by Cassie Miles
It didn’t take much to read between the lines. Prentice was talking about Eve’s pregnancy. “Who’s the father?”
“I don’t have a name.” Latimer turned to Eve. “I assume you’re the mother. Do you know the father of your baby?”
She waved her hands in front of her face, erasing his question. “Prentice did this to me for money?”
“A great deal of money,” Latimer said. “His clinic in Aspen has an extremely high overhead. These are difficult financial times for everyone.”
Eve’s anger went out of her. She slouched back against the car seat. “Why?”
“You can ask Prentice yourself,” Latimer said. “Tomorrow night at my office. Eight o’clock. That’s all I can tell you. Now, I need to go home.”
So did Blake. He needed time to think. Prentice wasn’t involved in a scheme to develop a race of superbabies. He’d implanted Eve for a cash settlement. Money. The oldest motive in the book.
LEAVING LATIMER BEHIND, Eve shuffled along the sidewalk beside Blake. She was frustrated and mad as hell. She couldn’t believe how much had been thrown at her. Everything—lock, stock and…baby.
Because of factors beyond her control, she was a pregnant virgin. An unwilling pregnant virgin. An unwilling pregnant virgin who was attracted to a man who might be her brother. Worst of all, the unknown father of her baby was a crazy person, possibly homicidal.
The only way her life could get worse was if armed thugs were after her. Oh, wait! They were.
She grumbled, “I want a weapon.”
“I thought you wanted to learn hand-to-hand combat.”
“I do. And I also want a gun.”
“Feeling like shooting somebody?”
“Several somebodies,” she said, “starting with Prentice. Can you believe he messed up my life for a paycheck?”
“A really big paycheck,” Blake said.
“I don’t care if it was a million dollars. He had no right to violate me. This sounds crazy, but I would have felt better if my pregnancy was part of an experiment. You know, creating the next generation of superbabies.”
“Maybe it is. We don’t know the motives for your baby daddy.”
They approached the supersleek Mercedes, and he gallantly opened the door for her.
She eyed him suspiciously. “Why so gentlemanly?”
“After your fancy lunch with Vargas, I figured I better step up my game.”
“Vargas? Sure, he’s got money and class and isn’t bad to look at, but you’re…” Teasing, she patted Blake’s clean-shaven cheek. “You’re you.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Don’t go fishing for compliments, Mr. Perfect.”
While she nestled into the soft leather seats, he went around to the trunk where he kept his arsenal. When he got into the car, he handed her a plastic device that was about the size of a remote control with two pincers on the end.
“Stun gun,” he said. “Flip this switch to activate, press the business end against your attacker and pull the trigger. Nobody gets killed, but it stops an assailant in their tracks.”
“I like it.” She squeezed the plastic handle. “Like Star Trek when you set your phaser to stun.”
“Don’t set it off by accident. That’s several hundred thousand volts, and it really hurts.”
When she went to stash her weapon in her purse, she remembered that Randall had dropped a GPS tracker in her shoulder bag. As Blake eased away from the curb, she dumped the contents onto the floor in front of her. Hunched over, she shifted through her wallet, sunglasses, various receipts, an emery board, cell phone, lipstick and various other detritus until she found the small round disc. “Aha!”
“Do I want to know what you’re doing?”
“Making sure Latimer doesn’t know where we are.” She lowered the window and tossed it into the street, hoping that it would be picked up by a squirrel and hidden away forever. “Okay, where do we go from here?”
“I was hoping for an excuse to drive this fine vehicle to Aspen, but Prentice is coming to us. No need to track him down.”
“Unless Latimer pulls a double cross.” She didn’t think he’d take that chance. Hiding his genetic secret from his parents seemed important to him. “He really looked miserable.”
“Don’t let sympathy cloud your thinking,” Blake warned.
“I won’t.” She pushed aside her emotional reaction. “Just the facts. Latimer has a tenuous connection to Vargas through the lease on his building. And he knows Pyro. And he lied to us about not being able to reach Prentice. However, he seemed truly shocked when we told him about his genetic parents.”
“Or was he shocked that we knew?”
“A possibility,” she conceded.
“We can’t trust him. When we go to his office, we’ll be prepared for an ambush.”
He stopped short to avoid a careless driver, then reached out and patted the dashboard. He murmured, “That’s okay, Ms. Mercedes. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
He wasn’t trying to charm her, not like Vargas, but Blake drew her like a magnet. She wanted to ruffle his hair or give him a little kiss on the cheek. “You still haven’t told me our plan for this afternoon.”
“First, I want to go back to the house and find the box of stuff from the clinic at Fitzsimons. It sounded like Dr. Puller and Connie cleared off his desk pretty quickly. There might be a clue.”
“We have lots of other research to do. Vargas promised to send me the results of his hacking into Prentice’s and your dad’s computer.”
Blake reminded her, “He also said there were no names attached.”
“I’m good at breaking codes.”
She flipped open her cell phone to check her e-mail messages. Nothing from Vargas. But there was a message from General Walsh. It had to be Blake’s DNA results.
Her fingers trembled above the keys. Finally, she’d have her answer. She’d know if she and Blake were brother and sister.
Chapter Fourteen
At the house, Eve set up her computer at the desk in Blake’s bedroom where she could use his printer. After these anxious hours of wondering, she was almost afraid to compare their DNA profiles.
Before Blake barged into her life, she hadn’t felt like she was missing anything by not having a relationship. Her work was enough. She was happy as a single person. Not lonely, not really. But now she was different. Irrational, crazy emotions intruded into her life equation. She wanted to be with him, and she knew he felt the same way about her. If it turned out that they were genetically related, they had a problem.
With a few clicks on the keyboard, she opened the e-mail from General Walsh’s secretary. When the DNA chart appeared, she sat and stared blankly.
Blake hovered at her shoulder. “What are you waiting for?”
“Does it really matter what it says? It’s only genetics. Even if it turns out wrong…”
“Damn it, Eve. Read the charts.”
She printed out his DNA results to compare with her own. “These profiles aren’t detailed or conclusive. They couldn’t be used in court to determine paternity.”
“But they’re close enough to tell if we’re related. Right?”
“I’m not a genetics expert. I’m remembering information that my friend, Hugo the MonkeyMan, explained to me when I helped him coordinate his study.” Sometimes her eidetic memory came in handy. “These charts will show thirteen core STR loci and their chromosomal positions as well as twenty-five alleles.”
“In English,” he said.
“It’s like a fingerprint. With the exception of identical twins, nobody has the same DNA. However, family relationships can be determined through comparison of the—”
“Just do it.”
She placed the two sheets of paper side by side. There were zero matches and few similarities. Yes! There was no genetic reason to keep them apart. “I’m not your sister. Not your half sister. We’re not related.”
He pulled her out of the
chair and into his arms. “Then it’s okay if I do this.”
His mouth pressed hard against hers. At first, she was surprised by the intensity of his kiss. She’d never been ravaged before but suspected that this was what it felt like. Exciting. Confusing.
Her heartbeat accelerated, and her blood rushed. She could almost hear the surging as a fierce energy swept through her. She clung to him, pressing herself so tightly against his chest that she felt as if they were merging into one being.
They toppled backward onto his queen-size bed, and the air left her lungs. She was breathless, literally gasping.
He rose above her, and she looked up into his coffee brown eyes, perfectly spaced. His lips parted, not smiling but inviting her.
She flung her arms around his neck and dragged him down on top of her, welcoming the crush of his full weight.
He rolled to his side, still holding her. “Gently,” he said. “I want this to last.”
Why should they go slow? Her heart was racing, and her decision was made. Blake was the man who would take her virginity. “Am I doing something wrong?”
He traced the line of her jaw. “Usually, it’s the guy who wants to go fast.”
“Like I told you, I’m not exactly what you’d call experienced.”
“Virgin territory.” He smiled. “Are you sure you’re ready?”
“Why not? I’m already pregnant.”
His eyes darkened. “What Prentice did to you is unthinkable. I’m sorry you have to go through this.”
It didn’t seem as bad when she was with him. “The worst part is that I have no frame of reference. I don’t know how to be pregnant. There must be vitamins I should take. Should I go to a doctor to make sure everything is all right?”
“Whatever you need, I’ll support you.”
She believed him. “Thanks.”
“The last thing I want is to hurt you. Are you sure about making love?”
He cradled her in his arms, comforting her with surprising gentleness and kindness. Blake was a man’s man, an alpha male who naturally took charge. This empathy showed another side of him. Not only did he care about her, but he actually seemed to understand how she felt.
A tear spilled down her cheek. There hadn’t been time for her to cry, and she didn’t want to start weeping now. She wiped it away. “I want to make love. I want to know what it’s like.”
As he stroked her shoulders and tenderly rocked her in his arms, she let go of the anger and emotional pain she’d been holding in check. Prentice had stolen a precious part of her life—the natural progression of courtship and love that resulted in creating a baby. A heavy sob tore from her gut, and her tears flowed. More emotion than she’d felt in her entire life broke free in a torrent.
Blake absorbed her outburst. He murmured while she sobbed and cursed. He held her and waited until the storm abated to a whimper and she subsided into a quiet aftermath.
She sighed. “I didn’t know that was in me.”
“It’s okay.”
When he smiled at her, she turned her face away. “I must be a mess.”
“You look good to me.”
Yeah, sure. She knew her eyes were red. Her face, blotchy. “I’d like to wash up.”
He rose from the bed and pulled her to her feet. Then he took her arm as though he was escorting her to a grand ball instead of to the bathroom down the hall. As she walked beside him, her step was light, buoyant. Her tears had washed away the anxiety that weighed upon her.
In the bathroom, he lifted her and sat her on the countertop beside the sink. She should have told him that she was facing the wrong way and needed the mirror to clean up, but she was curious about what he intended to do.
He turned on the faucet and dampened a washcloth. “Close your eyes, Eve.”
The warm cloth stroked her forehead and cheeks. He lightly kissed her lips, washed again and patted her face dry.
She felt his hands glide down her black denim pants to her feet. When he removed her shoes and socks, her toes curled. “What are you doing?”
“I always feel clean after my feet are washed.”
When he stroked her instep, a shiver raced up her legs. She opened her eyes and looked down at him, kneeling before her like the prince with Cinderella. This wasn’t how she thought making love would be, but she liked it.
The warm washcloth caressed her toes. She closed her eyes again and leaned back, enjoying the sensations that raced through her. Though he touched only her feet, a tingling started in the pit of her stomach. She was aroused, very definitely aroused.
“You have pretty feet,” he said as he dried her feet. “Pink, little toes.”
She truly wished that she’d had a pedicure. “You’ve seen my feet before. When I was wearing my sandals.”
“Now they’re naked.”
Which was exactly what she wanted to be. Completely naked. When he stood, she looked him straight in the face. “I should take off my T-shirt so you can wash my chest.”
He pulled the T-shirt over her head. His eyes warmed as he gazed down at her. She loved the way he was looking at her, with relish and approval.
His thumb touched the pi tattoo above her left breast. “I like it.”
“On second thought,” she said, “I should wash you, too.”
With quick dexterity, she unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off his shoulder. His T-shirt came next. His muscular chest with a light sprinkle of hair was, of course, perfect. On his flexed bicep the tattoo of Icarus looked like fine art.
“Another thought.” Her voice had taken on a husky tone. “Forget the washcloth and kiss me.”
He parted her thighs and stepped between them. It felt natural to wrap her legs around him and to embrace him as they kissed. His flesh was warm, and the friction of their bodies generated even more heat. In a matter of minutes, she’d gone from weeping to an amazing excitement with too many sensations to count.
Her primal brain—the hypothalamus—took over, and instinct ruled her behavior. Every touch, every sense and taste had a distinct clarity. Though unaware of why she was doing what she was doing, she knew that he liked to be touched in the crook of his elbow and kissed on his earlobe.
He unfastened her bra to fondle her breasts. When he flicked her nipple with his thumb, a hum of pleasure purred through her. Contented but greedy, she wanted more.
With her legs still wrapped around him, he lifted her off the countertop and carried her down the hall to the bedroom, where they stretched out on the bed.
Though she wanted to take mental snapshots of every second, she couldn’t concentrate when he rained kisses over her eager body. Before she realized what was happening, their clothes were gone and they were under the sheets.
Boldly, she grasped his hot erection. When she tugged, he shuddered.
“Slow down, Eve.”
“Why do you keep saying that?”
“Because I want this to be good for you. I want you to be ready for me.”
She really didn’t know how she could be more ready. Sensations zinged through her, and she could feel them building to a crescendo. Still, she lay back on the sheets. “I guess I should ask about condoms. I’m already pregnant, but—”
“I’ve been tested recently. I’m clean. You?”
“Um, virgin.”
“Right. No condom required.”
As he held her gaze, his hand slipped down her body to the juncture of her thighs. When he parted the sensitive folds, she gasped. Oh, my God, this is really happening. His finger entered her, and she thought she was going to burst.
“Slowly,” he whispered.
The only way she could keep from exploding was by reciting prime numbers in her head. She only got to twenty-three. “Now, Blake. I want you inside me. Now.”
He poised above her. Then, with a thrust, he filled her. She arched to meet him, and their passion took on a fierce rhythm, driving toward an ecstasy she’d never felt before. A final thrust and then all the clichés were tr
ue. The fireworks. The perfect harmony. The incredible release.
Blake shuddered above her. He fell onto the sheets beside her. When she looked at him, he was beaming.
A residual tremor rippled through her and she reveled in the sensations.
When her breathing returned to something like normal, Blake was watching her. His dark, sexy eyes glittered as he asked, “How was it?”
She stroked his tat. “I have no basis for comparison.”
“How did you feel?”
“Like every cell in my body was about to explode, and then I had what I’d identify as an orgasm. Maybe more than one. Is that right?”
“That’s correct.” He ran his thumb across her lips. “You must be happy. You’re smiling.”
“Must be.” She couldn’t help teasing him. “It could have been better. Everything improves with practice.”
“Don’t worry, Eve. We’ll be doing this again.” He kissed her. “And again.”
She snuggled into his arms. Beyond his shoulder, she saw daylight streaking through the drawn blinds in his bedroom. “It’s not even five o’clock. We still have things to do today.”
“No rush.”
They were meeting Prentice tomorrow night at Latimer’s office, and she wanted to be prepared. “We came here to look for the box of your father’s things that Connie brought over from Fitzsimons.”
“You’re right.”
He kissed her forehead and rose from the bed. For a moment, she lay back and simply stared at his well-proportioned body. The ratio of his shoulders to his lean hips amazed her. Even though she wasn’t an artist, she appreciated the strength and sheer beauty of the male form. She would never forget this moment, this perfect moment.
“Your dad was right,” she said.
“About what?”
“He kept encouraging me to open up and have relationships. He said I’d enjoy them.” She remembered Dr. Ray’s kind smile as he listened to her compare herself to a prime number that didn’t need anyone else. “Do you think if we’d met earlier, you and I would have been attracted?”
“I don’t look back and think of what might have been.” He pulled on his cargo pants. “Always move forward.”
