Sweet Trouble. Сьюзен Мэллери
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“Sorry to drop by without any notice. I’ve been trying to call.”
“Have you?”
His gaze was as dark as she remembered, but much more unreadable. She had no idea what he was thinking. Was he upset? Annoyed? Or was she just someone he used to know, someone who was keeping him from his morning coffee?
Seeing him was unsettling—an odd combination of familiar and strange. The last time they’d been in the same room, he’d been so angry, so hurt. He’d lashed out to destroy her and he’d succeeded.
“You didn’t get my messages?” she asked, sure that he had.
“What do you want, Jesse? It’s been a long time. Why now?”
So much for idle chitchat, she thought, suddenly feeling awkward and nervous. Couldn’t they have started with something easier, like, “How are you?”
There were a thousand things she could say, a thousand excuses or explanations. None of them seemed to matter.
She opened her purse, pulled out the pictures, then handed them to him.
“Five years ago I told you I was pregnant and that you were the father. You didn’t believe me, even when I said a DNA test would prove the truth. He’s four now and he keeps asking about you. He wants to get to know you. I’m hoping enough time has passed that you want that, too.”
She wanted to keep talking, explaining, defending herself. Instead she forced herself to press her lips together and stay silent.
Matt took the photos and flipped through them. At first he didn’t register much more than a small boy. A boy who was laughing and smiling at the camera. Her words had meant nothing to him. A child? He knew she’d been pregnant. His child? Not possible. He’d refused to believe it then and he still didn’t believe it. She was back because he was successful and she wanted a piece of the pie. Nothing more.
Almost against his own will, he went through the pictures a second time, then a third, noticing the way the kid looked almost familiar. There was something about his eyes that …
He saw them, then. The similarities. The curve of the chin reflected back at him every morning as he shaved. The shape of the eyes. He recognized parts of himself, hints of his mother.
“What is this?” he growled.
His child? His child?
“His name is Gabe,” Jesse said softly. “Gabriel. He’s four and a really great kid. He’s smart and funny and he has a lot of friends. He’s good at math, which he probably gets from you.”
Matt couldn’t focus on her words. They washed over him like rain, making no sense, then moving on. Anger flared, then grew into fury. She’d had his baby and never bothered to say anything?
“You should have told me,” he said, his voice thick and cold with rage.
“I did. You refused to believe me, remember? Your exact words were that you didn’t care if I was pregnant with your child. You didn’t want a kid with me.” She squared her shoulders. “He wants to get to know you, Matt. He wants to get to know his father. That’s why I’m here. Because it’s important to him.”
But it wasn’t important to her. She didn’t have to say that—he already knew it was true.
He thrust the photos back at her, but she shook her head. “Keep them. I know this is a lot to take in. We need to talk and you need to meet Gabe. Assuming you want to.”
He nodded because he was too enraged to speak.
“My cell number is on the back of that first picture. Call me when you’re ready and we’ll set something up.” She hesitated. “I’m sorry about all of this. I wanted to talk to you before coming by but you weren’t available. I wasn’t trying to keep him from you. It’s just, you made it so clear how much you didn’t care.”
Then she turned away. He watched her go.
Something inside of him yelled that he needed to go after her, but he didn’t bother. She might run but she couldn’t hide. Not from him. Not now.
He closed the front door and started for his office. Electra glided into the hallway.
“Who was that? What did she want? You’re not seeing her, are you, Matt? She didn’t look like your type.”
He ignored her and walked into his study. After shutting the door, he crossed to his desk, where he sat down. He spread the pictures out and studied them one by one.
Electra pounded on the door, but didn’t open it. He heard something about her threatening to leave. He didn’t bother to respond.
He had a son. He’d had one for more than four years and he’d never known. Technically Jesse had tried to tell him the kid was his before she’d left Seattle, but she’d known he wouldn’t believe her. Not after what had happened. She’d done this on purpose.
He reached for his phone and dialed a number from memory. “Heath, it’s Matt. Do you have a minute?”
“Of course. We’re heading out on the boat, but I have time. What’s up?”
“I have a problem.”
He quickly explained that an old girlfriend had shown up unexpectedly with a four-year-old she claimed was his.
“The first thing we’ll need to do is establish paternity,” his lawyer told him. “What are the odds you’ll come back as the father?”
“He’s mine.” Matt stared at the pictures, hating Jesse more by the minute. How could she have kept this from him?
“So what do you want to do?” Heath asked.
“Hurt her in every way possible.”
CHAPTER TWO
Five years ago …
JESSE SIPPED HER LATTE as she read the want ads in the Seattle Times. Technically she wasn’t looking for a job. She wasn’t qualified for anything she wanted to do and nothing she was qualified for was better than her crummy shift at the bakery. So what was the point in changing?
“Someone needs to work on her attitude,” she murmured to herself, knowing feeling like a failure wasn’t going to help her situation. Nor was feeling trapped. But both seemed to loom large in her life.
It was her most recent fight with Nicole, she thought, even though fights with her sister were nothing new. Maybe it was her entire lack of direction. She was twenty-two. Shouldn’t she have goals? Plans? As it was, she just sort of drifted through her days, as if waiting for something to happen. If she’d stayed in college, she would have graduated by now. Instead, she’d lasted two weeks before dropping out.
She folded the paper, straightened in her seat and tried to inspire herself to some kind of action. She couldn’t keep drifting. It wasn’t healthy and it made her crabby.
She sipped on her latte and considered possibilities. Before she could decide on one, a guy walked into the Starbucks.
Jesse was a semi-regular and knew she hadn’t seen him before. He was tall and could have been kind of cute, but everything about him was off. The haircut was a disaster, his thick glasses screamed computer nerd. His short-sleeved plaid shirt was too big and—she nearly choked on her coffee—he had an honest-to-God pocket protector. Worse, his jeans were too short and he was wearing geeky tennis shoes with white socks. Poor guy—he looked like he’d been dressed by a mother who didn’t like him very much.
She was about to return to her paper when she saw him square his shoulders in a gesture that spoke of determination. Ordering coffee wasn’t that hard.
She turned in her seat and saw two women at a table against the far wall. They were young and beautiful—the kind of women who looked like models and probably dated rock