One Wild Night: Magnate's Mistress...Accidentally Pregnant! / Hot Boss, Boardroom Mistress / The Good, the Bad and the Wild. Heidi Rice
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lifted her chin and tossed down the gauntlet. “Maybe not. Maybe I lied and it’s not yours after all.”
So much for cutting to the chase and discussing this like adults. “Don’t try me, Ally. You won’t like the results.”
Brown eyes narrowed and a flush rose on her chest. “Is that some kind of threat?”
“I don’t make threats. Just promises.”
The flush continued to rise up her neck, and Ally’s lips compressed into a thin line. “Get out,” she snapped. “Now.”
He stood his ground. “This conversation is not over—”
“Oh, yes, it is. Leave.” Stalking across the room, she picked up the phone. “Leave or I’ll call the police.”
“Now who’s making threats?”
“You’re not the only one who doesn’t make empty threats. Get out of my house.”
He’d never had anyone try his temper the way Ally did, and he was moments from saying or doing something he might regret later. Maybe it was best he leave before then. As he opened the door, he warned her one last time. “This doesn’t end here. This is far from over.”
“Oh, no. It’s over. I assure you of that. Goodbye, Chris.” She slammed the door behind him and he heard the lock click into place.
She thought it was that easy? That it was over just because she said so? She might have gotten away with it on Tortola, but the circumstances had changed dramatically.
He had his phone out of his pocket and his assistant on the line before he even had the car started.
Ally was in for a rude awakening.
Ally’s anger carried her as far as the kitchen for a glass of water before it deflated in a rush that had her knees buckling. Ice rattled in the glass as she filled it from the tap with a shaky hand. Easing onto a bar stool gratefully, she sipped carefully and cursed Chris for making her lose her temper.
She never lost her temper. She was the calm one while everyone else spun out of control. Molly had always praised her flair for diplomacy, a skill she’d honed over years of dealing with her family and their constant dramatics. Why had it failed her now? Instead of calmly—rationally—coming to a workable agreement and smoothing ruffled feathers, she’d managed to make the situation worse. Where was her famed calm and diplomacy today? It had to be the hormones. This pregnancy was really messing with her head.
But now that she could see something other than a red haze…Ugh. She may not know Chris very well, but she had a sinking feeling she’d made a huge tactical mistake in firing up his anger.
Her five minutes with Google earlier today had told her a lot about the great Chris Wells. A true golden boy, he came from old Charleston money and had the whole sailing world worshipping at his feet. Maybe she should have given in to her curiosity sooner; then she wouldn’t have been at such a disadvantage today.
“You sure know how to pick them,” Molly had said it with a kind of begrudging awe, but Ally knew that wasn’t the case at all. Molly saw his good looks, his charm and his money, and therefore branded him a good catch. Ally, though, knew better. Looks, charm and money didn’t equal squat in her book. Gerry had looks and charm to spare, yet he’d been an emotional black hole. She’d invested far too much in his dreams, only to get nothing in return except four years of doing his laundry. Golden boys had a tendency to expect the world to revolve around them, and she had learned her lesson the hard way. Hell, her own brother was a shining example—handsome and full of charm, he’d been dazzling girls since junior high. But he was self-centered and expected everyone to dance to his tune just for the privilege of basking in the reflected glow. His girlfriend, Diane, would have been history by now if she hadn’t turned up pregnant, and even impending fatherhood hadn’t tamed Steven.
If she’d found all this out about Chris and hadn’t been carrying his child, she probably wouldn’t have contacted him. Once bitten, twice shy. Between her brother and Gerry, she had enough experience to know that Chris would be a very bad idea.
And now she had someone else to think about, someone she had to put first. How long would Chris want to play Daddy before he got bored and went back to his far-more-exciting world? No way she’d put her son or daughter through that.
Most likely Chris was just reacting out of shock, anger and guilt. It would pass now that he knew she didn’t expect anything from him, and his sense of responsibility would fade. She just needed to wait it out. After all, even as mad as he was at the moment, what could he do?
Glad she hadn’t completely lost her ability to be rational, she sent a quick text message to Molly to let her know everything was okay and that she was now going to take a much-needed nap. The usual afternoon fatigue was even worse in the aftermath of such emotional upheaval.
She pulled the shades to darken the bedroom and didn’t bother to do any more than kick off her shoes before stretching out across the comforter. As she closed her eyes, the image of Chris climbing out of that car—that one second when she’d recognized him, before he had turned around and she’d seen the anger on his face—was waiting for her. And now that she was alone and sleep was crowding in from all sides, she couldn’t ignore the fact her heart had skipped a beat in excitement, and for a fraction of a second her whole body had screamed to life.
If only things were different….
Don’t go there. Ally rolled over and punched the pillow into shape. This was not the time to play If Only. She knew better than that. Things were what they were, and the sooner she got that through her head the better.
But it didn’t stop her mind from toying with the might-have-beens until sleep dragged her under a few minutes later.
THE WORST PART of Chris’s job had to be the paperwork. He had no patience for the pages of numbers and reports that cluttered his desk on a daily basis. He’d rather be down in the yard doing something—anything, even welding, which he hated—rather than be stuck inside buried under a pile of paperwork. But, as Pops reminded him daily, OWD was still a family business, and as the only direct family Pops had left, Chris had to do his part.
That was soon to change, though. Chris being the only Wells left in line, that is. The news of Ally’s pregnancy had thrilled the old man and put a new spring in his step. A great-grandchild—security for keeping OWD in the family—had shifted Pops’s focus. He’d been a little disappointed Chris hadn’t chosen to go about procreating in the old-fashioned way and that more children wouldn’t be forthcoming anytime soon, of course, but he’d been more than just a little pleased, anyway. In the past few years, Pops’s encouragement to get married had crossed the line into harping, so Chris knew Pops would see this as hope Chris did intend to settle down and have many more children—if not with Ally, then with someone else.
But it had shifted—at least temporarily—focus off the Dagny and the solo attempt.
He understood all too well where Pops’s concerns stemmed from, but sailing had come a long way in the last twenty years, and his father’s boat, the Fleece, had lacked many of the technological and safety features currently being installed on the Dagny. Yes, any attempt to sail solo around the world was dangerous, but the chances of him ending up like his father were considerably less.
Nope, no matter what Pops’s hopes and plans were, he’d still be making his announcement at the club’s annual gala on September tenth. That would be just enough time to get a buzz going before he set sail in October, but not so long that it lost its newsworthiness before it happened.
In the meanwhile, though, he still had to go over the shareholders’ reports. Resigned, but determined to get it done in the least amount of time possible, he dug into the stack of papers.