“I don’t believe you.”
She blinked, trying to expel the suddenly lurid fantasies from her mind and focus on what Logan was saying.
“What do you mean?” she asked, somewhat stupidly even to her own ears. It hadn’t occurred to her that he would question her. She’d expected relief from him, not disbelief coupled with barely suppressed rage.
“You’re lying to me.” His voice was harsh even though it remained quiet. “And you’re a terrible liar. If I find out—when—I find out the truth, you won’t like the consequences. That much I promise you.”
Logan was utterly, deadly serious. She stiffened, alarmed despite herself. Having worked at LM for several years, Claire knew firsthand how callous he could be. Still, she had no choice in this, not really.
“Logan, we had sex.” She was determined to keep him at bay. “That doesn’t give you the right to threaten me. I’m still technically married, and this is my husband’s baby. Let’s leave it at that.”
He grinned wolfishly. “Yet I notice you aren’t wearing your ring.” Logan took her left hand in his, holding it up between them.
Claire pulled her hand from his grasp. “My fingers are swelling,” she lied, adding, “not that it’s any of your business.”
He tipped her chin up with a long finger. “I have lawyers. Damn fine ones. The minute you have the baby I’ll sue for a paternity test. Do you really want that?”
She raised a brow, hoping her face reflected calm and not the panic swirling inside her. “Do you really want that kind of negative PR for LM? The president and CEO flouting the no-intra-office romance clause so publicly? If you don’t take it seriously, how do you expect anyone else to, Logan?”
She had him there and they both knew it. Logan lived LM and his position at its head. He would never willingly do anything to jeopardize that.
Logan’s jaw clenched and he released his hold on her arm. “You haven’t heard the last of this. I’ll do what I have to.”
She met his gaze, unflinching. “And so will I.” Then, she turned and walked back to the table as quickly as she could.
Claire was officially in hiding.
Ever since the confrontation with Logan, she’d been in panic mode, unable to think or function normally. At lunch, she’d been an automaton, opening gifts without seeing their contents, smiling and speaking without knowing what she’d said. Jamie had been upset by Logan’s unexpected crashing of the party and had apologized profusely. Claire didn’t recall her own response, but it had probably been mild, noncommittal. No one could really stay angry with Jamie. She was just too cute and well-intentioned for her own good.
And it was Jamie’s good, if misplaced, intentions that had Claire snuggled beneath a quilt, wearing her pajamas, eating raspberry yogurt and watching her old favorite Hope Floats. Not to mention ignoring the incessant ringing of the telephone. She didn’t want to talk to Logan. Or look at him, or argue with him, or lie to him. She just wanted to watch a feel-good chick flick with a happy ending, eat her yogurt, go to sleep, and wake up tomorrow pretending as if today had never happened.
Was that too much to ask?
Ring. Ring. Ring.
Apparently so. Claire picked up the remote and hit the volume button, turning it up a few notches to drown out the sound echoing through the house. Why did Sophie have so damn many phones, anyway? Nobody needs a phone in every room.
Ring. Ring.
“Stop calling me,” Claire grumbled, desperately trying to focus on Harry Connick Jr.’s face.
Ring.
Determined, she punched the volume button several more times. Blessedly, the ringing stopped. She knew it was Logan calling her, even though she couldn’t see the caller ID screen from the bed. If the phone weren’t on the other side of the room and if Claire weren’t so lazy, she’d get up and turn off the ringer. Or better yet, pick up the phone, tell Logan to go to hell, then hang up on him.
But Claire was lazy, and perhaps a bit of a coward to boot, so she turned her attention back to the movie, trying to allow herself to become engrossed in it.
Suddenly, she heard what sounded like thunder. If it was going to storm, she’d have to go close the windows she’d left open for the cool night breeze. Claire reached again for the remote and hit the mute button. The noise sounded again, but this time, it seemed more like a…
Like someone pounding on the front door.
Her heart flip-flopped to the pit of her stomach. Logan wouldn’t confront her about the baby, not like this, not now. It couldn’t be him. Hadn’t he just called her?
She heard a muffled voice. Logan’s. She’d recognize it anywhere. Damn, this day just wouldn’t end. And why did Logan suddenly refuse to play his customary role of detached CEO? Why in God’s name did the man have to pick now to suddenly sprout a conscience?
The knocking continued, growing in insistence and volume until it became more like banging. Claire squeezed her eyes closed, willing Logan to go away, to leave her in peace and go back to being apathetic about anything other than business.
Suddenly, the pounding stopped. Claire opened her eyes, hoping he’d finally left…
Ring. Ring. Ring.
Incredible. The man was calling her now, she just knew it. The same way that she knew he wouldn’t leave until he had his say. Realizing it made her heart plummet, brick-like, to her toes. There was no way around it. She had to face down Logan Monroe.
Either that or go hide in Sophie’s attic until he went away, which wasn’t really an option. Was it? No, of course not. She couldn’t cower around in the pitch-blackness, surrounded by spiders and cobwebs.
Claire tossed back her quilt and swung her legs to the side of the bed. Hiding had seemed like a good plan, but with a man like Logan, it just wasn’t feasible.
Dreading the coming confrontation, she padded downstairs in her bare feet to the once again vibrating front door. Without bothering to look out the window, she pulled open the door to reveal an angry, but somehow still sexy, Logan.
“Claire.” He scowled then swept past her into the house, slamming the door in his wake. “What were you thinking, just opening the door? I could have been anyone.”
Claire would have rolled her eyes had the situation been less serious. But it wasn’t, so she just shrugged. “I knew it was you.”
Logan startled her by reaching down and taking her hand in his. “Check before you open the door next time.”
Claire tore her eyes from his intense gaze and looked at his hand enclosing hers. Her fingers had unconsciously curled around his.
“We need to talk,” he said then, more as a curt command than as a polite suggestion.
“Logan,” she began, only to be cut short.
“Don’t give me a goddamn excuse. You owe me some explanations and you know it.” He paused as if he were trying to calm himself. “Maybe we should sit down.”
He’d struck a nerve. She did owe him some explanations, much as she wished she could deny it. “Follow me.” She turned and headed toward the living room, a sudden fit of nervousness seizing her. Logan had grown unaccountably calm, compared to the irate man alternately banging down her door and plaguing her with phone calls. Oh he was still angry. The clench of his jaw and glint in his eyes assured her of that, but he seemed to have reined himself in surprisingly well.
It would be so much easier to lie to him if he were angrier, colder, more autocratic and arrogant. She sat down on the sofa, curling her legs beneath her, watching as Logan seated himself on the loveseat opposite her. Here it comes, she thought.
“I’m going to give you another opportunity to tell me the truth, Claire,” Logan said, his voice oddly cool, businesslike. “I don’t deal well with liars and if I find out you’ve been lying to me after tonight, I won’t play nice. I’ll sue you for sole custody of the baby, and knowing my lawyers as I do, I’m confident I’ll win. Don’t force me to do that.”
He was threatening her. Logan sat there, perfectly composed, still wearing hi
s white shirt, black pants, and charcoal tie. Claire didn’t even think there was one wrinkle anywhere on his perfect person. He was the consummate businessman, King Monroe decreeing his order. She hated him in that moment.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked, almost desperately. “You don’t want to be a father any more than I want to drive a big rig. You’d be terrible at it.”
As she said the words, Claire regretted them. She hadn’t meant to be quite so candid. The look of naked hurt on Logan’s usually impassive face sent guilt knifing through her.
“You have no idea,” he said hoarsely, rising to his feet. “You think you’ll make a perfect mother, Claire? A woman who gets pregnant by another man while she’s still married to someone else? A woman with no job and no income, living off her sister’s charity?”
Claire rose too, angry now. “Garrett and I had already been separated and I am not living off Sophie’s charity. I have another job lined up for when I leave LM. I know how much hard work, love, and devotion goes into raising a child, and I’m prepared to do it. You don’t even know what love is, for God’s sake. You refuse to let anyone close to you. I think I can count on one hand the times I’ve actually heard you laugh. I don’t know if you’re even human. How could that kind of father be good for a child?”
“Any father is better than no father,” he burst out. “I know. I didn’t have a father, and there wasn’t a day growing up, not one goddamn day, when I didn’t wonder what it would have been like to have one.”
His visceral outburst left Claire absolutely stunned. His hands were trembling. Never had she seen him so open, so vulnerable…so human, even though she’d just questioned whether or not he was one.
She knew then that she had no choice but to tell him the truth. Claire opened her mouth to do so, but Logan pressed on.
“I’ve never told anyone what a hell my childhood was,” he continued, his voice low. “But I want you to know. I don’t know who my parents are. They could be dead, alive, anywhere, anyone, for all I know. I grew up in foster homes because no one wanted me. Some of the foster parents I had treated me like a member of the family, but even then, I was always the outsider. I knew I never fit in, that no one actually wanted me. It was just one home after another, some good, some bad, some worse. What should I tell you about, Claire? How sometimes I was beat with a belt, or with a paddle, sometimes a fist? How I would lay awake at night, wondering what the hell was wrong with me?” He stopped, raking a hand through his hair.
“One of the families I stayed with took me to Sunday school for the first time. The whole three months I spent with them, I prayed to God for a father. No child should have to wonder who his father is, Claire, and no child should have to think he was unwanted when that damn well isn’t the case.”
Somehow, in the course of Logan’s speech, Claire had moved toward him, closing the small distance between them. Tears had gathered in her eyes and slid down her cheeks as she reached for him. She wanted so badly to take him in her arms, to erase the feelings he’d had of being unloved and unwanted. So she did.
She slid her arms around his lean waist, hugged him to her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, looking up at him.
His gaze was still a stormy jumble of emotions. She rose on tiptoe, brushing her lips softly across his once, twice, three times. “I’m sorry,” she said again, against his beautiful mouth. And she was sorry, sorry for lying to him, sorry for the childhood and the father he’d never had, sorry for underestimating his ability to feel.
He remained still, his lips immobile beneath hers, his arms draped loosely about her waist. She caressed his stubble-covered cheek with a hand, unable to stop herself from showing him tenderness. He needed it, she could see as much now. In some ways, he was still that lost little boy, yearning to be loved. She’d never imagined the reasons behind his hard façade or the walls he’d built around himself.
“I didn’t tell you so that you could pity me.” He voice was ragged now, laden with emotion.
“I know.” She pressed another kiss to his mouth. “And I don’t pity you.”
As though he tried to fight himself but lost, he covered her hand with his. She reveled in the warmth and gentleness of the gesture for a moment before pulling his palm down to her belly. She pressed it there, watching as his fingers splayed across the subtle swell she’d been so desperate to hide from him. Finally, she looked up at him, into his waiting eyes.
“Garrett and I hadn’t been together for a long time before you and I were together in New York,” she told him, amazed by the steadiness of her voice. She was truly taking a tremendous leap in trusting him like this, and it scared her to her marrow. “This baby is yours.”
“Mine?” he echoed, looking completely dumbstruck by her confirmation despite his previous assertions that he knew the baby was his. His other hand crept to her belly and he skimmed it lightly over the rounded expanse.
“I’m going to be a father,” he said the words aloud, wonder dotting them. “My God. Have you been seeing a doctor regularly? Do you eat well enough and get enough sleep? I’ll have to buy some books on pregnancy so that we know what to expect. Tell me you’ve been seeing a doctor.”
“Of course I have,” she assured him.
“Maybe you should sit down.” He turned her and gently guided her onto the nearby sofa.
“Logan.” She stood, laughter rising in her throat. “My legs still work just fine.”
“How good is your doctor?” he demanded, all but ignoring her words. “I’ll do some research, see if he’s the best.”
Claire felt as if she were reliving her job interview. She reached out, placed a hand on his arm. “My doctor’s a woman, Logan, and she’s excellent. I’ve been managing without you for almost five months, you know.”
“And just why the hell were you trying to?” Logan asked, his eyes again angry, accusing. “Were you planning on passing my child off as Garrett’s?”
“No, of course not.” Claire sighed. “I’ve been getting a divorce all along, before you and I were together. I didn’t lie to you about that.”
He studied her in silence for a moment, then gave her that nasty, arrogant smile he used like a weapon. “Ah. I see. You think I’d make a terrible father. Because I’m not human, I think it was. That’s what you said. Wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” she whispered, ashamed for having said it to him. And maybe for having even thought it at all.
“Damn you.” His voice was low, guttural. “I will be a part of this baby’s life.” He grasped her elbow, pulling her closer, into the furious heat radiating from his body. “I want to be there for every doctor’s appointment from now on. I want you to consult me before you make any decisions that will affect the baby. And I expect shared custody after the baby’s born.”
Here was once again King Monroe in action, the arrogant, dominant man who took for granted that everyone would immediately accede to his wishes at all times. Exactly what she’d been afraid of.
“You have no right to barge in here and start making demands,” she snapped at him.
“The hell I don’t,” Logan snarled. “You chose to keep this baby from me. I’m not going to play nice with you. From now on, things go my way.”
Claire wanted to shout—to laugh hysterically, even—at the sheer conceit of such a statement. “This is exactly why I kept the baby from you. You don’t just get to control everything and everyone. You don’t get to control me or this child.”
“You brought this on yourself.” He snorted. “Did you think I’d be pleased you tried to keep my child from me? It doesn’t exactly warm my heart. In fact, I’ve never been more pissed in my life. You’re lucky I haven’t decided to sue for sole custody.”
“You wouldn’t win.”
Logan just shrugged, a smug grin curling his lips. “I never lose. Never. So you better get used to accommodating me when it comes to the baby. Because if you don’t…” He shrugged again, the smug smile going into full bloom.
&n
bsp; Logan stalked into his living room, so angry he could ram his fist through a wall. Derek looked up, in the middle of watching Logan’s flat screen, devouring a pepperoni pizza, and scratching Caesar’s big, white belly. Upon seeing his master enter the room, the cat issued an inquisitive meow, but didn’t bother to budge from his sprawl across Derek’s lap.
“Traitor,” Logan muttered, glaring at Caesar as he began pacing the length of the living room.
“Hello to you too,” Derek said dryly.
“Not you,” Logan clarified, tugging absently at his left earlobe. “The goddamn cat.”
“Trouble at the office?” Derek asked rather unconcernedly around a mouthful of pizza.
“Sort of.” Logan stopped in his tracks, looking at his friend. “You’re going to be an uncle.”
Derek nearly choked on his pizza, but took a swig of the bottled water at his side to wash it down. “You didn’t say you were involved with someone, Loge.”
“I’m not.” Logan laughed self-derisively. “Well…hell, it’s complicated. She’s a coworker in the middle of a divorce and we got carried away on a business trip a few months ago, and now she’s pregnant.”
Derek whistled. “Sounds like a role in a movie I was offered a few years back.”
“It does sound like a movie plot,” Logan agreed, sending his friend a wry grin. “A bad movie plot, like one of those Lifetime channel things women go nuts over. I don’t blame you for turning it down.” He resumed his infuriated pacing. “Christ, Derek. I don’t know how it happened. I never date coworkers. I’ve always believed in my no-intra-office romance policy. I’ve never even had a chance of being a father. Not since Abigail, anyway.”
Derek nodded, his blue eyes sympathetic, pitying almost. He didn’t say anything, didn’t need to. Both men knew what had occurred and what its effect on Logan had been.
Perfect Persuasion (Love's Second Chance Book 2) Page 5
