Delores Fossen - Secret Surrogate

Until tonight.

“The last article I wrote did cause some waves,” Kylie admitted.

“Yeah.” And Lucas let that simple acknowledgment hum between them for several long moments. “The one about illegal and unethical surrogacy activity.”

So, he’d read it. Or at least he was familiar with it. Maybe he was also familiar with the fact that she’d alluded to a powerful San Antonio attorney, Isaac Dupont, and the surrogacy clinic director, Kendrick Windham, who might have participated in those illegal activities.

“I didn’t name names,” Kylie quickly pointed out. Why, she didn’t know. However, she suddenly felt the need to defend herself and her approach to journalism.

“But along with the San Antonio Police Department, hundreds, if not thousands, of readers figured out that you were referring to Isaac Dupont,” Lucas countered just as quickly.

Kylie was sure she blinked. “San Antonio PD? What do you mean?”

He shut the back door and locked it. Then with that same quiet, almost graceful confidence, he strolled toward the laundry room. “On the way over, I made some calls, talked to a friend in SAPD. They might open an investigation based on the info in your article.”

The blood rushed to her head, so fast that she became dizzy. Kylie dropped back a step and pressed her hand to her chest. “I didn’t know.”

“Nothing’s official.” He didn’t even spare her a glance. He continued his investigation by examining the garage just off the laundry room. “Besides, it might not even happen. The police are just looking into it.”

She nodded and tried not to show any emotion. But inside that was an entirely different matter. Oh, mercy. She’d speculated that Isaac Dupont might be up to his lily-white neck in illegal activity, but she hadn’t thought that article would cause him to try to intimidate her.

If that’s what he’d indeed tried to do.

Had he hired those men to follow her? To scare her? If so, it’d worked.

She was scared.

“I’ll have another look around outside,” Lucas said, coming out of the laundry room. He engaged the lock on the door that blocked off the garage from the rest of the house. “If I see anything suspicious, I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks.” She stepped back, clearing the way so he could go around her. “And thank you for coming.”

It was an automatic, polite response. Something drilled into her by her upbringing. A goodbye meant to get him moving out the door.

It didn’t have quite the intended effect on Lucas.

He stopped, practically in mid-step, and his gaze slid to hers. Those jaw muscles went to work again, and it seemed as if he’d changed his mind a dozen times about what to say. “This is my job.”

A short, efficient, arctic comeback. His version of an automatic response. It was his way of letting her know that even though they were enemies—and sweet heaven, they were enemies—he wouldn’t lower himself to shirking his duties because of her.

“Yes, this is your job,” she acknowledged. “But I don’t think anyone in Fall Creek would have criticized you if you hadn’t come.”

His teeth came together, and the battle began. Not with just his jaw muscles, but with his composure. His eyes. His entire body. “I don’t intend to discuss this with you.”

No. But it was always there. An unspoken conversation. And it always would be, since he would never be able to forgive her for what she’d done.

But then, she wouldn’t be able to forgive herself, either.

That didn’t make them even.

She would always owe him. Because of the promise she’d made to a dying woman. Because of the promise she’d made to herself. Kylie would always feel the need to make things right with Lucas.

“If I could undo everything that happened,” she said to him, “I would.”

He turned. An agile shift of his body. His gaze rifled to hers, a little maneuver that robbed her of what breath she’d managed to recoup. There it was, in the depths of his saddle-brown eyes. The accusations.

The pain.

God, the pain.

Lucas combed his hostile gaze over her face, hardly more than a split-second glance. Then he took that methodical scrutinization lower, to her body.

Kylie trembled.

Waited.

She didn’t have to wait too long. Lucas actually did a double take when he noticed her stomach.

Not that it helped, but Kylie adjusted her robe again. Seconds passed slowly, crawling by, until the silence settled uncomfortably around them.

“Are you…” But he obviously couldn’t even finish the question. Instead, he swallowed hard.

Since it would be absurd to lie, Kylie had no choice but to admit the obvious. “Yes. I’m pregnant.”

He fired a few more of those nervy glances around the house. “I didn’t know,” he finally said.

The words were void of any emotion. He’d done a better job of that than she ever could have. Because down deep, below the words, even deeper than his eerily calm demeanor, she figured this discovery had to be killing him.

Or maybe he wasn’t affected at all because, perhaps, he truly didn’t care. Maybe she was a nonentity to him. Nothing more than a 911 call on a frosty January night.

She shook her head, moistened her lips. “Not many people know about the pregnancy.” And because she feared other questions, both those spoken aloud and left unsaid, Kylie went on the offensive. “I doubt those men are still out there. But just in case, I’ll lock all the doors, keep my weapon nearby. I’ll call you if I see anything else suspicious.”

He nodded, turned and headed for the door. Lucas didn’t even look back, which shot to heck her nonentity theory. She wasn’t a nonentity to him, definitely not, because he still hated her.

However, as deep and as potent as that hatred was, Kylie knew that Lucas would hate her even more if he learned the truth—

That the baby she was carrying was his.

Lucas couldn’t get out of Kylie’s house fast enough. It took every ounce of his willpower not to break into a run, and he was certainly thankful when he made it outside onto the porch.

He immediately pulled in a long, hard breath. Since it was just below freezing and the ice crystals seemed to burn his lungs, it should have cleared his head, as well.

It didn’t.

But then, nothing would.

It didn’t seem…fair.

There. He’d let the thought fully materialize in his head. Yeah, it was petty. Beyond petty, really. It was spiteful. But it put a rock-hard knot in his gut to know that the woman responsible for the deaths of his wife and unborn child was having a child of her own.

What’s wrong with this picture? he wanted to shout to the powers that be.

“Are you okay?” he heard Kylie ask. Definitely not a shout. Practically a whisper.

Lucas laughed. But it wasn’t from humor. Damn the irony of this. And damn the flashbacks and the nightmarish memories of that day when his world had come crashing down around him.

“I’m fine,” he lied.

“Hmm.” She paused. “You know, if I were wearing a BS meter, it’d be going nuts about right now. Because you don’t look fine.”

He shot her a glance over his shoulder to let her know it wasn’t a good time to push this. But then, it was never a good time to push this particular subject.

What he should do was just leave. He should get the heck out of there. Off Kylie’s porch. Off her property. Away from her. Miles away. Unfortunately, his legs wouldn’t cooperate. They’d seemingly turned to dust. So he stood there and pretended to do a routine surveillance of the yard and the surrounding woods.

However, it was anything but routine.

Seeing Kylie again, especially a pregnant Kylie, was like ripping open all the old wounds. Wounds that would never heal. Even though, until tonight, he would have sworn that he was getting on with his life.