The dream of becoming an actress could wait.
She had two years of college—night school—that would look good on a résumé. And she had employable skills.
She was a good waitress—she’d put in more time than seemed possible at everything from diners to delis to small, mostly ethnic restaurants.
She could sell things, too. Three Christmases spent behind the jewelry counter at Macy’s were proof of that.
Bottom line? She was ready to begin her new life, and how could she do that with Caleb Wilde on her heels?
She couldn’t.
And, dammit, she couldn’t stop thinking about him, either.
Being in this miserable apartment didn’t help. The memory of him was everywhere. The living room. The kitchen. The bedroom, where they’d made love …
No. Not love.
They’d had sex.
She understood that now but that night—that night—
“Idiot,” she said in a harsh whisper.
Sex. Lust. That was it, plain and simple, the same thing that had got her mother in trouble, that had led to her birth twenty-four years ago … but with a huge difference.
She would love her baby. She already did.
All she had to do was get Caleb Wilde out of her life.
Sage spread her hand over her belly, felt the gentle rise that marked the new life within it. Then she pushed back her chair, dumped the remnants of her cold herbal tea in the sink, grabbed her purse and went out the door.
Caleb had made arrangements for Dr. Fein to have no other appointments the morning of the test.
Fein’s office was in a handsome old townhouse just off Fifth Avenue on the Upper East Side.
At nine-thirty, Caleb stepped out of a taxi, went up the steps to the door and rang the bell. A disembodied voice came over the intercom.
“Yes?”
“Caleb Wilde. I’m the attorney of record for the CVS test to be performed on—”
The door clicked open on a small, empty waiting room. The receptionist, seated behind a handsome desk, smiled pleasantly.
“Good morning, sir.”
“Good morning. Is Ms. Dalton here yet?”
“She’s not scheduled until ten.”
Caleb nodded. He knew that. The question was, would she show up? Had she changed her mind about the test … especially now that she’d read the stuff he’d given her?
He’d read it last night.
And then he hadn’t slept anything worth a damn until it was time to shower, shave and get dressed.
Which was pointless.
The procedure sounded like hell. Yes, but lots of medical procedures were unpleasant, and Sage had brought the need for this one down on her own head.
So, what was he doing here?
It turned out that the receptionist was wondering the same thing.
“Mr. Wilde?” Another professional, pleasant smile. “You’re welcome to stay, sir, but I’m sure you know it isn’t necessary. We’re a certified facility and we absolutely guarantee a legal chain of custody.”
“Yes. Of course. I, ah, I thought I’d see if Ms. Dalton keeps the appointment.”
If she didn’t, the receptionist said, they’d notify him.
“Of course,” he said briskly. “And I do have another appointment …”
The doorbell rang. The receptionist pressed a button, the door swung open …
Sage stepped into the office.
Not yesterday’s Sage, doing her best to look cool and competent in a suit and pumps. This was the Sage of that night three months back, the Sage who’d gone into her bathroom and worked whatever magic it took to make a woman look sweet and innocent.
Her face was makeup-free. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She was dressed in old-looking jeans and an even older-looking T-shirt.
And she was shocked to see him.
Her eyebrows rose, her lips parted—and for one crazy moment, he thought she almost looked glad that he was there.
Wrong.
Her brows drew together, her lips turned down and she said, “What are you doing here?”
Caleb cleared his throat.
“I thought I’d—I’d stop by, just in case you had any—any questions …”
She shot him a look of such disdain that it made him flinch. Then she swept past him.
“Sage Dalton,” she told the receptionist in a steady voice. “I have an appointment with Dr. Fein.”
“Good morning, Ms. Dalton. The doctor will be with you shortly. I have some papers for you to fill out.”
Sage took a clipboard stuffed with what looked like enough pages to fill an encyclopedia, and sat in a straight-backed chair beside a small table.
Time to leave, Caleb told himself. His presence was unnecessary. And unwanted.
He glanced at his watch.
He really did have an appointment. With Caldwell. The man had suggested breakfast but Caleb had reached the point at which the thought of breaking bread with him made his gut knot.
The appointment wasn’t for another hour.
Why not stay around for a few minutes? Sage didn’t want him here but what she wanted wasn’t the issue. Legality was. There might be legal questions she couldn’t answer.
He took a chair across from hers. She didn’t look up. The room was silent, except for the scratch of her pencil.
At five of ten, she rose, went to the reception desk and handed over the forms.
At four of ten, a woman in a pale yellow smock emerged from a hallway behind the desk.
“Ms. Dalton?”
Sage got to her feet. So did Caleb.
“I’m Janet. Dr. Fein’s nurse.” She smiled pleasantly. “She’s ready to meet with you and chat a bit before we get to the procedure. If you’ll just come with me.”
Sage nodded.
Caleb’s jaw tightened. Her face was the color of milk, just as it had been after the attack that night.
She walked toward the nurse. Caleb hesitated, then fell in behind her. The nurse raised an eyebrow.
“And you are—”
“Caleb Wilde. I’m the attorney of record.”
“Not my record,” Sage said coldly.
“I represent the client who ordered this test.”
“And?” the nurse said politely.
And, Caleb thought, what in hell are you doing, Wilde?
“And,” he said, in his best courtroom voice, “I’m going to sit in with Ms. Dalton until it’s time for the procedure.”
The nurse looked at Sage. “Ms. Dalton?”
Sage shot him a look filled with hatred.
“He wants to make sure I don’t change my mind and go out the back door.”
“That’s not—”
“Of course it is,” she said. “Sit in, by all means, Mr. Wilde, while I do whatever it takes to get you out of my life.”
The doctor’s consulting room was small and efficient.
The doctor was the same.
She shook hands with both of them, motioned them into chairs across from hers.
“Are you sure you want to permit Mr. Wilde to be present during our chat, Sage?”
Sage shrugged her shoulders.
“It doesn’t matter.”
Her voice was low. Not quite as steady as before.
“Well, then,” Fein said, picking up the papers Sage had filled out, “give me a moment to look these over.”
Fein began to read. Sage sat straight in her chair, feet together, hands folded in her lap.
Caleb watched her. Little bits of her self-control were slipping. She was worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. Rubbing one thumb over the other.
Now, she was trembling.
Something twisted inside him.
“Sage?” he said softly.
She looked at him. He cleared his throat.
“Are you all right?”
Now she looked at him as if he were insane.
“Can I get you something? Water, maybe?”
&
nbsp; Still no answer. He leaned toward her.
“Look,” he said, his voice low, “there’s nothing personal in this.”
“How could there be? You’re a lawyer.”
Caleb winced. All the lawyer jokes in the world were in those three coldly delivered words.
“What I mean is, this has nothing to do with—with anything but Thomas Caldwell’s rights.”
“He has none.”
“So you claim.”
“So I know, Mr. Wilde, as you will, too, after today.”
“Look, I’m simply trying to tell you that—”
“Do us both a favor. Don’t tell me anything.”
The doctor looked up, her gaze sweeping from Sage to Caleb and back again.
“Well,” she said brightly, “everything seems to be in order. Sage? I just want to go over some of the fine points again.”
“I understand the fine points.” Sage’s voice was husky. “Please, let’s get this over with.”
“This will only take a minute, I promise. First of all, I want to be sure you are aware that it will take approximately five days to get the results. Confirmation of paternity, based on today’s test and the DNA samples of one David Caldwell, such DNA having been properly collected by—”
“Yes. I mean, I’m aware of that.”
“Good. As for the procedure itself—there are two standard methods. I’ll know precisely which method is preferable once I’ve examined you. Either is 99.99 percent accurate. Do you understand that, too?”
Sage opened her mouth. Nothing came out.
“Sage? Is that clear?”
She nodded. “Yes,” she whispered.
“There’s some discomfort. Nothing insurmountable but—”
“I know that, too.”
She was trembling again. Her voice was scratchy. Caleb felt his hands fisting.
“Either has a small risk for mother and child. Are you sure you understand that as well, Ms. Dalton?”
Caleb watched Sage. She’d gone from trembling to shaking.
“The risk for the baby. It’s very small, isn’t it? I mean, when you’ve—when you’ve done this test before, have the babies—have the babies—”
“To hell with this,” Caleb said, his voice sharp and clear.
“Mr. Wilde.” The doctor looked at him. “I just want to be sure Ms. Dalton comprehends the—”
“She comprehends. So do I. And that’s why there’s not going to be any test.”
“What?”
“You heard me, Doctor. We’re not going through with this.”
Two bright spots of color appeared in the white mask that was Sage’s face.
“Is this some kind of—of horrid game? Did you set this up just to see how far I would go to get you out of my life?”
Caleb got to his feet. “Get up.”
“Get up? Get up?” Her voice rose. “Do you think you can order me around? Jump me through hoops? You—you get the hell out of here, Caleb Wilde! I don’t want you here. I don’t need you here.”
“Yes,” Caleb said grimly, “you damned well do.”
“Mr. Wilde. Ms. Dalton—”
“Did you read the papers I gave you? Did you really and truly read them?”
“Every word.”
“Then you know that the risks are unacceptable.”
He was right. They were. But what choice did she have between the devil and the deep blue sea?
“This isn’t your decision.”
Caleb nodded.
She was right.
It wasn’t.
It was hers.
He had no legal standing here, except as his client’s representative …
And as the man who had abandoned her to that client’s coldly manipulative arrogance.
“You’re right,” Caleb said calmly. “Going through with the test isn’t my decision. Authorizing it is.” He looked at the doctor. “I am withdrawing that authorization. There will be no test.”
“You can’t do that,” Sage said.
Probably not. But he was the only lawyer in the room. Who was going to make a legal argument against him?
Caleb offered a thin smile.
“I just did.”
Sage got slowly to her feet.
“Damn you,” she whispered. “First you make it impossible for me to refuse the test. Then you say you won’t authorize it.”
“And I won’t.”
Sage looked at the doctor. “Can he do that?”
“Well,” the doctor said slowly, “well, I haven’t run into this situation before—”
“If you proceed, Doctor, we won’t accept the veracity of the results.”
“But the chain of custody hasn’t been broached.”
“I don’t know that. I didn’t supervise the collection of David Caldwell’s DNA.”
“It was properly done, Mr. Wilde. Ace Laboratory is—”
“Here’s the bottom line, my client will not pay for the test.”
“I’ll pay for it,” Sage said quickly. “How much does it cost?”
Caleb looked at her. “Four thousand dollars,” he said. “Have you got that kind of money?”
She stared at him. He could see a dozen different emotions warring in her eyes, everything from disbelief to anger to despair.
“I hope you can live with yourself,” she said in a broken whisper, “because you are the most despicable human being I’ve ever known.”
Caleb didn’t answer. He thanked the doctor for her time, told her to bill him for whatever costs had been incurred.
Then he took Sage’s arm, but she wrenched free of his hand. He reached for her again, clamped his fingers around her elbow and marched her out of the consultation room, out of the office, through the front door and to the sidewalk.
She dug her heels in and whirled toward him.
“Why?”
“I told you. The risks are too great.”
“What do you give a damn about the risks?” Her hair was coming free of the band that held it; she tore the band away and tossed the hair back from her face. “I don’t understand you. I don’t understand anything about you!”
He gave a rough laugh.
“Hell,” he said, “welcome to the club.”
“You don’t get to make decisions for me,” she said. Tears still shone in her eyes but now, so did defiance. “I am responsible for myself.”
“I know.”
“I always have been!”
“Yeah. I figured that, too.”
“Then, what do you think you’re doing, interfering in my life?”
A warm gust of wind tossed a strand of her golden hair over her eyes. Without thinking, Caleb reached out, drew it back.
“Let me help you,” he said softly.
“This is insane. You work for—”
“Caldwell is my client. He pays me for legal advice, and I’m going to advise him that it’s preferable to have testing done after the baby’s born, when all a lab will need is a simple, non-invasive DNA sample.”
“He won’t accept that.”
“Yes,” Caleb said with grim assurance. “He will. I’ll see to it.”
“He won’t. And I can’t get on with my life until—until this is behind me. I have to find a place to live. Get a job. Make plans for my baby. And how can I do any of that if I wake up every morning, knowing Caldwell is going to phone me, check on me, that he’s going to be there like a shadow, all the time?”
“I’ll take care of that.”
Sage shook her head. The tears in her eyes dampened her lashes, then began to trail like tiny diamonds down her cheeks.
“Why?” she said. “Just answer that one question, okay? Why are you doing this?”
“Because it’s the right thing to do.”
“You didn’t think so yesterday.”
He smiled. “Maybe I’m a slow learner.”
“You mean it, don’t you?” she said, her voice filled with disbelief. “You’re really going to convince him
to leave me alone until after my baby is born.”
“Yes.”
“But why would you do that?”
A muscle knotted in his jaw. How could he have known what was real and what was a lie and have refused to admit it for so long?
“Because I think you’ve been telling the truth all along,” he said quietly.
Her eyes widened. He reached out, started to cup her face, then dropped his hands to his sides. The last time he’d felt like this—head clear, heartbeat spiking—he’d been about to drop into the darkness of an endless plain in Afghanistan.
It was, he knew, the way his mind and body prepared for whatever lay ahead.
“The baby,” he said, “isn’t David’s.”
Silence. Then Sage drew a shaky breath. “No.”
Caleb nodded.
“I asked you this yesterday,” he said. “Now I’m asking it again.” He reached out to her, cupped her shoulders. “Sage. Is the baby mine?”
He waited, knowing this was the question he should have asked from the beginning, not phrased it as a throwaway line the way he’d done yesterday but asked with concern and meaning.
“Tell me the truth,” he said softly. “Is this my child?”
Her mouth, the mouth he still remembered as tasting like the sweetest honey, trembled.
She sighed, and everything a man could dream or imagine or, dammit, fear, was in that soft, perfect sound.
“Yes,” she said, “it is. I’m carrying your child.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
CALEB had heard people describe transitional moments in their lives in ways that struck him as overblown, even foolish.
He knew that sayings like “the world stood still,” or “the earth shifted,” or that all-time favorite, “time stopped,” were metaphors.
Still, what logical man wouldn’t smile a little at such creaky old saws?
Now, hearing Sage’s sigh, seeing the darkness in her eyes, he knew that none of those phrases were overblown, and they certainly weren’t foolish.
They were accurate because if the earth hadn’t just shifted under his feet, Manhattan was in the midst of an earthquake.
He had asked a question he’d never imagined asking, and the answer was a life-changer.
He knew he was supposed to say something, but what? His brain was on hold, his tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth.
In a movie, he’d have said, “I love you, Sage. Marry me, and we’ll live happily forever after.” And she’d have thrown herself into his waiting arms and said, “Yes, oh yes, I will!”
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