Susan Crosby - Bound By The Baby

“I’m sorry you didn’t sleep well,” she said into the long silence. She locked her fingers together in her lap. Her waist-band cut into her. If she could just unbutton her skirt…. She slipped her hands under her jacket, behind her back, trying to unobtrusively unfasten—

“What’s wrong?” he asked, looking at her intently.

“Nothing.”

He raised his brows.

She stopped short of sighing. “My skirt is too tight. I’m trying to unbutton it. Okay? Satisfied?”

“You’re cutting off your circulation, which is bad for the baby.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. I’m not endangering the baby. And I’m getting some maternity uniforms today. I seemed to expand all of a sudden.”

His gaze slid down her body. She automatically folded her arms in front of her.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, then left the room.

She let out a long, slow breath, not realizing she hadn’t been breathing normally until she did. Why was she letting him intimidate her? It wasn’t like her at all. He was just a man, flesh and blood.

And what great flesh…

She’d dreamed about him for weeks after their night together, had hunted for him among the blackjack players, hoping he would return. She remembered every detail. How he’d looked naked. The feel and scent of his skin. His amazing hands. The incredible way he used his mouth—everywhere. He’d bombarded her senses, and she’d become someone she’d never known she could be. The night had been all about pleasing—and forgetting. She’d gotten the sense that it had been the same for him.

Nicole decided not to be sitting when he returned. If he was going to stand, so would she. The small, internal rebellion giving her a bit of satisfaction, she wandered closer to the floor-to-ceiling windows. Snow still frosted the mountain peaks but had melted from the ground. The lake was too cold for swimming, but from where she stood, the blue depths looked inviting.

Devlin came up beside her and passed her a piece of paper. “I need you to fill this out.”

There was no heading, just a questionnaire with spaces for her answers: name, address, birth date, social security number and other personal information. Like a credit application or something.

“What’s this for?” she asked.

“My lawyer wants to run a background check.”

“On me?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, your lawyer wants it.” She almost laughed at the absurdity. While she had no doubt his lawyer had provided the form, Devlin wanted it. Wanted her to sign on the bottom line giving him permission to delve into her private life—which he would undoubtedly do with or without her permission. It was just tidier with her permission.

“If we’re going to be married,” he said, “I need to know who you are.”

The words on the page blurred. She lifted her head. His jaw flexed, his eyes bored into her. She wished she knew him well enough to interpret his expression. Accusation? Anger? She wasn’t sure.

“Who said anything about marriage?”

“No child of mine will be born out of wedlock.”

“So you believe the child is yours?”

He barely hesitated. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“For the same reason I slept with you that night.”

“What reason was that?” she asked, intent.

“Damned if I know. Instinct.” He paused. “Look, Nicole, DNA testing will prove paternity. Anyway, I’m laying the groundwork for our union so there will be no delays later.”

How romantic. The thought stung. Just the kind of marriage proposal every woman hopes for. “This isn’t the Dark Ages.”

He smiled slightly, coolly. “Feels like it to me.”

Well, she hadn’t expected him to be thrilled, after all. “I expect you to fill out one of these forms, too,” she said just as coolly. “For my lawyer.”

His mouth quirked. In appreciation? Admiration? Irritation? She didn’t know, couldn’t tell if he was laughing or mocking.

“That’s fair,” he said.

“I’ll bring your form back to you tomorrow. I expect yours to be ready then, too.”

“I’ll stop by the hotel when you get off work, and we can exchange papers.”

“Mine won’t be ready by then. I’ll do it at home tonight, after work.”

“You have a lunch break, don’t you?”

“I eat on my lunch break. And put up my feet. And relax. It’s good for the baby.” Ha! He couldn’t argue that point.

He crossed his arms. “I also want your doctor’s name and number. When is your next appointment?”

“In three weeks. I was just there last week.”

“Make an appointment for us to see him together this week.”

“Her. My obstetrician is a she.” No wonder she hadn’t told him yet about the baby. Subconsciously she’d known he was sexist and paternal and accustomed to having someone jump at the snap of his fingers. Well, not this someone. “When things are more settled with us, I’ll make that appointment.”

“Then I’ll go without you. I have questions.”

“Which she won’t answer without my permission.”

“A reasonable person wouldn’t have any problem sharing the information I need as the father of this child.”

What was left of her patience went up in smoke. So now she was witless? She’d tried to be understanding, she really had. “I’ll drop off the paperwork tomorrow on my way to work,” she said, then walked past him a few feet before stopping and turning back.

“Here’s a hint to getting to know me, Devlin. Try talking to me. With me.” She went down the stairs and out of the house. It would take thirty minutes to drive to the Sterling. Time enough to calm down before starting work.

He just needed time, too. She’d been able to come to terms with the baby and all the changes it would entail. So would he.

She hoped.

Dev watched her drive off. She didn’t burn rubber to get away, didn’t even speed, but he knew she was angry. He didn’t blame her.

While no one would accuse him of being easygoing, he wasn’t usually a jerk. He’d also never been responsible for a pregnancy before. But he was now—to a woman he knew only sexually.

He shoved his fingers through his hair, clasped his hands at his nape and blew out a slow breath. Exhaustion was too mild a word for what he was feeling. He hadn’t slept a minute last night.

He’d made this trip—this forced trip—with the intention of firming up a plan to redirect his career. He’d reached a point where he could afford to take some risks, was willing to risk what he’d earned. He planned to get out of the family business, where he’d been stagnating, a realization brought home to him when he received the letter in January that would send him to Lake Tahoe for the month of May.

He needed to be his own boss. He had achieved huge success for the bank, beyond what his father or grandfather had done before him. Now he wanted individual success, not just financially but personally. He’d been aiming toward it all his adult life. But how could he take that risk now, with a child to provide for?

And a wife.

That much he’d decided during the night. Nicole would marry him, period—even though his lawyer had tried to talk him into waiting until the child was born.

Maybe he was being a fool. Maybe it was old-fashioned and inflexible, but some values were ingrained too deeply to be ignored, like not wanting his child born out of wedlock.

Sometimes Dev felt constrained by the conservative label he lived with, personally and professionally. But when people entrusted you with their money, they expected someone who might take a few risks, but only calculated ones. Losing someone else’s money was a direct path to career suicide.

His expertise was in commercial real estate investments, and he had a reputation for having the Midas touch, even with his hands tied by the bank’s board of directors some of the time. Another reason for him to go off on his own.