“And hurt you in the process? Or piss you off?” His dark eyes drilled into her, and he stood so close his stomach brushed against her chest. “No, thank you.”
She didn’t know what to say. Yes, this fucking hurt, and yes, it pissed her off, even if she had no right to feel either of those ways, but she couldn’t tell him that. She was breathing so hard, it made it difficult to speak, but she managed, “Maybe you should get Zane to help you.”
“Zane?” He looked at her like she was crazy.
“How about Talia?” Talia was the oldest of the Dalton siblings, at just over a year older than Ben. He had always been closest to her. They’d even attended the same college, and when Talia’s college boyfriend had cheated on her, Ben had gone after him and beaten him up pretty badly. Aurelia knew how hurt Ben had been when Talia had kept her fiancé Derek’s job of dancing at a nightclub a secret from him, but Talia resonated quiet strength and meticulous thinking. Ben needed that right now, considering neither he nor Aurelia was capable of meticulously doing anything at the moment.
“I don’t want my family knowing about this until we know for sure if she’s mine,” he said. “I don’t want to freak them out.”
“But it’s okay to freak me out?” Great. If that doesn’t tell me where I stand, nothing ever will.
“No! That’s why I stopped.” He sighed heavily. “I’m sorry . . .”
For what? Freaking me out? Having a baby? Having sex?
“Okay, so no Talia yet,” she agreed. “But Zane won’t say anything.” As she said the words, she realized they probably weren’t true. Zane didn’t keep secrets from Willow, and Ben’s disbelieving expression told her he was thinking the same thing, but he had to know this sucked for her. “The last thing I want to do is talk about the people you’ve slept with.”
“Trust me, I don’t want to tell you any more than you want to hear it.” He took her hand, holding it tight. “But I’m freaking out here, Rels. I’ll figure it out on my own if I have to, but I don’t want to do the wrong thing to that little girl. Don’t leave me alone with her, please? For her sake? I don’t even know how to hold her.”
She looked away from his pleading eyes, and he squeezed her hand, drawing her attention as he said, “I don’t think there were a lot of women. Please? I trust you with this personal information, and I don’t want to do this with anyone else.”
She closed her eyes for a second, steeling herself against the jealousy clawing up her neck. He’d been there for her so many times over the past few years—after every shitty breakup, when she’d cried all night after her grandfather had died, and countless other times. She could do this for him, put aside her feelings and be there when he needed her most. “You realize I’m freaking out and I can’t call any of my girlfriends and talk about it because you’re related to them, right? I can’t even call Remi, because chances are she heard about you and Payton.” She set down her purse and walked toward the kitchen.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
She stopped short, and Ben barreled into her and mumbled, “Sorry.”
“You owe me.” She stared into his gorgeous, grateful eyes and said, “Big-time. It’s a good thing I haven’t opened the bookstore yet, or you’d be on your own.” The grand opening of Chapter One was a few weeks away, but even if the shop had been open, she’d have helped, because he was Ben, and he never asked for help with anything.
“I’ll do anything you want,” he said. “That is, if you don’t hate me by the end of the day.”
It’d be hard to hate him over a baby as beautiful as the little girl in the basket. Jealousy might be gnawing at her every nerve, but she was a realist above all else, and she knew unplanned pregnancies happened—and not everyone could raise their babies. Having been orphaned at birth drove that reality home. Even though her grandparents had never made her feel like anything but a treasured gift, she knew they’d missed out on a lot by raising her.
As they settled back at the kitchen table, she said, “I’ll text Remi and make up an excuse to get Craft Services Girl’s last name.”
“Thank you.”
She picked up the pen, pressing the tip into the paper as she asked, “Who’s your New York fuck buddy?”
He uttered a curse. “She’s an attorney. Blond, a few years older than me.”
“I don’t need her résumé . . .” Or visuals, thank you very much.
“Aida Strong. Listen, I’ll just call her. We hook up—”
Her hand shot up, cutting him off. “Don’t even go there. I don’t want to know.” She wrote Big Apple Fuck Buddy next to Aida’s name, set down the pen, and folded her arms, wanting to go there and hating herself for it. This was a mistake. She felt sick.
“Was she all your Thursday night meetings?” When he didn’t respond, she asked, “Have you been with her in the last few months?”
He nodded, looking regretful. “Not all that recently, but . . .”
“Then it’s obviously not her. I think you would have noticed a pregnant belly.” She crossed out Aida’s name. “It’s not going to be a lawyer anyway. Whoever did this has got to know she could get in legal trouble for abandoning a baby.”
Ben scrubbed his hand over his chin. “There were only two others that I remember.”
“That you remember . . . ? Men are such pigs.”
He narrowed his eyes. “How many guys were you with last June and July?”
She looked away.
“Come on, Rels. There was that guy you met down by the lake.”
“Joey Stewart,” she said, remembering the hot football player who had been passing through town. She hadn’t slept with him, though he’d wanted her to. But she wasn’t into one-night stands, and she definitely didn’t want to be a notch in his belt.
“And the asshole you met at the club in Harmony Pointe,” he reminded her.
“Who?”
“The blond guy who looked at his phone the whole date.”
“Oh my gosh, I forgot about him.” She met Ben’s stare and said, “How did you remember?”
He shifted in his seat with a pinched expression and looked at her list. “Getting back to the last two women, there was a yoga instructor. She lives on the outskirts of town.”
“Name?” Aurelia asked, still wondering how he’d remembered her forgettable date.
He shrugged. “Joanie? Jeannie? I don’t know. It started with a J. She was blond.” He leaned back and said, “And really flexible.”
She glared at him and wrote Pretzel Girl J. “Who’s the last one? And make it fast because I’m about to puke thinking about you and all these women.”
“I was in LA for business. It was the night you went out with that designer you met online.”
“Ollie? Oh, I liked him.”
“Fucking Ollie. What kind of name is that?”
“He’s from the UK, and he is hot and very talented.” She was talking about his design skills, but Ben was grinding his teeth, and though she knew he wasn’t jealous—he probably felt protective of her, like a brother would of a sister—she couldn’t resist goading him. “And that accent.” She sighed dreamily, just to drive his discomfort home.
His eyes narrowed. “Anyway, she was blond with a big rack,” he said angrily.
“Of course she was.” No wonder he had no interest in her. None of the women he’d slept with were brunette.
“She worked at the hotel I was staying in.” Ben crossed his arms.
“Name?”
“Caroline something. I think.”
“You think?” She wrote Blond, Caroline, Hotel Hookup on the paper and set down the pen.
“We were commiserating. You know what they say: the best way to get over one woman is to get into another.”
“That’s not exactly the saying, and it implies you were once hung up on someone. I don’t remember that. Who was she?”
He stared blankly at her, his eyes slightly narrowed.
“God, Ben. Really? Then you weren’t that hung
up on whoever she was.” When he didn’t respond, she said, “Whatever. Are you sure that’s it?”
“Pretty sure.”
She tapped the pen on the table, thinking about Bridgette’s husband, Bodhi’s, beautiful blond friend Shira, who had flirted with Ben at the wedding—and every chance she got when she visited from the city. Aurelia didn’t blame her, because if Ben wasn’t her best guy friend and he looked at her like he looked at other hot women, she’d try to pick him up, too. Jealousy gnawed at her, because she could see Ben being attracted to more than just Shira’s looks. She was a brilliant accountant, a badass martial artist, and the president of the Hearts for Heroes foundation, which Bodhi had founded.
“Shira?” slipped out, and she winced.
He looked confused. “What about her? Did she look like she’d just had a baby when she was at the wedding?”
She shook her head, and her stomach sank. He didn’t say he hadn’t slept with her.
“Besides, I didn’t have sex with Shira,” he snapped.
Relief and embarrassment swept through her.
His troubled eyes held hers as he asked, “Anyone else you want to know about?”
“Hey, don’t get mad at me. I’m not the one with supersonic sperm.” She glared at him and said, “Is that it? Just those four?”
He nodded, his jaw tight.
“Great. Do you happen to have Pretzel Girl’s or Malibu Barbie’s numbers?”
“Malibu Barbie?”
“Sorry, Hotel Hookup.” She glanced at the sleeping baby and felt a little guilty for making fun.
He sighed heavily and said, “No. They were one-time things.”
“Oh.” She felt like she’d swallowed a boulder. “Like Ollie and Joey,” she lied, but at least it made her feel a little less pathetic.
“Can you please not talk about them right now? I’m under enough stress.”
“How do my dates cause you stress?”
“Someone’s got to worry about you when you’re out with strange guys.”
“Whatever. They weren’t strange. Why don’t I text Remi now and get that girl’s last name?”
“Wait. Before we start nosing around, I have to call my attorney. I’m a wealthy guy, and people know it. I have to protect myself. Give me five minutes.” He pushed to his feet and strode into the living room, holding the phone to his ear.
Watching him pace the living room sparked a familiar flutter of desire. Aurelia didn’t care how much money he earned. To her he’d always be Ben—Willow’s older brother, the usually take-charge, sometimes overly serious, other times insanely childish man she’d fallen for years ago—and Benny boy, her best friend. The man she’d happily be flexible for. His modesty was just one of the things she loved about him. Wealthy was an understatement. Ben had been a multimillionaire by the time he’d graduated from college, long before he and Aiden Aldridge, Remi’s older brother, became partners. He’d since earned billionaire status. Not that anyone would know it if they met him on the streets of Sweetwater, looking rugged and badass in jeans and boots—but if he was in the city doing business, they’d surely know it. Then he’d likely be dressed in Armani’s best.
And doing Aida Strong.
The air seeped from her lungs.
Ben called his attorney, who agreed that he should keep the situation under wraps to prevent crazies from coming out of the woodwork, get a paternity test right away, and then contact the local authorities. His attorney had a friend who worked for social services and owed him a favor. If Ben was the father, the child could remain with him and they could fast-track the legal documents, and if he wasn’t the baby’s father, then she would go into the system and be handled appropriately. In the space of time it took to make that phone call, Ben’s head cleared enough for him to think about what Aurelia had said. And she was right to stand up for the baby’s welfare. In case that innocent baby girl was his, he was going to do all he could to keep her from going into the system, and he didn’t give a rat’s ass what he had to deal with in order to accomplish that.
He sat on the couch with his head in his hands, trying to figure out how he could have gotten into this situation. He always used a condom, and he didn’t remember a single one breaking. But that didn’t matter if the test determined that he was the father. Oddly, none of that was as troubling as his conversation with Aurelia. He’d hated telling her about the women he’d slept with, but he’d never lied to her, and he wasn’t about to start. She’d looked disappointed when he said he’d slept with Payton, and when he’d told her about Aida, he’d thought she might get up and leave right then and there. But when he’d mentioned the girl from the hotel, he’d felt another change, a chill in the air. And he was furious with himself. He’d been so pissed thinking about her dates with those other guys, he’d said things he shouldn’t have, like about the yoga girl being flexible. That was a dick move, but the thought of another man’s hands on Aurelia made his blood boil. Now that he’d had a little space to clear his head, the idea that she’d think less of him for his sexual habits wrecked him.
But he’d made his mess, and now he had to face the music. Despite his attorney’s suggestion, he couldn’t shake the worry that this was some kind of setup, so he called his father’s longtime friend police chief Ronald Klein. Ron had known Ben since the day he was born.
“Ben Dalton, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Ron asked jovially.
“Hi, Ron. I’ve got a hypothetical question.” As an afterthought he said, “For a friend.”
“A friend, huh? Whatcha got?”
“Let’s say a woman left a baby on a doorstep with a note saying the kid was this buddy of mine’s. How much trouble is he looking at if he keeps the kid while he has the paternity test done?”
“You in trouble, son?”
“Nope. Just checking it out for a friend.”
“Does this friend have the money and connections to push a paternity test through quickly? Because there are legalities if he’s holding on to a baby that isn’t his. Hypothetically speaking, that is.”
“Yes.”
“Then you didn’t hear this from me, but hypothetically speaking, I’d haul ass over to the doc’s office, get the tests done, lawyer up, and go from there.”
After the call Ben sent a text to his assistant, telling him he’d be tied up for the next couple of days and his responses to emails would be delayed. Though Ben had an office in town, he preferred to work from the one in his home.
He pushed to his feet and headed for the kitchen, hesitating in the doorway to watch Aurelia, who was sitting on the floor beside the baby.
Baby B.
That did crazy shit to his stomach.
Aurelia was scrolling through Facebook. She was so beautiful, her lustrous hair falling over her shoulders, her brows knitted in concentration. She was a petite, fearless thing, and seeing the worry in her eyes over that baby—Baby B—also did something funky to his gut.
He and Aurelia had a lot of good things between them, but timing had never been one of them. He’d thought he’d have a chance with her after she’d first moved back to town, but she had just come off a bad relationship and had sworn off men. Like an idiot, he’d respected her need for space. And then, between his travel schedule and her random dates, it hadn’t ever seemed like the right time to try for something more. Besides, every damn time he made a sexual innuendo, she blew him off.
She looked up as he came to her side. “I found Payton on Facebook—”
“You looked her up? I would’ve done it.”
“Right, well, you were a little busy. Anyway, she has definitely not been pregnant recently. She posted pictures of a cruise she took three months ago. I have to admit, the girl rocks a bikini. I’m a little jealous, but if you ever repeat that, I’ll kill you.”
“You’re ten times hotter than Payton could ever dream of being.”
She rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh. That’s why you slept with her, obviously.”
He clenched
his jaw to keep from saying, I slept with her because you kept turning me down. It was probably a shitty reason, but they’d both had a good time, and Payton hadn’t been looking for anything more than a hookup, either.
“I also found your Big Apple fuck buddy. You have a thing for Barbies, don’t you?”
“No,” he said emphatically.
“Could have fooled me. She’s tall, blond, and hot.”
“She’s smart, funny, and no-strings-attached. Nothing more. Besides, we already knew she wasn’t the mother, so why’d you look her up?”
She shrugged, but a whisper of something refuted the detached affect she was trying to portray. “I searched yoga teachers but couldn’t find any Barbies. If you know where she lives, you should go there.”
“Go there?”
“How else will you know if she’s the mother? Besides, she’s the only local woman you mentioned. Pretzel Girl is probably Baby B’s mother.”
They both looked at the sleeping baby. Her little hands were fisted, one tucked by her chin, the other beside her head. She had a dusting of light brownish hair and the cutest little nose. She made a suckling motion in her sleep, and he wondered if she was hungry.
“What did your attorney say?” Aurelia asked.
“To get the paternity test and not call the authorities until I know for sure if she’s mine.”
“And . . . ?”
“I called Chief Klein.”
Aurelia’s eyes widened. “Of course, because you never listen to anyone about anything.”
I listened to you and gave you space. Look where that got me. “I posed a hypothetical question,” he clarified. “We’ve got to get B to Vic and get that test done.”
“Okay . . . Wait. You called her B.” A smile lifted her lips. “Your heart didn’t go cold after all.”
He glared at her, earning one of her sweet laughs.
“I’m kidding! Geez. I’ll run to the store and get diapers, formula, and a car seat, and then we’ll go.”
“What?” Panic bloomed inside him. “You can’t leave me alone with her. I’ve never even changed a diaper.”
“Fine. I’ll stay; you go. Just be sure to get formula, diapers, wipes, and an infant car seat.”
Call Her Mine Page 3
