The Daddy Decision

by Donna Sterling

  Why shouldn’t he believe that he’d traumatized her in a lasting way? And if he believed that, he would certainly feel guilty. He was now clearly trying to make amends... even if he had to father her baby himself.

  An anguished cry tore from her. She shut her eyes and gripped the nightstand for balance.

  She should have seen the truth for herself. He’d asked her why she wanted a baby so badly. She’d literally cried on his shoulder trying to explain. And while she had, he must have felt responsible—not only for hurting her fifteen years ago, but for his part in breaking up her plan with Fletcher; ruining her chance at motherhood.

  And he should feel guilty for that! He’d had no right to interfere. Although her breakup with Fletcher had not been Cort’s fault—and she did not regret it—she couldn’t overlook the fact that Cort had plotted and lied. Even worse, he may have taken her to bed for reasons she hadn’t understood.

  Guilt could be a powerfully motivating factor...but not one she wanted involved in his decision to father her baby.

  And guilt was certainly not what she’d been hoping he felt toward her. Despite all the lessons she’d learned from him, despite her firm resolve to avoid making the same mistake twice, she had begun to hope, in her heart of hearts, that Cort might be falling in love with her.

  The pain of disillusionment hit her with a more crushing force than it had fifteen years ago.

  And this time, she could be carrying his baby.

  BUSINESS HAD KEPT HIM a little longer than he’d expected. It had seemed like an eternity. He’d had a hell of a time concentrating on offers, counteroffers and contractual details when thoughts of Laura kept drifting through his mind. He left the negotiating table the moment the deal had been closed and headed home.

  Home. To Laura. Knowing she’d be there filled him with a heady warmth. Thinking about her laughter this morning made him smile. He wondered if she’d been thinking about him. He wondered if she was pregnant with his baby.

  He wanted that so damn much. He wanted to be the daddy in her child’s life. His child’s life. He wanted to be the man at their breakfast table. The one who came home to them, and helped fight their battles, and took part in all their plans. He wanted to make love to her and only her for the rest of his life. He wanted her to be desperately in love with him.

  It could all start with a baby.

  He made an impulsive detour on his way home to a grocery store where he bought ice cream and pickles. He would ask her if she’d been craving either, or both. She would laugh, and say he was getting way ahead of himself. He would kiss her until the laughter and the teasing turned into passion. And then he’d take her to his bed.

  Feeling vitally alive, he parked the car in the garage and strode into the house through the kitchen door, the small grocery sack tucked under his arm. “Laura?” he called, glancing casually into rooms as he passed by them. His call echoed through the house. Funny, but even with the echo and the lack of furnishings, the house no longer felt empty. “Laura?”

  She didn’t answer, and he headed toward the main stairway, wondering where and how he’d find her. In his bedroom, maybe...ready to pick up where they’d left off?

  Before he reached the stairway, though, he came to a dead halt. The most unexpected sight met his eyes. Her luggage. Stacked near the front door. He stared at it in puzzlement. And then foreboding. Dread.

  She appeared, then, not from the top of the stairs as he’d expected, but from the drawing room. He knew the moment his gaze locked with hers that something had changed between them. The tender warmth and the alluring glow had given way to cool reserve. She’d reverted to the woman she had been at Steffie’s last week. Distant. Wary. Untouchable.

  Everything in him rebelled. She couldn’t do that! She couldn’t shove aside all that they had together. Couldn’t take away what he needed so badly. Why would she want to leave him? Had she realized he’d fallen in love with her? Was she running, as everyone had warned him she would? Was she cutting him out of her life, as she had Fletcher?

  She broke the silence between them with a quiet, simple statement. “You had your house professionally decorated in August.”

  He struggled to understand. She was withdrawing from him, leaving him... because of the house? It made no sense. The house meant nothing! Even his deception regarding the house meant nothing. At least, not enough to end their relationship. And he had no doubt that she intended to do just that. Dazed and reeling from the blow, he murmured, “July. It was July.”

  She tilted her head and studied him in cool detachment. “You stripped the place bare before I came.”

  “I wanted you here,” he whispered.

  “Why?”

  How the hell to answer? From the moment he’d seen her at Steffie’s, he’d wanted her back in his arms, his bed, his life. But he couldn’t risk saying that now. Not when her bags sat near the front door and her gaze remained profoundly impersonal. He’d seen how she dealt with men who wanted more than she could give. “I thought I made that clear,” he said. “I want you to make this house a home. I want your touch here, not someone else’s. Your warmth. Your magic.”

  “You want my professional services,” she translated, as if clearing up any possible misconception his words might create. “So you felt justified in...withholding the truth?”

  He felt a flush rise beneath his skin. He had hated lying to her. And he hated defending the lie, even though his defense was God’s honest truth. “I didn’t think you’d come if you knew I’d had the place decorated. You’d already hesitated to accept my investment offer, and questioned my motives for making it. Besides if you had accepted the job knowing that I’d recently bought almost everything in the house, you wouldn’t have felt free to disregard it all and start over. I took that obstacle out of our path.”

  She stared at him and the silence somehow became personal. “Did you conspire with Steffie, Tamika and B.J. to keep me from my clinic appointment?”

  Utter dismay washed through him. She’d obviously talked to one of them. He knew he should have forced Steffie and her cohorts out of his room before they’d embroiled him in their discussion. They probably did believe that he’d conspired with them. But he hadn’t. His investment offer and everything that followed had come straight from his own devious mind...and heart. He’d intended to keep Laura from that clinic appointment the moment he’d learned of it. No one else’s input had affected him in the least. “I’ve never ‘conspired’ with anybody.”

  “Are you saying that you were not trying to stop me from pursuing my plans with Fletcher?”

  He swallowed a frustrated curse. He wouldn’t lie to her again, ever. But he couldn’t tell her the truth. He couldn’t tell her he loved her, that the prospect of her having a baby and raising a child with another man nearly tore him apart. He had to act with caution, extreme caution, if he didn’t want to lose all chance of forging a permanent bond with her. Of sharing a lifetime of intimate moments. Of finding a back door to her heart.

  “I felt you were making a serious mistake,” he admitted cautiously. “And you weren’t listening to anything I had to say about the matter.”

  “Do you know why?” Her eyes flashed, and she didn’t wait for an answer. “Because my personal plans with Fletcher were none of your business.”

  Ridiculous, how much that hurt. “Let’s go sit down and talk about this.” He turned toward the kitchen, away from her gaze, with his sack of ice cream and pickles still tucked under his arm. She damn sure wouldn’t laugh now, if he gave them to her.

  “You’re not headed for the kitchen, are you?” she called from behind him. At least she was following him. “There’s no table or chairs in here,” she pointed out when they arrived. “Or did you forget? The only table or chairs are in your bedroom.”

  He resisted the urge to wince. How devious must that seem to her? He shoved the ice cream into the freezer, set the pickles aside and turned to face her. Anger glistened in her eyes. He’d never been
gladder to see it there. Her impersonal coldness had been cutting him to the quick.

  “So then let’s go to my bedroom,” he quietly replied, his gaze probing hers.

  Vulnerability flashed across her face.

  His love for her leaped and glowed. “What difference does it make where we are? We can sit and talk in my bedroom just as easily as we can make love here on the kitchen floor.”

  She backed away with something like alarm. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

  He shifted closer, needing to take her in his arms. “Laura—”

  She held up a halting hand. “No, don’t.” She took a moment for some internal struggle, then reclaimed her poise. The distancing coolness had returned. “Your honesty meant a lot to me, Cort. I believed I could trust anything you said. And that trust was one of the most important reasons I thought I could raise a child with you.”

  Alarm coursed through him. He took hold of her shoulders, urgently seeking an emotional connection. “We can raise a child together,” he swore. “We will.”

  “I hope that won’t be necessary.”

  Those softly whispered words jolted him. She no longer wanted his baby. He probably should have deduced as much, but he hadn’t. The sense of loss and rejection staggered him.

  He’d brought it on himself, he knew. He couldn’t deny that. He had lied. He had schemed. And now he wanted more than ever to explain why. But wasn’t this exactly how Fletcher had met his fate, wanting her too much to hold back the damning words?

  “I...I care about you, Laura.” Pitifully inadequate. “I never meant to hurt you. That’s...that’s the exact opposite of what I meant to do.”

  Her expression changed in the most baffling way. As if he’d somehow hurt her again. But the anger and emotional distance had vanished. Her voice, when she spoke, sounded sad and wistful. “I know you care about me, Cort.” The smile she gave him was fraught with troubled affection and regret. “I realize your intentions were good. And your offer to father my baby was...” she paused and swallowed “...touching.”

  “Touching?” He didn’t like the sound of that.

  “And maybe I owe you my thanks, in a way.”

  Her thanks. Oh, God... “In what way?”

  “Your presence did force Fletcher’s feelings for me out into the open, which helped settle things in my mind. At least now I know the truth about him.”

  The truth about him. As if he’d committed some unforgivable crime.

  “But more important than that,” she continued, “I’ve learned something about myself in the past few days. I’ve realized that platonic friendship isn’t enough. And neither is a purely sexual relationship.”

  Purely sexual. She had to be talking about him. Did she still see their relationship in that light?

  “Maybe I have been running from intimacy, as everyone seems to think.” She drew in a breath, glanced at the ceiling with eyes that grew too shiny, then forced her gaze back to his. “But I’m over that now. I realize what I need. A relationship that has it all—friendship, passion and love. You understand that, don’t you? I want to...to fall in love. With someone who will love me. And I hope, I pray, that a baby will come from that union, and no other.”

  He stared at her, his throat locked up with the most incredible pain. Moments ago, she’d made it clear that she no longer wanted his baby. And now she’d explained why. A “purely sexual” relationship wasn’t enough. She wanted to fall in love.

  In her infinitely gentle way, she’d said to him exactly what he’d said to her fifteen years ago. That all they had between them was sex. And that she didn’t love him.

  Or had he misunderstood? As unlikely as that seemed, he had to be sure, absolutely sure. He couldn’t let her drift out of his life if there was any chance that she might yet fall in love with him. But he couldn’t jeopardize their future relationship with full honesty in case she was, in fact, carrying his child. His raspy whisper scalded his raw throat. “Do you have any particular man in mind?”

  Deep, complex emotion roiled in her gaze. The most obvious was reluctance to answer. “No,” she finally whispered. “But I’m sure I′ll find him some day.”

  And he suddenly understood why she, in her compassion, broke contact with men who showed signs of serious attachment—to avoid ripping out their very hearts and souls.

  11

  IT WOULD TAKE about two weeks from the night they’d made love, Laura estimated, before she would know if she was pregnant She had promised Cort she’d call him the moment she knew.

  Two weeks!

  She’d barely made it through that first day back in Memphis. How would she ever make it through the intervening days? The uncertainty was torture. The pain of living without Cort was worse. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. Craving his company, his smile, his touch. Loving him.

  She tried to comfort herself with the knowledge that she had done the honorable thing. She had relieved his mind, she hoped, of the idea that he’d traumatized her into a fear of intimate relationships. She had convinced him that she was ready to find love.

  But that was one thing she would never do. Because the man she loved—the only man she would ever love—did not love her. That much was obvious. He hadn’t tried to stop her from leaving. He’d driven her to the airport with barely a word; hugged her, and watched her board the plane. He’d broken her heart again, and didn’t even know it.

  She’d done the right thing, cutting their ties.

  But those ties couldn’t be completely cut if she turned out to be pregnant. Her emotions at this possibility swung like a pendulum from moment to moment. She fervently prayed she wasn’t, then desperately hoped she was. She knew she should stay far, far away from Cort Dimitri and the heartbreak he would always bring her...yet she wanted more than anything to have his baby. Their baby.

  The only relief she found during the first few days away from Cort was through her work. She buried herself in projects, including the design of his house. She also spent time with Fletcher, choosing furniture, artwork and other antiques for Cort.

  Though she felt somewhat of a strain with Fletcher at first, they soon fell back into a semblance of the roles they’d established over fifteen years. He’d mentioned that Cort was investing two hundred thousand in his business. Laura was glad for him.

  Fletcher also talked about B.J. quite a bit. She’d spent the week with him, photographing antiques to sell over the Internet. Laura suspected that her presence at that particular time had to do with the conspiracy to sabotage their parenting plan, but she refrained from pointing this out. It seemed that B.J. planned to travel with him to an upcoming auction. Laura was pleased Fletcher had found company.

  She, on the other hand, spared no time for socializing, not even for Christmas activities. Her project of designing the interior of Cort’s house absorbed her for hours every day. Although her assistant had agreed to handle all personal contact with him—a request that had raised eyebrows—Laura prepared samples, sketches, photos and a disk of layouts to ship to him.

  She wondered what he’d think of her “vision.” He’d been adamant about giving her free rein, but she worried he might be disappointed. She couldn’t allow herself to dwell on that, though. She’d already wasted too much time thinking about him, missing him, wondering where he was and whom he was with. Trisha, maybe, in London? Some other woman, who now played, laughed and loved with him in the very rooms she was designing?

  Her heart ached. The days crawled by.

  Steffie and Tamika both called her during that first week, concerned that she might be feeling down because of her foiled plan for motherhood. Laura tried her best to persuade them she was fine. She forced a cheerful demeanor, but the effort drained her.

  She told no one, no one, about the possibility that she carried Cort’s baby. He had agreed to keep the matter confidential. There’d be time enough to break the news to friends if and when she knew for certain she was pregnant. That possibility hovered in her mind relen
tlessly throughout the first week.

  One more excruciating week to go before her period was due.

  She prayed that she wasn’t pregnant. She prayed that she was.

  CORT SPENT OVER a week on the road, tending to business in New York and London. He tried to engross himself with an aggressive new project as well as those already on the table.

  But at night, alone in hotel suites, he thought of nothing but Laura. He missed her with an ache that wouldn’t quit. Things she’d said, things they’d done, played ceaselessly in his head. Worse, though, were the dreams when he’d wake to the scent of her; the taste of her. The heat of her kiss.

  She wanted to fall in love. And he, as always, was the wrong man.

  What the hell would he do if she was carrying his baby? Just hearing her talk about finding her true love some day pierced him with intolerable pain. He couldn’t imagine how he’d survive raising a child with her while she made a life with another man.

  But what the hell would he do if she wasn’t carrying his baby? He would have no ties with her. No contact. No shared moments. That seemed worse, much worse, than anything he could imagine.

  He returned home on a Monday afternoon, twelve days after she’d left him. Only a few more days, he assumed, before he would know if their lives would intertwine.

  The Yuletide music on the radio and the Christmas lights blazing on houses he passed provoked more memories, but from the distant past. Fifteen years had gone by since he’d spent a Christmas with her, but this time of year always reminded him of Laura. Any holiday reminded him of Laura.

  In December, she’d have Christmas lights burning, friends stringing popcorn to wrap around the tree—whether they wanted to or not—and a wonderland of holly, bows and elves. At Halloween, she’d have pumpkins and whatnot. Hell, she even decorated for Arbor Day with little trees. He couldn’t look at a holiday decoration without thinking of Laura.