Claim My Baby

by Taryn Quinn

  “Tinkering?” I couldn’t keep the shock out of my voice. “You did some of this yourself?”

  “Most.” He shrugged. “I needed help with some of the wiring, plumbing, and finishing work. But I enjoyed tearing it apart and fitting it back together exactly how I envisioned.”

  I gaped at him. “Manual labor? You?”

  “You’d be surprised all the things you don’t know about me.”

  “Then tell me some of them. I’m standing right here listening.”

  He pushed a hand through his hair, now dotted with snow. “Seth and I have other siblings. A brother and a sister. We’ve never met them. Until last year, Seth didn’t even know of their existence.”

  “From your mother?” I guessed.

  He nodded. “Yes, she remarried. Whole new family, whole new life.”

  “Are you going to ever meet them? See her again?”

  Just as quickly, he shook his head. “I have no desire to see her. Ever. I closed that chapter a long time ago, not long after our father paid her off to leave us.”

  “What?” I whispered. “That can’t be so. What mother would accept money to give away access to her children?”

  His laughter was harsh. “Oh, you’d be surprised. Ours did, and Laurie’s did. Quite easily, in fact. Neither took a backward glance.”

  My throat clogged with emotion. For the little boys he and Seth had been, growing up without their mother. For Laurie, who’d truly found her mother in Ally.

  He stepped toward me and ran his fingers over my wrist beyond the sleeve of my coat and along the back of my hand. Awareness prickled in his wake. “So, if you think your ferocious defense of our child is going to drive me away, you’re so very wrong.”

  Our child. Just those words sent my heart tumbling.

  “I-I wasn’t going to demand you be a part of the kid’s life.” As soon as the statement was out, I rued my loose tongue. Why couldn’t I just shut up and let the man speak?

  Because you’re afraid to believe him. If you do and he pulls the rug out from under you, it’ll be so much worse.

  “No?” His hand fell away. “What were you going to demand? Timely support payments then?”

  “I don’t need your money.”

  “You don’t, do you? Because you have that money squirreled away from the sale of the bed-and-breakfast, and though you would never spend it on yourself, a child is a different matter.” He made a noise in his throat as I averted my gaze. “Thought so. How is it I can guess your motivations so succinctly, and you’re so often off-base about mine? Is this a Women Are from Mars, Men Are from Venus situation?”

  I couldn’t help laughing at his mangling of the title of that book. That I may or may not have read. Eleven times. “You try having pregnancy hormones on top of your normal crazy and see how you act.”

  His expression softened and my throat went tight all over again. “You’re certain?”

  Swallowing deeply, I nodded. “Three tests don’t lie.”

  “Three.” His Adam’s apple rose and fell. “Were you feeling sick?” He frowned. “You should sit down.”

  “I’m fine. Though I wouldn’t protest a cup of tea.”

  “Sorry. I’ll stock some on my next trip to the market.” I couldn’t tell if he was teasing me as he took my hand and led me to the couch. “How did you know to take the tests?”

  “Morning sickness a few days this week. Enough fatigue to take down a horse. A desire for ice cream covered in potato chips when I was drowning my sorrows for having such a big mouth.” My stomach chose that moment to roar, and he looked at me, aghast.

  “You haven’t eaten?”

  “No, I didn’t have a chance. I was at the hospital to see Ally and the baby and—”

  “You have our own baby to concern yourself with now.”

  “No kidding. What are you doing?”

  He was already on the phone, talking to God knows who. A few minutes later, he hung up, satisfied. “Seth’s nanny will deliver dinner. She got the night off since I stayed with Laurie, so really, this is barely an inconvenience.”

  I grabbed his phone to check the time. “Are you crazy? It’s so late. Surely there’s something we can eat here—”

  “There isn’t. I only stocked aphrodisiacs and the like.” His tone was so smooth, I nearly managed not to goggle. “Those aren’t appropriate for you and a growing child.”

  “Aphrodisiacs like what?”

  “Oysters, for one. Asparagus. Red wine. French chocolates.”

  “Chocolate sounds good.”

  He was already on his feet and headed toward what I assumed was the kitchen. Not that I could follow him to find out, since my bladder took that opportunity to make its presence known.

  “Where’s the bathroom?” I called out, quickly shedding my coat. Time was of the essence now.

  “Top of the stairs, second right.”

  I rose and hurried out of the living room and up the winding staircase that I’d seen off the foyer. At the top of the stairs, I opened the second door on the right, fumbled for the light, and sucked in a breath.

  Holy crow, this bathroom rivaled the one in our suite in Vegas. No, it was better, because the bathroom there had been surrounded by tile, where this one carried the same theme of the living room, with wide wood beams and black marble everywhere.

  I made swift use of the facilities, washed up, and then tried to do something with my hornet’s nest of hair before declaring it hopeless. I much preferred checking out the big, fancy claw-footed tub with the standalone shower, and heated towel rack, and oh God, even what seemed like a kind of warming body drier from a set of focused vents beside the towel rack. I had turned them on low and was letting the warm air caress the wet ends of my crazy curls when Oliver filled the doorway.

  “That tub fits two,” he said nonchalantly, holding out both a half bar of chocolate and a fat strawberry, still damp from being rinsed off.

  I leaned forward and let him push the strawberry between my lips, although my attempt at a sexy bite was a major fail and juice squirted onto my décolletage. He didn’t seem to mind. If anything, his already midnight eyes darkened as they dropped to my cleavage before returning to my face. His thumb traced the corner of my mouth and he licked at the leftover juice he collected on the tip before he broke off a piece of chocolate and offered that to me as well.

  “Don’t want you getting hungry,” he murmured, his double meaning more than clear.

  We might have already made an unplanned baby, but that didn’t mean he had any intention of ceasing practice anytime soon.

  My sensitive nipples and the soaked cleft between my thighs both gave a thumbs-up to this plan.

  “As for the tub, I don’t need to get any wetter than I am already.” When his lips twitched, I released an exasperated sigh. “I meant my hair from the snow. Don’t you think the sexual innuendoes have gotten us in enough of a pickle?”

  “It was more than innuendoes that got us in that.” He stepped up behind me and broke off another piece of chocolate, nudging it between my lips. “Besides, there’s another way we can look at this.”

  I was too busy chewing and swallowing—and licking his fingers, which started out being part of my pursuit of chocolate and soon morphed into something else—to answer.

  He offered me the last piece and toyed with my hair as I scarfed it down without shame. “You can’t get pregnant again, now can you?”

  Since I was still focused intently on the exquisite dark chocolate I’d just consumed, I didn’t fully get his meaning at first. “Seriously? Your sense of logic is…oddly arousing.”

  “Thought so.” He twirled one of my curls around his finger. “No condoms.”

  “Hmm. What’s for dinner?”

  His smoky laughter coaxed my last few sleeping nerve endings to life. “Baked chicken with a lemon glaze, red-skinned mashed potatoes, baby carrots, a garden salad with balsamic, and strawberry shortcake. Seth’s nanny was the source of that strawberry I ju
st fed you, by the way. Strawberries are one of the few appropriate items from our planned Valentine’s feast.” He brushed a kiss over my ear. “Luckily for us, she had prepared extras of what she’s bringing to Seth’s tomorrow. She often does some light cooking and cleaning here, along with her duties there.”

  My stomach growled in anticipation. “It’s so late. She must’ve been all tucked in for the night.”

  “I pay her handsomely. Don’t worry.” The doorbell chimed and he turned toward the door. “That must be her. Where would you like to eat? The dining room? Or…” He gestured with his chin at the sunken tub.

  “Dining room is fine.”

  He left and I let out a long, whooshing breath. Was this really my life now? Home-cooked dinner delivery on the spur of the moment, served in bathrooms practically the size of my entire loft? The bathroom. I mean, who did that? Not my parents, that was for sure.

  I was having a baby with this man. My child would grow up with this sort of everyday affluence, if Oliver truly wanted to be a full partner in this.

  Something I needed spelled out. In detail.

  I managed to wait until we’d finished the insanely delicious meal and moved on to the thick pieces of strawberry shortcake, drizzled with the berries’ sweet syrup and mounded with whipped cream. Decadent didn’t begin to cover it. As much as I wanted to dive in and lose myself in sheer caloric hedonism, I had to have clarification. We couldn’t just treat this like any other night and boink like bunnies since hey, no more need for latex! Booyah!

  And jeez, people called me irresponsible.

  “You’re not eating your dessert. Don’t you like it?”

  Even without looking up, I knew he was watching me far too intently. “It’s wonderful. The shortcake part is so much better than actual biscuits. Not that I mind a good old-fashioned flaky biscuit, slathered in butter.”

  Lookee there, I was babbling yet again.

  I speared a strawberry half, chewed, and swallowed. My idea of fortification since liquid courage was out and not my drug of choice anyway. I usually leaned heavily on sweets. “I truly had no idea how you would react. I wasn’t going to bind you in any way.”

  The tines of his fork scraped over the china. Oh yes, because we’d had to eat our late dinner on some family heirloom rather than Fiestaware. Or paper plates. They worked too.

  “That so?”

  “Yes. In case you feel hemmed in, I just wanted you to know that everything is voluntary. I’m not expecting anything. Not money, not…anything.”

  He steeped his hands over his plate, just waiting.

  “This isn’t a Seth and Marj situation,” I said, feeling behooved to fill the silence. Yet another one of my downfalls. “The right thing is what works for us. I’m ready to tackle this situation however you’d like. Whatever makes you feel comfortable.” I dabbed at my chin with my napkin. Freaking strawberry juice. “Okay?”

  “What makes you feel comfortable then? If you could script a scenario for having your first baby, what would it be?”

  “A scenario? I don’t know. What’s every woman’s scenario? Or most anyway?”

  He spread his hands wide. “You tell me.”

  “Well, ideally, marriage. A secure environment for the baby. No drama. No fights. No rush to get back to work so I could have lots of time with him or her. I’d like to take cooking lessons and would enjoy fiddling with my house. You know, staging it, but not for others. For my family. Making it warm and homey. A safe, nurturing place.” Hearing myself, I laughed quietly, shaking my head. “I sound like a fifties housewife.”

  “You sound like you’ll be an incredible mother.”

  “It’s all I ever wanted.” I shut my eyes. “Not that I got pregnant on purpose. Even though I didn’t take that morning-after pill, and despite what seemed like my indiscriminate process to lose my V-card, I wasn’t hoping for an accident. I wanted a fling. Something fun and casual. I wasn’t asking for more.”

  “I know you didn’t get pregnant on purpose. I was there, remember?”

  “But I mean in general. I wasn’t trying to hook up with someone so I could start squeezing out kids. No way. I’m still figuring out how to take care of myself, never mind a baby.”

  “Life is what happens when you’re making other plans.”

  “John Lennon was right.” I toyed with the pile of whipped cream, finally taking a few bites. I was full, but I just couldn’t stop. It was so good.

  Also stress eating was definitely a factor in my life. Especially now.

  “My father adores you,” he said after a moment. “When we tell him about this baby, he’s probably going to move you into the main house, so he can make sure you’re taken care of in every possible way until the baby comes.”

  “I think you’re exaggerating.”

  “You think so? Tonight, he asked if we were dating, and told me I’d better treat you right or I’d answer to him.”

  It made me genuinely smile in a way I hadn’t in hours. “You should have seen him in the hospital room with Ally and Seth. He was beaming ear to ear. Couldn’t stop bragging about his new grandson.”

  “As he will about this baby.”

  Twice now he’d referred to our child as “this baby”. He’d said our before, but the word definitely didn’t trip off his tongue. I couldn’t blame him for that. This was all so new. For me too.

  “So, what are your thoughts?” I cocked my head. “Surely, you can’t possibly be this well-adjusted about all of this. Didn’t Seth flip out with Laurie? Ally mentioned he went into fix-it mode.”

  “Yes, well, Seth was much younger.”

  “Laurie’s four. That’s not all that long ago.”

  “I’m not my brother.” He rose and picked up his plate, clearing the table with his usual efficiency. Damn tattooed forearms on full display, making me clench my thighs.

  Halfway out of the room, he stopped and glanced back. “Do you want me to run you a hot bath? With or without bubbles.” At my stare, the corner of his mouth rose. “I keep some here in case I bring Laurie over. She loves them.”

  “What about with or without penis?”

  His smile grew. “That too is optional.”

  I sat back in my chair. He still hadn’t detailed his intentions as far as being in the child’s life or not, but he seemed to be acting as if he’d be around. That would be the best-case scenario, of course. I didn’t want to shut him out of his own baby’s life. I also didn’t want to force a connection he didn’t feel.

  It was early days yet. And just maybe it didn’t all have to be figured out tonight.

  “If you don’t mind.” I ducked my head, feeling shyer than I had a right to be, all things considered. “A bath sounds really nice.”

  “I don’t mind. I’ll even wash your hair.” His heavy-lidded expression told me in no uncertain terms he was happy to wash—and dirty up again—any part of me I’d like.

  Stalling and not sure why, I went back to the strawberry shortcake. I’d polished off half of it by the time I heard water running upstairs, as well as Oliver puttering around in the bathroom. As much as he ever puttered.

  Once I’d eaten as much as I could, I wandered into the huge rustic kitchen and did a little pivot to take it all in. Between the gleaming appliances, hand-carved cabinets, and the miles of granite countertops, the opulence was clear. Somehow the space still managed to feel homey rather than cold. Inviting rather than showroomesque.

  I cleaned off my plate and put it in the dishwasher before heading upstairs. Lord, I had to pee again. Hello, baby.

  Stopping in the doorway, I started to speak. “Hey, I need to—”

  Then I blinked. And blinked again.

  The main light had been left off and a soft glow came from sconces high on the wall, plus the half dozen candles lit on surfaces around the bathroom. Oliver was on his knees, sleeves rolled even higher, sinewy muscles shifting as he trailed his hand through the fragrant, bubbly water.

  “T-this may be a fi
re hazard.”

  He chuckled. “And I’m the unromantic one. Don’t worry, I snuffed out the ones in the living room.”

  “Good. It only takes one to start a forest fire. With all those woods back there…” I gestured behind me.

  As he moved back, my gaze locked on something else. Pale pink petals—roses?—floated on the surface of the water, and a couple squat vases of blooms had been placed on the shelves around the tub. I swallowed deeply, rubbing my throat to keep everything moving.

  “From Valentine’s Day,” he said simply, and I wanted to cry.

  How had everything gotten so screwed up?

  Rather than ask that question, I blurted something even worse.

  “I have to pee.”

  He rose and left the bathroom without another word. I did what I needed to, washed up, and quickly stripped. I didn’t even bother studying my appearance this time. My hair was still out of control, and my makeup was probably long gone. I was too weary to care. That warm bath full of bubbles and roses was beckoning to me.

  I slipped into the water and let out a moan that bordered on obscene. Sweet heavens, I must be achier than I realized, because the heat seeping into my bones offered unspeakable comfort.

  As did the door opening before his dark head peeked inside. “Okay?”

  “Better than okay. It feels amazing. These bubbles are like silk on my skin.” I splashed my hand through the water.

  “I’m glad you like.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll just—”

  “Don’t go.” There was no keeping the plea out of my voice. I needed him.

  Just needed so much.

  He stepped inside but not too far, lingering near the door. “Do you want me to join you? Or should I just,” his voice dipped, “watch?”

  16

  Sage

  I rose out of the water just enough that my breasts skimmed the surface. My nipples might as well have been connected to his voice. “Join me.”