More Than a Millionaire by Emilie Rose

Only one woman held Ryan’s attention – Nicole Hightower.

Ryan shouldn’t find her attractive. She wasn’t his type. He liked his women curvy and soothing. Nicole bordered on too slender and restless. Yet when Nicole’s aqua eyes turned his way, she hit him with another megavolt jolt of awareness. He couldn’t prevent the unwelcome gut-jarring reaction each time their gazes met.

He didn’t want a relationship with her other than a contractual surrogate one. If all went according to his plan, she’d have his kid, hand it over and get out of his life. He didn’t want her underfoot and interfering. He didn’t need the drama.

Still, she tempted him. And the chemistry between them sizzled hot enough to make him want to engage in a short-term affair. What consequences would there be? After all, she was already having his baby.

The Untamed Sheikh by Tessa Radley

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Megan’s gaze dropped to her phone gripped high in Shafir’s strong dark hand. Nothing about this situation reassured her. “I’m supposed to believe that?”

The frantic vibration of her phone diverted her attention. Her messages had come through despite the limo’s path through the remote desert. Not a minute too soon! Disregarding his power, his size, Megan dived across his lap, intent on claiming back the phone – her phone, damn it.

Hard thighs of rock-like solidity beneath the elegant trousers were the first warning that she had made a colossal mistake. She jerked her gaze upwards.

Oh, no.

Bare inches separated their faces. Megan was aware of muscle shifting under her. He surrounded her. And he was big – much bigger than she’d realised.

Her breath came in ragged fits – yet he didn’t appear to be breathing at all. She gulped in air, but her pounding heart she could do nothing about.

More Than A Millionaire

By

Emilie Rose
The Untamed Sheikh

By

Tessa Radley

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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More Than A Millionaire

By

Emilie Rose

Dear Reader,

I’m a firm believer that everything happens for a reason. When I was bored out of my skull and picked up a magazine last year, I had no idea one article on aviation management companies would launch an entire series ofstories for me. And I had no idea that what I read would give my sons and I so much fun stuff to do together – something we really needed. Thanks to this research and my two oldest sons’ passion for flying, I’ve had a load of new experiences this year, including No. 2 Son flying me to lunch (wow!).

For Nicole Hightower, one devastating mistake leads to her finding the man – none other than Ryan Patrick – and the family she was meant to have. Here’s hoping that happenstance brings you new discoveries that brighten your days and the courage to seize the moment.

Happy reading!

Emilie Rose

Bestselling Desire™ author and RITA® Award finalist EMILIE ROSE lives in her native North Carolina with her four sons and two adopted mutts. Writing is her third (and hopefully her last) career. She’s managed a medical office and run a home day care, neither of which offers half as much satisfaction as plotting happy endings. Her hobbies include gardening and cooking (especially cheesecake). She’s a rabid country music fan because she can find an entire book in almost any song. She is currently working her way through her own “bucket list” which includes learning to ride a Harley.

Visit her website at www.emilierose.com. Letters can be mailed to PO Box 20145, Raleigh, NC 27619, USA or e-mail EmilieRoseC@aol.com.

JBR, you light up the room (and me) with nothing more than a smile.

No matter what happens, my time with you has truly been a gift I will never regret.

Chapter One

“Define unfortunate incident,” Ryan Patrick ordered the director of the Lakeview Fertility Clinic from the visitor’s side of the ornate walnut desk.

The director’s leather chair creaked, revealing each nervous shift of the man’s body. “One of our trainees neglected to cross-reference the lot number on your sample. He only checked the names and those were reversed. I want to assure you, Mr. Patrick, this is an unusual circumstance. We have many checks and balances in place to—”

“What does this mean? To me. Specifically,” Ryan cut in impatiently. He unclenched his fingers from the arms of the chair, but it was hard to relax when the man in front of him looked like he was about to have a heart attack at any second.

The director inhaled a long, deep breath. “Your contribution was given to the wrong woman.”

Ryan’s abdominal muscles tensed. That would only be a problem if—

“Her pregnancy was confirmed two weeks ago,” the director added.

Problem. One that jeopardized Ryan’s goal of proving to his father that he’d settled down and was ready to take over the reins of the Patrick architectural dynasty. But Ryan was a master troubleshooter. He wouldn’t have climbed this far up the ladder of success if he’d thrown in the towel at every obstacle.

Too bad his father couldn’t see that.

“Two weeks ago? Why am I just now being informed? And what about my surrogate, the woman I hired?”

“We discovered the situation yesterday when she came in for her appointment. She wasn’t inseminated since at your insistence we only had the one vial.”

They’d only had one vial because with the reputation of this place he’d expected them to get it right the first time.

“And you’re certain this other woman is pregnant with my child?”

“Yes, sir.”

Ryan tamped down his frustration. Once he’d decided to take the surrogate route he’d spent months interviewing to find the right candidate—one with looks, brains and good genetics. One who wouldn’t get emotionally attached to the baby she hosted in her womb for nine months and change her mind about handing over his child.

And now the wrong woman was carrying his baby.

“Who is she?”

“I’m not at liberty to release that information, sir.”

Ryan exploded to his feet. “You’re not at liberty to tell me who’s carrying my child?”

“Yes. Confidentiality—”

Ryan intended to get the information one way or the other. He braced his fists on the desk and leaned forward.

“Don’t make me bring a platoon of lawyers in here. Not only will that be financially costly for you, the negative publicity will knock you right off the list of top fertility clinics in the country. This is my kid, and I have the right to know who and where its mother is and whether she’s qualified for the job. I want everything you have on her.”

The director’s face flushed dark red. “Mr. Patrick, I’m sure you understand the privacy of Lakeview’s business—”

“I want her name and contact information now. Otherwise my legal team will be all over you like a bad rash before lunch.”

The man stiffened and swallowed then fumbled with a folder on his desk. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary. Ms. High—our other client seems like a reasonable, understanding woman. Once I explain the situation to her—”

“I’ll handle it. You’ve screwed up enough. You can cover up your mistake with words like incident, circumstance and situation, but the truth is you’ve committed malpractice and negligence.”

Sweat beaded beneath the man’s receding hairline. Ryan eyed him without blinking. Once the man paled, Ryan knew he’d get what he wanted without the aggravation of lawyers. Good. He did not want his father to catch wind of this disaster.

“Ahem. I’ll get you the information, sir.”

Ryan settled back in the chair when the director hustled out. Next on his agenda: find this woman and convince her to give him his baby—the way the surrogate he’d chosen had agreed to.

She would be the best aunt her baby could have.

And it would be enough. It had to be.

Nicole Hightower rubbed one hand over her unsettled stomach and reached for a cracker with the other. She was finally going to have Patrick’s baby.

And Beth’s.

Her fingers spasmed around the stylus of her PDA at the reminder that her dream wasn’t going exactly as she’d once planned.

She shoved the bland whole-wheat cracker into her mouth and tried to focus on the calendar in front of her. She needed to schedule the client’s pilot, crew and plane maintenance for the next three months. She usually loved keeping her customers happy and their travel stress-free, but today her private life kept distracting her from the workload on her desk.

Relinquishing her baby would be hard, but she could handle it because she would be not only a godmother, but also a hands-on aunt. Her sister had promised, and Beth kept her promises. Nicole had always been able to count on her big sister—even at the times when she hadn’t been able to count on their parents. Carrying a child for Beth was the least Nicole could do.

And since her sister would continue to work at Hightower Aviation Management and bring the baby to work every day, Nicole looked forward to going down the hall to the on-site day care and visiting her—Beth’s—baby during lunch. Even from her desk she’d be able to observe her b—niece or nephew. She clicked on an icon on her computer screen and a live feed from the company nursery filled her monitor. The caregivers bustled around, tending to the adorable children of HAMC’s employees.

The intercom buzzed jarring her from her tangled thoughts. She quickly broke the nursery link. “Yes?”

“There’s a Ryan Patrick here to see you.”

Nicole smiled over her assistant’s mistake. “You mean Patrick Ryan.”

“No, I don’t. I’m not talking about your brother-in-law,” Lea whispered. “I’m talking about the gorgeous black-haired, blue-eyed, towering hunk of manhood standing in the reception area. His business card says he’s the VP at Patrick Architectural Designs. That’s one of Knox-ville’s most prestigious firms, in case you didn’t know. Are we expanding again?”

“As far as I know Hightower Aviation isn’t planning to build any new structures.” But then her oldest brother, Trent, the CEO, didn’t tell her everything. As the youngest Hightower offspring until recently, Nicole was often kept out of the loop.

She double-checked her calendar to make sure she hadn’t forgotten an appointment and found no one scheduled for another hour. Then, because she didn’t like to go into a meeting unprepared, she typed Patrick Architectural Designs into her Internet search engine. A series of links popped up on her screen. She chose the one that looked the most useful, clicked and scanned the Web page. There were no pictures of the man in question, only of buildings designed by his company and a brief company history. Impressive. They’d been around awhile.

“Patrick Architectural is a commercial firm with projects across the continent,” she said into the intercom. “Do you think Mr. Patrick might be a potential client?”

Although normally new clients came to her through the sales department after they’d purchased, leased or bought shares in an aircraft.

His name was an interesting coincidence, though.

“I prefer my fantasy to your logic,” Lea quipped.

“You always have, Lea. Bring him back.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Nicole brushed the crumbs from her silk blouse and into the trash can then slid the sleeve of crackers into her drawer. She rose just as Lea tapped on her door and pushed it open.

The man striding into her office like he owned the place was everything her assistant had said and more. Lea hadn’t mentioned her visitor’s short hair had a curl that he couldn’t quite subdue or that his shoulders filled out his navy suit jacket like a tailor’s dream above a flat stomach, lean hips and long legs. And his eyes weren’t just blue; they were an amazingly intense shade of cobalt. Those eyes assessed her now as he would a Learjet he was considering purchasing.

Nicole fought the urge to check her neckline and the corners of her mouth for more crumbs.

“Nicole Hightower?”

Even his voice had a deep and slightly rough sexual fantasy quality. Not that she ever fantasized about clients. That would be totally unprofessional.

And too much like her mother.

She walked around the corner of her desk and extended her arm. “Yes. How can I help you, Mr. Patrick?”

His handshake was warm and firm and electrified.

Giving up caffeine must be having unforeseen side effects on her system. Why else would she experience a faux espresso buzz on contact? She broke the connection as quickly as courtesy allowed.

His intense gaze shifted to Lea and conveyed something that made the redhead snap to attention. “I’ll just…go now.”

Surprised, Nicole watched her usually unflappable assistant hustle out the door and close it behind her.

Nicole reappraised the man in front of her. Besides tall, dark and gorgeous, he had some kind of magical talent. She’d have to figure out what trick he’d used to make Lea leave without saying a word.

Lea wasn’t only an employee. She was also a friend and sometimes the line between friend and supervisor blurred—like when Lea had voiced her vehement disapproval of Nicole’s decision to become a surrogate for her sister and brother-in-law. But that was because Lea knew how Nicole felt about her sister’s husband. They’d been college roommates when Nicole had fallen head over heels in love with Patrick. And Lea had been there to help pick up the pieces after Patrick had eloped with Nicole’s sister Beth.

Lea was convinced that the entire “baby debacle,” as she referred to it, was going to blow up in Nicole’s face now that she was pregnant.

“Please sit down, Mr. Patrick, and tell me what I can do for you today.”

Nicole felt his gaze on her the entire way around her desk as she returned to her seat. Pregnancy had made her breasts larger. She hoped it hadn’t done the same to her behind. Not that she cared what he thought of her butt.

After she sank into her seat he lowered himself into the chair across from her desk. The old-fashioned courtesy surprised her. Fewer and fewer men practiced it these days—especially among the megarich she dealt with through work.

“Congratulations on your pregnancy.”

His words stunned her. She hadn’t told anyone except Beth, Patrick and Lea. The parents-to-be had the right to know, and Lea had caught Nicole heaving a couple of times and guessed. The rest of their friends and family would find out Saturday when Beth and Patrick made the official announcement at the family’s Labor Day picnic. Nicole suspected most people who knew her would be a little freaked out by her decision.

“Thank you. What brings you to Hightower Aviation today?”

“You’re carrying my child.”

His statement knocked her back in her chair. She must have misheard.

“Excuse me?” The words sounded more like a wheeze, but that was because she couldn’t seem to make her lungs work.

“The fertility clinic made a mistake and inseminated you with my sperm instead of your intended donor’s.”

Head reeling, she grasped the edge of her desk. “That’s not possible.”

Her visitor reached into his suit coat, extracted an envelope and extended it toward her. When she didn’t—couldn’t—take it from him he tossed it on her blotter. It slid across the smooth surface and stopped within easy reach. She eyed it like she would a big, hairy, jumping spider.

“The clinic director has written a letter explaining the situation. In summation, my name is Ryan Patrick. Your intended donor’s name is Patrick Ryan. The lot numbers weren’t checked and you were given the wrong sperm because some moron neglected to notice a comma.”

Horror raced through her, making her heart pound and her extremities tingle. “No. You’re wrong.”

He had to be.

“Read it.”

She stared at the envelope. Afraid to open it. Afraid not to. But she couldn’t prove him wrong if she didn’t open the thing. Her hands shook as she reached for it.

The tearing of the seal and the rustle of paper as she unfolded the page sounded unnaturally loud even above the pounding of her pulse in her ears. The letter bore the Lakeview logo at the top and the director’s signature on the bottom. She forced herself to read through the document.

Words jumped out at her. Unfortunate error…Donor mix-up…Apologize profusely… The alarm in her chest and her brain expanded with each line, making it difficult to breathe and think. She read the letter a second time, but the bad news didn’t get any better, and she hadn’t misinterpreted.

Unless this letter was a hideously tasteless joke, she was carrying Ryan Patrick’s baby. Not Patrick Ryan’s, the man she had loved since her junior year of college. The man who’d married her sister.

Please, God, let this be a joke.

“This is not funny.”

Her visitor didn’t crack a smile. “Medical malpractice usually isn’t.”

She had hoped her sister had developed a sudden sick sense of humor. His stoic expression said otherwise. Pressing a hand over her churning stomach, she dropped the page. “There must be some mistake.”

“Yes. Lakeview Fertility Clinic made it. You’re carrying my child as a result.”

“That can’t be right.”

“I wish that were true.”

She stared at the letter while her overloaded mind struggled to process the information and the possible repercussions. For herself. For Beth and Patrick. For the man in front of her. But it was too much to take in.

What now? What if the baby really wasn’t Patrick’s?

She struggled to find her professional demeanor, and the best way to do that was to focus on his problem instead of hers. “I’m sorry. This must be very difficult for you and your wife.”

“There is no wife.”

“Girlfriend, then.”

“No girlfriend, either.”

That confused her completely. “I’m afraid I’m not following.”

“I’ll be a single parent.”

“That’s not unusual for a woman, but isn’t it a little out of the norm for a man? Couldn’t you just get married?”

“I’ve been married, and I don’t ever intend to do so again.”

There had to be a story behind that bitter tone. But she didn’t care to hear it at the moment. She had enough of a mess on her hands. If his story was true. She sincerely hoped he was deranged. A psycho in her office would be much easier to handle than the situation described in the letter. One call to security would fix everything. But this…

He extracted a second envelope and placed it in front of her. “I’m prepared to offer you the same financial and medical support I offered the surrogate I’d hired.”

Taken aback, she blinked. “You hired a surrogate?”

Why would a guy who looked like him need to pay someone to have his baby? Women should be lining up around the block and begging for the privilege.

“A well-qualified, carefully screened surrogate.”

She bristled at his implication that she might be less than qualified to carry his child. For the second time this morning she forced herself to read something she didn’t want to and picked up the contract.

Shocked, she looked up from the document that had her name typed in all the appropriate places. “You want to buy my baby?”

Duh. That’s what surrogacy is, Nicole. But seeing it in black and white rattled her.

“It’s a service contract. You provide a product and a service. I pay you for your time and the use of your body,” he replied as coolly as if they were haggling over the price of an airplane.

A product? Revulsion slammed her chest a split second before an unexpected surge of possessiveness swelled within her. She wrapped her arms around her middle. Until now she’d been ready to hand over her baby to Beth and Patrick. With dignity. Without a fight. But she’d be damned if she’d sell it to this stranger.

“You are out of your mind, Mr. Patrick.”

“It’s my child.”

“It’s mine, too. My egg. My body. My time.”

“My terms are quite generous.”

She tossed the document back at him. He made no effort to catch it. The pages fluttered to the desk. “I don’t care about your terms. Go back to your surrogate.”

“And forget I’ve already fathered one child?”

“Yes. You have no emotional investment here and no financial obligation. You can have another baby much easier than I can. I will carry this child for nine months. Your contribution only took seconds.”

“You’re only eight weeks pregnant. You haven’t had time to bond.”

Her mouth dropped open. She snapped it closed. “Spoken like a man who doesn’t have a clue. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She’d begun bonding from the first moment she’d noticed her taste buds had gone crazy—just days after conception and even before the positive pregnancy test. She remembered the exact moment she’d realized she was pregnant with Patrick’s baby.

According to him it wasn’t Patrick’s baby.

He might be wrong. Please, please let him be wrong.

“I’m sorry. I’m not going to believe your story without proof.”

“You have it.” He indicated the letter by dipping his chin.

“This is not enough.” She’d go through the clinic’s records personally, if need be. And if that didn’t work…there was always DNA testing. How soon could that be done? And was it safe for the baby? She jotted down the questions to ask her doctor.

Her visitor’s jawline hardened. “You’re only twenty-eight. You have time to have other children.”

Unlikely, since her heart was already taken. “You’re not exactly ancient.”

“I’m thirty-five.”

“Women have a shorter window of opportunity for reproducing than men. You can keep fathering children for another fifty years.”

His lips thinned in irritation. “I want a child now, and I’m not walking away and leaving the door open for you to sue me for child support.”

The jerk’s personality did not improve with exposure. Usually she could find something to like about even the most difficult person. Not so here. Other than his physical packaging which was prime.

She took a deep breath and reminded herself that any problem could be solved with patience, politeness and perseverance. Her three P’s never let her down.

“I would never do that, Mr. Patrick. I don’t want or expect anything from you.”

His eyebrows lowered. “You expect me to take the word of a stranger?”

She was too busy reeling over the possibility that she might be carrying a stranger’s baby to care what he thought.

“I’m not interested in your money, and I’m willing to have my attorney draft a document stating that fact and relieving you of all responsibility.”

“That would be useless. You’d have eighteen years to change your mind.”

She wanted to smack him. “Mr. Patrick, I couldn’t give you this child even if I wanted to—which I don’t.”

She pressed her fingertips to her stomach and gathered the words that had become her mantra since she’d committed to this plan. “This baby is not mine. I’m carrying it for my sister and brother-in-law.”

Who might not want the baby if it wasn’t Patrick’s.

Oh my God.

Panic tightened her chest. A cold sweat seeped through her pores. What was she going to do? She certainly wasn’t handing her baby to this knuckle-dragging Neanderthal who acted as if giving up her child would be as easy as giving a panhandler the change from her pocket.

“You’re acting as a surrogate for someone else?”

His clipped words interrupted her chaotic thoughts. “Yes. Patrick Ryan is my brother-in-law.”

“How much is he paying you?”

Appalled, she reared back. “Nothing. This is a gift.”

“I’m offering a hundred thousand, plus expenses. You’re going to give up the kid. Why not to me? You can have his kid next year.”

His cavalier attitude winded her. “I’m not a broodmare.”

She’d geared herself up to do this once. She didn’t think she could handle giving a baby away a second time.

“I’ll make it worth your while.”

“No, thank you. I gave my word.” For once she wanted to come through for Beth instead of having Beth make all the sacrifices for her. She owed her sister a huge debt.

And she wanted to give Patrick something Beth couldn’t.

Not nice, Nicole.

“Tell her you changed your mind. If the egg is yours, then the child is in no way hers or her husband’s.”

She flinched and wished he’d quit reminding her of that.

Adrenaline surged through her veins. If the baby wasn’t Patrick’s then it was hers.

Hers and the Neanderthal’s.

“I signed a contract,” she said more to herself than to him. So where did that leave her? Was the contract even valid if the baby wasn’t Patrick’s?

“Contracts can be broken.”

She needed to talk to her lawyer before tackling the legalities. “You don’t understand. I will be this child’s aunt. I’ll see it almost every day. I’ll get to watch him or her grow up and be a part of its life. I’ll still be family.”

She hated the anxiety sharpening her voice. The idea had sounded so much better before her pregnancy had been confirmed. “Go back to your surrogate.”

“You’re carrying my firstborn and firstborn Patricks have taken over the family firm for three generations.”

“What if my child doesn’t want to be an architect?”

One dark eyebrow hiked. “Why wouldn’t he?”

“Because I don’t have an artistic bone in my body and he or she might take after me.”

“Or he might take after me and be damned good at it. Don’t turn this into a legal battle, Ms. Hightower.”

His threat was clear. The muscles of her spine went rigid and her heart thumped even harder. Her arms tightened protectively around her middle. They’d done that a lot since he’d walked in. “This is my baby.”

“Is it, if you’ve already signed away your rights? As the child’s biological father I probably have more rights to it than you do.”

Fear slithered down her spine. She was very afraid that what he said might be true, but she wasn’t giving up without a fight. She glared at him, silently telling him to bring it on. The stiffening of his features told her he’d received her message loud and clear. He stood and towered over her.

She rose to meet him at his level, but still had to tilt her head back. How tall was he, anyway? Well over six feet.

“This discussion is over, Mr. Patrick, until I talk to my attorney.”

“Do that. Mine will be calling you. But be warned, Ms. Hightower, I always get what I want, and I will be a father to my child. Make it easy on yourself, accept that and don’t prolong this.”

He turned on his heel, flung open her door and stalked out of her office, sucking all the oxygen with him as he went.

Sapped of strength, but conversely filled with an energizing surplus of adrenaline, Nicole sank into her chair. She had to do something to stop him. Because if Ryan Patrick had his way she would be giving up far more than the right to mother her baby. She might never see her child again. And that was not going to happen.

Chapter Two

Apparently it didn’t matter which side of the desk Nicole sat on. Today was her day to receive bad news.

She stared in dismay at the woman in front of her. “You’re saying he’s correct. Ryan Patrick has more right to my baby than I do?”

While her attorney’s smile and brown eyes were sympathetic, they didn’t offer much encouragement. “I’m sorry, Nicole. The clinic confirmed his story. There was a mix-up. Biologically, this is his child unless DNA testing proves otherwise.”

“But my doctor said I couldn’t do prenatal DNA testing without significant risk to the baby. So that’s out of the question.” Nicole had called her in a panic the minute Ryan Patrick left her office. “I don’t think I can stand seven more months of uncertainty.”

“I understand. And it really isn’t necessary since the lot number of Ryan Patrick’s…contribution was found written on your record. Too bad the technician didn’t double-check it beforehand.”

She was carrying a stranger’s baby.

Not Patrick’s.

Disappointment and helpless frustration filled her with an antsy urge to climb out of her skin. “Is the contract even valid since the baby isn’t Patrick’s?”

“The wording states you’re providing them with a child, and that you have no intention of claiming that child. It doesn’t specify paternity. The agreement is pretty ironclad. They used all the right phrases to protect themselves in case you changed your mind, and since we didn’t think that would be an issue, I didn’t strike or amend the clause.”

A heavy weight settled on Nicole’s chest. “I don’t want Ryan Patrick to get custody. If he does, I may never see my baby again. At least Beth promised me I could be a hands-on aunt.”

“But you didn’t get that promise in writing, so it wouldn’t hold up in court. I wish I could say the chances of Mr. Patrick winning at least partial custody were slim, but they’re not.

“This isn’t your fight, Nicole, unless you elect to try and revoke your surrogacy contract which I can tell you will be a tough and expensive battle. If you choose that route you’ll fight your sister and her husband first, and then the winner of your battle will fight the baby’s father.”

A lose-lose proposition. “Breaking the contract would destroy my relationship with my family. I won’t do that. My family is too important to me.”

Her attorney nodded. “Then your first order of business is to talk to Beth and Patrick. Tell them what you’ve discovered. Make sure they still want to adopt this child. Their decision determines your next action.”

The idea of confronting Beth and Patrick and the fear of what they’d say made her queasy. Her dream of having Patrick’s baby had become a nightmare. Or had it? She’d given up long ago on ever having children of her own.

“If Beth and Patrick no longer want this baby, can I keep it?”

“Your odds of winning either way are not good. The day you signed the waiver to relinquish to your sister and brother-in-law you knowingly entered into this agreement with no intention of parenting this child. Precedents in Texas and California have granted custody to the father in similar situations.”

That was not what she wanted to hear. But even if she could keep her baby, what did she know about good parenting? Her parents certainly hadn’t set an example to emulate. They’d been gone more than they’d been at home, and when they’d been at home they both tended to be self-centered. Not a pretty picture despite the united front they presented to the world.

“In the meantime,” her attorney continued, “I’ll pursue legal action against the clinic. Besides their negligence, they’ve violated so many rules and regulations by releasing your personal information to Mr. Patrick without following proper legal channels that the courts and several regulatory agencies will be occupied for a long time.”

“I…I suppose that has to be done to prevent the clinic doing this to someone else. I’ll talk to Beth and Patrick this afternoon.” Until then she had no idea where she stood.

And that was one conversation she dreaded more than anything she’d ever had to do in her life except for smiling through congratulating the man she loved on marrying her sister.

“Nicole, I’d like to caution you to be civil to Mr. Patrick. In my thirty years of experience I’ve learned the more contentious the fight becomes, the uglier and more expensive it gets. People forget about doing what’s right and start fighting to win at all costs.”

Nicole had a sinking feeling Ryan Patrick didn’t like losing, and he could afford to fight a lot longer than she could.

Beth and Patrick’s silence spoke volumes as did the look they exchanged.

Nicole’s stomach cramped with tension while she waited for their response to her bad news. She dampened her dry lips. “So the baby is still yours…if you want it.”

Beth gave her a patient smile. “Of course we want the baby, Nicole. The child is yours and therefore related to us.”

Relief loosened the knots in Nicole’s muscles.

“Beth, a legal battle could be expensive,” Patrick pointed out with his usual pragmatism.

“This baby is a Hightower, dear,” Beth countered. “We can’t let that man break up our family.”

Beth and Patrick shared another long, speaking glance, and a teensy twinge of jealousy pricked Nicole. In the three months she and Patrick had dated before she’d brought him home to meet her parents and siblings she and he had never shared that type of silent communication.

But Beth and Patrick had been married for a long time, Nicole reminded herself. They’d had time to develop those skills. If things had gone differently, if Nicole and Patrick had married as she’d once believed they would, then they would have been the ones with that special bond. Wouldn’t they?

But Patrick had preferred her sister, and Nicole wanted him to be happy—even if it wasn’t with her. He was one of a kind and the only man who’d ever win her heart. She wasn’t like her mother who flitted from one affair to the next searching for some fantasy that didn’t exist.

“Beth,” Patrick protested.

“Nicole is doing this oh-so-generous thing for me—for us—to repay me for looking after her when we were growing up. How could I refuse such a selfless gift? And we do want a baby more than anything, don’t we?”

“Right. More than anything.”

Did Patrick’s tone sound a little bitter and resentful? No. He was just shaken and disappointed by Nicole’s news. He’d wanted to be a father and now he wasn’t…biologically, anyway. And if he was on edge it was only because he and Beth had been trying to conceive for more than three years. The doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with either of them and didn’t have a clue to the cause of Beth’s unexplained infertility.

Thank God Nicole had conceived on the first try. Otherwise—

You’d have come to your senses.

Lea’s nagging voice echoed in Nicole’s head. She squelched it. Her assistant didn’t understand how much Beth had sacrificed for Nicole to have a regular childhood. Beth had forfeited dates, the prom, going to college among other things to play substitute mom while their globe-trotting parents gallivanted frequently and parented sporadically.

Carrying a child for Beth was the least Nicole could do.

“This could get expensive,” Patrick persisted. “You know how much we’re already spending on—”

“On getting ready for the baby,” Beth replied with a tight smile. “Yes, darling, I know. But Nicole doesn’t need to worry about that. She needs someone to take care of her little problem, and taking care of problems is what I do best.” Beth turned to Nicole. “Don’t worry yourself. Big sister will handle everything. Just like I’ve always done.” Nicole stifled a wince. Yes, there had been dozens of incidents when Beth had covered for Nicole—none of which Nicole was proud of these days. But somehow Nicole didn’t feel as confident in her sister’s abilities this time. She wasn’t sure that even the mighty Beth could deter Ryan Patrick from his goal.

Her baby would be happy here, Nicole assured herself as she lugged a mountain of insulated food containers past a black Corvette convertible and up Beth’s concrete sidewalk between rows of blooming dianthus, begonias and hostas.

Beth and Patrick had bought the large two-story traditional brick home with the lush emerald lawn and white picket fenced backyard with a large family in mind. On any given weekend morning children laughed and played in the neighborhood, riding their bicycles in the cul-de-sac. What more could any child want?

And what more could any woman want for her child?

You’ve made the right decision. All you have to do is keep Ryan Patrick from upsetting your plan.

The smell of roasting meat filled the air, made her mouth water and thankfully, distracted her from her negative thoughts. She’d been running since her feet hit the floor at five this morning, and she’d barely had time to eat a granola bar for breakfast and swallow her prenatal vitamins.

Letting herself in Beth’s side door the way she always did, Nicole checked the kitchen. Empty. That was odd since there was so much to do before the guests arrived at noon. Beth and Patrick were probably getting dressed.

Nicole deposited the food she’d prepared for the party on the counter then put the cold items in the fridge and the warm items in the oven on low heat.

Next on the agenda, the backyard. She stepped onto the stoop, scanned the fenced area and smiled. The weather on this first weekend in September couldn’t be more perfect for a picnic. The sun was out, but the expected afternoon high temperature wouldn’t be too hot or too cool. This close to autumn it was difficult to anticipate what Knoxville’s weather would be when planning weeks or months in advance as she always did.

The additional tables she’d rented had been delivered and set up on the grass. The party supply company had draped the tables with red-and-white checkered cloths and decorated each with a potted blooming red or white geranium as Nicole had instructed. Everything looked bright and cheerful, the perfect place to announce the family would be growing.

A lanky apron- and ball cap–wearing man stood by the massive grill on the edge of the large flagstone patio.

“Good morning,” she called out as she approached him. “I’m Nicole Hightower.”

He nodded and shook her hand. “Bill Smith. Your renta-chef. Great day for a pig pickin’.”

“Yes. Do you have everything you need, Bill?”

“Yes, ma’am. Pig’s ‘bout done. I just put on the chicken. Veggie skewers will go on in a few minutes.”

Her stomach rumbled in anticipation, but she had too much to do to get ready for the others’ arrivals to take time for a snack. “Excellent. Please help yourself to a soda or iced tea, and don’t hesitate to ask me for anything you need.”

“Thank you.”

She lifted a lid on a nearby cooler and found it filled with ice and canned sodas and bottled water as requested. The second cooler revealed more ice and beer—the varieties her brothers preferred and a couple of magnums of champagne. Perfect. She’d definitely use this party company again. Letting someone else do the grunt work was far better than making Patrick and Beth get up at the crack of dawn to attend to the tasks or racing over here to do it herself.

Beth hated planning events. That’s why Nicole always landed the job, and she didn’t mind because making sure things ran smoothly was sort of an obsession with her. Now more than ever. She brushed a hand over her belly.

The family picnic was a Labor Day weekend tradition—one she’d started herself after Beth and Patrick had married. If anything needed to run smoothly, today’s event did. For the most part her family members got along well, but this year they’d have not only the stress of Nicole’s pregnancy news to contend with, but also the pressure of the newest Hightower—a younger half sister none of them had known about until a month ago when she’d shown up on their doorstep and their mother had insisted she be given a job at Hightower Aviation.

Having a living, breathing reminder that her mother was a bit…um, free with her affection had been unsettling to say the least. In the past everyone including their father had pretended not to notice Jacqueline Hightower’s indiscretions, and no one talked about her affairs. It would be hard to ignore the situation with her mother’s love child at the family gathering. And how had her mother hidden a daughter for twenty-five years, anyway?

Nicole headed back to the house. From the kitchen she followed the sound of Beth’s voice toward the living room. Her sister’s tone wasn’t the one she used when talking to Patrick. Some of the nonfamily party guests must have arrived early. Probably the owner of the convertible.

“The child is not yours.” The deep voice stopped Nicole in her tracks in the foyer.

Ryan Patrick was here. Talking to Beth.

“The baby is Nicole’s,” Beth replied.

“Sweetheart,” Patrick interjected in that gentle, patient tone of his that Nicole adored. “You do understand that Mr. Patrick is offering us a lot of money to accommodate him.”

Nicole’s mouth dried and panic caused her heart to gallop. That devious bastard was trying to bribe her sister and brother-in-law into giving up her baby.

If he brainwashed Beth and Patrick, he could cut Nicole out of the child’s life altogether. She wasn’t going to let that happen.

She rushed into the room. “How dare you go behind my back?”

Ryan slowly unfolded from the leather wingback chair. His cobalt eyes locked with hers. “I’m going to the ones who have the power to make a decision—the right decision to allow this child to live with his natural father.”

She couldn’t help noticing the way his charcoal suit, pale blue shirt and crimson tie accentuated his good looks and athletic frame. But pretty is as pretty does, or so one of their many nannies had always said. And what Ryan Patrick was doing was downright ugly.

“I told you, you’re not getting this baby.”

He shoved the lapels of his suit coat aside and planted his hands on his lean hips. “If you’ve consulted your attorney, then you know that you don’t have any say in the matter.”

Unless she went to war with her family. And even then her chances were slim. She glanced at Beth and Patrick and hugged her churning middle. She couldn’t start a family feud. Her mother had wreaked enough havoc on them all over the years.

Patience, politeness and perseverance. Her motto echoed in her head. Every problem had a solution. All she had to do was find it. In the meantime, she’d have to be nice to the jerk if she wanted any chance of wringing a positive outcome from this situation. She hated sucking up to blowhards, but she’d mastered the skill.

“Could I speak with you outside a moment?” she said through a smile stretched so tightly her cheeks hurt.

Ryan gestured toward the door.

Trying to ignore the delicious tang of his cologne, she accompanied him to the center hall then led the way to the back door. He reached past her to open it for her. She marched across the backyard, heading toward the gazebo in the back corner of the lot with Ryan close on her heels. Too close.

Inside the jasmine-draped structure she put as much distance between them as the shelter would permit before facing him. How could she make him see reason?

“Do you have any brothers and sisters, Ryan?” His name felt awkward on her tongue. But she couldn’t keep calling him Mr. Patrick. Each time she said his last name she thought of the man inside the house—the man whose baby she should be carrying.

“No.”

So much for appealing to his family nature. He didn’t have one. “Then you can’t possibly understand how important it is for me to have this child for my sister.”

“That’s irrelevant. It’s not her kid. It’s mine.”

She couldn’t argue with facts. She took a calming breath and tried a different tactic. “She has been yearning for a baby for years, and she’ll love this one as if it were hers. How much experience do you have with children?”

“I’ll learn what I need to know.”

The stubborn blockhead. She had to find a way to convince him that the baby would be better off with Beth and Patrick. But how? The answer was almost too easy. She smiled.

“As you can see from the setup, we’re having a party in a few minutes. It will be mostly family with a few friends and neighbors thrown into the mix. Please join us.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“So you can see what a great life Beth and Patrick can give this baby. The child will be surrounded by a loving family. He or she will have aunts and uncles and soon, cousins. My sister-in-law is expecting to deliver just a few months before me.”

“You won’t change my mind.”

Maybe not. But it was a risk she had to take if she wanted to be a part of her baby’s life. “All I ask is that you keep an open mind and see what you’re determined to deny this child. Join us, Ryan…unless you’re allergic to good food and good company.”

He stiffened at her implied challenge and accepted her dare with a slight dip of his chin. But his drilling stare warned her he wasn’t going to make this easy for her. For the next four hours she would have her work cut out for her in convincing him to change his mind.

Her baby’s future and her role in it depended on her success in making Ryan Patrick agree to go away empty-handed.

Forty people milled about Beth and Patrick Ryan’s backyard. But only one held Ryan’s attention. Nicole Hightower.

He shouldn’t find her attractive. She wasn’t his type. He liked his women curvy and soothing. Nicole bordered on too slender and restless. Not only could she not stand still for more than thirty seconds, but also her lean build didn’t include the matronly “breeding hips” he’d chosen for his surrogate. Yet he had no problem imagining her nursing a baby at the small, but firm-looking breasts outlined by her sundress.

Not a thought he needed to entertain since that would not happen with his child. His child would be bottle-fed by a nanny from day one.

Nicole’s aqua eyes turned his way, hitting him with another megavolt jolt of awareness. She’d nailed him with a similar glance several times this afternoon, and he couldn’t prevent the unwelcome gut-jarring reaction each time their gazes met.

He didn’t want a relationship with her other than a contractual one. If all went according to his plan, she’d have his kid, hand it over and get out of his life. He didn’t want her underfoot and interfering. He didn’t need the drama.

Nicole indicated his beer with a slight nod. He shook his head. Drinking to excess didn’t mix well with sexual attraction unless he intended to end up in bed with the object of his attention. He’d done that often enough in the past couple of decades to push his father into concocting the stupid stipulation that Ryan prove his stability and maturity if he wanted to take over the reins of Patrick Architectural upon his father’s retirement next summer. If Ryan failed, his father had threatened to sell the firm. That made ignoring the chemistry between him and Nicole imperative because another short-term affair—no matter how hot it might burn before it fizzled out—wouldn’t help his cause.

A breeze lifted Nicole’s long hair away from her face. He preferred the wavy caramel-colored strands loose and swishing between her shoulder blades instead of twisted up on her head the way they had been the day he’d confronted her at her office.

Not that his preferences counted.

Genetically, she should produce a good-looking kid. She was more attractive than the surrogate he’d hired. Her face was fine-boned and full-lipped, her smile quick and frequent—except when she looked at him. Then the stretch of her lips was slow and forced as if having him here were a pain in the rear.

Another thing he’d noticed this afternoon, Nicole was a toucher. Every time someone got close enough, she reached out and brushed a hand over their arm or shoulder or kissed a cheek. That’s why he’d kept his distance. He didn’t want a repeat of the zap she’d delivered with that first handshake the day they’d met. Chemistry was great. Unless it was unwanted. Then it was nothing but trouble.

He scanned the yard, passing over each of the Hightowers. He’d bet Nicole would look exactly like her mother in forty years. She possessed the same slender build, same features. Behavior-wise, other than the high energy level, Mamma Hightower was the opposite of her daughter. Whereas Nicole was friendly, but reserved, her mother was flirtatious, gregarious and sexually aware of every move she made in that way well-maintained wealthy older women exhibited when they’d been the type to bring men to their knees in their younger days.

Nicole’s father, a silent loner who nursed his imported beer in the shade of a tall oak tree, only spoke to those who sought him out. Her older twin brothers looked identical, but one was a player and the other appeared to be an unhappily married man with an eye that often strayed from his pregnant wife to the female guests.

Ryan’s gaze skimmed over neighbors and other company until it landed on Beth and Patrick Ryan huddled in the corner of the patio. They were arguing. Again. Ryan had caught several heated exchanges between them during the past three hours.

Nicole might believe this was the perfect setup for raising a child, but Ryan sensed trouble in this suburban, cookie-cutter paradise. The tension between the couple was palpable from fifty feet away, and it had been even more obvious when he’d presented his offer before the party. Just one more reason to make damned sure he got full custody. He didn’t want his kid to be a bone of contention in an ugly divorce the way he’d been. And he’d bet his Corvette, his boat and his motorcycle the Ryans would land in divorce court sooner than later.

Beth reminded him of his mother. She wore the same self-suffering martyr attitude his mother had pulled in the years after she’d packed up a ten-year-old Ryan and moved away from her husband. Millicent Patrick had spent the next eight years using Ryan as a weapon against his father and bitching about his father’s mistress—work.

Her complaints had fallen on deaf ears. A love of architecture was something he and his father had had in common even back when Ryan had been a snot-nosed kid. For as far back as he could remember, Ryan had spent hours beside his father’s drafting table asking questions, begging to be allowed to “help.” His father had always indulged him until the separation after which he’d had little time for his only son.

Work was the only mistress he and his father respected or committed to for the long haul. Women couldn’t be trusted or counted on. A lesson he’d learned the hard way compliments of his ex-wife, the lying, cheating bitch.

His gaze shifted to the youngest Hightower. She interested him because as much as she resembled her mother and Nicole, she didn’t fit in. The roar of her Harley splitting the silence of the neighborhood had been his first clue. Like him, she was an outsider here. Not even Nicole’s frequent attempts at drawing her sister into the crowd could breach the gap between her and the rest of the siblings. And Nicole seemed to be the only one making an effort to include her sister.

The Hightower in question looked up, caught his eye and headed in his direction. Her black leather boots and jeans-covered legs crossed the lawn with a long stride. In the past the rebel in her would have called to the rebel in him. But for some reason, her wild side didn’t twitch his interest today.

She stopped in front of him. “You don’t look like one of Beth’s snooty neighbors.”

Ryan smiled. He’d made the same assumption about the guests’ attitudes. He offered his hand. “Ryan Patrick and, no, I don’t live in the area.”

Her eyebrows rose when she heard his name, but she didn’t comment. Her handshake was firm and brief with no sparks despite her resemblance to her sister. “Lauren Lynch.”

She looked enough like Nicole that he would have sworn they were closely related. “You’re not a High-tower?”

“Jacqueline is my mother, but William isn’t my father. My father died a couple of months ago. And before you strain your brain trying to unravel that long, boring story, my mother had an affair with a Hightower Aviation pilot. I’m the byproduct. She delivered me, left me with my dad and returned to her husband and other children like a good little wife.”

That explained the tension between Lauren and the Hightower siblings. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

She shrugged. “Thanks. Losing my dad was hard, but his passing gave me the opportunity to meet a family I didn’t know I had. So what brings you here? Are you a Hightower Aviation client?”

He wasn’t ready to reveal the truth. “Not yet, but I’m considering contracting the company.”

Access to a plane would make his life easier since he traveled the country on a regular basis. He definitely wanted to contract one of the Hightowers. But not for flying.

“Married?” Lauren asked.

He gave her credit for being direct. “Not anymore. You?”

“No way. Never have been. Probably never will be. Do you have any children?”

“Not yet.”

Lauren glanced down at her beer bottle then back up at him through lashes as long and thick as her sister’s. “Can I give you a hint?”

About what? “Sure.”

“Nicole’s probably the most decent one in the bunch. Maybe even the only decent Hightower. But she’s going to be a hard nut to crack because…Well, she just is. I’ll let you figure out the whys. Stick with her. She’s worth it.”

Were all women born with a matchmaking gene?

“What makes you think I’m interested in Nicole?”

Lauren grinned and sipped her beer. “Could be the way you’ve been watching her all afternoon.”

Guilty. But how else was he going to learn about the mother of his child? He searched for her. Nicole had joined her sister and brother-in-law and was currently engaged in a hushed but animated conversation. Nicole covered her belly with one hand. Her gaze bounced over the crowd and landed on Ryan. He didn’t know what her sister had said to upset her, but the distress on her face was clear. Adrenaline shot through his system.

“Go ahead,” Lauren prompted.

“Go ahead and what?”

“Ride to her rescue. You know you want to.”

Smart girl. “Is Nicole the type to need rescuing?”

Lauren grimaced. “Let’s just say if I were her, I would have told this bunch of leeches to go to hell a long time ago. But she’s the one deputized to maintain the peace.”

Lauren was full of interesting factoids. One of these days he’d buy her dinner and pick her brain. “Nice meeting you, Lauren.”

“You, too, Ryan. And good luck.”

He wasn’t going to need luck. He had the law on his side.

His feet carried him across the grass to the trio. “Problem?”

Beth shook her head and gave him a disingenuous smile—the only kind he’d seen from her to date. “We’ve decided against announcing Nicole’s pregnancy today.”

He liked the sound of that. The longer they delayed, the more time he’d have to prepare for the possibility of the entire Hightower clan siding against him. The extra time would give him time to plot a new strategy.

But why would the decision to keep the news under wraps upset Nicole? He searched her face, but didn’t find his answer.

Little did she know, she’d done him a favor by showing him the dissension amongst the Hightowers, and she’d given him ammunition toward suing for sole custody.

He needed to divide and conquer the trio wanting a piece of his kid, starting with the weakest link. Nicole’s brother-in-law, the greedy bastard.

Chapter Three

“Ryan Patrick is here for your lunch appointment.”

Lea’s announcement made Nicole’s already stretched nerves snarl. Her fingers spasmed on the keyboard, filling the document on her monitor with a spew of gibberish.

She punched the intercom button. “We don’t have a lunch appointment.”

“Yes, you do. He called and I scheduled it.”

She wanted to strangle her assistant. “What does he want?”

“There’s only one way to find out.” The smirk in Lea’s voice came through the speaker loud and clear.

Nicole saved her work, closed the file and rose. She’d fix the gibberish later. She wasn’t capable now. “Send him in. But Lea, don’t make any more surprise appointments for me. And stop matchmaking. Your record proves you suck at it.”

Over the past few years Lea had made a determined effort to find the man who could make Nicole forget Patrick. Her friend couldn’t accept that such a man didn’t exist.

Unlike Nicole’s fickle mother who changed her lovers as often as she touched up her manicure, Nicole would only love once in her lifetime. She’d rather be alone than with the wrong man—or a series of them. And she was very careful not to let herself board that crazy lust-love-crash roller coaster. Whenever she realized she was in line for that ride she stepped aside. No more heartache for her.

Moments later her door swung inward and Ryan filled the opening. He wore a black suit with a white shirt and a cobalt tie that matched his eyes. Her stomach fluttered.

Who would her child take after? Him or her?

The man would make beautiful babies.

Never mind. Looks don’t matter. A healthy baby is all you’re after.

“Nicole.” He nodded his dark head in a greeting and his eyes raked over her, making her very conscious of how her raspberry-pink V-neck, wraparound dress clung to her pregnancy swollen breasts. “Ready?”

His low-pitched voice scraped over her nerve endings like an emery board, leaving her feeling raw and exposed and strangely out of sorts.

“Why are you here, Ryan?”

He pushed the door closed between him and Lea. “Because I’d like to know something about the woman carrying my child besides the sparse raw data in the clinic’s file. I imagine you have questions concerning my health and history, too.”

Now that he mentioned it, she did. With Patrick she hadn’t needed to ask because she’d already known everything about him.

Do this for Beth and for the baby you’re carrying for her.

What was it the old cliché said? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Ryan Patrick qualified as the latter. He definitely threatened all she held dear. And the only way she could learn more about him was by spending time with him.

“I can give you a couple of hours.”

“That’s all we’ll need.”

She grabbed her purse and crossed the room. He opened the door as she approached and pressed his hand to her waist to guide her through as she passed by him. Every cell in her body snapped to attention startling her so much she bumped the door frame.

He caught her upper arm and steadied her, his fingers branding a circle around her biceps. “Careful.”

Their gazes met. Her heart stuttered. Why did he have to have this effect on her? The man was an arrogant ass.

You’re carrying his baby. Of course you’re going to have a reaction to him.

Nicole shook off his hold.

Lea grinned unrepentantly. “Have a great lunch. Don’t rush back. I have everything under control.”

Nicole frowned at her assistant. “I’ll be back in time for my next appointment.”

“Your two o’clock postponed until four. I can reschedule him until tomorrow, if you’d like.”

Nicole glared a warning. “Don’t you dare.”

“Well, take it easy. You have plenty of time.”

Not what she needed Ryan to hear when she wanted an excuse to cut lunch short. But she bit back her reservations and accompanied him outside to his Corvette. He opened the door for her. She avoided his touch and slid into the leather seat.

He climbed into the driver’s side, making the luxurious sports car feel crowded. His scent filled her nostrils and his nearness addled her nerves.

“Why did your sister failing to announce your pregnancy upset you?” he asked as he started the car.

Give the man points for being perceptive. But her feelings were none of his business. “It didn’t.”

He cut her a hard look before pulling onto the road. “I don’t like or respect liars.”

She gasped, gritted her teeth and focused on her three P’s. Patience, politeness, perseverance. “I like things to go according to schedule. Beth changed the schedule at the last minute. That’s all. No big deal.”

But it was. A week ago Beth had been ecstatic about the upcoming announcement and ready to blurt out the news at any second. Waiting until the party had driven her up the wall, but she’d claimed she wanted the announcement to be memorable. So why had her sister suddenly developed cold feet? Was she having doubts about adopting this baby now that she knew it wasn’t her husband’s? Or maybe Patrick was the one with doubts.

Nicole caught herself examining Ryan’s cleanly chiseled profile and the soft line of his lips. She felt the stirrings of something deep inside her abdomen and clamped down on the unwelcome feelings. She was not attracted to him. She was merely curious to know if her—Beth’s baby would inherit those great genes.

She turned away from his face to look out the window. He drove through downtown, past the university and toward Volunteer Landing, a riverfront section of the Tennessee River flanked by a park, restaurants, pricey condos and the sprawling hospital complex. On summer weekends tourists and locals filled the concrete stands along the water to watch the water ski and wakeboard competitions. It had been ages since she’d taken the time to attend one of the events.

But instead of parking at the Landing, he crossed the Henley Street Bridge and turned into an exclusive gated condominium complex. A guard waved him through the entrance. The tall, modern waterfront structure had expansive windows and long cantilevered porches. This wasn’t a commercial property.

A parade of prickles marched up her spine. “Where are we going?”

“My place.”

Too private. Too personal. Too…everything. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He parked in the ground level area beneath the condos beside a wicked-looking black motorcycle and turned off the engine. Both his and the motorcycle’s parking spaces were labeled 10A.

“Would you prefer to discuss our unusual situation across the river at Calhoun’s or Ruth’s Chris where we might be overheard?”

As much as she liked both restaurants, he’d made a good point. “Um…no. The motorcycle is yours?”

“Yes.”

That made him a risk-taker. Not good parent material.

A vision of him straddling the machine and dressed in black leather flashed in her head. The confines of the car suddenly felt stuffy. She shoved open the door, climbed out and let the breeze blowing off the water cool her hot skin.

He led her toward a bank of elevators. Her heels rapped out a beat on the concrete almost as rapidly as her heart knocked in her chest. Inside the elevator he punched the button for the top floor, and the brushed steel cubicle shot upward quickly and noiselessly.

The doors opened onto a spacious atrium-style foyer with a modern peaked glass ceiling similar to the pyramid shapes at the Louvre. Natural light flooded the plant-filled space, and a fountain gurgled in the center. Four doors opened off opposite sides of the octagonal area.

“This is nice.” Too modern for her traditional tastes, but still attractive with its curved teak benches and pebbled pathways.

“Thanks. I designed the building.”

Extremely pricey waterfront real estate. Penthouse level. Her worry multiplied as she filed the information away. Neither she nor Beth and Patrick could afford the kind of lengthy legal brawl Ryan apparently could. Not that any of them were hurting for cash, but they weren’t in league with someone who could afford multimilliondollar accommodations.

Ryan unlocked a door on the river side of the building and gestured for her to precede him. Dreading the hour to come, she gathered her courage and entered Ryan Patrick’s domain.

His entry opened directly into a huge living area with a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows. Dark slate floors gleamed beneath her feet. The stone might be beautiful, but it would be hard and cold and hazardous for a child learning to crawl or walk. The urban industrial upscale furnishings would also be problematic with their sharp brushed steel edges and glass table tops.

She crossed to the window and looked down. A wave of vertigo hit her, and she staggered back to assess Ryan’s space from a safer distance away from the glass. Outside to her left a stark, Plexiglas-railed patio jutted from the dining area beside her to the far end of the building. The modern stone sculptures, plant holders and glass-and-steel dining set couldn’t keep the slab from looking like a giant diving platform from which you could tumble right over the edge.

The condo suited him perfectly. Dark. Edgy. Cold. Dangerous.

Taking tiny, careful steps she forced herself to return to the window and a clear view of World’s Fair Park with its Sunsphere. The Tennessee River drifted lazily past ten stories below. Volunteer Landing stretched along the opposite bank with its broad walkway and manmade water features. The tourist paddle boat, a favorite for weddings, clung to the shore upstream.

In front of Ryan’s complex on this side of the river a long boat dock floated parallel to the tiny green space. Watercraft of assorted sizes filled the slips.

“Is one of those yours, too?” She pointed to the boats.

“Third from the right.”

She knew enough about water sports from her brothers’ exploits to recognize the long, low boat had been built for speed.

Ryan’s place was a mother’s nightmare. Add in his expensive and risky toys and the possibility of her child growing up here scared her witless. “Your home isn’t suitable for children.”

“Why?”

She startled at his nearness and spun to find him standing only inches away—far too close. She hadn’t heard him cross the room. She sidestepped to put a few feet between them.

“Besides the fact that you apparently have a death wish with your need-for-speed toys?”

His muscles tensed. “I’m careful.”

She rolled her eyes at the ridiculous statement. “There’s no fencing to keep a child from falling off the dock and into the murky water, and there isn’t nearly enough grass for a child to run and play. Children need playgrounds and yards.”

“City kids around the world manage without acre lots.”

“Are there any other children in this building?”

His jaw shifted. He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“A child needs playmates. Beth and Patrick’s place is better suited.”

His intense blue gaze held hers. “Forget your sister and her husband for a moment. This lunch is about you and me.”

Her pulse stuttered. “How so?”

He advanced a step. She retreated one. “I’ve been tested for HIV and every other sexually transmitted disease and I’m clean. Have you been tested?”

Startled by his blunt question, she flinched. “No. There was no need.”

“You’re a virgin?”

Her cheeks burned. “Of course not. I’m twenty-eight.”

But she was careful. More careful than anyone knew. Because she didn’t want to end up like her mother.

“I required testing from my other surrogate candidates. I’ll set up an appointment for you.”

Appalled, she sputtered. “You’ll do no such thing. I’m not one of your candidates.”

“No. You’re the woman carrying my child. That makes a clean bill of health even more critical. Get tested voluntarily or I’ll get a court order.”

She snapped her gaping mouth closed. “You can’t do that.”

“I’ve already spoken to my attorney. I can. This is my kid. I have a vested interest in his welfare.”

Nicole wanted to slap her hands over her ears, but she refrained. “Stop saying that. Your contribution was an accident. You weren’t there. You had nothing to do with it. And if the clinic hadn’t broken the law and given you my confidential information then you wouldn’t even know my name.”

“Irrelevant. I know who you are, and I’m not going away. Do us both a favor and don’t make our lawyers rich.” He turned, releasing her from the tension of his total concentration, removed his suit coat and tossed it over the back of a minimalist leather chair.

She took the opportunity to move away from him. He made her uncomfortable. Why? She had no idea. She dealt with powerful men on a daily basis—men who were in-her-face obnoxious and demanding. She easily kept her cool with them. It wasn’t as easy with Ryan.

Because he’s threatening your—Beth’s—baby. That makes it personal.

He faced her again, unbuttoned his cuffs then started rolling up his sleeves. “Do you smoke?”

The slow revelation of a tanned, muscled forearm riveted her attention. “No.”

“Drink alcohol?”

“Occasionally. But not at all now that I’m expecting.”

“Have you had more than five sexual partners?”

Offended, she stiffened. “That is none of your business. Take me back to my office. Now.”

He finished rolling up his second sleeve and parked his hands on those lean hips. “These are standard questions from the fertility clinic questionnaire which they neglected to have you complete. You have the right to ask the same questions of me. And you should.”

As rude and insulting as he’d been, he was also correct and fair-minded. She hated that a virtual stranger had the right to pry into her personal business. But what if he ended up sharing custody of this child with Beth and Patrick? She—correction—Beth and Patrick needed to know everything about him.

“The clinic doesn’t accept donations from or inseminate HIV-positive clients. If you’d done your research, you would know that.”

“They also claim they don’t make mistakes.”

Point to Ryan. She sighed. “I’ve had less than five partners. You?”

“More than five. But I’ve been careful. Are you seeing anyone now?”

“No.” This was worse than a blind date. “Are you? Is there a woman who’ll have problems with my pregnancy?”

“No.”

“A man?”

His venomous look should have dropped her on the spot, but she had to ask since his solo quest for a child was an unusual one.

His blue eyes scanned her body, leaving a ripple of sensation in their wake. “Do you have any habits that might aversely affect my child’s well-being?”

“I never would have agreed to carry this child for Beth if I did, and I don’t take any drugs except for the prenatal vitamins.”

“Good. Let’s eat.” He walked away.

“I’d rather go back to work.” Or even as far away as Alaska to get away from him.

“You need to eat for yourself and the baby,” he called over his shoulder.

Unfortunately, he was right again. Rather than wait for him in his austere living room, she followed him into a spacious kitchen with stone countertops, glass-front upper cabinets and top-of-the-line stainless steel appliances. As much as he’d already unsettled her stomach with his intrusive questions, she doubted she’d be able to swallow a bite.

He pulled a casserole dish from the top of the double oven. A delicious tomato-and-garlic scent filled the air. Her stomach growled in anticipation. “You assumed a lot by preparing a meal before I agreed to go out with you.”

“We both have the kid’s best interest at heart, and from what I’ve read about you, you’re intelligent enough to know we need to have this discussion. Take a seat and help yourself. It’s vegetable lasagna.”

He had no idea how close she’d come to refusing his “invitation.” She crossed to the glass-topped iron table. He set the rectangular dish on a trivet in the center then returned to pull a loaf of bread from the bottom oven. He sliced the bread, tossed the slices into a basket and brought the basket to the table.

She could get used to a man who was good in the kitchen.

Oh no you won’t.

Next he retrieved a bowl of marinated green beans with grape tomatoes and a pitcher of iced tea from the refrigerator and placed them in the middle of the table, then he sat across from her and filled their glasses.

Nicole’s stomach did one of those weird things it had been doing a lot lately. In a split second it went from not remotely interested in food to ravenous. She loaded her plate and as soon as Ryan had done the same, she dug into the lasagna. The tangy, sauce made her eyes roll back in pleasure, and the thick chunks of eggplant and mushroom tasted better than anything she’d eaten in ages.

She ate for several minutes before looking up and finding his gaze on her. Embarrassed by her unladylike appetite, she paused with her fork halfway to her mouth—the mouth his eyes had focused on. “You know how to cook?”

“My grandmother made sure I learned.”

She’d always envied her friends whose men enjoyed sharing the kitchen with them. But that kind of domestic bliss wasn’t on her agenda. “This is very good.”

“Thank you.” He watched her tuck a tomato between her lips and something changed in his eyes. Something that caused her stomach muscles to tense and her pulse to flutter.

She fought off the sensation and concentrated on the things she didn’t like about him. His bossiness. His risky hobbies. His determination to deprive her of her child.

“Despite your domestic skills, between your motorcycle and your boat and from what I’ve read about you, you’re nowhere near responsible enough to raise a child.”

“You shouldn’t believe what you read in the gossip columns.”

How could she ignore what her Google search had revealed? Look at him. What woman wouldn’t want him? Except her, that is. He was smart, successful and wealthy. Hadn’t her brothers proven that men constantly bombarded with women tended to be selfish and far from good father material?

“Do you or do you not trade in your women more often than most people charge their cell-phone batteries? A child needs security and stability.”

“I haven’t been involved in a long-term relationship lately, if that’s what you’re asking. Have you?”

“My love life is none of your business.”

“It is if your habits could endanger my kid’s health.”

Her mouth opened and closed like a goldfish, but she couldn’t manage to dredge up a blistering comeback. Once again, as ugly as his comment might have been, his concern was valid. “That isn’t an issue.”

“I want a copy of your medical records and to attend every doctor’s appointment with you.”

She bit her tongue. Pain stabbed her mouth. “What?”

“You’ll need to transfer your records to the obstetrical practice I’ve chosen.”

“Are you out of your mind? You can’t make those decisions for me.”

“I want to track his development. And this obstetrical group is the best in the region.”

She shoved her plate aside. “First of all, he might be a she. Second, I have my own doctor. I’ve been seeing her for years, and I’m not changing. You can’t make me.”

He weighed her words as if debating arguing. “Is he or she board certified?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t go to a hack—especially now. I’ll have my doctor fax you a report after each visit.”

“Not good enough. I want to be able to address questions as they arise and see the ultrasound scans.”

Any child would be lucky to have a parent so interested. If only hers had been, but her father had been too busy with his gambling buddies.

“I’ll check with my doctor, but I think she’ll agree to meet with you. I also want to make sure Beth and Patrick are comfortable with your intrusion.”

Not that either of them had attended her appointments thus far. Their absence had surprised Nicole. But maybe the obstetrical appointments were painful reminders of Beth’s inability to conceive.

“They’ll have to deal with it. Get used to it, Nicole. I will be a part of this child’s life with or without your voluntary consent. And I won’t be parked in the waiting room at the doctor’s office. I’ll be right by your side during every examination.”

Chapter Four

Ryan’s audacity astounded Nicole. He was backing her into a corner, and she really didn’t like it.

She could feel her muscles tensing, her heart pounding and her hands trembling. She silently chanted her three P’s. Her mantra didn’t have its usual calming effect. The urge to tell him to go to hell nearly overcame her good manners, but volatile reactions never solved a problem. They only exacerbated the situation, and alienating him was the last thing she needed to do.

“You can’t impose on my private doctor’s appointments.”

“Would you like to bet on that? Your exams are also my child’s exams. I have the right to make sure you’re following doctor’s orders and not endangering my kid.”

She crumpled the cloth napkin in her lap and her toes curled in her shoes. “I would never do that!”

It took everything Nicole had to rein in her temper. For Patrick and Beth’s sake, for her baby’s sake, she had to find a solution—a peaceable solution. She excelled at finding ways to make the impossible happen at work. Wasn’t she known as the go-to girl? But compromise ideas were scarce now.

She’d learned that whenever a problem was this complex it helped to break it down into manageable increments and address each component separately. She needed time and distance away from Ryan to get her thoughts in line.

Carefully pushing her chair back from the table, she took a deep breath and then rose to her feet. “Thank you for lunch, but I’d like to leave now.”

He stood more slowly. “You haven’t finished your lunch.”

“I don’t think I can eat another bite. Morning sickness.” More like man sickness.

“It’s not morning.”

“The baby doesn’t wear a Rolex.” Ryan did—an expensive gold model like her father had gambled away at a casino. She remembered the screaming match that had ensued when her mother found out.

“I’ll drive you.”

She dropped her napkin beside her plate. “I’d rather call a taxi.”

“We haven’t finished our discussion.”

She couldn’t possibly remain polite in his company. “There’s no need. Please have your physician fax your health records to my office.”

“Mine?” His dark eyebrows winged upward.

“Yes. Yours. As you pointed out, I—we have every right to know if this baby will inherit something from you that might affect the pregnancy or delivery.”

“I told you I was healthy.”

“And you expect me to take the word of a stranger?” She threw his words back at him, and then smothered a wince.

That wasn’t nice, Nicole.

But maybe if he realized how ridiculously intrusive he was being then he’d back off.

“I’ll take care of it. But I’m not calling a cab for you. I brought you. I’ll take you back.” His inflexible tone and rock-hard jaw warned her arguing would be a waste of time.

Some battles weren’t worth fighting. As long as she won the war—and she would win—she could concede this one. “Fine. Lead the way.”

“Before you go, I have one more request.”

Her insides snarled into a tense knot at the calculating glint in his baby blues. Her control was already teetering on the edge. One teensy shove and she’d lose her temper.

“If you find my home unsuitable, then help me find another one.”

She blinked and swallowed, not liking the direction of his thinking. “Why would I do that? And why would you want me to?”

“Because we both want my child to be raised in a safe environment.”

My child. The words raised her hackles, her temperature and her heart rate each time he said them. But at the same time, she couldn’t help but be impressed that he cared enough to make the effort to provide a better environment. “A real-estate agent would be more knowledgeable.”

“Without a doubt. I’ll engage one to find the houses, but she won’t have a personal stake in my decision. You might as well know I intend to sue for sole custody, but worse case scenario, I’ll end up sharing with Beth and Patrick. Either way, I’m looking for a safe place, and I know you have a vested interest in my selection.”

He’d certainly laid his cards on the table. And while part of her respected him for his honesty, the other hated knowing his strategy.

Her lawyer had confirmed the courts would be unlikely to deny him some form of connection. If the worst case scenario he mentioned came about, the child’s welfare came first. And she’d rather her child live anywhere than here in a place where his or her safety would always be at risk.

“I’ll help you find a house. But don’t believe for one minute that equates to me accepting the inevitability of you as a parent to my—this baby. You are not parent material.”

One corner of his mouth quirked up with stomach-flipping, breath-catching effect. “Guess I’ll have to prove you wrong.”

“Is that your latest floozy?” Harlan Patrick spit the question from the opposite side of Ryan’s desk.

Ryan glanced at the photo lying on the top of the open file he’d composed on Hightower Aviation. He’d printed the professional shot of Nicole from the Hightower Web page. The photographer hadn’t managed to catch the fire in her aquamarine eyes or the golden glints in her light brown hair.

He wasn’t ready to share his surrogacy plan with his father yet or discuss how it had gone wrong. “I don’t sleep with every woman I meet.”

His father snorted in disbelief. He’d always believed the worst of his son—probably because until recently Ryan had given him reason to. Ryan had spent a lot of time acting obnoxious as a kid hoping his mother would get sick of his shenanigans and send him back to his father, but his strategy hadn’t worked. By the time he’d gone off to college the rebel pattern had become a habit.

But his partying and rebelling days were over. And while he would never deliberately deceive anyone, he wasn’t above letting his father’s tendency to jump to conclusions work in his favor for once.

Nicole Hightower was exactly the kind of woman his father wanted him to marry. Ryan had no intentions of marrying anyone, but if his father saw him and Nicole together and believed there might be a long-term relationship in Ryan’s future, then he wasn’t going to correct him. At least not now. There would be ample time for that later—after his father handed over the presidency of Patrick Architectural.

“Her name is Nicole Hightower. She’s a client services manager for Hightower Aviation Management Corporation.” He removed Nicole’s picture from the file, laid it to the side of his blotter and passed the folder to his father. “We should consider fractional ownership or leasing a plane from HAMC.”

“Why? So you can have another damned expensive toy? My God, Ryan, you risk your neck with no thought to who will take over Patrick Architectural if you kill yourself.”

The repetitive lecture that had launched Ryan’s current campaign set his teeth on edge.

“You already have a thirty-thousand-dollar motorcycle and a sixty-thousand-dollar boat. What next? A five-million-dollar plane? And I suppose you want to get your pilot’s license, too.”

Ryan bit back his irritation. “I don’t want or need a pilot’s license. Hightower maintains and staffs the plane. Patrick Architectural flies associates all over the country on a last-minute basis, and we pay a premium for those tickets. High tower guarantees that if we contract their services we could have our plane and their pilot on the runway within four hours or less.”

“Pretentious waste of money.”

“They’d fly us directly to our destination without connecting flights, layovers, limited flight schedules and other inconveniences. They can even land the jets at smaller airports when there isn’t a large hub near our destination.”

“The costs of owning a plane would be prohibitive.” His father dismissed the idea without even looking at the data. Typical.

“Not necessarily. I’ve talked to a Hightower representative. There are a variety of options. We can buy a plane outright, lease or even buy a specified number of flight hours per month or year in a pay-as-you-go program. The best deal is fractional ownership which means we’d only buy a oneeighth to one-sixteenth share, but a plane would always be available to us. When the size of our team required it, we’d be able to request a smaller or larger aircraft.

“The company makes it work for us. Their motto is Comfort, Convenience and Time Savings. From what I’ve heard, they deliver that promise.”

He rolled to his feet, circled the desk and tapped the folder in his father’s hands. “Turn to the chart on page six. Take a look at the data I asked Cindy to compile.”

God bless his assistant’s fascination with tracking the most ludicrous factoids.

He waited until his father did as asked. “This graph catalogs how much time our employees have lost over the past year on layovers, flight delays, inconvenient connector flights and last-minute cancellations or reroutings. They’re on the clock during that lost travel time. There’s your waste of money. Averaged out, our total travel expense comes close to covering the monthly cost for fractional ownership, but without the added benefit of a tax write-off and convenience. Access to our own plane would allow us to expand globally.”

His father’s gaze sharpened as the idea took root and the automatic rejection to any idea Ryan presented faded. Harlan ran a finger down the sheet as he perused the data a second time.

Ryan shoved his hands in his pockets and walked to the window overlooking downtown Knoxville. “The packet includes Hightower Aviation’s brochure. Read the documentation and you’ll see that a plane could be an expedient asset for us. If we set up the aircraft as a mobile office complete with wireless Internet and a fax machine, we could work midair and-or meet with clients on the way to a site. A bedroom suite containing a full bath is also available so we can fly overnight and arrive rested and ready to work first thing in the morning—negating the additional expense of a hotel room. An airplane is not a frivolous waste of money.”

“And the girl?”

His father wasn’t stupid. Ryan had known he wouldn’t be so easily distracted. He faced his father, who also happened to be his mentor and sometimes his enemy. “As our client services representative Nicole would be our main contact. When we need to travel we’d call her directly and tell her our requirements—right down to which meals we’d want served on the flight. It’s her job to make it happen.”

“You think she’d be assigned to us?”

“I’m told she’s the best they have. We would make her part of any deal we strike.”

His father tapped the edge of the folder on Ryan’s desk. “I’ll give it a look, but I doubt it’s feasible.”

Another wave of irritation washed over Ryan. “If it weren’t feasible, I wouldn’t have presented the idea to you.”

“We’ll see.”

Ryan smothered his frustration. History had shown his father would do everything he could to prove Ryan’s idea a bad one. Only when he couldn’t, would he come around.

Ryan looked forward to the day his father retired, leaving Ryan as president of Patrick Architectural. But first he had to prove he could handle the job, or his father would sell the firm his great-grandfather had started right out from under him.

Days like today convinced Nicole she was doing the right thing. She sank onto her sofa and pried her pumps off her swollen feet Saturday afternoon with a smile on her face.

Seeing Beth’s excitement as they raced around Knoxville shopping the baby goods sales filled Nicole with a sense of purpose and rightness. This would work out. All she had to do was keep the fly out of the ointment. The fly being Ryan Patrick.

Thinking of him made her smile fade. The three days without seeing or hearing from him had been good and relaxing. She’d even forgotten about him several times. For a few minutes.

Exhaustion slammed her suddenly from out of nowhere. During the past month her morning sickness had been minimal and manageable, but she hadn’t been able to eliminate the fatigue. When it hit, it hit hard and fast. Yawning, she stretched out on the cushions and pulled a floral woven throw over her legs.

She was floating in that hazy just-before-sleep stage when her doorbell rang. Forcing open her eyes, she blinked at the cuckoo clock on the wall until her eyes focused on the hands. Beth had dropped her off barely ten minutes ago. Her sister must have forgotten something.

Nicole levered her body upright, trudged barefoot to the front door of her town house and yanked it open. Instead of Beth, Ryan Patrick stood on her welcome mat—a most unwelcome sight. Surprise knocked her back a step, and her warm and fuzzy good mood evaporated instantly.

Her lack of shoes gave him the height advantage. She had to tip her head way back to look at him. He looked gorgeous in a black polo shirt with his bright blue eyes and an afternoon beard shadowing his angular jaw.

“How did you get my home address?”

“Your clinic file.” His thorough head-to-toe inspection made her yearn to smooth her hair and check her makeup which was ridiculous considering she didn’t care what he thought of her appearance.

How dare he invade her personal space? Antagonism prickled over her. She tried to rein it in. Tried and failed miserably. She could feel her face getting hotter. “Did you need something so urgently you couldn’t call?”

“I called and left a message. You didn’t reply. I don’t have your cell-phone number.”

And he never would. “I’ve been out all morning and just returned home. I haven’t checked my machine yet. What do you want?”

Ooh. That hadn’t sounded friendly. Tamp the hostility, Nicole.

“We have an appointment to look at a couple of houses this afternoon.”

“We?”

“You agreed to help me search.”

So she had. But today? She needed time to prepare for his company and time to concoct excuses to avoid him. “And if I’m busy this afternoon?”

“Are you?”

She’d love a nap, but admitting weakness to the enemy was never good strategy. Times like this made her miss the caffeine she’d given up for her pregnancy. She needed a jolt to put up with Ryan. “Nothing that can’t wait.”

“Grab whatever you need and let’s go.”

Resigned to a few miserable hours, she put on her shoes, scooped up her purse and followed him out the door with a serious lack of enthusiasm weighting her steps. She’d rather spend her day staked to an ant hill than beside him in his Corvette.

His absolute certainty that he’d win custody of her baby unsettled her and made her doubt her ability to do her job. Her job was to give Beth and Patrick the family they yearned for.

He negotiated his way out of downtown and headed east on the interstate before glancing in her direction. “You left the house early this morning. I called at eight.”

She wasn’t in the mood for chitchat, but the situation demanded she keep things civil. When she caught herself studying the way his khaki pants clung to his long, muscular thighs she quickly transferred her attention to the rolling hills outside the windshield.

“There was an early-bird sale across town. Beth and I were shopping for baby things. She gets teary-eyed and chokes up when she handles the tiny clothes. I bet you don’t do that.”

A beat of silence passed. “I thought pregnant women were supposed to be the emotional ones.”

“Maybe she’s having sympathy pains. Studies show that some husbands have sympathy morning sickness. Apparently adoptive mothers-to-be can, too. Beth and I were always close.” Sometimes too close. Sometimes she’d wondered if Beth were living vicariously through her, because her sister preferred to stay at home and read or watch movies then hear about Nicole’s adventures later.

“If men appear to share morning sickness it’s only because watching their wives heave makes them want to do the same.”

She struggled with the juvenile urge to stick out her tongue at him. She knew Beth shared her roller-coaster emotional swings—swings which had grown worse for both of them since Ryan had exploded into their lives two weeks ago—because she’d witnessed a few wild fluctuations. “You are a cynic.”

“Not a cynic. A realist. I see things for what they are.”

And he was bitter, too, from the sounds of it. “What do you know about pregnant women?”

“I spent nine months with my ex-wife.”

Shock stilled her breath. That implied he had fathered a child before. “You said firstborn Patricks always took over the family firm. Why isn’t this child?”

“She wasn’t mine.” The hard, flat words opened a Pandora’s box of questions.

“I’m not following. She was your wife’s child but not yours?”

A nerve twitched in his clenched jaw. “Yes. The neighborhood is a mile ahead on your left.”

She’d spotted the signs for several Douglas Lake housing developments a few miles back, but location didn’t interest her at the moment. His evasion did.

“We’ve proven you’re fertile, so she obviously didn’t need to use donor sperm. Was she involved with someone before you? No, wait. You said you were with her for the full nine months. You’re going to have to explain that.”

He sliced a quick, hard glance her way. “And if I said it’s none of your business?”

“I’d remind you you’re the one who told me to ask questions about your sexual history.”

He pursed his lips and blew out a slow breath. “My girlfriend was screwing my best friend. I was too blind to see it. When the pregnancy test turned up positive she swore the baby was mine. I married her. Turns out she lied.”

Poor guy. From the sounds of it, like her father he’d been wronged by the woman he loved. But unlike her father, Ryan hadn’t hung around for more of the same bad medicine. But then everyone knew her father only stayed because the money came from her mother’s side of the family, and her mother owned the lion’s share of Hightower Aviation.

“I’m sorry. How long ago was that?”

“Fourteen years.”

“Were you involved in her pregnancy before you found out?”

“Every damned day. Through every doctor’s appointment, every time she hugged the toilet and every midnight craving.”

No wonder he was such a jerk now. Betrayal could make you bitter—if you chose to let it. She’d chosen not to. Just as she’d chosen not to let sympathy soften her dislike of him.

“How did you find out? Did your wife eventually tell you?”

“Hell no. My best friend was African-American. Let’s just say my beautiful blond wife’s daughter was the spitting image of her daddy.”

Ouch. So he’d lost a wife, a best friend and a child at the same time. Triple whammy. “Have you kept in touch with them?”

“Why would I?”

Typical male. “Is she happier with him than she was with you?”

“How the hell would I know? And why would I care?”

“If you truly love someone, then you want them to be happy—even if it’s not with you.” That’s what she wished for Patrick.

Ryan looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “That’s bull.”

“We choose whether to look on the positive or negative side of a situation.”

“You’re a real Pollyanna, aren’t you?”

Her spine stiffened. Was he laughing at her? “Because I focus on what I have instead of what I don’t have?”

Shaking his head, he turned the car into a new and exclusive waterfront community, went a few blocks then drove up a winding driveway through thick evergreen trees. The property had to be several acres. A beautiful two-story house with a wraparound porch came into view, but even before he stopped the car by the three-car garage Nicole knew the place would never work.

A multitude of objections gathered on her tongue, but “No,” was all her quickly tiring brain could manage.

“You haven’t even seen the place.”

She smothered the yawn she couldn’t hold back. “All I need to see is the steep drop-off to the lake. If you tripped, you’d roll like a snowball going down a ski slope. Don’t get me wrong, Ryan, the house is gorgeous and it’s a lovely neighborhood, but there’s no way to make that yard safe for a toddler to run and play in.”

He scanned the property again as if verifying her words.

“Wait here.” He climbed from the car and greeted the suit-clad woman climbing from a minivan bearing a local real estate agent’s sign on the door. After speaking with her he returned to the Corvette.

Resting his forearm on the steering wheel, he twisted in his seat to face her. “The next house is waterfront, too. Should we even bother to look at it?”

“You like your water, don’t you?”

“I used to row and wakeboard competitively in college.”

Why didn’t that surprise her? He had the wide shoulders and thick biceps either of those sports would develop. One of those big arms drew her attention now. She’d bet the fingers of both her hands together couldn’t circle the width. For a split second she wondered what he’d look like wearing nothing but swim trunks. Shaking her head, she banished the image of his lean, tanned frame.

Why did his physique fascinate her?

Because your child carries half his DNA and might inherit some of those attractive traits.

Satisfied with her answer she met his gaze. “Water is a hazard. But if you can fence it off, then maybe it would work. I guess this means you’re not going to give up your dangerous toys just because you’re about to become a father.”

His eyes narrowed. “No.”

She gave him credit for his honesty—even though she knew she’d recommend Beth to use it against him in the custody battle. But Ryan had a lot to learn if he thought a baby wouldn’t change his life. She wasn’t even keeping the child, and pregnancy had completely changed hers. She wasn’t sure her life would ever return to normal.

Chapter Five

Ryan couldn’t remember the last time a woman had fallen asleep on him without the prelude of mind-blowing sex. The sleep part had always been his cue to slip out and avoid the postmortem. Leaving wasn’t an option now.

Waiting for the red light to change, he silently drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and let his gaze skim over Nicole’s face. Her thick lashes couldn’t conceal the lavender circles beneath her eyes. According to her clinic file she was about ten weeks pregnant, in her first trimester.

Jeanette had slept a lot, too, during those early weeks. She’d missed enough classes to flunk out of college. His ex had also complained incessantly about her lack of energy, her nausea and her frequent need to pee—as if each irritation had been Ryan’s fault. She’d wanted to be waited on hand and foot and played every sympathy card in the deck. Love-struck sucker that he’d been he’d fallen for her act. His mother’s manipulative attitude should have made him immune to those kinds of tricks, but the old “Love is blind” adage had certainly applied to him.

Nicole, on the other hand, hadn’t said a word about her condition. She hadn’t even complained about being hungry. She’d simply pulled a snack and a bottle of water from her tote bag. And then twenty minutes ago in the middle of discussing the pros and cons of the house they’d toured she’d trailed off midsentence. He’d looked over and found her slumped sideway in her seat asleep.

The tilted position caused her V-neck top to gape, revealing the swell of her pale breasts. That distracting sight combined with her soft, parted lips had hit him with a grenade of hunger.

The urge to stroke a silky lock of hair from her cheek was about as welcome as a severe case of poison ivy. He shook off the feeling and focused on their earlier conversation. She was right about the water hazard. He couldn’t be sure any nanny he hired would be diligent enough to never let the kid out of sight. That was one reason he appreciated Nicole’s perspective. While he’d examined the structural integrity of the house she studied the practical aspects. Teamwork.

He checked his watch. He’d driven around for the past twenty minutes to let Nicole sleep, but now it was time to implement phase two of his plan. The light changed. He accelerated and turned toward the restaurant where he knew his father would be meeting his golf buddies later for the obligatory after-eighteen-holes cocktails.

After he snagged a parking space he killed the engine. As soon as the car fell silent Nicole’s lids fluttered open. She sat up quickly, scanned her surroundings and touched her chin as if checking for drool. He found the insecure gesture oddly endearing. His lips twitched.

Those eyes hit him like laser beams, and he felt the heat and the pull deep in his gut. He took a mental giant step backward. The need to test the softness of her lips was damned hard to resist. If she weren’t carrying his child, he’d act on this attraction, but the pregnancy was a complication. That didn’t mean he wasn’t tempted. He just had better sense. Having an affair plus sharing a child with her meant a continuing connection. He wasn’t going there. This kid would be his and his alone, not leverage between parents. Once he had custody of the child he didn’t intend to see her again.

Nicole smoothed her hair. “I’m sorry. I must have drifted off. Why are we here?”

“I made dinner reservations.”

She blinked. “You’re assuming I’ll eat with you.”

Her less than enthusiastic response took a bite out of his ego. He wasn’t used to women refusing his company.

“I’m assuming you’re hungry. Other than the squirrel food you pulled out of your purse over an hour ago, you’ve had nothing to eat all afternoon. In my experience pregnant women need to eat regularly.”

“Dried fruit is a healthy snack.”

“It wasn’t substantial enough to keep a rodent going. Did you have other plans tonight?”

She glanced at the steak house, inhaled deeply and licked her lips. No doubt the aroma of grilling beef emanating from the premises made her mouth water as it did his. That was the only reason his mouth dampened. His reaction had nothing to do with the slow glide of her pink tongue. “No.”

“Then let’s eat. You can give me a list of things the agent needs to look for in the next house.” He climbed from the vehicle and came around to her side. He reached her just in time to see her swing those long legs out the door. Her thigh and calf muscles flexed beneath the hem of her above-the-knee-length dress as she rose. She had great muscle tone, but she was lean like a distance biker or a runner.

He offered a hand which she ignored. Point taken. She didn’t want this to feel like a date any more than he did. And while part of him respected the boundaries she marked, another part of him wanted an excuse for contact. But that would be flirting with danger. Not smart.

As he escorted her to the entrance he placed his palm at the base of her spine. Her startled jump let him know his touch wasn’t welcome, and the tingle rising up his arm warned him that he danced on a hazardous edge.

Inside the darkened pub-style interior he gave the hostess his name. She led him and Nicole toward the table for two he’d requested. His gaze drifted past Nicole’s slender waist to her slim hips in the burgundy dress. No one would guess her condition if she didn’t tell them, and he was counting on her not volunteering the information in the next hour.

The waitress took their drink and appetizer orders and left them a basket of rolls. Nicole immediately selected a piece of bread, split it open and slathered butter on the steaming center. The hot yeasty smell reached across the table.

Her blissful expression as she tore off small pieces and tucked them between her lips made it look as if the bread were the most delicious thing she’d ever put in her mouth. For some reason that made him think of sex. Would she look the same when she took a man inside her?

He reached for his iced water, but clenching the cold glass didn’t distract him. The woman was getting to him—probably a combination of knowing he couldn’t have her and his recent celibacy. Since he’d begun his surrogate search he hadn’t had time for a relationship. All the energy he hadn’t devoted to his job had been expended on reaching his goal.

“You’ve shot down two houses. Do you have any suggestions for where to look next?”

“North Knoxville is nice.”

Near her sister’s suburban cookie-cutter neighborhood. Decent area, but a little too stifling for his tastes. “If I had time I’d design and build a house.”

“Why don’t you?”

He hoped the kid had her eyes. The color reminded him of the Caribbean waters off the bow of the sailing yacht he’d cruised on last summer. “Six months isn’t long enough to do it right.”

“If you used your surrogate you’d have more time.”

The statement surprised a chuckle out of him. Persistent, wasn’t she? He gave her credit for trying. “She’s been paid for her time and released from her contract.”

“I’m sure you could get her back if you wanted—”

“I don’t.”

She abandoned the last bite of bread. “Ryan, it would be easier for everyone if you let this go.”

“The easy way isn’t always the right way. And time is an issue. I want a baby before next summer.” Before his father retired.

The front door swung open. His father and his buddies walked in right on time. Dear old Dad had a habit of scanning any room to search for potential connections. Ryan always did the same, but he hoped he was more subtle. As expected, his father spotted them and broke away from his group to stride in Ryan’s direction.

He stopped by the table and, ignoring Ryan, offered his hand to Nicole with as much polish as a politician. “We haven’t met. I’m Harlan Patrick. You’re Nicole Hightower.”

Nicole blinked and sent a quick questioning glance Ryan’s way before pasting on a professional smile. “Yes. You’re Ryan’s father?”

She couldn’t miss the resemblance. His father might be six inches shorter and twenty pounds heavier, but otherwise, they looked a lot alike. Same hair. Same eyes. Same profile. The Patrick Irish genes were strong.

“That’s right. Ryan, you didn’t tell me you were dining here tonight. You could have joined us.”

“Nicole and I have business to discuss.”

Ryan had chosen this table specifically because there wasn’t any space for his father and his cronies to pull up another and join them. Nicole didn’t seem like the type to blurt her condition to a stranger before she’d informed the rest of her family, but he didn’t want to risk the news of her pregnancy slipping out and shocking the ultraconservative golfers—particularly his father who would definitely find fault with Ryan’s method of providing an heir. After the fact was soon enough.

“Would you like to join us in the bar for a drink?” His father addressed Nicole.

“Nicole doesn’t drink.” Not while she was carrying his kid.

His father shot him a scowl. “I’d like to hear more about Hightower Aviation. Patrick Architectural is considering engaging your services.”

He noted his father didn’t give him credit for the idea. He caught another flash of panic in Nicole’s eyes. A pleat formed between her eyebrows before she turned back to his father. “I’m sure HAMC could meet your needs, but our sales department can answer your questions better than I can.”

She dug in her purse, extracted a business card and pen and scribbled something on the back. “This is my brother Brent’s direct line. Why don’t you give him a call?”

Brent. The one who was probably cheating on his wife. After three minutes of his company at the picnic Ryan didn’t like or trust the guy, and he didn’t want him anywhere near his kid.

He took the card before his father could. “I’ve already spoken to one of your sales reps, Nicole, and given my father his card and a current brochure.”

Nicole met his gaze. The color leeched from her face and a trapped look entered her eyes. “You didn’t mention you’d been thinking of contracting our services.”

“I’ve been investigating the possibility, and as I said, I’ve spoken to one of your salesmen. The idea is financially viable for us.” He turned to his father. “Dad, if you’ll excuse us?”

For some reason he was tired of sharing Nicole’s company. The downward twitch of his father’s lip told Ryan he didn’t like being invited to leave, but after a moment Harlan nodded. “I’ll talk to you later, Ryan. Nice meeting you, Ms. Hightower.”

“You, too, sir.” Her worry-filled eyes turned on Ryan as soon as his father was out of hearing range. “Why are you doing this?”

“This?”

“Intruding into my life.”

“You have something I want. I’ll stop at nothing to get it.” And in this instance, winning was everything.

Darkness had fallen by the time Ryan paid the tab for dinner and escorted her from the steak house, increasing the sense of entrapment choking Nicole as they drove toward her home.

Ryan was crowding her and she didn’t like it. Her nails bit into her palms in the shadowy confines of his luxury sports car. “There are other airline management companies, you know. I could recommend a good one.”

Ryan cut her a look, his face illuminated by the dashboard lights. “I’ve done my research. Hightower is the best. You have the largest staff and offer the widest selection of aircraft. HAMC has three global operating centers and a higher safety rating than any of your competitors. You provide services 24/7/365 on four hours’ notice. The other companies can’t compete.”

All facts straight from the HAMC brochure, but hearing them from Ryan’s lips turned the Cajun chicken pasta she’d eaten to lead in her stomach. If she couldn’t talk him out of contracting HAMC, she’d be seeing him more often and that wasn’t a good thing unless it gave her a link to her baby. But she’d prefer to get rid of that complication by getting rid of Ryan Patrick.

“Your Web page doesn’t list any international projects. That makes one of the smaller companies more feasible and less expensive for you.”

“Logistically it didn’t make sense for us to accept overseas jobs in the past because we do a lot of hands-on consulting after a project has begun. If we contract Hightower Aviation, we won’t have to turn them down in the future.”

Panic swelled inside her at the certainty in his voice. With any other man his confidence would have been attractive, but not so here. “Bigger isn’t always better.”

He kept his gaze on the road, but the amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes and carving a groove in his cheek told her he knew she was trying to run him off. “I’m surprised HAMC is still a privately owned company. Some corporate giant should have overtaken you by now.”

She shrugged her stiff shoulders and realized he couldn’t see the gesture. “Several have tried. My brother Trent is determined to prevent that from happening.”

“You’re financially strong and have a low debt to asset ratio. The odds are in your favor.”

Her mouth went dry. “You’ve been checking up on us.”

“I’d study any company I intended to indebt Patrick Architectural a million plus dollars with over a five-year period.”

Five years of seeing Ryan on a regular basis. She gulped.

She shouldn’t be surprised by his diligence. From what she’d seen he wasn’t stupid, just misguided and stubborn about the baby issue. “Still, a long-term commitment to a plane is a huge expense and a risky move in the current economic environment. You should be very, very sure before you contract our services.”

“I’m sure—especially now that I’ll have a child to rush home to. Less time on the road means more time with my kid.”

The road to her personal hell was paved with his good intentions.

Her heart sank as she realized she might not be able to dissuade him from the custody battle.

He turned the car into her condo complex and parked in her driveway. She instantly reached for the door handle. “Thanks for dinner. But please call me before setting any more appointments to see houses. I do have other obligations.”

“What could be more important than providing a safe home for this child?”

Nothing. She hated that he was right. She shoved open the door, bailed out and headed up the walk. The quiet thump of his soles echoing the rapid tap of her heels told her she hadn’t escaped him. He followed her up the shallow stairs to her front door and crowded onto her tiny porch.

Her hanging baskets of petunias filled the humid evening air with their sweet smell, but they couldn’t completely mask the subtle citrus tang of his cologne. It took her three tries to get the key into the lock. She twisted hard and fast and opened her door. Determined to get rid of him ASAP, she quickly stepped inside and turned abruptly to say goodbye. She collided with Ryan who had decided to follow her into her foyer despite the lack of invitation. The impact punched the air from her lungs and knocked her off balance.

Ryan grabbed her elbows to steady her. His pelvis, the length of his thighs and his chest pressed hers, scorching her. Her stomach did a funny flip-flop thing, then a spark of awareness flickered to life.

Nicole stared into his bright blue eyes, watching as Ryan’s pupils expanded and his lips parted. The burn in her abdomen intensified and spread, warming and weighting her limbs. She couldn’t get enough air through her nose and had to gulp deep breaths which only increased the pressure of his chest to her breast.

Back away, Nicole.

But she couldn’t. Her muscles mutinied, refusing to take orders from her mind.

His gaze drifted to her mouth and panic pulsed through her. Surely he wasn’t going to—His hands tightened and his head lowered, slowing down her brain. Transfixed she watched him come closer. Her heart raced and her breath hitched.

“Ryan, don’t—”

His mouth smothered her protest. His lips were surprisingly soft, but at the same time commanding and hungry, plying hers with an expertise she couldn’t help appreciating. She lifted her arms up to push him away, but her bullheaded fingers dug into his rock hard biceps and held on instead of shoving. Her muscles contracted, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away.

A shiver rippled through her like waves radiating from a stone thrown into a pond. His tongue stroked a molten trail across her bottom lip then penetrated, found hers and circled. A rush of desire shocked her, making her skin flush and her abdomen tighten.

She fought the heat spreading through her, and yet she couldn’t dam the seeping awareness or make herself move away. How could she respond so intensely to Ryan—or any man for that matter—with the way she felt about Patrick? A sound meant to be a protest but sounding more like a moan slipped from her mouth into his, echoing in his low growl.

Ryan eased back incrementally, his grip loosening and the warmth of his body slowly leaving hers until only their lips clung. And then those, too, parted.

Gasping for air, Nicole pressed her fingers to her mouth and tried not to pant. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Agreed.” His low, rough tone scraped over her exposed nerves like short nails on bare skin.

She hugged her arms around her middle and fought to stop the tremors that racked her. No man’s kiss had ever rocked her that intensely. Not even Patrick’s. She staggered back in her tiny foyer until her heels hit the bottom stair.

Why had Ryan’s kiss packed such a punch? She searched her brain for a logical explanation for her illogical reaction and grasped on to the first idea that came to her.

“We’re just drawn to each other because of our crazy situation. You’re not my type. I don’t want you.”

His gaze dropped to her breasts. She didn’t have to look down to know what he saw. Her nipples tingled, telling her they were tight and very likely tenting her blouse and contradicting her words. Damn her out-of-control hormones.

She’d read some pregnant women often craved sex, but she hadn’t expected to experience the phenomenon. While she liked sex, it had never been one of those things she couldn’t live without.

Ryan brushed her cheek with a fingertip. The simple touch hit her like a crackling power line. “I don’t want to want you, either, Nicole, but I find you very attractive.”

Hearing the gravelly words only exacerbated the needy spasms of her internal muscles. She dodged out of reach on unsteady legs, stopping in the archway leading to her den. “Please don’t say that or do that again.”

He held her gaze without blinking. “I’m not making promises I’m not sure I can keep.”

Her breath shuddered out, pounded out of her chest by her hammering heart. “You need to go.”

“I’ll call you when the real estate agent locates the next house.”

She wanted to scream at him to never call again.

But she couldn’t. Beth and Patrick were counting on her to keep the peace. Somehow, some way, she would not let them down.

“Way to go,” Trent said as he entered Nicole’s office Monday afternoon.

Her brother wasn’t the type to offer approval unless something really big had happened.

“What are you talking about?”

“Patrick Architectural just bought fractional ownership in a Cessna Citation X. They listed you as the referral.”

Not what she wanted to hear. But she’d been warned.

The Citation was the fastest midsize jet HAMC offered. She gave Ryan credit for going top-of-the-line. Her attention fell to the client file in Trent’s hand. His arm lifted, extending across her desk and offering a burgundy-and-gold folder. The color combination signified a contract for the highest level of service HAMC provided.

Déjà vu. Another document she didn’t want to read.

“They’ve requested you as their client aircraft manager.”

Her stomach plunged as if she’d just parachuted from a plane—something she’d never do again because she hadn’t enjoyed the being-out-of-control sensation. “Trent, my casebook is full. Please assign them another CAM.”

“Not an option.” His clipped tone warned her not to argue, but that wasn’t going to stop her. Not this time. She had too much to lose.

“I really can’t handle another client without my performance suffering on the ones I already have.”

“I doubt that will be a problem, but if you’re concerned we’ll shift some of your other customers to someone else.”

“No. I don’t want to give up any of my people. They’re like family.” And like every family, hers had some eccentrics who required special handling.

His eyebrows dived toward his nose. “Tough. This deal was contingent on your acceptance.”

She had to talk to Beth and get her sister to announce the pregnancy to the family. Until she did, Nicole couldn’t explain to her brother why she had to refuse Patrick Architectural. How could she work with someone when she was about to become embroiled in a nasty custody battle over the baby she carried with him? But until then…

“C’mon, Trent, I never argue and never refuse an assignment—not even the most difficult cases that others have dumped. You know that. So the fact that I’m asking for a break now tells you I need it.”

His face didn’t soften one iota. “Let Becky know who you’re handing over by the end of the day.”

“You’re pawning me off on your assistant? Trent—”

“Familiarize yourself with the file. Your first meeting with your new client is Friday afternoon, two o’clock.”

“But—”

“There are no buts, Nicole. It’s a done deal. Patrick Architectural is yours.” He dropped the file on her desk, pivoted and stalked out.

Case closed. Nobody won an argument with her big brother—especially when he was locked in stubborn mode.

Nicole flopped back in her office chair and stared at the ceiling. This could not happen. And it had nothing to do with that kiss. Nothing. Absolutely, positively nothing.

Her lips tingled as if she could feel Ryan’s kiss again, and that stirred up a termites’ swarm in her belly. And termites left nothing but destruction in their path. She was very, very afraid Ryan might kiss her again, and that she’d do something stupid like her mother and act on that lust.

No, she wouldn’t. The kiss had been a fluke, a combination of out-of-control pregnancy hormones and the strange tie she had with him as the father of her baby. That’s all. She was certain of it.

Well…mostly certain.

She could call Ryan and plead conflict of interest, but she suspected her arguments would fall on deaf ears. He was tightening the screws and he’d show no mercy. That meant she had to talk to Beth. Now. She bolted to her feet, and ignoring a slight wave of dizziness, charged out of her office.

“Hey, where are you going?” Lea called out. “You have Tri-Tech in ten minutes.”

Ten minutes. Normally she’d be at her desk reviewing the file ten minutes before a meeting. She couldn’t today.

“Are you okay?”

“I have to talk to Beth. I should be back, but if I’m not, make sure Ronnie gets his coffee with cream and three spoons of sugar, and a raspberry jelly donut.”

As the CAM in charge of each owner’s service team she knew her client’s preferences as well as she knew her own.

“Got it, boss.” Lea snapped a smart-aleck salute.

Nicole didn’t want to wait for the elevator or risk running into Ronnie coming up and have to return to her office before talking to her sister. She headed for the stairs and jogged down three flights. She was slightly winded and perspiration dampened her skin by the time she knocked on Beth’s open door.

With the phone to her ear, Beth held up one finger, pointed at the visitor chair and turned away. But Nicole couldn’t possibly sit still. She checked her watch. Eight minutes. She’d never been late for an appointment before and didn’t want to start now. She prided herself on promptness.

What felt like an eon later but was actually only two minutes—she knew because she counted off the seconds—Beth cradled the receiver and faced her. “What’s up?”

“We have to tell the family about the baby.”

Beth stiffened. “Not yet.”

“Beth, Ryan Patrick’s company just contracted us and demanded me as their CAM. I can’t do it. You and I know why, but I can’t tell Trent the reason I must be excused until you let the family in on our little secret.”

Beth bit her bottom lip, shifted in her seat and shook her head. “I’m not ready.”

“What do you mean, you’re not ready? I’ll be showing soon.”

Tense, silent seconds passed. “Nicole, Patrick and I are…having problems.”

Nicole’s heart stuttered. She knew they argued. “Every marriage has rough spots.”

“This is bigger than that.”

Her pulse fluttered. In the first few years of Beth and Patrick’s marriage, Nicole had selfishly wished for Patrick to realize he’d married the wrong sister. But that wasn’t what she wanted or needed now. If Beth and Patrick separated with Ryan circling like a shark, the custody issue would only get more complicated, and Ryan would stand a better chance of winning.

“Is it because the baby’s not his?”

Beth adjusted the pens on her desk. “That’s part of it.”

A fresh wave of panic hit. What would she do if they decided not to adopt her baby? Ryan would win and she might never see her child again.

“You’ll work it out, Beth. You’ve always worked it out before. You guys are perfect for each other. Remember?” She heard the desperate edge to her voice.

“This time is different.”

“I’ll help. I’ll talk to Patrick. I’ll do whatever you need me to do, but you guys have to stay together. You love each other.” The irony of begging for the man who possessed her heart to stay married to another woman didn’t escape her.

“Nicole, sometimes love is not enough. And the timing for the announcement is all wrong.”

“You’ve known for five weeks.”

“Give me a little more time,” Beth said with a tight smile. “And then everything will be settled.”

Nicole pressed a hand over the little life causing so much upheaval and felt the extra firmness beneath the skin. “I don’t have more time. And you know we’re having the ultrasound Wednesday. You’re going to want to share the pictures. The doctor even said she’d make a video of the baby for us.”

“Patrick and I will have to watch the video later. I’m not ready to share the news.”

Surprise rocked her back on her heels. “Later? You’re not coming to the appointment?”

Beth made a show of checking her calendar. “I can’t get away.”

Nicole couldn’t remember Beth ever lying to her before. Lying for her, sure. Many times. But she knew from the look in her sister’s eyes Beth was telling a whopper this time. Beth was HAMC’s publicist and there were no urgent marketing campaigns going on now. September was traditionally a slow month, and Beth’s office was practically a tomb. It had been no big deal when Patrick and Beth had skipped the earlier routine appointments, but this time they’d get their first look at their future son or daughter.

Pain made Nicole look down. She’d dug nails so deeply into her palms she’d broken a fingernail at the quick. Blood filled the tiny crack. That was going to hurt for a while.

But not as long as losing her baby would.

Her thoughts swirled like leaves in a windstorm. Needing to collect herself, she checked her watch and realized she was out of time. Panic rose within her.

“Beth. Please reconsider. I can’t keep Ryan on my client roster.”

“I’m sorry, Nicole, but we can’t make the announcement yet. Maybe in a few weeks.”

A few weeks. Two weeks ago Beth had barely been able to contain the news, then at the picnic she’d begged for a few more days. And now she was delaying weeks?

Nicole had a bad feeling about the whole situation. Something was really, really wrong, and until she knew what it was, she couldn’t fix it.

“Beth, I need your help.”

“This isn’t high school anymore, Nicole. It’s not as simple as lying for you like I did when you skipped class or picking you up when your date dumped you on the side of the road because you refused to put out, or forging Mom’s signature on a note home from your teacher. Handle your own damned problems for once and quit screaming for me.”

Stunned speechless by Beth’s vehemence, Nicole fisted her cold fingers by her side. She was on her own and she had no idea how to handle the disaster that had become her life.

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