Claimed: The Pregnant Heiress

by Day Leclaire

  “Your brother called. I’m afraid you’ll have some explaining to do when you get up with him.”

  Chase winced. “He knows I was with you?”

  She fought to control her blush. “I didn’t give him my name.”

  “That’ll only make him all the more determined to find out who you are and why you answered my phone.” Chase dismissed the problem with a careless shrug, then reached in his pocket and pulled out her BlackBerry. He stuck it in the console between the two seats. “I’ll get back to him later.”

  Silence descended while she took the shoreline road into town. “I’m sorry I drove off and left you,” she said at last. “It was rude.”

  “That’s all right. You’re allowed to be rude every now and then. I promise not to allow it to affect my opinion of the Worth name.” He spared her a hard glance. “That doesn’t change the fact that we’re going to have to resolve our differences at some point.”

  “Not today, Chase, okay? Give me a few days to think things through and discuss the situation with my father.”

  “I assume he won’t be happy.”

  “To put it mildly.”

  “Hmm.” Chase drummed his fingers on the armrest. “Should I wear a bulletproof vest when I come to see you?”

  “That might be wise.” She pulled into the parking lot of the medical center where Chase had left his car. She still couldn’t bring herself to look at him, not when her hold on her emotions remained so tenuous. “I’ll call you.”

  “I’ll be waiting.” He captured her chin in his hand and turned her face to his. “Make it soon, Emma.”

  And then he leaned in and stole a fast, devastating kiss, an uncompromising one that smashed through her defenses and warned that he wouldn’t give her any quarter. She wished she could resist him, tried to resist. But something deep inside responded to him, rendering her utterly helpless to his touch. The instant she recognized the sensation, she pulled back.

  No. Never. She would never allow a man to make her feel helpless. She’d never be dependent on a man for her happiness. She’d never risk falling in love with him to the extent that her world revolved around his. Nor would she give him control over her mind, body, or spirit.

  She’d never make the same mistake her mother made with her father.

  “I’ll call when I’m darn good and ready to call,” she informed him tightly.

  He snagged his jacket from the backseat and slung it over his shoulder. “Make sure ‘darn good and ready’ happens real damn soon.”

  Without another word, she put the car in gear and drove away. Not that she got far. Her phone rang again and with a exclamation of irritation, Emma pulled over again. She didn’t know why she didn’t just let it go to voice mail. Maybe because of that last mix-up with Chase. Or more likely because she suspected it was Chase. Slipping into a convenient parking spot, she snatched her BlackBerry from the cubbyhole in the console between the seats. This time she checked the caller ID. Gillian Mitchell. Oops.

  She punched the connect button. “Hi, Gillian.”

  “Emma, glad I caught you. I just wanted to make sure we were still on for lunch today.”

  “Absolutely. I haven’t forgotten.” She’d totally forgotten. “At the club, right? Shall we say at the Tidal Pool in an hour?”

  “Perfect. I’ll see you there.”

  That gave her an hour to get her head together. There definitely wasn’t enough time to have the sort of conversation necessary to tell her father about her pregnancy. Besides, she had no intention of breaking the news to him at Worth Industries. Filling him in about his impending grandfatherhood would have to wait until tonight.

  She caught her lower lip between her teeth, wondering if she dared stretch that time frame by a day or two. She glanced over her shoulder before pulling into traffic. Maybe she’d hold off on the big announcement until this weekend. That would give her time to make some basic decisions so her father couldn’t steamroller over her with his opinion on the matter. It would also allow her to figure out how to break the news. A text message was one possibility. So was an email. Or both. From several states away.

  Precisely an hour later, Emma entered the Tidal Pool and searched the restaurant for Gillian. She found the lanky brunette seated at one of the tables tucked in a corner, working her way through a cup of coffee. Gillian had only landed in Vista del Mar six months ago and was already making a name for herself as an ace reporter for the Seaside Gazette. Emma had a feeling she knew what prompted this sudden urge for a friendly get-to-know-you luncheon meeting.

  The sale of Worth Industries.

  Gillian, a woman who hovered in that nebulous range between twenty-five and thirty, lounged back in her chair and studied Emma with intelligent green eyes that went well with her long chestnut-brown hair. “So you’re the Worth Princess. You definitely look like one, I have to give you that.” She flashed a warm smile to show her greeting was meant in a humorous way. She stuck out her hand. “Gillian Mitchell.”

  Emma shook hands and smiled in return, taking a seat across from the reporter. “You should see me when I’m wearing my tiara and practicing my Sleeping Beauty pose. You’d really be impressed then.”

  Gillian chuckled. “Actually, my sources tell me that you spend a lot of your spare time working down at the local women’s shelter. Have a soft spot for battered women and children, do you?”

  Emma hesitated. It took every ounce of self-possession to keep herself from launching into an impassioned commentary on her charity work. Instead, she limited herself to a simple “Yes.”

  For an instant a look of concern flashed across Gillian’s face. “I hope to God it’s not from personal experience,” she said gently.

  Emma took a moment to gather up the bits and pieces of her self-possession. Too bad Chase had left it in tatters. “Fortunately not.”

  “That’s a relief.” Gillian signaled the waitress. “What would you like for lunch?”

  “A menu might be a nice start.”

  Gillian grinned, totally transforming her appearance, deepening the natural warmth and friendliness. “Let me guess. I suppose you’re going to want a drink, too.” She released a gusty sigh. “Some people…”

  “…are never satisfied.” Emma returned Gillian’s smile. “You’re right. If you want to get to know me better, I won’t settle for anything less than a full glass of iced tea. And maybe even a refill.”

  The next half hour flew by and Emma discovered that she sincerely liked Gillian Mitchell. The reporter was sharp, yet kind. And she totally opened up when discussing her two-year-old son, Ethan, and the challenges facing a single mother. They were challenges Emma took to heart since she’d soon be facing the same ones.

  “That’s why I’m such a huge proponent of It’s Time, the local women’s shelter,” Emma confessed. “Not only does it give women, especially single mothers, a place to go, but it offers them the opportunity to get back on their feet and provide for their families. It gives them back their dignity.”

  “Exactly,” Gillian agreed.

  The waitress came, cleared away their luncheon dishes and topped off their drinks. Emma was suddenly aware that they’d spent the entire lunch discussing issues of interest, which she doubted had anything to do with the reason for Gillian’s luncheon invitation. “So, why am I really here? I doubt it’s to discuss It’s Time, although I think the women’s shelter would make a great article for the local paper.”

  “Yes, it would and I promise it’s one I’ll write. But, no, that’s not why I invited you to lunch.” Gillian took a deep breath. “I’d like to ask some questions about the sale of Worth Industries to Rafe Cameron.”

  “On or off the record?”

  Gillian pulled out a notepad and pen. “On.”

  Emma took a moment to consider. Maybe if this meeting hadn’t come on the heels of her discussion at Busted Bluff with Chase, she’d have blown off Gillian. But she had concerns about the sale. The whole town did. And maybe if those concer
ns were raised in the Seaside Gazette, Rafe and her father would be forced to address them.

  “Okay,” Emma said. “Let’s start with item one, since it’s the most important in my opinion. The status of our employees after the sale goes through…”

  Five

  Two days later, Chase punched a button on his BlackBerry and waited for his brother to answer his phone. “We need to talk,” he stated abruptly. “Can you meet me at the condo I’m renting in say—” he checked his watch “—twenty minutes.”

  “Sure. On my way.”

  Rafe arrived just after Chase, sweeping through the gates in the plush white Mercedes-Benz G-Class he used to drive to work each day. Chase knew it was all part of the image his brother had cultivated over the years to prove that he wasn’t that wild, troublemaking Cameron thug, as the good folks of Vista del Mar had considered Rafe during his formative years. That along with his astounding wealth had come sophistication and refinement, even if it was still edged with a hint of Bad Boy. Of course, the bad boy came out in Rafe’s black Porsche Panamera Turbo which had been tagged more than once tearing up the back roads around town. But since Chase had also been on the bad boy side of Officer Garcia’s ticket book, there wasn’t much he could say.

  “So who is she?” Rafe asked the moment they entered the condo. “And don’t act like you don’t know who I’m talking about. A woman answered your cell the other day. Who was it?”

  “Emma Worth.”

  “Son of a bitch, Larson.” Rafe spun around and gave Chase a not-so brotherly shove. “Have you lost your damn mind? You know what she is. And you know what I’m trying to accomplish here. What we’re trying to accomplish. I don’t need any added complications because you can’t keep your pistol holstered.”

  “She’s pregnant with my baby.” Chase hadn’t meant to spill the news quite so abruptly. But he wouldn’t allow Rafe to say anything that would cause future friction between them.

  Unfortunately, Rafe didn’t take the hint. He drew himself up to his full six foot one, a Nordic god at his most intimidating. “And you believe her?”

  “Yes.” Chase said the word with great care and precision. “I believe her.”

  “Then you’re a fool. She’s nothing more than a high-class whore. She’ll screw anything that walks. The only difference between her and your average streetwalker is that she doesn’t get paid for it.”

  Chase didn’t even remember moving, let alone decking his brother. It was the second time since the two men had met that his lightning speed and agility had gotten past his brother’s brawn. One minute Rafe stood confronting him and the next he went flying over the back of the couch and slamming into one of the end tables. A lamp crashed to the floor, narrowly missing his head. Chase vaulted over the couch and planted himself above his brother, his hands balled into fists, ready to take Rafe down again if he so much as breathed wrong.

  “Let me make this real clear,” Chase bit out. “Clear enough to get through that fog of vengeance you’ve been living in since your mother died. Emma isn’t part of this. She’s pregnant with my child and I intend to marry her. You got that?”

  Rafe stared up at him, his light blue eyes simmering. “I got it. If I stand up will you knock me down again?”

  “Only if you call Emma a whore again. You do that and I’ll knock your ass straight through the glass slider and halfway to Hawaii.”

  Rafe waggled his jaw back and forth experimentally. Relieved it still worked, he said, “Fine, fine. Since you put me down here, help me up.” Chase took the hand his brother held up and hauled Rafe to his feet. “You haven’t hit me since our parents got engaged.”

  “Haven’t needed to. But as I recall, you ran your mouth about my mother on that particular occasion. Didn’t think she was good enough for your precious father.”

  Rafe rolled some of the tension from his shoulders. “You have a real complex when it comes to women, you know that?”

  “You’re a fine one to talk. Or do I need to mention your mother, Hannah?”

  Temper flared anew in Rafe’s expression. “Better not or I won’t be the only one going out that plate glass door. And I guarantee if I hit you, you’ll end up a hell of a lot farther than Hawaii.”

  “I gather we understand each other.”

  Rafe reluctantly nodded. “Yeah, we understand each other.” He shot Chase a speculative look. “Is it that serious between you?”

  “I’m not sure yet.” He crossed to the kitchen and jerked open the refrigerator door. Snagging a couple of long-necks, he tossed one to Rafe, followed by a bottle opener. “We’re still circling each other, discussing our options.”

  “Huh.” Rafe popped the cap and took a long swallow. “Maybe we can use this.”

  “Aw, hell.”

  Rafe waved the bottle in Chase’s direction. “No, no. Hear me out. I think this could work. Worth has more pride than common sense. If you hold off on the marriage proposal, we can use that as a chip in our negotiations.”

  “Have you lost your damn mind? I mean, seriously.”

  “Think about it,” Rafe urged. “He’s already making noises about protecting the local workforce. I can’t have him put something like that in the contract. Not if I’m going to gut Worth Industries. We tell him you’re willing to legitimize his grandbaby in exchange for excluding that clause from the sale and I’ll bet he doesn’t even blink. Bye-bye, clause.”

  Chase tipped back his head and took a long, slow drink, hoping the beer would chill his irritation. From the moment he opened the doors of Larson Investments, he’d always prided himself on the quality of the deals he’d helped put together. Until now. This Worth deal felt vaguely sordid. Okay, definitely sordid. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before once again dropping another option onto the table, hoping this time Rafe would listen to reason.

  “Or,” Chase suggested, “you can realize that Worth Industries is a valuable commodity and instead of the scorch-and-burn vendetta you have going, you can update the company and make it even more profitable than it is now, something Worth is too old-fashioned to pull off. You still take him down a notch by proving you’re the better businessman.”

  Rafe’s gaze turned bitterly cold. “Worth fired my parents because they had the unmitigated gall to fall in love. Mom was pregnant with me at the time. Helpless. You know how broke we were over the years, how we could barely scrape enough money together to put food on the table. And when Mom was diagnosed with COPD, there wasn’t any insurance to pay for her treatment. Dad went to Worth, begged for his help. And he turned his back on us.” Rafe heaved his bottle toward the trash. It hit its mark with a crash. “He let my mother die by inches when all along he knew that damned factory was responsible for her illness.”

  Chase had heard the story. Had heard Rafe describe those months in hideous detail. “Tearing apart the factory won’t bring her back. But it will hurt a lot more people than just Ronald Worth.”

  Rafe’s jaw assumed a stubborn slant. “I don’t care. They all turned their backs on us. It’s time they know how it feels.” He regarded his brother for a long moment, frustration eating at him. “Okay, Chase. I’ll give you Emma. Protect her from what’s about to happen if you can. But Worth is going down. And so is the rest of Vista del Mar, even if I have to pull it apart with my bare hands.”

  “For God’s sake—”

  “Enough,” Rafe interrupted him. “Listen to me, Chase, because I’m dead serious here. I’ve been hearing rumors about your pregnant heiress. She’s not happy about this sale and she doesn’t hesitate to say so. I won’t have her causing any trouble. Either you rein her in or I will.”

  “Rein her in?” Chase snorted. “You have met Emma, right?”

  A brief smile touched Rafe’s mouth before vanishing again. “I suggest you find a way to control your woman. And soon.”

  The front door closed behind Rafe. Chase set his empty bottle on the counter with exquisite care. Hell. He’d spent most of his life learning how
to dance through minefields. But this… What a mess.

  Exhaustion settled over him like a blanket and he scrubbed his face while he considered his options. He could practically hear the clock ticking, narrowing those options with each passing minute. In fact, he could come up with exactly one that would protect Emma, and that was with his name. Somehow, he needed to convince his pregnant heiress, as Rafe had described her, to marry him. It was his best shot at removing her from the playing field. To keep her from becoming a pawn in this hideous game. And there was only one way to convince her to marry him.

  The time had come to seduce Emma into compliance.

  After the way they’d last parted two days ago, Emma couldn’t believe that Chase managed to persuade her to join him for dinner with such ease. But he had. Sometime between the start of the phone conversation and the end, he’d convinced her that they should talk again and that the perfect venue for that conversation was Jacques’, one of the most exclusive restaurants in Vista del Mar.

  The instant she heard Chase pull up, she grabbed her wrap and headed downstairs. Even so, by the time she reached the foyer, he’d already been escorted into her father’s study, where the two men spoke in low voices. It didn’t occur to her until just then that she hadn’t warned Chase not to mention her pregnancy. If he unwittingly dropped that particular bombshell…

  She darted toward the study and flung open the door without knocking. The two men glanced up from a set of blueprints they were examining and eyed her with identical expressions of surprise.

  “Oh, there you are,” she offered lamely.

  Chase studied her through narrowed eyes, noting the rapid give and take of her breath. “You didn’t have to run. Henri will hold the table.”

  “But we wouldn’t want to annoy Chef Moreau,” she replied. Okay, so judging by her father’s expression, the comment sounded totally inane. She smiled brightly at the two men. “Shall we go?”