by Cat Schield
“It’s just that I had a huge crush on him when I was a teenager, and I’m lusting after him now big-time. What if I get hurt?”
“What if you don’t?”
“I think I should take things really slow.”
“Or you could take a crazy risk and see where it leads.”
“You are always so optimistic,” Sammi said, envious of her friend’s confidence. “How do you do it?”
“I owe it all to my parents. They brought me up right.”
Having met most of Kimberly’s family, Sammi understood where her friend was coming from. With the amount of love and support her parents showered on their three kids, it was no wonder each of them were not just happy but also successful in both their private and professional lives.
“And speaking of parents,” Kimberly continued, “how is your mother taking all this?”
“Badly. She’s counting on me to model. But I don’t really want to anymore, and yeah, I’ll stick with it as long as I can. I don’t know what else to do.”
“I might have an idea for you. It’s not much right at the moment, but it could turn into something down the road.”
Sammi found herself intrigued. She could always count on Kimberly to offer great advice. She approached everything with a cool head and pragmatic attitude. Any suggestions she might have for Sammi’s future would be worth listening to.
“I’m all ears.”
“Brody is working with this company that is offering online tutorials and advice. They contract with experts to record lessons or workshops that they will then sell online.”
“What sort of things are they interested in?”
Kimberly shrugged. “It’s pretty open. They are reaching out to artists, models, actresses, musicians, stylists. Brody wants me to do a series on runway walking. I already suggested that you would be perfect for posing. You are brilliant at both editorial and commercial. You could explain the differences of each.” Kimberly cocked her head. “And I’ll bet you could do a whole series on your life as a child model. Or what it’s like to model overseas.”
“That sounds interesting,” Sammi said, but even as the idea captured her imagination, she wondered if she had all that much to offer.
“So can I tell him you’re in?”
“Sure.” Nothing ventured, nothing gained. If that was true, wouldn’t the same concept apply to her relationship with Oliver? “Why not.”
Six
There it was. Proof definitive that he was a father. The stark reality shut down Oliver’s brain and sent a tornado ripping through his awareness. He didn’t know which emotion to settle on. Panic seemed a good choice, but he pushed it down. It came as no surprise to Oliver that after all his criticism of his father, all the blame he’d heaped on Vernon’s head, every bout of self-righteous rage, when faced with actually proving his claim that he would be a better parent, Oliver was terrified that he’d fail.
Yet he was also excited that a child would be part of his life from now on. And that he would be forever connected to Sammi. Even if the sexual relationship he still wanted to pursue with her eventually fizzled out, he was confident they could remain civil for the sake of their child. After all, no matter how much damage Vernon’s wandering eye had caused his wife, they’d stayed married to keep the family together.
Surely he and Sammi could make something similar work. He was already preoccupied with her welfare and liked the idea that she would become a staple in his life. Even before he’d learned that she was pregnant, his determination to find her spoke to how strongly she affected him. His pursuit had been about more than a night of great sex. From the first moment he saw her, she’d captured his interest, and that feeling had only increased during the hours they’d spent together.
And now that he knew the baby was his, he welcomed that she was a permanent fixture in his life. The nature of their relationship might not be crystal clear, but when he contemplated that she might disappear again, he began thinking of ways to bind her to him, her and the baby. The three of them would become a unit. With Sammi and their baby he would achieve the belonging he’d never known as the extra son, the unwelcome third wheel of twins Jacob and Joshua, Vernon Lowell’s spare heir, or even his mother’s third born.
But what if that wasn’t how things played out? What if he let himself need Sammi and she had different ideas about how their relationship should go? It made perfect sense that they would agree to co-parent and coordinate to raise their child together. But she’d already insisted she was ready to raise the baby on her own. Would she resist his vision for them? She’d been raised by a single mother and had her own notion of family. And given the trouble brewing for the Lowell family, would she even want to connect herself and her child with them?
Anger flared as Oliver contemplated how the scandal surrounding Vernon’s reappearance was poised to disrupt his life once more. Why couldn’t his father have just stayed gone? Instead, the past was going to be dredged up again as if the last fifteen years hadn’t happened. Oliver had worked hard to overcome not only his family’s ruined reputation after the embezzlement scandal that rocked Black Crescent Hedge Fund but also his own bad behavior in the wake of his father’s villainy. The trial would revisit all the evil Vernon had done and keep Oliver and everyone close to him in the news. Sammi and their baby included.
Yet when his doorbell rang and he opened the door to see her standing in the hall, all worry vanished. Sammi squeaked in surprise as he swept her off her feet. His heart bumped as she wrapped her arms around his neck, her soft breath puffing across his cheek.
“Oliver,” she protested, soft laughter in her voice. “What are you doing?”
“Carrying the mother of my child anywhere she wants to go,” he replied.
“I take it the results appeared on the testing service portal?”
“Yes.”
With caution in her eyes, she scrutinized his expression as he carried her into his apartment. “So you’re okay?”
Her words struck him square in the diaphragm. His breath hitched. Had he really treated her with such skepticism? Maybe in the beginning he doubted her, but the second she agreed to a paternity test, he should’ve known that she couldn’t possibly be lying.
“I think I started to believe you when you researched the in vitro paternity test,” he said, conscious that his reassurance was late in coming. Too late? Had he retreated too far into self-protection and built a wall between them that would be impossible to tear down?
“You did?” Her wariness struck a chord.
“I was wrong not to reassure you.”
“I get it.” Her sweet smile banished his worries. She bore him no resentment. “You are famous and rich. I imagine all kinds of women would like to be your baby mama.” Although her tone was lighthearted, her eyes remained somber.
“I’m glad that woman is you.”
He set her down near the couch, and they stood facing each other. Their gazes locked as the significance of their new reality sank in. They were going to be parents. In a silence so intense that Oliver could swear he heard their heartbeats begin to synchronize, he lifted his hand and caressed her cheek. Without knowing it, they’d been actively moving toward this moment for weeks, yet they were virtual strangers.
“We’ve got a lot to talk about,” Oliver said. “That’s why I asked you to meet me here.”
“Can we talk over dinner? I’m starving.”
“You are eating for two.”
“Some days I feel like I’m eating for four. I’m hungry all the time.” She made a face. “When I’m not nauseated, that is.”
“Four?” The thought of having multiple children with her struck him like a bolt out of the blue. He never imagined having any children, and now he could see his entire life thrown into chaos by the rambunctious, beautiful clutch of children they made together. “Is that how many you want
?”
“Oh, no.” She sounded so sure that he frowned. “I can assure you I’m only having one.”
For no good reason her answer disappointed him. “Big families have their pros and cons,” he said, thinking about his childhood and the dynamic of having twin brothers who were five years older. “Did you only ever see yourself with one?”
“To be honest, I never imagined myself with any.” This revelation matched how he’d always thought his life would play out and left him wondering how the pair of them were going to cope.
Oliver enfolded her in a friendly hug. “I think you’re going to be a great mom.”
Instead of boosting her confidence, his compliment seemed to frustrate her. “How can you say that when I don’t have any idea what sort of mother I would make?”
“Neither one of us has a great childhood to draw from, so I guess we’ll just have to make it up as we go. At least we know what not to do, and I for one intend to put our child’s needs first.”
“Says every terrible parent ever,” she murmured. “What if we’re no better?”
When he’d first put his arms around her, Sammi had tensed. Now she set her forehead against his shoulder and let all resistance bleed from her muscles. Her warmth moved into him like rare whiskey, heating his blood, encouraging his hands to wander. He sent his palm coasting along her spine while need built into something intense and unstoppable. Her back arched beneath his caress, bringing her flat belly into light contact with his lower abdomen. The resulting lightning bolt forced him to swallow a groan.
“You don’t really believe that.” He set his hand beneath her chin and tilted her face up. Her anxiety made him eager to reassure her. “How about we focus on what will make our child happy?”
“And if that means all the toys money can buy?” She arched her eyebrows. “What happens if we spoil our child rotten and end up with a rotten child?”
Oliver widened his eyes in mock horror. “Suddenly I’m terrified.”
“Suddenly?” She laughed. “I’ve been barely holding it together since the first positive pregnancy test.”
“The first one?” he echoed, his spirits lifting at her grin. “How many did you take?”
She grimaced.
“We’ll just try to do the best we can and balance freedom and boundaries. Play with work. And make sure we show how much we love him or her.”
Oliver hadn’t grown up knowing a lot of physical affection. The only time he was sure that his brothers loved him was when they let him win at a video game or took a couple of minutes to help with homework or offer pointers on his free throws. And his mom was too busy with keeping up appearances in her social circle to provide any motherly love. Nor had Sammi shown any sign that she was given to unrestrained hugs or spontaneous touching, and he’d guessed her mother was the reason why.
Yet here they stood with their arms locked around each other, committing to being better parents than the ones who’d raised them.
“We can do this,” he murmured, his jaw tight with determination.
“Of course we can.” Her fervent vow made his heart ache. “And we will.”
And then he was threading his fingers through her silky hair and drinking in the spicy floral scent of her perfume. She trembled beneath his gentle touch, whisking him back to those delicious hours with her in his bed, their bodies wrapped together in slick, naked glory. Arousal coursed through him, making him greedy to revisit those long hours. Oliver drew her to him harder than he intended. Desire pooled in his belly as her thighs pressed against his, the contact whipping up a thunderstorm in his emotions.
For days he’d believed that he could treat her like any other woman he desired, enjoying his time with her and then setting her free. Discovery that he was the father of her baby complicated their situation.
Oliver knew he should let her go. But he didn’t...couldn’t release his grip and set her free. Hunger roared. Need battered him. He cupped her face in his hands and bent down to press his lips to hers. He hadn’t planned to kiss her, but as with every other time they touched, his body had a mind of its own.
Before the kiss overheated, the tentative pressure of her hand on his chest shattered the stranglehold of his libido. She turned away from his kiss, her breath coming in ragged pants. Frustration consumed him, the charged emotion coming from a deep-rooted wound.
“I want this,” she confessed, ducking her head until her words were almost indistinct. “But I’m not sure I should.”
“I get it,” he lied, reeling from the sting of disappointment.
Although it felt like one, Sammi hadn’t delivered a rejection. She was just demonstrating more restraint than he could summon. She seized her lower lip between her teeth and worried at it. Crushing a groan between his molars, he tore his gaze away and suppressed the memory of her mouth yielding to his. Somehow, he mustered the willpower to take that first, difficult step backward. His chest ached as he moved away from her.
“I mean with everything that’s going on...” she continued, trailing off as she noticed his retreat. “It’s a lot more complicated now, don’t you think?”
“Much more,” he agreed, sending his hands plunging into the pockets of his jeans. All too aware of the uncomfortable pressure behind his zipper, he swallowed a curse and changed the topic. “Earlier you said you were hungry.” He glanced at his watch. “Let’s go have dinner.”
* * *
The thirty-day notice Sammi had given on her apartment was disappearing faster than she realized. Between long days spent in photo shoots and evenings spent in Oliver’s company, she’d delayed finding someplace new to live. She was hampered by the fact that she’d never been in charge of her circumstances before and had no idea how to navigate the New York real estate market, and the person she’d normally turn to for help was the one whom Sammi had hurt the most with her decisions.
Celeste had barely spoken a dozen words to Sammi in the last week, and the silent treatment left her feeling isolated and edgy. She didn’t want to fight with her mother. Sammi craved Celeste’s approval and support. It seemed so unfair that she’d done everything her mother had ever asked of her, and the moment that she sought to live her own life, Celeste couldn’t let go.
Maybe if she’d made some attempt to assert her independence before this. At twenty-six, Sammi recognized that she should’ve taken responsibility for her finances and made all the decisions about her career, but her mother had always been in charge, and only recently, when Sammi began to contemplate her future endeavors, had the trap of her dependence become clear.
Nor could Sammi bring herself to ask any of her friends for help or advice, fearing that they’d look down on her for failing to act like an adult and take charge of herself. In fact, with her mother’s control so firmly in place, Sammi was amazed she’d accomplished as much as she had.
Which was why she’d decided to ask Oliver for help with her apartment search. He’d already seen firsthand what her mother could be like and hadn’t judged Sammi’s complex bond with a parent who was both selfish and selfless, bully and champion.
Aware how easily she could come to rely on Oliver, Sammi was determined to remain sensible about him, especially in light of all the attention he’d been showering on her. It hadn’t been easy. For the past week, he seemed determined to cement himself in her life. He took her to dinner every night and secured the most amazing seats at an off-Broadway show that she’d been dying to see. Sammi tried to make light of his attentiveness, but that was easier said than done. She was living out her fondest teenage fantasies, and each day the fairy tale felt a bit more real.
Yet not everything was rosy. She couldn’t help but notice the ever-increasing media frenzy that had begun with the news that Oliver’s father was returning to New York to face criminal charges. The first time she’d asked Oliver about it, he’d shut her down hard. Unable to talk to him about
it, she’d satisfied some of her curiosity by reading all she could from articles that revisited the old scandal surrounding the disappearance of the money Vernon’s friends and clients had invested in the exclusive and wildly successful Black Crescent Hedge Fund.
When the funds vanished and Everett Reardon, Vernon’s best friend and Black Crescent’s CFO, had been killed in a car crash while trying to elude capture, everyone speculated that Vernon was dead, as well. In the fifteen years that followed, Oliver’s older brother Joshua devoted his life to rebuilding Black Crescent and repairing his family’s tarnished reputation.
Oliver’s phone was buzzing in his pocket. They were in the back of a taxi, on their way to a preview event at a friend’s gallery. Sammi sat beside him, hands buried in the pocket of her wool trench coat, her senses buzzing pleasantly at his nearness as he pulled out his phone and glared at the screen. She’d lost count of how many media calls he’d dodged. Peppered with requests for interviews, he made sure their outings took place in quiet venues, overlooked by reporters and paparazzi. He hadn’t been keen on publicity before his father’s reappearance had focused the spotlight on him. With each day that passed, he was having a harder time avoiding the statement the media was clamoring for.
“I don’t know why they’re so damned determined to interview me,” Oliver groused. “I was in high school when the Black Crescent scandal broke.”
Oliver had been only vaguely mentioned in the news articles about the hedge fund, including those from fifteen years ago and the one published a few months earlier that had focused on Joshua as CEO. In addition, Sammi had found only one mention of Black Crescent in any of the stories that focused on Oliver and his photography. Or at least that had been the case until a month earlier, when Vernon had been extradited by the Feds from the Caribbean island where he’d been hiding and flown to New York to face charges.
“It’s my father who’s newsworthy.”
“And you’re his son,” she reminded him, glad he was sharing his frustration with her instead of letting his anger fester.
