Kat Cantrell - The Pregnancy Project

Those melty chocolate eyes speared hers, and all at once, she didn’t like the way he was looking at her, as if she held the secrets to his universe. Except he’d always looked at her like that and she’d explained it away as affection between friends. But now that he’d veered completely off the friendship track, it made her uncomfortably aware that he’d just had his mouth on her in a very non-friendly way.

“You’re practicing selective hearing.” She shook her head and tried to back up a step so she could breathe. And pick up her luggage, so she could…do something with it. “I do mind the idea of kissing. And everything that goes along with it. Or comes after it.”

“Everything?” he murmured and somehow she was still in his arms. “You mean sex?”

Heat leaped into his expression and that was so much worse than the melty eyes because her body flared to life at the promise of feeling the way it had when he’d kissed her. More. Now.

“Yes.” She squeezed her eyes shut, groaning. “I mean, no. No sex. Geez, what is this conversation we’re having? I came here to visit my friend. How did we start talking about sex?”

“You brought it up,” he reminded her needlessly. “I was just trying to clarify.”

“Sex is not a part of this conversation.”

“What if I want it to be?” he countered softly and his fingers slid up her arms to grasp her shoulders. “Your hearing is bordering on selective too if you can so easily ignore what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

Caught, she stared at him, taking in his familiar horn-rimmed glasses and spiky hair, desperate to get back to a place where she could be secure in her relationship with him. “What are you trying to tell me?”

“Our friendship is the most important thing in my life. That’s why I’m trying to save it. I can’t unkiss you. There’s something here that isn’t going away until we explore it. Harper…” He drew out her name reverently and the sound sang through her suddenly taut body. “Kiss me again. Think of it as an experiment. Let’s see how far this thing goes, so we can deal with it, once and for all.”

Her eyelids slammed shut because holy mother of God. “That’s a hell of gauntlet to throw down.”

“Tell me no and I’ll step away.”

“No.” Instantly, his hands moved from her arms and his heat vanished. She opened her eyes to see him standing a few feet away, his expression hooded and implacable.

“Can I at least know what your major objections are? In case there’s something—”

“I’m pregnant, Dante.” She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “And that’s only the first in a long line of objections.”

All of the blood in Dante’s brain drained out. “You’re…what?” he whispered.

“Pregnant,” she repeated and the word still sounded like pregnant.

“With a baby?”

“Science has not yet successfully crossed human DNA with any other species, so yeah,” she confirmed darkly. “I didn’t want to tell you this way but you gave me no choice.”

Blindly, he stuck out a hand and sought the nearest hard surface to sink onto. Happened to be an end table in the adjacent living area but so what? His knees wouldn’t have held up much longer.

“I don’t understand how this happened. Are you seeing someone?”

There was no way. Not as eagerly as she’d responded to his touch. Not as close as he’d have sworn they were. She’d have said something about a man in her life. Wouldn’t she? He thought back to the last time she’d mentioned a guy—all the way back in college.

She shook her head. “No. Artificial insemination.”

“Why in the world would you do something like that?” He bit off the syllables, not bothering to temper the harshness.

Babies needed a family. A father. She’d deliberately set herself up to be a single parent. It was inexcusable.

Her face froze as she took in his expression. “I wasn’t interested in sharing parenting duties with anyone long-term. So a donor who was willing to sign away his rights seemed ideal.”

This got better and better. Or worse and worse, more likely. He laughed without humor. “Most people have a life partner they decide to have kids with. Because they’re in love and want to raise a family together. Did that ever enter your thought process?”

“Not once.” She tossed her red hair. “A romantic relationship would only complicate everything.”

“A baby needs a male influence,” he insisted. “That’s not an opinion. Study after study shows—”

“I know that, Dante!” Hands on her hips, she towered over him as he perched on the end table. “Why do you think I said I needed you, you big moron? That’s why I’m here. I want you to be the male influence. Dummy me, I thought our friendship was strong enough to add a baby and then you had to go and kiss me.”

Dumbfounded, he blinked. “Did you think to ask me about this before you got pregnant?”

Because he would have talked her out of it if she had. This was the most ridiculous idea she’d ever heard.

“It’s my life and my body,” she announced as guilt flashed through her expression.

She must have guessed he might react like this, because she knew his history, knew how he felt about kids. And had done it anyway. “You know anonymous donors don’t always tell the truth about their medical history on those questionnaires. There’s no telling what kind of genetic mess you’ve created in there.”

He jerked his head toward her abdomen. She had a baby in her womb and it was suddenly a sacred place, not available for desecrating with the kind of activities he’d had in mind mere minutes ago.

He’d actually been strategizing on how to get her back into his arms so they could finish that kiss. How else would he exorcise his attraction to her? What small taste of her he’d been granted had thus far only whetted his appetite for the main course. Hers, too, obviously, despite her denial.

Dante was an expert after all. She wanted him as much as the reverse was true.

But she was already shaking her head. “That’s why the donor wasn’t anonymous. I did a lot of research into this before I made my decision and I carefully selected my baby’s father. Dr. Cardoza is the perfect—”

“Dr. Cardoza? Dr. Tomas Cardoza is your baby’s father?” Red stained Dante’s vision, his hands curling and uncurling as he fought to keep from unleashing his frustration on the drywall.

“He’s a renowned chemist,” she explained as if he might be confused about Cardoza’s contribution to the planet.

“I know,” Dante somehow got out through clenched teeth. “If you recall, he’s the reason I didn’t win the Nobel.”

Harper’s eyes widened. “Well, yeah. But that was ages ago. Surely you’re over that, especially given that you’ve moved into another field.”

He couldn’t help it. The laugh bubbled out and he pinched off his glasses to wipe his eyes. Of all the people she could have fathered a baby with, she’d picked Cardoza, the sorriest excuse for a human being that ever walked the earth, and that included Dante’s parents, whoever they were.

No. He wasn’t over it. Cardoza was the reason Dante had been forced into TV. If Cardoza hadn’t cheated on his methodology, he’d never have won the Nobel and Dante would have at least had a fair shot. After Cardoza had won, all the interest in Dante’s research had dried up, leaving him lab-less, fundless and desperate for someone to give him a new opportunity.

The Science of Seduction had been born.

Of course, it had been lucrative beyond his wildest fantasies. But a nine-figure bank account didn’t make up for having his long-held scientific goals stolen out from under him.