Victoria Chancellor - Coming Home to Texas

“Not quite wrong, but…” she began. “Well, I’m not sure how you’re going to react, so I need to just tell you this. Right now, right here.”

“What’s going on, Jodie?”

She took a deep breath, then the words rushed past her cold, trembling lips. “I’m pregnant. The baby is definitely yours. And we need to get married right away.”

He looked as stunned as she’d felt when the doctor had confirmed the pregnancy kit test result. America’s new “girl next door” was going to be an unwed mother unless she could get Travis Whitaker’s immediate cooperation.

“PREGNANT?” he repeated, dropping his hands from her shoulders and stepping back. His immediate joy that she’d arrived in Ranger Springs, coupled with surprise that she’d sought him out, came to an abrupt halt. He felt as if he’d been poleaxed. Him, a father?

But he shouldn’t be all that surprised. They’d used protection all but one time, when she’d surprised him in the shower. He hadn’t been prepared for her sexy smile, her slippery, soft skin and very talented use of a body puff. In so many ways Jodie was unlike any other woman he’d been involved with.

“Yes, pregnant,” she said. “I know I said we should be okay, that it was a safe time of the month, but apparently I was wrong.”

“I—I don’t know what to say.”

She narrowed her eyes and placed her hands on her curvy hips. “You don’t have to say anything, but I’m hoping I can get your cooperation. Travis, this is important to me.”

“Having a baby is rather important to everyone involved, wouldn’t you say?” he asked with barely controlled sarcasm. What did she mean, it was important to her, when she’d just dropped a bombshell on him and added that they needed to get married right away?

“Look, I know you’re shocked and disappointed—”

“With all due respect,” he interrupted, running a hand through his shaggy hair, “I don’t think you know me well enough to decide what I’m feeling.”

She stepped back, turning a little pale beneath her golden, California-girl tan. “Okay, I understand your position. I’d just go away and leave you alone, but—”

“I didn’t ask you to leave.”

“You don’t seem especially glad to see me, either. Which I can understand, given what I just told you.”

“I was—am—glad to see you. But you did throw me for a loop. You certainly don’t mince words, do you?”

“Not on anything this important.”

He ran his hand through his hair again, wishing they could start over. “Look, let’s go sit down and talk like reasonable adults. The fire is warm and, quite frankly, you look as though you need to sit down.”

“Great. Just the look I was going for—helpless female.”

“Jodie, I don’t think anyone would call you helpless, or weak, or any other unflattering adjectives. But you are definitely female.”

When he’d first met Jodie, he’d been pleasantly surprised. His friends had mentioned she was a model who’d just finished a swimsuit photo shoot in Monaco. He’d been expecting a silicone-enhanced, tall, tanned, self-indulgent, waiflike creature. Not his usual type of petite, acquiescent woman, but heck, he was flexible. What red-blooded American male would turn down a date with a swimsuit model? Then he’d met her in a café in Monte Carlo and he’d immediately known he’d gotten her all wrong.

Jodie wasn’t just a swimsuit model. She was a famous model, a minor celebrity. And she wasn’t just a regular model. She was a plus-size model. Size fourteen to sixteen, she’d told him over a generous meal of pasta, salad and dessert. She had to eat heartily to maintain her size because she was so active, participating in a variety of sports.

Definitely not the usual dainty, blond and predictable type of woman he preferred to date. His friend Hank McCauley would also add “airhead” to the description, but Travis thought that was an exaggeration. So what if his girlfriends didn’t have strong career directions or advanced degrees? He liked women whose jobs didn’t interfere with his somewhat erratic work and vacation schedule. He wanted to be able to call someone at the spur of the moment and say, “Let’s go to Tahiti.”

“All right,” she sighed. “Let’s sit down and talk this through. Maybe I could use a cup of tea.”

“Coming right up. Make yourself comfortable in front of the fire,” he said, carefully taking her arm and steering her toward the center of the large house. “I’ll be right back.”

He gratefully retreated to the kitchen to prepare mugs of Earl Grey, placing them with honey, sugar and artificial sweetener on a tray. He wasn’t sure what pregnant women were supposed to drink. About all he knew about pregnancy was that it took nine months and sometimes involved unpleasant morning sickness.

Had Jodie been ill? Is that why she’d paled at his sarcastic comment? He was a heel for upsetting her, but dammit, he sure hadn’t been expecting an announcement that she was carrying his child.

He grabbed a couple of spoons and felt a sudden urge to hurry back into the den. One part of him dreaded the upcoming conversation, but another wanted to know every little detail. How she’d learned of the pregnancy. What she was feeling. What were her plans for the baby…and how did they include him?

Marriage? He definitely didn’t plan to get married again. Marriage involved messy emotions that led to botched expectations, then disappointments, and finally, crying and yelling. But still, she was pregnant…

“Here you go,” he said as cheerfully as possible, placing the tray on his large tufted ottoman. “I hope you like Earl Grey.”

“One of my favorites,” she said, pushing her shoulder-length blond hair behind her ear. His eyes settled on her neck and he remembered, with a flush of heat, how sensitive she was in that particular spot, just below her ear. He’d felt an enormous sense of possession when he’d kissed her there, hard, as he’d moved inside her.

Shaking away the memory, he straightened and tugged on the hem of his old U.T. sweatshirt. Jodie was sitting in one of the big carved wood and upholstered chairs near the fireplace. He took the other one, then grabbed a mug of tea, searching for a safe way to begin this conversation.

“So, have you been in California?”

“Mostly, although I spent some time in New York City. That’s one of the reasons I needed to see you right away. Something has developed in my career.”

“Something good?”

“Absolutely. I think I mentioned a possible cosmetics contract last month when we were…well, in Monte Carlo. As soon as I returned, I found out that they want me to become their new image. I signed the contract two weeks ago to become ‘the girl next door,’ as they call it.” Jodie looked away and laughed mirthlessly, a sad sound against the soft crackle of the fire. “Some girl next door. Unless, of course, your neighbor is pregnant and unwed.”

“If you’ve already signed the contract, surely they’ll work with you on the ad campaign. Maybe change the timing or just show you from the chest up.”

Jodie shook her head. “It’s not that simple. The contract has a morality clause. I can’t do or say anything that will negatively impact myself or the company while I’m representing them. Keep in mind that I’m supposed to be the girl next door, not the jet-setting California tramp.”

Ouch. Becoming an unwed mother would probably violate the contract, even with the relaxed morality of big cities as opposed to small towns. “I see your problem.”

“It’s rather obvious, isn’t it? Without your cooperation, I can have my baby or I can have my career.” She leaned forward, holding the mug like a talisman. “Well, I want both.”