A Pregnancy Scandal. Kat Cantrell
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because they’d said no expectations didn’t mean he couldn’t ask to see her again. After all, he didn’t really know what she was looking for in a relationship. How could he say what he had to offer wasn’t enough if they didn’t talk about it?
At the door of Alex’s house just north of Dallas in University Park, he kissed her good-night and then pulled back to gorge himself on the sight of her beautiful face. Tomorrow, she’d go back to T-shirt-and-jeans Alex.
He wanted to see her again, no matter what she was wearing.
“Can I call you?” he asked hoarsely and cleared his throat. “Let me take you to dinner.”
She smiled. “I’d like that.”
Phillip mentally flipped through his calendar and then cursed. He’d fly to Washington tomorrow and hadn’t planned to be back in Dallas for the foreseeable future. “I can’t set a firm date. But please know it’s not because I don’t want to. I have to be in Washington. Duty calls.”
“Phillip, no expectations.” She cupped his face with both palms and held it. “I like spending time with you. But I’m not going to wait by the phone for you to call. I have a company to run. I’m busy, too. Call me when you’re free.”
A bit blindsided, he stared at her. Most women—all women he’d ever met—wouldn’t have considered giving him a pass like that. Alex was something else. “That’s very gracious.”
She shrugged. “You’re worth waiting for.”
Something turned over in his heart. This was crazy. Instead of exploring their attraction and getting it out of their systems, he was trying to figure out how to juggle his schedule so he could see her again. He should be running back to his car and driving away very fast in pursuit of someone who was much better suited to being the wife he needed.
The wife he needed would understand he couldn’t be disloyal to Gina. The wife he needed would stand by his side as he navigated the Washington social scene, wearing couture and cosmetics with ease. The wife he needed would understand that his career might require sacrifices to her own career.
Above all, the wife he needed would not generate all of these unexpected, confusing emotions. Alex was not what he needed.
His career was everything to him. It had saved him from drowning in grief two years ago, and with his eye on the White House, Alex would only complicate his life. No, she wasn’t what he needed—but she was everything he wanted. And that made her very dangerous indeed.
Four weeks later...
The packaging on the pregnancy test was too slick for Alex’s shaking fingers to grip. Gracelessly, she stuck the end in her mouth and tore it open. The slim stick fell out and tumbled end over end into the toilet bowl with a splash. Of course.
This was surreal. The walls of the company she’d cofounded surrounded her. Fyra was a multimillion-dollar cosmetics powerhouse that she’d worked tirelessly to manage alongside her friends and partners. Every single dollar of revenue and every dime of expense had passed through her fingers from day one. She was responsible for hundreds of employees’ paychecks.
And she couldn’t do a simple thing like open plastic packaging.
“What happened?” Cass’s voice rang out from the other side of the bathroom stall.
“I’m nauseous and clumsy,” Alex shot back. “The stupid test made a break for it and landed in the water.”
This was not the way Alex wanted to spend her lunch break.
She was pretty sure the test would only confirm what she already knew in her heart to be the truth. The upset stomach she’d been battling for over a week had nothing to do with the seafood she’d eaten last Friday and everything to do with the night she’d spent with Phillip.
“Can you get it out?”
“I’m working on it.”
Liar. Staring at the little white stick down in the water wasn’t solving the problem. Alex thought about just flushing the thing and avoiding the whole question of why no amount of prayer had started her skipped period. She and Phillip had used protection. This wasn’t supposed to be happening.
“Just pee in the toilet,” Cass suggested. “You don’t have to be holding the stick for it to work.”
Alex sighed and gave in to the inevitable. “Fine. It’s done. Now, how long do I have to wait?”
“I don’t know.” Cass rustled the paper instructions she’d been holding when Alex had locked herself in the bathroom stall. “Three minutes.”
Might as well be three hours. Alex shredded her nails in under a minute and a half, not that it mattered. No one was looking at her nails. Phillip had gone back to Washington the day after his party, as promised, and they’d conversed a few times via email. He’d called twice to say hi, but so far, they hadn’t connected for dinner. She wasn’t upset. He’d let her know when he was free and that obviously hadn’t happened yet.
It was exactly what she’d signed up for. A night of passion with an amazing man who paid attention to her. She still dreamed about the way his mouth felt on hers and how gorgeous that man’s body was. Sure, she’d have liked to see him again, but that might mean having a conversation about what dating meant for them and she didn’t want to ruin the magic with real-life fears and hang-ups.
If the test came back positive, they’d be having a hell of a conversation about dates, that was for sure. Due dates, birth dates, playdates. It was mind-boggling.
She peered into the toilet. Nothing. Or maybe something. Did the results window look a little pink? Her stomach flipped over and back again. “What do the instructions say about how to read this test? What does it mean if it’s pink?”
She’d read them herself but panic drove the information from her brain.
“One pink line is not pregnant. Two pink lines is pregnant. You’ve never taken a pregnancy test before?” Cass didn’t bother to keep the incredulity from her tone. “Not even in college?”
“No,” Alex muttered. “You’d have to have sex to need one.”
She’d been just as awkward and clumsy in college as she was now. Men shied away, for the most part. Phillip was a rare exception.
Please, God, do not let that exception have irreversible consequences.
More pink bled into the window. A distinct line appeared. One line. That meant not pregnant. Except the pink was still wicking through the window, spreading its impersonal message about huge, life-alerting events.
“Why are you making me do this?”
“Because you clearly weren’t ever going to do it yourself. It’s been four weeks since Phillip’s party,” Cass reminded her, as if she needed reminding. “If you are pregnant, you’re a third of the way through the first trimester. Denial is not a good health-care plan for you or a baby.”
Baby. Oh, God. Alex had staunchly refused to even think that word. And then...a second line appeared in the window, pink and vivid and final.
“Hand me the second test,” Alex demanded hoarsely. She’d wondered why they’d included two. Obviously so people in her position could make absolutely sure.
Cass did so without comment and they waited in silence for the second confirmation.
“How accurate are these things?” Alex whispered, as again, two pink lines materialized in the window.
“Pretty accurate,” Cass confirmed. “Sometimes it says you’re not pregnant when you really are because you’ve taken the test too early. But if it says you are pregnant, that’s like 100 percent. I’m guessing it was positive. Both times.”
And