by Aimee Carson
Instead of answering right away, Dr. Murphy again watched Blake cross her small office—a room that was insufficient for his long legs and the to-and-fro motion. The physician looked prepared to wait for him to work off a little frenetic energy before trying to get him to listen to reason.
He didn’t look angry.
He didn’t look trapped.
He looked like a man who’d been thrown a huge curveball he had no idea how to catch.
And Jax realized it was the second time in their relationship where it was up to her to be the one to remain calm and not fall apart. Her heart squeezed in her chest, softening at the adorable sight of a flustered Blake, the vulnerable look on his face endearing. Jax was thrilled with the out-of-control demeanor from the man who had an irritating tendency to be rational every moment of the day.
And his description of their activities wasn’t entirely accurate, so Jax said, “Well, we didn’t use a condom every time.”
“Yes, we did.” Blake stared at Jax as he passed by. “I was there, remember?”
She squelched the urge to roll her eyes. “Of course I do.”
Jax opened her mouth to go on, but Dr. Murphy chose that moment to join the discussion. “Then the pregnancy is most likely due to a condom failure,” the doctor said.
“Condom failure?” Blake almost looked offended. “I didn’t skimp. I chose a quality product.”
Jax was amazed Dr. Murphy managed to maintain a straight face. “I’m sure your condoms were of the finest quality,” the doctor said soothingly, and Jax pressed her lips together to subdue a smile.
Blake finally stopped pacing and turned to look at the physician, who wore a forbearing expression that screamed, “Lord, save me from the clueless male.”
Jax cleared her throat, determined to finish her previous statement. “But as I’m sure you remember,” she said drily, looking at Blake, “the first time we...” Jax shifted her gaze to Dr. Murphy, who was eyeing her patiently, and searched for a delicate way to phrase the particulars of the story. “The first time, we got caught up in the moment,” she finished with a defeated shrug.
For a brief second, the reasonable, rational lawyer returned, and Blake didn’t flinch at the overshare. “But I didn’t finish until the condom was in place.”
“But if there was unprotected entry during the excitement phase,” Dr. Murphy went on matter-of-factly, and Jax fought the urge to cringe at the clinical description, “it’s possible this could be the result of pre-ejaculate.”
Blake’s expression was that of a man who was used to being in control...but was now in way over his head. Drowning, in fact.
Jax’s heart twisted a little harder. He really was adorable when he was suffering and under the gun.
“In the literature, there is some debate as to whether or not the fluid in pre-ejaculate contains sperm,” Dr. Murphy continued, and Blake looked as if he’d just been scooped up and plopped down into the nether regions of hell, but the good doctor went on calmly. “Some studies failed to find any, yet others confirm their presence. In a limited quantity, of course.”
Jax cleared her throat and finally found her voice. “Of course,” she said. “Interesting information. Makes you wonder what other kinds of studies are going on.”
Apparently Blake wasn’t appreciating the amusement in the moment.
Obviously unperturbed, Dr. Murphy continued with her no-nonsense tone of voice. “But it is entirely feasible that, if an orgasm occurred prior to entry, there would be viable sperm left in the urethra to be released with the pre-ejaculate.”
Jax sat up straight, the news surprising. She knew without a doubt that Blake had not been fooling around with another woman before he’d come to her, so to speak.
She sent Blake a wide-eyed look. “Okay, but if he had an orgasm before our first time together, then he did it without me,” Jax said.
The impassive look on Blake’s face was impressive. “My last relationship ended well over six months ago,” Blake said firmly. “Jax is the only woman I’ve had sex with since.”
Dr. Murphy’s cool demeanor didn’t change. “But that doesn’t discount the possibility of masturbation,” she said, and Jax coughed, choking back a shocked gasp.
Jeez, Dr. Murphy isn’t pulling her punches anymore.
Jax forced the smile from her mouth, expecting an instant denial from Blake. Instead, the tint of color in Blake’s cheeks was obvious, and realization slowly dawned.
Dr. Murphy had just nailed the pre-ejaculate-sperm conundrum.
And Blake’s discomfort, his endearing blush and his abject helplessness broke the rest of the clear coating covering Jax’s heart. There was no denying the truth anymore.
She was head over cowboy heels in love with Blake Bennington.
Her heart rate escalated and her breathing became erratic, her stomach churning. The fear she’d felt when she’d first worried about Blake’s reaction now gave way to sheer, absolute terror. Bile rose in the back of her throat, putting her previous bouts of morning sickness to shame.
Love.
She was in love with Blake.
Jax splayed her hand across her abdomen, heart thumping in her ears, willing herself to remain calm. At least until she was alone and could come unglued properly.
Dr. Murphy typed something into her laptop. “Jax, I don’t need to see you back for another month. And your prescription for prenatal vitamins will be available at the pharmacy by the end of the day.” She gave Jax a reassuring smile, but Jax’s answering smile felt weak. Dr. Murphy turned to Blake and eyed him warily. “Do you have any more questions, Mr. Bennington?”
Jax was impressed with the woman’s how-far-are-you-willing-to-take-this-conversation? tone in her voice. Apparently Blake had decided to quit while he was lagging so far behind.
Blake took her elbow and escorted her out the door and down the hall, past a wall with pictures of ovaries and wombs and babies lining the wall. He carefully kept his eyes in front, as if afraid to take in the decor, and, despite the terror still swelling inside, her heart grew softer still.
She really shouldn’t be so charmed by Blake’s display of vulnerability. Or so enchanted by the chink in his rational armor. And she certainly shouldn’t be entertained by the sight of the man so clearly out of his element. But it was strangely soothing to see him so disconcerted, because it would wreak havoc on her nerves to be the only one falling apart. In her current state of panic, of being in love, she couldn’t handle the logical Blake.
So it was best to keep him as off-kilter as she felt.
“Is it true?” she asked, her wide-eyed innocent look masking the chaos inside.
He kept his eyes ahead. “Is what true?” he said, his tone even.
But it was the slight tightening of his fingers on her elbow that gave him away. He knew well and good the question she was about to ask.
“Before coming to see me that first night,” she said. “You arrived home from a hard day’s work and decided to relax with a beer and a little self-indulgent...touching?”
The grim set to his jaw and the return of a hint of color to his cheeks were all the answer she needed, and Jax was amazed she managed to restrain the very immature laugh that threatened to bubble from her mouth.
Or maybe fear was responsible for her teetering on the edge of hysterics.
Without a word, Blake led her past the receptionist’s desk and into the waiting room that contained two kids with their mother and several women with varying stages of baby bumps. They passed one with a belly the size of the Grand Canyon, and Jax thought Blake was going to have a nervous breakdown right then and there.
Jax understood the feeling well. She was in love with a man whose top three dating requirements precluded her as a girlfriend. So how the heck did he feel about her as the mother of his baby?
It became apparent Blake had no intention of responding to her inquiry regarding his secret jerking off. “How’s your vision?” she said as innocently as she could, feeling particularly evil. “Have you gone blind yet?”
His only answer was a give-me-a-break tightening of his lips.
She didn’t bother keeping her voice down as she continued to harass the man. “Was it as good for you as it was for yourself?”
The look he shot her was harsh, but he remained mute.
And since Blake refused to answer her admittedly ridiculous questions, Jax went on, keeping her voice just low enough to be considered a whisper. “Were you thinking of me when you were having sex with yourself?”
He held the front door open for her, and she skimmed past him, brushing close. This time the look he sent her was filled with heat, and not the angry kind. Need uncoiled inside her, the sensual sensation overpowering now that she’d admitted to herself that she was in love. Jax’s heart thumped with lust and love and fear as he finally answered one of her questions.
His eyes dark, he raked a carnal look down her body, setting her on fire. “I damn sure wasn’t thinking of Mother England.”
* * *
In the back of the limo, Jax leaned close to redo the tie of Blake’s tux. He dreaded the benefit auction tonight, because his mind hadn’t stopped spinning since she’d called him this morning with the life-altering news. Breathing was difficult. Completing the complicated task of securing a bow knot had been impossible.
Because, to hell with going blind, who would have guessed that masturbation could lead to fatherhood?
He still couldn’t wrap his brain around the turn of events, especially given how Jax looked. Adorned in a red, floor-length spaghetti-strap dress that emphasized her cleavage, she wasn’t exactly emitting a motherly vibe. And Blake wondered if his inner turmoil was visible on his face.
He was going to be a father....
Blake’s stomach lurched.
As she fixed the tie around his neck, Jax said, “You were a little crooked, Suit.”
Crooked? He’d been turned completely inside out.
He inhaled the smell of spiced apricots, every one of his senses feeling heightened. Most likely because of the pure, pumping rush of shocked adrenaline that continued to surge through his veins.
He was going to be a father.
The weight of responsibility consumed him, leaving room for little else. Not that he hadn’t planned on one day getting married. Perhaps even having a few kids. But that had been far into the future, not an immediate possibility.
“Are you done freaking out?” she said.
Hardly. He was just getting started.
Instead, he said, “I did not freak out.”
“Yes, you did,” she said with a small laugh. “Admit it. You had a complete and total meltdown.” The glimmer in her eyes was lighthearted, but beneath he detected a note of concern. Probably because she figured his meltdown was ongoing. “In your own adorable way, of course,” she said.
He studied her for a moment before responding, his voice honest. “This wasn’t how I pictured starting a family.”
Her fingers stilled at his neck, and then she dropped her hands to her lap. “The best things in life are rarely planned,” she said lightly, her expression wary.
But, planned or not, the baby was his. The responsibility was his. And he kept hearing his father’s voice in his head, telling Blake he had to step up and be accountable for his actions.
You have to start taking your future seriously, Blake.
You have to stop thinking only of yourself and start thinking about your family.
Heart buckling at the memory, he let the words slip. “We need to plan the wedding.”
Jax’s hand paused in the midst of brushing a strand of wild, tawny hair from her cheek, and she met his gaze head-on. “There’ll be plenty of time for that later,” she said simply.
Blake refused to frown at her hesitation. “I suspect the next eight months are going to fly by.”
She finally tucked the lock behind her ear and smoothed her hand down her dress. “We can get married after the baby is born.”
He sensed the words for what they were: a delaying tactic. The idea of waiting cut against the grain, and Blake twisted in his seat, studying Jax carefully as the sense of dissatisfaction settled deep.
“We have to get married before,” he said.
The look on Jax’s face was hardly encouraging. “Says who?”
Blake opened his mouth, but no words came out, his mind scrambling for an answer that didn’t sound antiquated and dated. Society? Their family?
Convention?
The thought in regard to Jax was laughable, so he gave up and frowned. “I said.”
Jax lifted her eyebrows, an almost eye-roll that clearly communicated she thought his excuse was lame. “I refuse to give my wedding a shotgun theme.”
Unhappy with the turn of events, he pressed his lips together as the limo pulled up to the curb in a trendy section of town.
“No one is using any weapons here,” Blake said, struggling to keep the frustrated tone from his voice.
The driver opened the door, cutting off further conversation, and Jax stepped out. Blake fought to control the profound sense of unease and followed her onto the sidewalk. He took her arm and led her up the steps to the beautiful modern building hosting the benefit, surprised by the sign out front. He supposed reconstructive surgery was the connection, but a plastic surgeon’s office hardly seemed the usual location to hold a fundraiser, even for breast cancer.
Nothing about this evening was going as expected.
Blake ushered her through the glass doors, and, as they passed into the posh lobby full of guests and paintings on display for the silent auction, he tried again. “It’s clearly in the best interest of the baby
if we—”
She turned and laid a hand on his chest, gazing up at him with steady hazel eyes. “Look around you,” Jax said in a reasonable tone as she gestured at the luxurious surroundings, the hardwood floors and stainless-steel accents, giving it more of a luxurious-spa feel than one of a man who made women’s breasts bigger for a living. “Tonight we are going to have a nice time,” she said. “We can talk about this later.”
But for the next hour and forty-five minutes, the worries settled deeper, embedding their way into his every thought. Jax looked beautiful in her gown, wild hair tumbling down her back, but as she chatted easily with the guests, his disturbing feelings grew to monumental proportions. The silent auction of a renowned artist’s work on women’s health issues went on around him, but he felt detached. Distanced. He shot a glance at an oil painting of a woman getting a mammogram—and who would pose for such a thing?—and he wondered if the only way the artist could sell the portrait was to benefit a charity.
“I like this one,” Jax said, studying the oil of women in various stages of pregnancy. She sent him a teasing, tentative grin. “All that’s missing are a few pacing males.”
Blake shot her a wry look and was just about to lay out his argument in favor of marrying sooner rather than later when he was interrupted by a woman’s voice.
“Blake!”
He turned and watched his mother’s friend approach. Gail Taylor was a too-slim blond, fiftysomething socialite who looked as if she’d indulged in the facility’s breast-augmentation offerings. She greeted Blake with a smile, and he introduced her to Jax.
“Oh, yes,” Gail said to Jax, her genuine smile growing bigger. “I saw the news clip with that rap star. The one starting a fund to continue the music program at the club for teens. Congratulations.”
Jax’s face grew more radiant. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m really looking forward to getting back to work.”
She ign
ored, of course, that he had to get the charges against her dropped before she could return. But as usual, Jax didn’t seem concerned with the details.
The blonde woman leaned in conspiratorially, her voice an octave lower. “I heard a volunteer at the club got mugged on her way back to her car recently,” Gail said. Blake’s heart thumped harder at the disturbing piece of news, and the woman went on. “It’s hardly the safest of neighborhoods.” Her eyebrows lowered in concern. “You should be careful, Jax.”
“I’ve been working there since I finished college. And I was a volunteer for the three years before that.” Jax sent her a reassuring smile. “I’ve never had any trouble.”
Jax’s expression and the tone in her voice made it clear she was unconcerned. But this was nothing knew, because she rarely concerned herself about anything, even the really important matters. Like pregnancy and marriage.
And ensuring the stability of their baby’s future.
He was careful to keep his tone even, but it was a struggle. “One of the volunteers got mugged?”
“Just this week,” Gail said. “But she’s fine now.”
He turned to Jax and lifted a meaningful brow. “Did you know?”
“No,” she said, her smile a little tight. “But I’m sure it was no big deal.”
“Are you kidding me?” Gail Taylor said, disagreement written all over her face. “She got knocked unconscious. A coworker found her lying on the ground in the parking lot, bleeding from a nasty wound on her head.”
The words rose sharply, creating a vivid image that slammed into Blake’s gut with the power of a sledgehammer.
An image of his father in the wrecked car.
An image of Jax’s pregnant body...sprawled on a parking lot.
Blake’s palms grew damp and his vision narrowed, until all he could see was Jax’s pink lips moving, changing the topic of conversation with Gail back to Jax’s work with the teens. But her face slipped in and out of focus, overlaid by his father’s. Gray. Slack.
Lifeless.
His heart thundered in his chest, and sweat broke out on his brow. Nausea bulged, the acid burning his throat as the contents in his stomach threatened to rebel. Knowing he needed time to regain his composure, he muttered an excuse and pivoted on his heel, weaving around people and a portrait of a woman in a paper medical gown as he headed for the men’s room.
