by CC MacKenzie
With her heart in her mouth, she’d Googled the signs of pregnancy.
And God forgive her, she’d Googled how not to be pregnant, too.
Even as she knew that she’d never take that path.
The shame of even thinking the thought meant the burden of guilt weighed too heavy in her heart.
The child had been created from love, along with a heavy dose of lust.
Chewing on her bottom lip Coco checked one of the results again. This one told a woman how many weeks pregnant she was. According to this she was six weeks and three days with child.
The verdict swam in front of her eyes.
Taking a heaving breath, she placed the sticks in the trash and washed her hands.
Her reflection in the vast mirror showed a woman who was too thin, eyes wide with shock and hurt and a heart that was sick with longing for its mate.
Pitiful, it really was.
Deciding she looked and felt too crappy to face the day, Coco almost crawled on her hands and knees back to bed.
Snuggling down under the duvet, she suppressed a low moan.
Would the heartache ever end?
Every cell craved him; mind, body and soul.
The nights were the worst.
And the days were not much better.
Guilt did that to a person.
Those things she’d yelled in temper, words to devastate a heart, that he was abusive, wasn’t good enough for her, haunted her dreams.
The stunned look of dismay on Rafe’s face tortured her.
She’d hurt him, badly.
Closing her eyes and willing for the oblivion of sleep Coco knew she couldn’t stay in her darkened bedroom forever. But she simply could not face the day or the problems it was sure to bring.
Without warning her bedroom door swung open.
Footsteps stalked to the window.
She heard the low hum of her curtains as they opened.
Autumn sunlight beamed into the room.
“This,” Louise announced in a tone Coco knew well. Pissed off. “Is an intervention. We’re on day two of this pity party. And we’ve had enough.”
We?
Very reluctantly she opened one eye.
Louise, with Jezebel tucked under her arm and Honey next to her, stood at the bottom of the bed.
“Go away,” Coco said in a whiney voice.
Her best friend’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Are you sick? Should I call a doctor?”
The clear anxiety in her voice made Coco wince, close her eyes tight against the unrelenting glare of a new day.
Why the hell could people not leave her alone?
“I’m not sick. It’s my hormones.”
“What’s wrong with your hormones?”
“They’re pregnant.”
Silence.
More silence.
Coco opened one eye as a white-faced Louise sank to the edge of the bed.
“Are you sure?”
“Yep. The tests are in the trash.”
Louise dropped Jezebel on the floor, stalked into the bathroom, returning with the bin.
Her eyes were huge.
“You did five tests?”
Jezebel leapt onto the bed. She didn’t approach but lay down and gave a heartfelt whimper.
Coco knew the feeling.
Louise sank to the bed. “What are you going to do?”
Coco sat, ran weary hands through her hair and told her the truth,
“I don’t know. I’m not ready for this. I don’t want this.”
“You know that no matter what you decide I’ll back you...”
Pressing her hands to her face Coco fought like a warrior not to fall apart.
Rafe was going to be a father.
Oh, God.
“He has a right to know,” Louise spookily interrupted her thoughts.
Something inside Coco ripped wide open.
She couldn’t help it, her voice broke.
“I told him he wasn’t good enough for me. That he’d never be good enough for me. At the time I was so angry I ignored the hurt in his eyes. I haven’t seen or spoken to him for weeks. Lord, I sound like a pathetic, wimpy, loser.”
“Nope. You’re stubborn, strong-willed and as much of a control freak as Rafe and even your father.”
“I won’t back down,” Coco said through clenched teeth.
“There you go. Control freak.”
“I’m a coward.”
“True. But it’s because you don’t want to hurt the men in your life. But by not dealing with things, you’re not only hurting them, you’re hurting yourself.”
Coco pressed her fingertips into stinging eyelids.
“I’ll make him miserable. He’ll make me miserable. Love with him will be a battlefield.”
Louise tucked her tongue very firmly in her cheek. “At least it will never be boring.”
Now Coco dropped her hands to glare at her. “I won’t marry him. This is the twenty-first century. I can provide for me and my child. I don’t need a man.”
“True.”
“Damn right it’s true.”
“Coco,” Louise said gently. “You’re madly in love with him.”
Now Coco’s eyes filled.
And she hated the way her emotions were all over the damn place.
“I know. What the hell am I going to do?”
Her resignation from Monroe Industries had been accepted.
No emails, voicemails, phone calls, messages, no smoke signals had appeared from her family or Rafe.
And it was killing her.
Now Louise heaved a deep sigh.
“When you came home you were spitting nails, and rightly so. Ethan told Rafe and your father to back off, to leave you alone until you were ready to talk to them.”
Now Coco blinked.
Anger battled through hurt. “He what? What is wrong with the men in my life?”
Now Louise frowned. “He was only trying to help...”
But Coco wasn’t having any of it.
She leapt out of bed.
And the world tilted in a way that had Louise grab her, help her sit.
“You can’t leap around like that with a baby on board.”
Whoa.
Coco rode wave after wave of nausea.
Once the worst was over, she took a shaky breath, pressed the palm of her hand to her stomach.
“I need a shower. And I need to get dressed. I’m going out.”
“I’ll drive. Where are we going?”
“I’m going into the City to kick ass.”
“About time. I’d just about run out of all patience with you,” Louise said without heat. Coco heard the loyalty and love in her friend’s voice.
She caught her eye. “Do you have a thing going on with my brother?”
Louise pouted. “Nope. We’re in détente.”
“Oh yeah? A cessation of hostilities?”
“Yep.”
Coco recognised hurt under the smart mouth, but couldn’t resist probing.
“And how’s that working out for you?”
“Fine.”
“You’re a bad liar, Louise O’Brien.”
“Yeah, well you’ve enough on your plate what with being pregnant and needing to sort out daddy as well as the father of your child. My ups and downs with Ethan are a breeze compared to your shit.”
Once she was showered and dressed in a black Ralph Lauren pants suit of fine wool, Coco felt almost human again.
She found her friend in the kitchen thoughtfully staring out of the window.
“What are you going to do about Rafe?” Louise asked without turning around.
Kill him.
Instead Coco responded, “He must be seriously annoyed about the magazine article.”
“We all are. And I know it took two to tango but how angry with Rafe are you that you’re pregnant?”
“Very. What am I supposed to do? Jump into his arms begging the big strong man to take care of little o
ld me?”
Leaning against the worktop Louise turned to look at her, folded her arms.
“You know, for someone who’s supposed to be so clever and empathic, it amazes me that you cannot understand how hard nearly losing you was on the rest of us.”
Stunned, Coco stared at her.
“You know I understand. How can you say that?”
Louise shook her head. “No. You don’t. You filter out stuff you don’t want to think about. Ignore things you should be dealing with. And charge through anything that gets in your way. Including the people who love you.”
An oily sense of being in the wrong irritated and annoyed Coco.
“I don’t charge through you.”
“Sometimes you do. But that’s okay because I get why you do it. I really do. I get that you’ve been fighting for your independence for years. You’re so good at helping others, Coco. But not so clever at asking for help for yourself. Rafe wants to help you. Ethan wants to help you and goddamit, I want to help you. Why didn’t you tell us that Tabitha Crew was giving you a hard time?”
“Why would telling Rafe or Ethan or you about a pain-in-the-ass journalist be helping me? It isn’t, it wasn’t a big deal. I handled her. She prints whatever the hell she likes.”
“True, but at least we’d have been ready for it.”
“I can’t win.”
“It’s not about winning. It’s about working as a team. If you’d told me about her, I could have had the lawyers warn her to back off. But because you weren’t feeling up to facing more hassle in your life you chose to ignore it and made it worse.”
She was right.
What the hell was the matter with her?
When had she ever avoided confrontations?
Well, she wasn’t going to avoid them today.
Nope.
She was going to lay her cards on the table.
And if the men in her life didn’t like it, tough titty.
Then she told Louise of her long term plans for her father.
To see it through she’d need her best friend and partner’s full backing.
After a stunned moment, Louise beamed. “Absolutely I agree. Good thinking.”
Then frowning, Coco thought of Rafe.
“We’re going to fight when I tell him he’s going to marry me.”
Louise coughed so hard she had to wipe streaming eyes.
“My money’s on you.”
“Bastard.”
“How romantic.”
“Romance has nothing to do with it. What I mean is that my child will not be a bastard. I love Rafe. I need him.”
Articulating the words seemed to clear her mind of brain fog.
As she explored the reality of her situation, Coco faced the fact she was pregnant and deeply in love head on.
But she utterly refused to lose her identity. And she utterly refused to make it easy for him. She wouldn’t give in. Rafael Cavendish needed to come to her on her terms. And if he was on his knees, even better.
Chapter Forty Five
In his office at Monroe Industries, Rafe sat back in his chair and pressed his fingertips into gritty eyes.
Sleepless nights were nothing new to a trained soldier.
He knew how to exist on a few hours and still perform his duties.
But the way sleep was eluding him these days was unprecedented.
It had never dawned on him, until now, that Coco might consider they weren’t good for each other. They were good together. But what had happened to the meeting of minds now that he’d told her how much he loved her? Where was the sense of peace, tranquillity, the sense of rightness?
She was an incredible lover. Unselfish. Unbelievably responsive. She had a fabulous sense of humour, intelligence and a tight little body. A blend that would appeal to any man. Add in her bravery, independence and sheer bloody mindedness and she became absolutely irresistible to a man like him.
But what if she never forgave him?
The thought leapt into his mind bursting his lovesick little bubble.
How long was she going to make him wait?
Forever?
What the hell was he doing sitting here thinking thoughts like that?
How was worrying about something he couldn’t change, couldn’t fix, going to help?
Ethan was right.
He’d needed to give her space.
Coco was unpredictable. Neither was she an easy woman to deal with. In spite of herself, she’d given him all of her. He knew that and it annoyed him because he wanted her to give herself to him freely and without conditions.
But his mind couldn’t focus, it kept bouncing around from one point of view to another.
She’d drawn back and he couldn’t reach her. And he knew instinctively not to try.
But six weeks without hearing her voice, touching her, loving her, had made him realise it was the whole woman he loved.
He loved her stubbornness even when she was holding a grudge.
This woman - gorgeous, loving, furious, and unforgiving - was the woman he’d been waiting his whole life for. God help him.
But as the weeks had passed Rafe’s sense of isolation, of loneliness only grew.
She was resisting her feelings for him, and that was fine he told himself.
When she accepted him, accepted the truth that he loved her and she loved him - and he refused to permit the fear that she might not accept him - it would be that much sweeter.
Rafe needed absolute love and trust from her, the unconditional giving of one hundred per cent of herself to him.
He could wait a little longer for her.
Nothing good in his life had ever been easy, so why should love?
Did he have regrets about telling her he loved her?
Nope.
He felt lighter, more at ease with himself for telling her the truth.
When would she come back to him?
But then why should she come back when all she saw in a life with him was a lack of personal choice, no freedom, and heartache.
All his own fucking fault he admitted now.
God, she was destroying him.
The rap on his door snapped him back to the present.
Wearing a sharp bespoke suit of navy blue with a fine chalk pinstripe, Charles Monroe strode into the room, glancing around at the cardboard boxes lined up against the wall. He was a big bear of a man, solidly built even though the passage of time meant his waistline had thickened. He had the high cheekbones, the refined features that he’d passed-down to his sons, his daughter. Coco’s father had thick hair the colour of a warship. She’d inherited his sharp eyes and they way they narrowed on his now reminded Rafe of Coco and of how much he stood to lose.
Charles made himself comfortable in a chair and crossed his legs.
“You look like hell,” he informed him in a deep gravelly voice.
Rafe cast an eye over the lines of tension around the older man’s eyes, his mouth and the deep unhappiness in his eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
Charles flicked the apology away with his hand, shook his head.
“I agreed to it. But I can’t take much more of the silent treatment. I can’t believe she’s cut us out of her life like this.” He heaved a deep sigh. “My girl wants it all. She wants to run her life without us on her terms. But she needs a good man in her life and she needs to be married!” Those eyes went too sharp. “You turned pale at the word marriage, Rafe. You are not your father, and Coco is not your mother. You cannot step up to the plate then step back. I mean it.”
“I know how much I owe you, Charles. Without you I’d be nothing.”
Sincerely shocked, Coco’s father gaped at him, held up his hand in a stop signal.
“What are you talking about?”
“You made me a part of the family. I’ll never forget it.”
“Rubbish. I did nothing. You made you. If I did anything to help then I’m a happy man and that’s a fact. If you feel you owe me somet
hing, then give me the truth. Why the hell didn’t you make Coco yours years ago?”
“Are you kidding me? I’m not good enough for her. She said it herself.”
“True.”
When Rafe went white, Charles shook his head. “I’m her father. As far as I’m concerned no one is good enough for her. When you’re a father you’ll understand how I feel.”
“I wasn’t ready. She wasn’t ready. She’s killing me.”
“Yep. A woman will do that to a man.”
“Christ, Charles, I love her,” Rafe said. And knew he sounded as if his soul was being pulled apart on a rack.
“I know that, son, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation. If you want my advice you need to be totally honest with her. And so do I. I don’t believe she’ll settle for anything less. We’ve both let her down.”
“I let her down. By feeling obligated to you, and by taking your side against her, I let her down. It won’t happen again. From now on what Coco wants, she gets. All I want is for her to be happy.”
“As do I.”
“She’s not looking for happy-ever-after.”
Charles rose and crossed to Rafe, laid a heavy hand on his shoulder.
“Uh huh, you keep telling yourself that,” he said. Then he walked to the door. With his hand on the handle, he turned. “But if you make her cry, I’ll break both your legs and then I’ll start on your arms.”
“That’s a great help,” Rafe growled.
“Scared?”
“Terrified.”
“Good.”
“I’ve already hurt her,” Rafe admitted.
“You hurt each other.” Charles Monroe lasered him with a look. “Fix it.”
Chapter Forty Six
“Just where do you get off interfering in my life?”
Ethan Monroe swore when he bobbled the cup of coffee he was pouring.
And then swung around to face his sister.
They were similar enough in looks and in temperament that she caught the gleam of irritation in his blue eyes.
“Haven’t you ever heard of knocking on a damn door?” he complained.
