The Best Man's Baby

by Victoria James

  “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m doing, and why shouldn’t I? Isn’t that what you did to me? You took off and shut me out.”

  “That’s different.”

  “Really, how so?”

  Jake ran his hands down his face with what sounded like a very frustrated groan. “Look, I’m not here to fight with you. I’m sorry I took off, sorrier than you’ll ever know, but now there’s a baby and it’s going to take a hell of a lot more than some lame text to keep me away from you, okay?”

  Because of the baby. The sincerity in his blue eyes was as unmistakable as the regret in his voice. She couldn’t be mad at him for not being in love with her. She couldn’t be mad at him for trying to be a part of his child’s life. She was going to have to be mature and try to deal with this the best way she could—throw some armor onto her heart and proceed with caution.

  “Fine.”

  Jake broke out into a grin that made her momentarily forget about guarding her heart. It was a smile highlighting everything beautiful about his face—from the perfect teeth to the faded scar on his chin to the twinkling eyes. She found herself smiling in return. And then she realized what she was doing and tried to smooth her lips into a straight line. Proceed with caution, remember?

  She forced a frown on her face. “How did you get in here?”

  “I’m glad you brought that up, actually,” he said, his voice suddenly serious as he crossed his arms over his wide chest. “You left the back door unlocked. Not the smartest thing to do when you’re planning on taking a nap.”

  Claire felt a jolt of alarm at the thought of leaving her door unlocked at night while she slept. “Well, that was obviously a mistake. I always lock my door, not that it’s any of your business. I mean, for six weeks I could have been sleeping with my door wide open and you would have never known.” It was ridiculous for him to be pretending he was so concerned about her. She could see the muscles in his jaw clench. So she’d hit a nerve. Good.

  “You know if you don’t forgive me for that we’re never going to be able to move forward.” Claire couldn’t deny the genuine sorrow in his voice, but it was guilt that he was feeling. “Besides, didn’t you just agree like five seconds ago we weren’t going to argue?”

  He had a point. “I thought I told you I was too tired to go out tonight.”

  “Yeah, so I brought dinner to you.”

  Claire felt her pulse skip. “What do you mean?”

  “Food just arrived. That was the delivery guy.”

  He reached out and pulled her by the hand and led her down the stairs. She fought the urge to pull back, and refused to acknowledge the heat wave his strong, warm flesh sent through her body. Jake had the hands of a man who worked with them every day, and yet she knew just how soft and gentle they could be on her skin.

  He picked up a bunch of bags on the ground in the foyer. “You said you liked Greek food, right?”

  “Yes.” He had obviously made himself right at home, she noticed, as she walked into the kitchen. He placed the bags on the counter, the paper crinkling loudly as he pulled out Styrofoam and aluminum takeout containers. He spread everything out on the granite countertop, filling it with an extraordinary amount of food for just two people.

  “I didn’t know what you liked, so I got some of everything,” he said, flipping off the lids. The aroma of lemon and chicken filled the kitchen.

  “Looks like a lot of everything,” she said, warming a little as it occurred to her he had done all of this for her, knowing she’d been too tired to go out.

  He took down plates from her cabinets. “I’ve got chicken souvlaki, roast lemon potatoes, tzatziki, Greek salad, spanakopita, and moussaka.”

  “That’s a crazy amount of food.” Her mouth was already watering.

  “Oh, and I hope you like baklava for dessert,” he said, ignoring her statement and flipping open the lid of the pastry box.

  As if on cue, her traitorous stomach growled. She placed her hands over it, hoping he wouldn’t hear. But Jake looked over, grinning at first, and then his expression changed as he looked down where her hands were. Claire felt her heart hammering as he turned fully to her, his eyes darkened, and an expression she’d never seen before changed his features. They both stood still, and for a second everything froze.

  Claire heard the ticking of the antique French clock on the wall and nothing else.

  She couldn’t look away from Jake. The hard lines that usually seemed so invincible and hard softened. His blue eyes glistened.

  “Claire,” he said, his voice gruff.

  She shook her head, probably more for herself than for him. She took a step away from him, until she bumped into the wall. She needed distance from the contact he was offering, from the emotion in his eyes. From him. Where was her backbone? All he had to do was come in here, order takeout, and then look at her with those eyes and she was done?

  …

  Jake was trying to decipher the wildly changing expressions storming across Claire’s eyes. One minute ago he thought they were sharing a genuine moment. He felt connected to her, he saw the walls coming down, and then suddenly they were back up.

  “I’ve said it before, I’m sorry—”

  She shook her head, her silky hair swaying gently against her shoulders, and he had to ball his hands into fists to resist the urge to pull her into his arms.

  “I don’t want your apology. It’s not necessary.”

  “What is it going to take to get you to trust me? No matter what, whether you like me or not, we’re in this together.”

  She didn’t say anything for a moment as her eyes glanced over him, and he wondered what she was thinking, which was what he usually wondered since it seemed he was incapable of reading her thoughts correctly. “You gave me a bunch of weak excuses as to why you couldn’t marry me, but I’ve got a bunch of reasons why you should.”

  “We’re not entertaining that topic anymore.”

  “We are or no food,” he said, lying through his teeth. He could safely bet Claire was too well-mannered to snatch the dinner and start eating.

  She raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms in a huff, a huff he found inexplicably endearing. “I’m listening,” she said, giving the food a sidelong glance. He stifled a grin.

  “We’ve known each other forever, we both live in the same town—”

  Claire clasped her hands together with that smarty-pants smile again. “Oh perfect! What a wonderful story we’ll be able to tell our child one day. ‘Hey, Bobby—’”

  “We are not naming our child Bobby.”

  “Hey, Billy or Betty—”

  Jake shook his head. “Uh, no, this isn’t the fifties.”

  Claire threw her hands up in the air. “Whatever, just let me make my point: ‘Child X, Mommy and Daddy got married because they knew each other for a really long time and lived in the same town!’ I mean, by that logic, you might as well marry Mrs. Jacobs!”

  “Fine, how about we get married because you and I made a baby together,” he said, walking toward her, “and we have amazing, hot chemistry, and just standing in the same room as you makes me want to take off each piece of clothing and kiss—”

  “We are not telling our child that either!”

  “How about because you know it’s what your dad would want?” he said as gently as he could, but it still came out with the impact of a bus barreling through her kitchen. Her dad was his best weapon.

  She didn’t say anything for a moment. For a second he thought her veneer was going to crack. “No, my father would not have wanted me to have a one-night-stand with a man and then wind up pregnant and unmarried.”

  “Which is why we should get married.”

  She stared at him and Jake felt like they were in a stalemate. He stared into her eyes, knowing she deserved the entire truth, but afraid it would hurt her and make her look at him with disgust or pity.

  “How do you know what my father would want?”

  “I know him quite well. He help
ed me out at a time in my life that—” He cleared his throat and diverted his eyes from Claire’s surprised ones. She had an intense stare. Something about her always made him feel like she knew exactly when he was keeping something from her. “At a time where I was really struggling with some stuff. And I know enough about the kind of man he is to know he would want to see his grandchild in a happy home.”

  “Well he’s in Africa, and he’s not going to be home anytime soon. And don’t fool yourself—just because you may have talked to him once or twice doesn’t mean he’s going to be thrilled about this.”

  That gnawing feeling in his gut returned. How the hell was he going to face Reverend Holbrook and tell him that he’d gotten his daughter pregnant? Reverend Holbrook had helped him at a time when he’d been so alone. When even his own brothers had wanted little to do with him. He’d gotten through it. He’d made amends. And he owed his change to Claire’s father. There was no way in hell he was going to leave his daughter like this. He needed to get Claire to agree to marry him, to get his company up and running, and then at least he would be able to make a better case for himself. He was a different man now. “I’m not saying he’s going to be thrilled, but I don’t think he’d want you to be a single mother.”

  Claire was blinking rapidly and he saw the tears she was trying to hide. He had to force himself to remain still. He wanted to wrap her in his arms until she felt that connection he knew existed between them. It didn’t have to be love to work.

  “Claire,” he said, trying to sound gentle.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t do it. Yes, my father will be disappointed I’m having a child out of wedlock, but deep down I think he would be more disappointed if I stood in a church and took vows neither of us meant.”

  “Sometimes the end justifies the means, and nothing we’ve done has to be something you’re ashamed of,” Jake said, even though he knew if her father had been standing here right now, he’d have a hard time making eye contact with the man.

  “You wouldn’t understand,” she said with a dismissive shake of her head.

  How could he expect her to believe him? Nothing he had done in his life warranted her trust or her respect. He was not the man she should be marrying. They both knew it.

  “You’re right. I don’t understand how you could think your father would be ashamed of you. I don’t. But you’re wrong if you think I don’t understand what it feels like to think you’ve let someone down. Believe me, I know that feeling. I’m feeling it now. So think about this, Claire. I’m the father of your child. I’m here, and I’m not ever planning on leaving.” He took her hand, and she let him. “Even though we didn’t plan this pregnancy, and even though the thought of a baby has floored the both of us, as long as I’m alive that baby will never, ever spend one second of their life thinking they weren’t wanted. They will know how much they are loved, because they will be. I’m not going to let you shut me out of our child’s life. You can hate me all you want, but I’m going to be a real dad to our kid,” he said, straightening himself to his full height. “And I’m not going to sit back and watch you get married to some other guy and lurk in the shadows like Quasimodo hoping for a glimpse of my kid. Not happening. And I’m not leaving here until we come up with some kind of plan that includes me.”

  “Fine. I get it,” she snapped, rubbing her temples. “You don’t have to be so dramatic.”

  His pulse rate started to return to normal now that she seemed more reasonable. “Good,” he nodded.

  “So what exactly do you want?”

  “I want to be there for the entire pregnancy,” he said, unable to stop himself from letting his eyes wander over her, imagining her body changing, their child growing inside her. Before he could second-guess himself he stepped closer to her, watching as her dark eyes clouded over with confusion. He knew she couldn’t figure him out. Right now, he couldn’t figure himself out.

  Claire had that effect on him. It killed him to be in the same room with her and have her so far from him. He wanted just a hint of her scent, a fraction of her heat, and he wanted to know she felt the same.

  Her lips parted as his eyes dropped to her mouth. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to relive that night they shared in the hotel room. He would have done everything differently. He would have savored every second. He would have carried her to the king-size bed and slowly undressed her, torturing them both as he lingered over removing the fine lace lingerie she wore under the silk dress. He would have kissed and licked each soft, fragrant inch of skin he exposed. And then he would have made love to her over and over again for the entire night.

  And he would have stayed and been the man she needed him to be.

  “The entire pregnancy?”

  He nodded. “Doctor’s appointments, ultrasounds, baby shopping, baby names,” he said, rattling off as many things he could remember from the book he’d just read.

  “I get it, I get it,” she mumbled.

  “Good. And while we’re on that topic we can discuss living arrangements—”

  “Don’t push your luck, Jacob Manning,” she said, wagging a finger at him. He didn’t bother holding back his laughter, but he did refrain himself from grabbing her finger and her hand, and pulling her into him.

  “We could buy a big house.”

  “We are not living together. Believe me, what happened the night of Holly and Quinn’s wedding will never happen again.”

  He cocked an eyebrow, and then let his eyes wander over her lazily. The pulse at the base of her throat quickened when his eyes lingered on her lips. His stomach clenched at the little flick of her tongue as he stared at her mouth.

  “Sure,” he said huskily.

  “I’m serious,” she whispered, her eyes darting from his eyes to his mouth.

  “So am I.” There was no way her plan would work. They wouldn’t be able to resist each other for long, and he was willing to bet his Harley on that. He had to earn her trust, her respect, and then everything else would fall into place.

  “Fine. So now can we eat dinner?” Claire asked, walking back to the takeout, expertly destroying the sexual tension.

  He joined her at the counter. “Sure. Have you been to your doctor already?”

  Claire paused before scooping some salad onto her plate. “Monday morning at ten I have an appointment.”

  “Great. I’ll pick you up—”

  She shook her head, dumping a heap of lettuce on her plate. “No. I’ll meet you there.”

  “Claire—”

  “I have to go to work after,” she said, sniffing the lemon potatoes.

  “You’re closed on Mondays.”

  “The store is closed, but I always go in anyway.”

  He groaned. “Okay, fine. I’ll see you Monday at ten.”

  She reached out to shake his hand.

  He grinned and shook her hand. He had finally gotten through to her.

  Score one for team Jake.

  Chapter Five

  “So you’re sure you’re feeling all right?” Jake ignored Claire’s exaggerated sigh and glanced around the waiting room. It was filled with pregnant women, their spouses, and loads of kids. Loud, obnoxious children. Jake knew there was no way he and Claire could ever be anything like these people. Most of them were wearing sweats and looked as though they hadn’t even run a comb through their hair. There was no way he’d be caught dead in a public place wearing jogging pants. And their child certainly would never be as…as irritating as the ones who refused to sit in their seats and kept squirming and whining for snacks. No, that could never be him and Claire.

  “For the sixth time, I’m fine. And you know I was just thinking there is no real reason for you to be here, so if you have to go to work or leave town for a few weeks without calling, go ahead.” Claire’s breath tickled his ear and the scent of her flowery perfume filled him with pleasure. It almost made him calm. Except for the fact that it also got his blood boiling—in a very uncomfortable way since there was nothing
he could do about it. He fought the urge to put his arm around Claire as they sat close together on the black vinyl waiting room chairs. His eyes ran over her appreciatively, taking in the flowing pink blouse she was wearing. She was stylish if a little conservative. Her legs, which he knew were beautifully toned and silky, were hidden beneath a sleek pair of dark jeans. He knew she worked out, often seeing her jogging through the town, which reminded him to ask her doctor whether or not she could. He couldn’t remember seeing a pregnant woman jogging.

  A little boy with a runny nose and cough that sounded worse than a hacking mule sprung out from one of the neighboring chairs, startling Jake into action. He quickly shielded Claire’s face with his hands. “Don’t breathe in the air. That kid has the plague,” Jake roared. Claire swatted his hands away and gave him a dirty look, not nearly as bad a look as the child’s mother. Well, it wasn’t his fault. Who brings sick kids out in public anyway?

  “I hardly think that was necessary,” Claire hissed at him, her face turning red.

  “Just trying to keep you from getting whatever flu that kid has,” Jake said, holding up his hands. She obviously wasn’t grateful for the help.

  “I was thinking about maybe setting a date and time,” he said, ignoring the insulted parents in front of them and turning to face Claire. She stared straight ahead, apparently engrossed by the poster on the wall advocating the importance of quitting smoking. Since he didn’t think she had ever even touched a cigarette in her entire life, he fought his urge to grin at her not-so-subtle attempt to ignore him.

  “We don’t choose a date, the baby picks it,” she said, her eyes still glued to the poster.

  “I’m not an idiot. I was talking about meeting with your mother.”

  Jake watched her expression go from patronizing to persecuting in five seconds flat. She turned to give him the full-on glare, and for the tenth time that morning he wished he could kiss her mouth until it sighed against his with desire.

  “We did agree to do this together, remember?”

  “No. We agreed you would be involved.”