Carrying The Billionaire's Baby. SUSAN MEIER
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something they hadn’t done. She couldn’t date someone just like the guy who’d sent her dad to prison.
No matter how sexy Jake was, an undercurrent of privilege ran through his life. Riding in his limos, taking his helicopter to Maine for lobster, sleeping in a penthouse monitored by security guards only reminded her that people like Jake didn’t know a damned thing about real life, about suffering and struggle...about being normal.
She didn’t want her baby getting lost in the shuffle of drivers, maids and nannies, any more than she wanted her little girl or boy growing up thinking money somehow made her better, even as he or she stayed behind a wall of bodyguards, rode in bulletproof limos and lived with the threat of being kidnapped.
She also didn’t want to risk the consequences if Jake found out her dad was an ex-con. He could demand that she stay in New York—away from her dad—or even try to take the baby. Then she’d have no way of shielding her child from the craziness of the McCallan life.
So, she’d made the decision not to tell Jake she was pregnant to protect her child. Immediately, relief had coursed through her. Joy at becoming a mom had blossomed. With Jake out of the picture, she was ready to become a parent. Sure, it changed her plans a bit. She’d be returning to Pennsylvania two years sooner than she’d thought, and without sufficient experience, but she’d adapt. She wanted this baby enough that she’d change her life any way necessary.
She kicked off her subway shoes, tossed her briefcase on a chair and headed to her bedroom, but her doorbell rang.
Closing her eyes in misery, she muttered, “Damn it.”
She could ignore the bell, but she had a sneaking suspicion Jake McCallan had been sitting in a limo somewhere down the street from her building, waiting for her to come home. He’d seen her that morning. Seen the baby bump. Stickler for detail that he was, he’d undoubtedly done the math.
The bell rang again.
She headed for the door, shaking off her fears. Lawyers planned for all contingencies. Her first choice might have been not to tell him, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have a backup plan, a Plan B. He was a super-stuffy aristocrat, who wouldn’t want a crying child in his world. All she had to do was remind him that a baby didn’t fit into his well-ordered life and he’d back off.
Wondering how such a serious, stuffy guy could be so good in bed, she walked to the door and opened it.
“Jake. How nice to see you.”
It was nice to see him. He had black hair cut short to be neat, but strands poked out, making him look sexy and interesting. His solemn blue eyes always made her want to tell him a joke. But his body was a work of art. He could be an advertisement for the gym. Going three days a week had virtually turned him into a god. And the sex? Amazing. Just thinking about it made her weak-kneed and breathless.
He pointed at her stomach. “That’s my baby, isn’t it?”
She opened the door a little wider, urging him inside. “Nothing like a little small talk to warm up a room.”
He stayed right where he stood. “There’s no point to small talk. We have nothing to say to each other, except to discuss whether you’re keeping my child from me.”
“I’m not. Technically, I’m keeping a pregnancy from you.”
He cursed.
“See? This is exactly why I didn’t tell you!” She caught his arm and dragged him inside, leading him to one of the two teal-and-white trellis-print club chairs in front of her marble tile fireplace. Though the legs that carried her across the dark hardwood floors were extremely tired, she walked into the kitchen and took a glass from the first white cabinet then filled it at the sink in the center island. Bringing it into her living room, she said, “I knew you’d freak.”
He took the water. “I’m not freaking. I’m in shock. You’ve known about this for months. I just found out today—and only because I ran into you. Not because you told me.”
“Okay,” she soothed, sitting on the white sofa across from him, keeping control of the conversation. She had to be calm, rational and appeal to his love of order in his life.
“What do you want to know?”
He looked up at her, his gorgeous blue eyes serious, direct. “How?”
She laughed. “I think you pretty much know the basics of how babies are made.”
“No. How did you get pregnant? You told me you were on the pill.”
The insinuation that the pregnancy was her fault rattled through her like an angry wind, but she gave him a little leeway because he was still processing all this.
“My doctor blamed the antibiotic she gave me for bronchitis. You and I met—” At a coffee shop on Valentine’s Day, both dateless and treating themselves to a latte. They recognized each other from the law firm and had an impromptu dinner where he was just so charming and sexy they’d ended up in bed. “—when the bronchitis was all but gone from my lungs.” She shrugged. “But while I was celebrating feeling better, I was also finishing up the meds and forgot the antibiotic’s effect on birth control.”
He set his untouched water on one of the coasters she had on the glass coffee table by the club chair. “I never thought to ask about antibiotics.”
Her heart did a crazy little flip. Every time she was ready to write him off as sanctimonious, he’d do something like that. Something that would make her wonder if deep down he was fair. But she knew better. A man with enough money to buy his way into or out of anything had no reason to look at the other side of a situation.
Still, he hadn’t blamed her for the pregnancy, so she could go back to Plan B, remind him of how much trouble a baby could be and let him bow out gracefully.
“My goal had always been to get a job at a big law firm and buy a nice condo that would go up in value as I paid down the mortgage.”
His earnest blue eyes stayed on her face, as he waited for her to explain why she was rehashing things he already knew.
She cleared her throat. “What I didn’t tell you was, I’d made that plan so that I could get tons of experience and learn from some of the best lawyers in the world before I sold the condo for a profit and returned to Pennsylvania to start my own law firm.”
“Oh.”
She wasn’t surprised that she’d stunned him. Every damned time they’d gone out she’d said or done something that raised his eyebrows or caused him to frown. Their problem wasn’t merely a case of a middle-class woman with an upper-class man. They were opposites in just about every way.
“I didn’t really keep that from you.”
“Like you didn’t really keep the pregnancy from me?”
She sighed. “We dated for three weeks. There’s no law that says I had to tell you my plans for the future.”
“So, you weren’t seriously dating me. What was I? Beefcake?”
The way he said it, with his calm, poised tone, as if he didn’t realize how funny he sounded, made her laugh.
He glared at her. “No. Come on. I’m curious. Did you just go out with me because we were good in bed?”
“You were pretty good.”
He cursed and rose from the teal chair to pace. “Seriously!”
“You do realize another man would be so damned complimented by that he’d probably glow in the dark.”
“I’m not like most men.”
No kidding. “Okay. Why did you continue to ask me out when we both realized on our third date that we weren’t compatible?”
He took a patient breath, but ran the fingers of both hands through his hair. A gesture she’d never