Michelle Celmer - The Tycoon's Paternity Agenda / High-Society Seduction - The Tycoon's Paternity Agenda / High-Society Seduction

“Something I don’t already know. Tell me about … your father.”

He shrugged. “There isn’t much to tell.”

“Were you close?”

“There were times, when my mom was still alive, that he would occasionally notice me. But then she died, and he checked out.”

That was the saddest thing she’d ever heard. If they were all the other had, they should have stuck together. They could have leaned on each other. The way she and her parents supported each other when Becca died. She supposed that sort of tragedy could either pull a family together, or rip them apart.

“You must have been very lonely.”

He shrugged again, “Celia was there for me.”

He said it so casually, but she had the feeling that losing his mother had scarred him deeper than he would ever admit. How could it not?

“How did your mother die?”

“Cancer.”

Which must have made learning about Becca’s cancer all the more devastating. And scary. “How old were you?”

“Young enough to believe it was my fault.”

She sucked in a quiet breath. That was probably the most honest thing he had ever said to her. Her heart ached for him. For the frightened little boy he must have been.

He looked over at her. “Everyone has bad things happen to them, Katy. You get through it, you move on.”

Was he forgetting that she had lost someone dear to her, too?

“Have you?” she asked. “Moved on, I mean.” She knew the instant the words were out, as the shutters on his emotions snapped closed again, that she had pushed too far. So much for getting to know one another.

He looked at his watch and frowned. “It’s getting late.”

He got up and grabbed his shoes from the floor.

“You don’t have to go,” she said. “We can talk about something else.”

His expression said he’d had just about all the conversation he could stand for one night. Maybe a dozen nights. Maybe he was only in here to keep tabs on her. To be sure that she followed the doctor’s instructions. “You need your rest and I have an early meeting tomorrow. I probably won’t see you in the morning, but Celia will get you whatever you need.”

Like the turtles she and Willy used to catch in the grass by the riverbank when she was a kid, he’d sensed danger and retreated back into his shell. God forbid he let himself open up to her, let himself feel something. Would it really be so terrible?

He hesitated in the doorway, like he might change his mind, but instead he said, “Have a safe trip back to Peckins,” then he was gone.

Adam had actually started acting like a human being today, which she couldn’t deny intrigued her. And now that she’d had a preview of the man hiding behind the icy exterior, she wanted to dig deeper. She wanted to know who he was.

But when had this ever been about getting to know Adam better? And why would she bother? When it was over, and the baby was born, they would just go back to being strangers. Seeing each other occasionally when he brought the baby around.

She laid a hand gently across her belly, wondering what was going on inside, if the procedure had worked and the embryo was attaching to her womb. Her tiny little niece or nephew, she thought with a smile. Even knowing that there was only an average 10 percent success rate, she had a good feeling about their chances.

She switched off the light and lay in the dark, thinking about everything that had happened since she left Peckins that morning. The ease of the procedure, and the way Adam had stayed with her all day. She thought that they had shared something special, that they were becoming friends, but it was clear he didn’t want that. And for some stupid reason the idea made her inexplicably sad.

It had only been seven days since the procedure, and would be three more days before she would even know if she was pregnant, and Katy had already determined that she agreed to have a child with the most demanding and obstinate man on the face of the earth.

Adam had called her about a million times.

Okay, so it was more like fifteen or twenty, but it sure felt like a million. She had only been back to Peckins an hour when he phoned to check on her, which, in light of his cool attitude the night before, she found sort of touching. He reminded her that the doctor said to take it easy for several days, meaning no heavy lifting or strenuous activity. Which she, of course, already knew. She assured him she was following the postprocedure instructions to the letter, and he had nothing to worry about.

Thinking that she’d made herself pretty clear, she was surprised when later that evening he’d called again.

Was she eating right? Drinking enough water? Staying off her feet?

She patiently assured him that she was still following the doctor’s orders, and when they hung up shortly after, assumed that would be the last she heard from him in a while. But he called again the next morning.

Had she gotten a full eight hours sleep? She wasn’t drinking coffee, was she? And since country breakfasts were often laden with saturated fats, she should consider fruit and an egg-white omelet as a substitute.

She assured him again, maybe not quite so patiently this time, that she knew what to do. And she was only a little surprised when he called later in the day to say he’d been doing research on the internet and needed her email address so he could send her links to several sites he thought contained necessary information about prenatal health. And had she ever considered becoming a vegetarian?

If he was this fanatical before there was even a confirmed pregnancy, what was he going to be like when she was actually pregnant? Two to three calls a day, every day, for nine months?

She would be giving birth from a padded room in the psychiatric ward.

It wouldn’t be so bad if the phone calls were even slightly conversational in tone. As in, “Hi, how are you? What have you been up to?” Instead he more or less barked orders, without even the most basic of pleasantries.

On day seven, he called to say that he’d been giving their situation considerable thought, and he’d come to the conclusion that he would feel more comfortable if she came to stay with him in El Paso for the duration of her pregnancy. So he could “keep a close eye on her.”

It was the final straw.

“I will not, under any circumstances, drop everything and move two hours from home. The ranch is my life. My parents need me here. And all the phone calls and emails … it has to stop. You’re smothering me and we don’t even know that I’m pregnant yet.”

“But you could be, so doesn’t it make sense to start taking care of yourself now? This is my child we’re talking about.”

“It’s also my life.”

“If you were here with me I wouldn’t have to call. And you wouldn’t have to do anything. Celia would take care of you.”

She liked Celia, but honestly, it sounded like hell on earth. She wasn’t an idle person. Most days she was up before dawn and didn’t stop moving until bedtime. “I love working, Adam.”

“But obviously you’ll have to quit.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you’ll be pregnant.”

Oh, he did not just say that. “What century are you living in? Pregnant women work all the time.”

“At a desk job maybe, or as a clerk in a store. I seriously doubt there are pregnant women out there roping cattle on horseback and mucking stables.”

“Is that what you think I do?”

“It’s not?”

“Not just that. And, of course, I wouldn’t do those things when I’m pregnant. Do you really think I would be that irresponsible? And for your information, I spend a lot of time behind a desk.”