.

No, not good sex. Great sex. Mind-blowing sex.

And absolutely no future together.

He’d done a fairly decent job of convincing himself they were both better off. But there was still a little voice in the back of his mind asking, what if he’d made a mistake letting her go? Unfortunately, he’d found listening to that little voice to be irrational and ill-advised.

His desk phone rang. Line two, his doorman. He only called up if Zack had a guest, and he wasn’t expecting anyone. Nor was he in the mood for company.

He picked up the phone anyway. “Yes, Danny.”

“Someone here to see you, Mr. Jameson. A Ms. Reed.”

For a second he was sure he misunderstood. “Ms. who?”

“Miranda Reed, sir. Shall I send her up?”

What the hell was Miranda doing in Chicago? And why was she here, at his building? How did she even know where he lived?

“Sir?”

He shook off the sudden confusion. “Yeah, sure. Go ahead and send her up.”

He hung up the phone and sat there for a second feeling dazed and bewildered. They had agreed not to see each other again, then she shows up out of the blue on his doorstep? What was she up to?

When the doorbell chimed, he rose from his desk and walked to the front door, the whole situation feeling a bit surreal. Then he realized he was nervous.

Nervous and excited to see her, even though he knew any relationship between them would lead to a dead end. Unless she’d had a drastic change of heart and, as she’d so aptly phrased it, succumbed to the allure of the dark side, there was no reason for her to come here.

He pulled open the door and there she stood, dressed casually in low-slung flared jeans, a denim jacket and a jewel-encrusted T-shirt that rode up just high enough to show off her navel ring. She looked young and sassy and hip, a completely different spin on the no-nonsense alluring woman he’d taken up to her room.

The way she looked him up and down, taking in his faded jeans, T-shirt and bare feet, she was probably thinking the same thing.

The attraction, the soul-deep connection that he’d tried to write off as a fluke, was apparently no fluke after all. His first instinct was to tug her into his arms and kiss her senseless.

It struck him as odd that they’d been so intimate, and they barely knew one another. Yet he felt as though they were connected somehow. He knew her, even though he didn’t know her.

“Hi,” she finally said.

“Hi.”

She shifted nervously. “So, I’ll bet you’re surprised to see me.”

That was an understatement. Did she think she could bounce in and out of his life like a ping-pong ball?

She fidgeted with the bottom edge of her jacket. “I hope it’s not a problem. My stopping by unannounced, I mean.”

He folded his arms over his chest. “I guess that depends on what you want.”

“What I want?” She looked confused, then the meaning of his words seemed to sink in. “Oh, I’m only here to talk.”

He couldn’t imagine what they had left to talk about. But at the very least, he should listen to what she had to say.

He backed up and gestured her inside.

She stepped past him, taking in the foyer and the living room with curiosity. “The penthouse, huh? Very nice.”

“Thanks.” They stood there for a moment in awkward silence, so he asked, “Can I take your jacket?”

“No, thanks.” She rubbed her arms absently, as if fighting off a chill. “I’m not used to this cool weather. It’s a lot hotter in May in Texas.”

“Would you care for something warm to drink? Tea? Coffee?”

“Water?”

“Kitchen is this way,” he said, and she followed him. “Did you just get into town?”

“I came right from the airport. I apologize for dropping in out of the blue. I would have called first, but the truth is, until I walked into the building, I wasn’t sure if I could really do this.”

“But here you are.”

“Yeah. Here I am.”

He filled a glass with filtered water and handed it to her. She barely took a sip before setting it down on the counter.

She glanced nervously around the room, everywhere but at him. “This is awkward, huh?”

“Yeah. I seem to recall that we agreed not to see each other again.”

“I know,” she said. “And I’m sorry, but the situation has changed.”

He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the refrigerator. “Which situation is that?”

She took a deep breath and blew it out, then looked him in the eye and said, “The situation that arose when I found out I was pregnant.”

Chapter Three

It took a full thirty seconds for the meaning of her words to sink in, and another minute to regain the use of his vocal chords. “Say again?”

“I was surprised, too.” She walked across the room to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the shore of Lake Michigan. “Before you ask, I’m sure it’s yours. There hasn’t been anyone else in a while.”

“I wasn’t going to ask.” The thought had never even occurred to him. She didn’t strike him as the type of woman who would try to pin someone else’s mistake on him. Though, it wasn’t as if he knew her all that well. Geographically he’d memorized her down to the last detail. The way her breasts felt cupped in his hands, the soft swell of her hips. How their bodies had locked together to make a perfect fit.

Personally and intellectually, they were barely more than strangers.

“Well,” she asked, finally turning to him. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

“The truth is, I’m a little speechless right now.”

“You must have questions.”

There were so many questions bouncing around in his head he could barely make sense of them. “You’ve been to see a doctor? You’re sure?”

“Do you think I would fly all the way here from Texas if I wasn’t sure?”

Which led to his next question. “How? We used protection.”

“I can’t explain it, either. But if you’re interested in placing blame, go ahead and pin it on me.”

If he recalled correctly, they had both been in that room, he just as willingly as she’d been. “Why would I do that? It isn’t anyone’s fault.”

“Actually, it is.” She lowered her eyes, toying with the hem of her shirt. “While I had no plan to get pregnant, I walked into that bar with every intention of seducing you.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up. Is that what she thought happened? She seduced him? “Is that so?”

She wouldn’t meet his eye. “It’s dumb really, but I was so mad at you after that interview, I wanted revenge. I wanted a way to prove you wrong. There was obvious chemistry, so I used it to my advantage. I guess the joke was on me.”

Maybe he should have been offended; instead, he felt sorry for her. She was beating herself up over something that wasn’t her fault. “Miranda, you can’t seduce someone who doesn’t want to be seduced. You could have danced naked on the table, but unless I was interested, it wouldn’t have gotten me into bed with you. And maybe you’re forgetting, but I made the first move.” He crossed the kitchen to her, cupping her chin in his hand and lifting her face to him. “Let’s forget about whose fault this is and figure out what we’re going to do.”

She nodded, gratitude in her eyes.

Touching her face brought back the memory of that night in the hotel, right before he kissed her. And since he was this close to doing it again, he let his hand drop and backed away.

“How long have you known?”

“A while. I wanted to give myself a couple of weeks to let it sink in before I told you.”

“And you’re happy?”

“I’ve always wanted children. It was just unexpected.”

He could sympathize.

“How about you?” she asked.

He wasn’t sure what he felt yet. He was still having a hard time wrapping his mind around the concept. He’d always planned on a family, too, just not like this. Looks like now he didn’t have a choice.

“When?” he asked.

“Right around Christmas.”

A Christmas baby.

He was going to be a father.

“Then I guess there’s only one thing we can do,” he said.

“What’s that?”

“We have to get married.”

Miranda had had her share of surprises in the past couple of weeks. The first was when she’d looked at her day planner and realized her period was a week late. The second had been when she’d counted back the days to her night with Zack and realized they’d slept together on what was likely her most fertile time of the month. Her third, and she thought final, surprise came when the doctor called, delivering the results of her blood test.

And none of them came close to the whopper he’d just laid on her.

“If that was a joke, it wasn’t funny,” she told him. Only, he didn’t look as if he were joking. She’d never seen him look so dead serious. Of course, she’d never seen him in anything but a suit and tie, either.

Well, that and naked.

“Do you really think I would joke about something like that?” he asked.

“I don’t know what to think. I don’t really know you, Zack. Which, if you weren’t joking, is a pretty good argument why we shouldn’t get married. I have no objections to you being a part of this baby’s life. I’m relieved that you want to be. I know that if we try we can work out a plan we both can be comfortable with.”

“I don’t think you’re looking at the big picture,” he said, in an infuriatingly patient tone. As though he were addressing a child. Or a moron. Yet somehow he managed not to sound condescending, which was even more frustrating. He was so damned sure of himself. So reasonable.

“That is all I’ve been doing for the past week,” she told him. “I’ve weighed my options. We live in the twenty-first century, where single parenthood is readily accepted.”

“Not for me it isn’t. It’s against everything I believe. I’ve built my career around family values.”

“And I’ve built mine around being a modern, independent woman. Am I just supposed to marry you and throw that all away?”

“A child should grow up with both parents.”

“And our baby will. Just in separate households.”

“If you’re worried about money, I’ll see that you’re always taken care of, no matter what.”

“Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head and narrowing her eyes at him. He was stepping on very dangerous ground. “Don’t even go there. Don’t think for a minute that you’re going to turn me into Suzie Homemaker. I’ve played that game before and I lost big-time. The only person taking care of me is me.”

“So this is all about your career?” he asked, and she could see his patience slipping. He was getting frustrated. But he still hadn’t so much as raised his voice.

Would he be like her ex-husband? Would he change after they were married? Would he start calling her stupid and useless? Would he compare her to wives of his friends? Things like, “Dave’s wife keeps their house spotless. Why can’t you be more like her?” or “Look how thin Mike’s wife is. Why don’t you lose some weight?”

“Well, isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black,” she told Zack. “Tell me you’re not thinking about the jump in book sales when everyone hears you’ve reformed a man-hating feminist she-cat.”

The corners of his mouth quirked up. “Someone actually called you a man-hating feminist she-cat?”

She shot him a warning look and he wiped the smile from his face. “Saving your career is a lousy reason to get married.”

“And it’s a lousy reason not to.”

“You want a reason why we shouldn’t get married? You don’t love me and I don’t love you. We hardly know each other!”

“How about this for a reason.” He cupped a hand behind her head, threading his fingers through her hair and tilted her face up to his. The same aggressive yet gentle approach he’d used that night in the hotel. She knew what he was going to do, and she knew she should stop him. But as his head lowered, as if she were under some sort of spell, her eyes slipped closed instead. And when his lips touched hers, she went weak all over.

Talk about a pushover. Where was her sense of empowerment? The one she talked about in her book. The one every woman was supposed to have. The God-given right, not to mention responsibility, to speak up and say no.

Or maybe you had to want to say no for that to work.

The kiss went from sweet to passionate in the span of a heartbeat. He tasted like coffee and something sweet, and she was thankful for the breath mint she’d popped in her mouth on the way over from the airport.

He slid one big hand over her backside, pulling her intimately against him, and her brain nearly shut down altogether. She fisted her hands at her sides to keep from touching him.

When he finally pulled away he did it reluctantly, his lips lingering over hers for several seconds, his hands sliding up to her shoulders, then down her arms before he let go and backed away.

“Reason enough?” he asked, his tone deep and lusty.

She attempted a reply, but her voice cracked, so she cleared her throat and tried again. “You know as well as I do that animal attraction isn’t enough to make a marriage work.”

He gave her that grin, the one that managed to be cocky without actually being cocky. “We connected. You can’t deny that.”

She wouldn’t even try to. And she could see he wasn’t going to back down. What did he think—he would kiss and she would melt?

Well, okay, maybe she had melted. That didn’t mean he could snap his fingers and tell her to jump and expect her to ask how high. Not in this lifetime. Not even if he asked politely. “It’s not going to happen, Zack. I don’t want to marry you, and I don’t think you want to marry me, either.”

“I want to be a part of my child’s life.”

“And you will be. We’ll work out a custody arrangement we can both live with.”

“Fatherhood doesn’t begin with the birth. I want the whole nine yards. I want to hear the heartbeat at doctor’s appointments. I want be there for the ultrasound. I want the baby to bond to the sound of my voice. It would be unfair to deny me that.”

He was right. This was as much his child as hers. But he was asking the impossible.

She took a seat at the kitchen table, suddenly feeling exhausted. She thought telling him would be a relief, that it would lift the weight that had been resting on her shoulders. Now she could see that it had only opened the door to more problems that would need solving before she got back to her life. “How can we do that? We live a thousand miles apart.”

“We have only one choice.” He pulled out the chair next to hers and spun it around, straddling the seat, his arms resting on the low back. It was tough to reconcile the memory of the relationship guru she’d sparred with on the radio, with the real man sitting there in jeans, a T-shirt and bare feet. He looked so normal.

“I’m all ears,” she said.

“One of us will have to relocate.”

Of course, that would be the logical solution. And she could just imagine which of them he expected to pull up roots and move halfway across the country.

But she was in the middle of writing a book. She had piles of research and reference books in her home office that she needed access to. She had an obstetrician she loved. There was simply no way she could uproot her entire life right now.

And she was sure that wasn’t what Mr. I-Want-To-Be-A-Part-Of-My-Child’s-Life wanted to hear.

“Since my lecture schedule will frequently be taking me on the road, anyway,” he continued, “it makes sense that I move to Texas.”

Huh?

She was too dumbfounded to speak. She must have heard him wrong.

“You would relocate to be close to me?” she said, to confirm exactly what he was saying.

“Temporarily, yes. At least until the baby is a few months old.”

No way it could be that simple. He had to have something up his sleeve. There had to be some sort of condition to go along with his seemingly generous offer. “What’s the catch?”

He shrugged. “No catch.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m supposed to believe that you’re willing to move across the country to be closer to me and you expect nothing in return?”

“Let me guess. Your ex-husband wasn’t so willing to compromise? Or was it an overbearing father?”

Both, actually, but that was none of his business.

She shot him a look. “Don’t shrink me.”

He reciprocated with one of those cocky, but not really cocky, looks. How did he do that? “I promise not to shrink you, if you promise not to make assumptions based on experiences you’ve had with men who aren’t me.”

Touché. She had to hand it to him, if nothing else he was direct. And fair.

“All I’m asking for, Miranda, is your time. I’d like us to get to know each other. You may be surprised to find that I’m not such a bad guy.”

Maybe that was what she was worried about. She didn’t want to know. She didn’t want to be tempted. Her husband had seemed like a nice guy, too, and look what a disaster that had turned out to be.

But it would be incredibly unfair to deny him the opportunity to be a part of her pregnancy due to her own feelings of insecurity and self-doubt.

Oh, great, now she was shrinking herself. And she was a lawyer for heaven’s sake!

“Where would you stay?” she asked.

“I’ll find a rental. Preferably one close to your place.”

Her practical side, the one that had lived for five years with a husband who kept her on a strict monthly allowance despite a lucrative law practice, cringed. “Won’t that be expensive?”

He shrugged, as if it didn’t matter either way. And why would it? The guy was an empire. He had produced a library of DVDs, written half a dozen books that had become instant bestsellers, and she could just imagine what he made on the lecture circuit filling countless auditoriums to capacity.

The area where she lived was comfortable, but not exactly upscale, which would probably be what he was looking for, but there were developments not far from her that would probably suit him. Complexes with penthouse apartments and luxury condos. And she was only a twenty-minute drive from downtown Dallas. He would definitely find something cushy enough there.

“I’m sure you could find something close by,” she said.

He reached behind him for the pad of paper and pen sitting next to the phone and handed them to her. “Write down your address and I’ll have my assistant look into it. I guess you should probably include your phone number while you’re at it. So I can reach you.”

She was having his baby, and he didn’t even know her phone number. This was too weird. The kind of thing she read about in books or saw on television dramas. This kind of thing wasn’t supposed to happen in real life. Especially not to her.

As she jotted the information down she wondered what the heck she was getting herself into. Everything was moving so fast, and felt so…final. She had been hoping he would want to be involved with the baby. Weekend visitation at best. But he wanted to be involved.

She didn’t know if she was ready for this.

She had considered not telling him about the baby, but she didn’t doubt her pregnancy would eventually reach the media. Zack was a smart guy. It would take only a very simple equation for him to determine the baby was his.

And for all her talk of being modern and independent, she still knew right from wrong.

Sure, she could raise the baby alone. She had the financial means. But to deny the child a relationship with its father, and vice versa, wouldn’t be right.

It was a moot point now. She was here and it was a done deal.

She handed the paper back to him. “What are we going to do about the media? I’m assuming you would prefer this not get out.”

“How do you feel about that?” he asked, sounding an awful lot like a shrink.

“I understand. I don’t expect you to jeopardize your reputation for the sake of my feelings. And I’m not exactly looking forward to the media attention, either. I won’t say anything if you don’t.”

“Deal,” he agreed.

“So, when are we talking? I’m guessing soon.”

“As soon as I’m able. When is your next doctor appointment?”

“Three weeks.”

He cursed under his breath. “I’ll be in California for ten days.”

“This early, you won’t be missing much.”

“Then I guess I’ll take the next couple of weeks to tie up some loose ends, and be in Texas after my California trip. That would be, what? Fourth week in June?”

A month seemed so far away, and at the same time it wasn’t long enough. A precious month left of her privacy. Her freedom. “This is all so… surreal. I mean, we hardly know each other. We’re strangers.”

And if that was true, why did she feel as though she knew him somehow?

“So this will give us plenty of time to get acquainted.”

Maybe that was what she was worried about. She’d learned from one too many disastrous relationships not to trust her own judgment when it came to finding the wrong kind of man. Because the wrong kind of man for her, unfortunately, was the kind of man she was usually attracted to.

Chapter Four

“Another furniture store truck just pulled up,” Lianne, Miranda’s next-door neighbor, called from her perch on the couch by the front-room window. She had been sitting there for the past twenty minutes giving Miranda a blow-by-blow of the activity going on at the condo across the street.

Miranda stood around the corner in the kitchen, fixing herself a cup of tea and a plate of saltines, hoping it might ease the nausea brewing in her stomach. This was the third morning in a row that she’d woken feeling sick.

She knew that technically, morning sickness was a good thing. It meant her body was producing enough hormones to sustain a healthy pregnancy. That didn’t make her feel any better when she was kneeling to the porcelain gods, yacking up her breakfast. From now on it was tea and crackers every morning until her stomach settled.

“They’re unloading the furniture!” Lianne squealed. She was like this whenever someone new moved into the complex. Fresh meat, she liked to say.

Like Miranda, she was divorced. Bitterly divorced. But always in the market for a temporary distraction. She’d divorced her most recent temporary distraction three months ago.

“So far so good,” she reported. “Nothing kid related. No toys or baby furniture. Nothing too feminine, either. Could be a single man.”

The kettle began to whistle, and she poured boiling water into her cup. “You know that the first rule of dating is to never get involved with a neighbor,” she called back.

Lianne knew. She’d read Miranda’s book. But she still slipped back into her old ways from time to time. Hence her three ex-husbands—the latest of whom still lived around the corner.

“There’s no harm in looking,” she called back.

Miranda carried her tea and crackers into the front room. She set them on the coffee table and eased herself into the recliner where she’d been spending most of her mornings sacked out in her pajamas in front of the television.

Lianne sat curled up on the couch across the room, her nose practically touching the window. “Don’t you want to see?”

Miranda didn’t care about anything but making the nausea go away. “I’ll look when I can safely move.”

She momentarily peeled her eyes from the window to shoot Miranda a sympathetic look. “Still feeling sick, huh?”

“It’ll pass,” she said, nibbling the edge of a cracker. It was a catch-22. If she didn’t eat, she felt sicker, and if she ate too much, that was even worse. The trick was finding just the right balance.

So far, no luck.

“Just be happy you’re not like I was with Brandon,” Lianne said, referring to her nineteen-year-old son, who was currently in Houston attending college. “Sick as a dog from the day I got pregnant to the minute he was born.” She turned back to the window. “Oh, crud. We have baby stuff. They’re unloading a box with what looks like a crib…yep it’s a crib, all right. And here comes the changing table.”

“It’ll be nice to have a new family in the complex.” Miranda placed a hand over her still-flat stomach. “Someone for the baby to play with when he or she is old enough.”

Lianne sighed and turned from the window. “Have you decided if you want to find out the baby’s sex beforehand?”

“I’m not sure yet. On one hand, I love a good surprise, on the other, I could be more prepared if I knew.”

“What about the baby’s father? Does he want to know?”

Lianne knew the basic events surrounding Miranda’s pregnancy, but not the identity of the man involved. No one knew. Most people, including Miranda’s family, didn’t even know she was pregnant.

She knew exactly what people would say, what her family would think, and while she had stopped playing by their rules a long time ago, she just didn’t have the energy to deal with them right now. She was giving herself permission to be selfish for a while.

Miranda sipped her tea. “We haven’t decided yet.”

And not for lack of debate. Since her return from Chicago nearly a month ago, she’d spoken to Zack daily. His insatiable curiosity sometimes kept them on the line for an hour or more. And though at first she figured it would rapidly become annoying, now she didn’t mind so much. After all, what expectant woman didn’t love talking about her pregnancy?

“Well, I think it’s pretty cool that he’s moving here all the way from Chicago to be close to you. I can’t wait to meet him.”

Which could be a problem. Especially if they planned to keep this from the media. Zack was an empire. If he came to her condo, someone was bound to recognize him, and eventually, someone would talk.

The more she thought about it, the more complicated it was sounding.

“The woman we thought was the decorator is back,” Lianne said, nose to the window again. “She must be the wife, although I don’t see a baby anywhere.”

Miranda set her half-full cup down. She’d managed that and two crackers. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, waiting for the sickness to pass.

“We’ve got a black car pulling up to the curb. Holy cow. It’s vintage. A Mustang, I think. In mint condition. And it’s a guy behind the wheel.”

Miranda rocked gently, only half listening. She was starting to feel better. The crackers and tea were working.

“He’s getting out. Wow. Talk about tall, dark and handsome,” Lianne said wistfully. “And he’s got a body to die for. Come here, you need to see this guy.”

“Not yet.” She couldn’t move yet. If she got up too soon, she would just get sick all over again. And honestly, she didn’t care what the new family across the street looked like.

“He’s got to be at least six-one. Maybe even taller. He’s wearing a baseball cap, but I can tell his hair is short and dark. Dark brown, I think. He’s wearing cut-off jeans, a T-shirt and sandals. Very casual. I’m guessing midtwenties. Thirty tops.”

She could feel the nausea subsiding. Little by little.

“His wife just came outside. They’re chatting. You would think he would give her a kiss or hug or something.”

“Maybe he doesn’t like public displays of affection,” Miranda said, feeling obligated to contribute to the conversation. She actually appreciated Lianne’s morning visits. It helped keep her mind off how miserable she felt.

A writer like Miranda, she worked from a home office, so it wasn’t uncommon for her to drop by three or four times a day. Sometimes, when she developed a case of writer’s block, she would even bring her laptop over and set up shop on Miranda’s couch. She claimed the change of atmosphere would sometimes get the creative juices flowing.

“He’s smiling,” Lianne reported. “Oh, yeah, he’s a hunk. Major beefcake.”

The word “beef” made Miranda’s stomach lurch.

“I wish he would lose the shades so I could see his eyes. And what’s this? Hold the phones…he’s kissing her cheek! Very brief and polite. No way this woman is his wife.”

“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t have one,” Miranda pointed out. “Maybe she’s already inside unpacking.”

“She’s handing him something. Keys I think. Now she’s going back inside the condo. The beefcake is looking around, scoping out the cul-de-sac.”

Miranda fought the bile rising up from her stomach. “If you say beef one more time, I’m going to hurl.”

“Now he’s looking across the street…oh, damn, I think I’ve been discovered.”

“Serves you right,” Miranda said, not opening her eyes. “That’s what you get for being nosy.”

“I’m not nosy. I’m observant. And let’s not forget whose window I’m looking out of. He’ll probably just assume it’s you.”

Swell. Just what she needed, her new neighbors thinking she was a snoop.

“He’s walking back to his car…no wait, he walked past it, and he’s crossing the street. He’s coming this way.”

“That’s not funny,” Miranda said.

“I’m not trying to be funny. He’s really crossing the street. And, oh my God, he is a hunk. Older than I thought, though. More like his midthirties.”

A teeny, tiny alarm rang in her head. Tall, mid-thirties, a hunk.

No way.

“Now he’s walking up your driveway.”

The alarm grew louder, or was it just a ringing in her ears? She was starting to feel light-headed. “I’m not buying it, Lianne.”

“He’s walking up the steps to the porch…”

Sure he was.

Lianne was just messing with her head. She liked to do that.

“…stopping to look at the flowers in the urn. Picking one of the flowers! Boy does this guy have nerve.”

She would drag this out as long as humanly possible.

“Stepping up to the door…”

The doorbell rang.

Miranda’s eyes flew open.

Lianne was looking at her. “Well? Aren’t you going to get it?”

Miranda looked down at her attire. “I’m in my pajamas. I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet.”

“Okay,” Lianne, said with a sigh, rising from the couch. “I’ll get it.”

As she walked to the front door, Miranda’s nausea returned full force. He was probably just coming by to use the phone, or borrow sugar. She was sure she didn’t know him.

As Lianne reached for the doorknob Miranda squeezed her eyes shut, as if not seeing it wouldn’t make it real. But she had a bad feeling about this.

The bile was rising again. Working it’s way up, burning a path through the lining of her throat.

She heard the door open, heard a deep voice. His voice.

“I’m looking for Miranda Reed,” it said.

“Can I tell her who you might be?” Lianne asked, her voice stern, yet curious.

“Tell her it’s Zack.”

Zack had heard of people turning green, but always assumed it was a figure of speech.

It wasn’t.

When he walked into Miranda’s condo and saw her sitting there, she looked like the creature from the green lagoon.

It was the first time anyone had looked at him, then promptly run to the bathroom to toss their cookies.

“Feeling better now?” he asked from the bathroom doorway.

Miranda groaned.

She half sat, half sprawled on the tile floor wearing pink silk pajamas, her arms draped over the bowl. Her long, dark hair was pulled back but a few wispy strands stuck to her forehead and cheek. “Someone kill me now.”

“Is there anything I can get you?”

She moaned and laid her head on her arm. “Have you got a gun?”

That one made him smile. “I was thinking more along the lines of a damp cloth or a glass of water.”

She gazed up at him, her eyes watery and bloodshot. “I know exactly what you’re thinking.”

“What am I thinking?”

“You’re looking at me now, remembering when you proposed, and saying to yourself, thank God she said no.”

She couldn’t be more wrong. “Why would I be thinking that?”

“I’ve seen my reflection in the toilet bowl. You can’t tell me I don’t look like a beast.”

“I’ve never met anyone who looks good hanging over a toilet being sick. I promise not to hold it against you.”

“What happened to Lianne?”

“She left. She wants you to call her when you’re feeling better.”

Miranda just bet she did. She had to be going nuts over there wondering what the heck was going on. “Does she know who you are?”

“I told her I’m a friend of yours from Chicago.”

“Yep, she knows.”

“What does she know exactly?”

“That you’re the baby’s father. She just doesn’t know who you are. At least, I hope she doesn’t.” She sat up and took a few shallow breaths. “I think I’m feeling better now.”

“You ready to get up?”

“I think so.”

He stepped into the bathroom and held out a hand to give her a boost from the floor. She grabbed it and rose slowly to her feet. She wavered a second, gripping his fingers. “Where do you want to go?” he asked.

“The recliner.”

With a hand resting on her lower back for stability, he walked her out to the chair. She sat down, leaned back and closed her eyes. She wasn’t looking so green any longer. It was the first time he’d seen her with no makeup, and he sort of liked her without it. She looked softer. And younger. Maybe even a little bit vulnerable.

And he intended to take care of her. This was exactly what he’d meant when he told her he wanted to be involved. He wanted to be a part of the entire process. Even the unpleasant parts.

He noticed her cup on the table. “Would you like more tea?”

“You don’t have to take care of me.”

“I know I don’t.”

For a second he thought she might argue, then she must have decided she didn’t have the energy. “Tea would be great. With a teaspoon of honey.” Eyes still closed, she gestured in the direction of the kitchen. “It’s in the cabinet above the coffeemaker.”

He grabbed her cup from the table. “I’ll find it.”

Like the rest of the condo, the kitchen was very clean and organized. That was one thing they obviously had in common. Clutter drove him nuts. His mother never had time for housework. She’d worked long hours, and when she finally did get home, cooking and cleaning were pretty low on her list of priorities.

She would open a bottle of wine, park herself in front of the television and chain-smoke until his father got home. How much she drank depended on how late he was out. He had a lot of evening “meetings” and often didn’t breeze in until after midnight.

Sometimes it was one bottle, other nights two. On a good night, she would pass out before his father returned, sparing Zack and his younger brother Richard from being jolted awake to the sound of raised voices. To hear his mother’s slurred accusations, and his father’s halfhearted, lame excuses.

On a bad night, the police got involved.

His mother’s second and third marriages hadn’t been much better.

He put the kettle on, dumped out the stale tea and fixed her a fresh cup. When he walked back into the family room she looked much better. In fact, he would go so far as to say she was glowing. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes bright. She looked… maternal.

He handed her the cup, making sure she had a steady grip before letting go. “You look as though you’re feeling better.”

“I am.” She sipped the tea and smiled. “It’s perfect. Thanks.”

He took a seat on the couch and glanced out the window. The moving van was still there, but Taylor, his sister-in-law and relocation coordinator, assured him she would have everything in order by lunchtime.

Miranda took another sip of her tea and set the cup down. “Nice place across the street.”

“Very nice,” he agreed. Smaller than he was used to, but it would suffice.

“Tell me you didn’t really just move there.”

Unfortunately he couldn’t do that. “I told you I wanted to be closer.”

“Yeah, but right across the street? Are you nuts?”

“Not the last time I checked.”

“We’ve talked every day for a month and you never once thought to mention it? I was thinking you would move to Dallas, or Fort Worth, even. I thought you would at least have to get in the car and drive to see me. This could be incredibly…awkward.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” It wasn’t as if he hadn’t expected this. He knew there would be an adjustment period while she grew used to the idea of having him around. He didn’t doubt that everything would work out. Given time, she would see things his way.

She may have been strong willed and determined, but so was he.

“That’s easy for you to say,” she snapped back. “You get to leave whenever you want. You can go back to Chicago or lecture. I’m stuck here. All my work, all my research material is in this house.”

“You make it sound as though I’m holding you prisoner. And I do have to point out that right now, you could use my help. At least until the morning sickness passes.”

She didn’t look convinced. “You don’t think it will be weird, us living so close?”

Across the street wasn’t close enough as far as he was concerned. He was determined, by the time this baby was born, to convince her to marry him. Preferably sooner than later. The only way he could do that was to spend as much time with her as possible.

He had every intention of seducing her, as well, although that part of the plan might have to wait until she was feeling better.

“You should have talked to me about this first,” she said. “We should have discussed it.”

“We did discuss it. I said I was moving closer, you said okay. In fact, at the time, I thought you sounded relieved that I was the one doing the relocating.”

He could see that she wanted to argue but couldn’t deny he was right. She had been relieved. And had he used that to his advantage? Maybe so, but he was only doing what was best for her and the baby. She needed him around, even if she wasn’t willing to admit it yet.

Instead, she tried a different angle. “I thought you wanted to keep this quiet. You don’t think people are going to see us together and catch on?”

“The house is under a different name, and I have my disguise.” He plucked the sunglasses from the front of his shirt and put them on then he tugged the baseball cap low over his eyes. “See.”

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