by Cat Schield
He wasn’t her savior or her friend. Chances were the baby wasn’t his and she’d be gone out of his life in no time. Until then he just needed to avoid more complex, charged conversations that dug into the dark places in their psyches.
One thing had become quite clear—the benefit of all that was going on was that Sammi and the potential that he was going to be a father had provided a momentary distraction from the drama surrounding his own family. Rage flooded him as his thoughts turned to Vernon. As Oliver pondered becoming a dad, his own father’s selfishness and greed took on even greater malevolence. Had Vernon given a second’s consideration to the harm his actions would cause his wife and sons before he ran off? Even worse, had Vernon realized the damage and left anyway?
Although Oliver would avoid his father’s mistakes, his track record wasn’t exactly a glowing representation of stability and good decision making. He could intend to put his child’s needs first, but did he have what it took to make anyone happy? Already he was doubting the wisdom of inviting Sammi to stay.
He wasn’t convinced he could resist his attraction to her. Or if he should. Time and distance hadn’t dimmed his desire, and during the last six weeks their situation had grown way more complicated.
On the other hand, maintaining an emotional distance didn’t preclude him from enjoying the physical chemistry between them. He just needed to be clear and up front about his aversion to any sort of emotional commitment. The last thing he wanted to do was lead her on.
Several hours later, unsatisfied by the work he’d accomplished, he headed upstairs to find Sammi seated at the dining room table, a notebook open before her, the lined page filled with colorful sentences. She sat with one foot braced on the chair seat, her shoulders hunched as she wrote. Instead of the jeans and T-shirt she’d arrived in, Sammi had donned a pair of black wide-leg pants and a tan oversize shirt. Her long dark hair fell around her face, obscuring her profile.
Oliver studied her for several seconds, lost in the lightning flash of attraction she inspired. Now that the crisis resulting from her accident was behind them, his strongest desire was to crush her in his arms and kiss her until they were both delirious and panting. If not for the dark circles beneath her eyes, which enhanced her paleness and fragility, he might have swept her up and taken her to his bedroom.
Instead, he sat down at the table across from her, putting the width of the furniture piece between them to thwart his overpowering need to touch her.
“Did you get any rest?”
“It’s impossible when my brain is spinning.” Her brown eyes were soft with exasperation. “I have so much to do, and to be honest, most of it terrifies me.”
Oliver froze. What was she getting at? He wasn’t prepared for the air between them to electrify as she glanced at him from beneath her lashes. His inability to read her didn’t stop him from imagining how he’d like to slip her out of her shirt and expose her perfect round breasts with their delightful rosy nipples. His body tightened with need as he let his gaze play over her. If she’d dressed in the oversize clothing to hide her body from him, she’d underestimated his imagination.
His thoughts must’ve shown clearly in his expression, because her cheeks flushed with healthy color. He worked his jaw to hide a smirk, delighted to see she wasn’t immune to the chemistry between them.
“What are you working on?” He gestured at the notebook.
“The rest of my life.”
She closed the notebook in a rush before he could read any of what she’d written. Although he appreciated her right to privacy, irritation flared at her vague answer. Oliver shut down the emotion. The extent to which she intrigued him was unsettling.
As curious as he was about her plans, he knew if the tables were turned, he’d resist being pushed to share his thoughts, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Come to any conclusions?”
“None.” She pulled a face. “I’m just making a list of things I like. What’s that phrase? Do what you love and the money will follow.”
“What do you love?”
To his surprise, she flipped to a page in the notebook and turned it so he could read her writing. “Here’s what I have so far, and none of it is going to produce income.”
“I see what you mean,” he said, pointing to one item. “Morning sunshine on your face is impossible to package and sell.”
“I know.” She reached out and took the notebook back before he could make more than a cursory pass. “The problem I’m having is that modeling is all I’ve ever done.” She glanced up at him. “After you quit, how did you decide to become a photographer?”
“I...it was something I liked to do when I was a kid.”
“So how come you didn’t pursue photography first instead of becoming a model?”
Pain exploded in Oliver’s chest. “I didn’t think I was any damned good at it,” he growled, his stark explanation making her wince. He held still, expecting her to counter with a question. Instead, she waited him out, and her attentive listening encouraged him to keep going. “My brother is a fantastic painter, and even though my dad considered being an artist a hobby rather than a vocation, he appreciated Josh’s talent. When it came to me, though... ‘Photography is something anyone can do.’” Despite not hearing his father’s voice for fifteen years, Oliver mimicked Vernon’s derisive drawl perfectly.
“But your work is fantastic,” Sammi said, gesturing to the wall where he’d mounted some of his favorite magazine covers. “People connect with it because it’s so emotional.”
“Emotion wasn’t something my father had much patience for.” A layer of ice formed over Oliver’s soul as he thought back to his childhood and the absence of affection from Vernon Lowell. “He was a coldhearted businessman, obsessed with money and what it could buy. The only way he appreciated art was for its intrinsic value rather than its aesthetic.”
Sammi nodded her understanding. “My mom has always treated my looks as a commodity. Even now, when people tell me I’m beautiful, I never take it as a compliment.”
That she couldn’t appreciate just how heartbreakingly gorgeous she was hurt his heart. Flinching from the pain, he frowned. She deserved to be treated so much better. Was that why she’d sat there and let her ex-boyfriend berate her? She didn’t believe in her value enough to fight back? The damage her mother had done mirrored the harm that lingered in his own background.
“I made an appointment with an obstetrician,” she began, changing the subject. “When I told them about what happened yesterday, they said they could get me in at eleven tomorrow. I know you’re busy. If that doesn’t work for you, I understand.”
“I told you I would be there and I will.”
She nodded, her gaze following the random doodles she was drawing. “Before I called them, I did a little research.”
“On what?”
“When I came to see you yesterday, I knew this baby was yours, and because of that, I hadn’t given any thought to the fact that you might not believe me.”
He could see her disappointment but had no intention of reassuring her. “We can run a DNA test after the child is born.”
“That’s what I thought too.” Her gaze met his. “But then I thought how hard it would be on both of us to wait that long. So, I did an internet search and learned the doctor can pull blood from both of us and run a DNA test that way. It will only take a few days to get the results back. It’s completely safe and noninvasive for the baby, and best of all, it’s ninety-nine percent effective.”
She looked so pleased by her discovery that Oliver found his own mood lifting.
“That’s great news.”
He’d been dreading that agonizing eight-month wait before learning if he was the father of Sammi’s baby. Now he had a path to immediate and definitive proof. That she’d chosen not to drag out the question of paternity made it seem as if she truly b
elieved he was the baby’s father. Otherwise, she could’ve let the mystery drag out for the remainder of the pregnancy and use the time to worm her way into his life in the hopes that she could create some lasting connection between them.
Oliver glanced toward Sammi. Seeing that she appeared to be absorbed in her notebook once more, he took the opportunity to study her. Oblivious to his interest, she’d drawn her lower lip between her teeth and was concentrating on filling a blank page with a new list.
While he might not be open to sharing his life with anyone, he was already keen on the idea that Sammi might stick around. And now that he’d thought about it, Oliver realized this idea had sparked long before he’d awakened to find she’d snuck out before dawn. Maybe he was intrigued only because she’d left before he’d fulfilled his promise to photograph her or because their single night together hadn’t slaked his hunger.
“Of course, you don’t have to be involved if you don’t want to,” she said, possibly interpreting his long silence as resistance to becoming a father. “I’m fully prepared to raise this baby on my own.”
Had she offered him an escape because she questioned his willingness to step up or his worthiness as a father? And could he blame her for the latter, since he was having similar doubts?
“Let’s not discuss the future until we have all the facts,” he suggested, realizing that, in a very short time, he might very well need to readjust his thinking. Because in a few days he’d know whether or not his whole life would soon undergo a massive change.
Or maybe it already had.
* * *
Two days following her first appointment with her new obstetrician, Sammi woke up in her own bed and reflected on why her body ached in the absence of a man she barely knew. After one sleepless night in his guest room, where she’d tossed and turned, fighting the temptation to walk down the hall and crawl into his bed, she’d packed up and returned home. Staying at his place was too risky. Her preoccupation with him went beyond his role as the father of her baby. How far beyond was what worried her. She was like a planet revolving around the sun, caught in his gravitational pull, unable to break free. Lust. Joy. Anxiety. Belonging. He inspired more emotions than she knew how to handle.
Although she’d rarely gone without a boyfriend, she’d never thrown herself into a passionate physical relationship nor fallen in love. She’d taken a few lovers, but she preferred companionship over romance. Her mother was needy enough without adding a demanding lover to the mix. The type of men she fell in with liked having a beautiful woman on their arm. To them she was an ornament, a status symbol they could show off to their friends.
In exchange, she had someone who took care of her for a while. Of course, it was all a big illusion. In the end, they either grew frustrated with her indifference and found someone new or pushed her for more than she was willing to give, as in the case of Ty.
Oliver was different. From the beginning he’d shown that he was more interested in her substance than the package it came in. While he wasn’t indifferent to her beauty, it seemed to be of no value to him. It was exciting to have a whole new chance at discovering what could be. He didn’t need her as arm candy. Yet there was no denying that he was interested in her. At least sexually. The chemistry between them couldn’t be denied. The question was whether she should resist.
Until she figured it out, she’d decided it was prudent to move out. As tempting as it had been to continue avoiding her mother and enjoy being fussed over by Oliver’s housekeeper, she recognized that the longer she relied on Oliver, the harder it would be to take the steps to live independently. She’d never been on her own, and even though it was her mother who relied on Sammi financially, as frustrating as Celeste could be, Sammi valued the companionship she received in return. Which made it sound like Sammi was an adult child, when in truth it was often easier to let her mother get her way than to stand up to her.
Yet somehow, finding out she was pregnant had given Sammi the determination to stand up to her mother. All the decisions ahead of her seemed less daunting now that she was responsible for her child. Despite all the obstacles before her, the possibilities were endless and exciting.
Feeling stronger and more focused than she had in weeks, Sammi hit the gym to assuage her guilty conscience after slacking off. While she was blessed with the metabolism that let her eat pretty much whatever she wanted and maintain her slim figure, sweating through a workout cleared her mind. Maybe her lack of gym time was one reason for her muddled thoughts of late.
She spied her best friend working out with free weights as she entered and made her way past the gym equipment toward Kimberly.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” the lanky blonde said, her welcoming smile at odds with her scolding tone. “You’ve been skipping our workouts for two weeks now.”
“I haven’t been feeling great,” Sammi said, bracing herself to deliver the news.
So far she’d told only her mother and Oliver. She had an appointment to tell her agency later that day. Hopefully, they’d keep her on as long as possible. She needed to earn as much money as she could in the weeks before she started showing.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Kimberly paused between sets and eyed her. “You do look pale and thinner. Are you feeling better?”
Sammi stripped off her jacket and picked up a set of five-pound weights. “The nausea comes and goes.”
“If it’s been going on for two weeks, you should see a doctor.”
“I did.”
Her friend’s blond ponytail swung as she shot Sammi an inquiring look. “And...?”
“I’m pregnant,” Sammi said, delivering the news without preamble.
“Please tell me it isn’t Ty’s.”
Kimberly had made no secret her dislike of Sammi’s ex-boyfriend. They’d double-dated on several occasions with Kimberly and her documentary-filmmaker fiancé. Sammi wished she’d taken Kimberly’s advice and dumped him sooner.
“Ty is not the father.”
“You’re sure?” Kimberly fixed her friend with worried blue eyes.
“Very. In fact, we never...”
Kimberly’s mouth fell open. “You dated him for almost six months and you never slept with him?”
Sammi nodded. “It never felt right with Ty.”
In fact, she’d started wondering if there was something seriously wrong with her, since her libido had seemed on permanent vacation. And then along came Oliver and rocked her universe.
“So who is the father?”
“Oliver Lowell.”
“The photographer?”
Sammi’s stomach clenched at her friend’s surprise. Was Kimberly about to issue another dire warning about Sammi’s poor relationship choices? To her surprise, the other model showed curiosity rather than disgust.
“Oh, he’s hot,” Kimberly said, fanning herself. “And I’ve heard he’s great to work with as long as you take direction well. But I didn’t think he was doing fashion shoots anymore.”
Sammi thought about the twenty-three dollars she’d paid for a portrait session that had never happened. “I didn’t meet him at a shoot.”
“Then how? You aren’t one for clubbing or parties.”
“He approached me the night Ty and I broke up.”
“Interesting timing.” Kimberly’s expression shifted from thoughtful to curious. “So you’ve been dating all this time and haven’t said anything?”
“Not exactly.” Sammi hoped her friend would think the heat overtaking her cheeks was due to the workout rather than embarrassment. “It was just that one night.”
“That’s so not like you.” Kimberly gave a shrug. “But I suppose that after Ty dumped you, a hookup makes sense.”
“It wasn’t like that,” Sammi said. “I didn’t sleep with him because I was upset that things ended with Ty.”
“Then why did
you?”
Sammi paused before answering, the memory of that night still holding power over her. “He’s charismatic and troubled and so sexy. When I’m with him, I can’t decide whether to tear his clothes off or run like hell the other way.”
Kimberly’s eyes glowed with curiosity. “What usually happens?”
“Neither. You know how I am—I just push it all down and pretend nothing bothers me.”
“One of these days all that emotion is going to explode out of you, and heaven help the person who gets mowed down by the rush.” Kimberly grinned with relish. “So, obviously you’re into him. How does he feel about you?”
“I’m not sure. I guess he was looking for me after the night we spent together, but he didn’t get my name right.”
“Men,” Kimberly scoffed, rolling her eyes. “And now? How is he feeling about his impending fatherhood?”
“I can’t quite tell. I mean this whole thing has come as a huge shock, and he’s not totally convinced the baby’s his.” Sammi stretched out her shoulders after a series of overhead circles with a weighted ball. “The paternity test results are due sometime today.”
“And then he’ll know.”
“And then he’ll know,” Sammi echoed, her stomach clenching.
“Any idea how he’ll react?”
“Not a one.”
“But you’re hoping it’s the start of something?” Kimberly ventured.
“I’m not sure.”
“But you’re really into him, right? Wouldn’t it be perfect if he felt the same way about you?”
“I don’t know. I mean the sex was amazing, but what if that was all it was for him?”
“You won’t know if you don’t try again, right?”
Sammi nodded. She’d been thinking along the same lines, but what happened if more great sex led nowhere? Already Sammi felt far too emotionally vulnerable thanks to the pregnancy hormones.
