Claimed: The Pregnant Heiress

by Day Leclaire

  “Very, though I do try to stay out of the limelight. I’m not often photographed these days, so that probably helped.”

  He reached for her hand, laced her fingers with his own. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. That was supposed to be fun and instead I’m afraid it bordered on creepy.”

  Emma waved his comment aside. “I’m not concerned about that part. I just feel terrible for that poor woman.”

  “Why?” Chase asked in surprise. “She loved her home. You could tell she didn’t want to sell it, just as you could tell she spent many wonderful years living in a home every bit as grand and beautiful as the Worths.”

  “More beautiful,” Emma reminded him.

  “An improved version.”

  They looked at each other and burst out laughing. She rested her head against his shoulder and grinned. It felt marvelous to simply kick back, relax and act a little silly. So much had happened in the past few months, much of it stressful, that she’d forgotten how to enjoy herself.

  Until Chase.

  Even though he epitomized the driven businessman, he still knew how to play. He’d demonstrated that on the first day they’d met, when they’d treated New York City like their private playground. She studied him, caught the edginess evident in the taut set of his jaw and the sharp intelligence in his smoky blue eyes. There sat the financier.

  She also noted the lines that fanned out from the corner of those eyes and the easy curve of a mouth she’d taken great delight in kissing. A mouth quick to smile, a man quick to laugh. A protective man. An honorable one. She found the combination irresistible.

  “What?” He’d caught her staring.

  “Just trying to figure you out.”

  “What’s your conclusion?”

  “I’m not sure, yet.” She hesitated. “You were so kind to Mrs. Strickland.”

  “Did you expect me to be cruel?”

  “No, of course not.” She swiveled to face him. “But she made a mess of that house. She chose completely inappropriate furnishings and then added to the disaster with her color choices, all so she could imitate my family’s lifestyle. I don’t understand that, especially since her perception of the Worths is about as far from reality as it could get. And yet, as you pointed out, you could tell how happy her home made her.”

  “There’s no accounting for taste or what will make people happy.”

  “No, there isn’t. Clearly, she loved the fantasy she created. That doesn’t change the fact that you were so gentle with her when you could have been sarcastic. She wouldn’t have caught on. It would have gone right over her head.”

  “That’s not who I am.”

  “No,” Emma murmured. “I can see that.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Did you think I was?”

  “Not really.” She fastened her seat belt with a satisfied smile. “Today you proved it.”

  He started the car and continued along the coast road to a section where the homes became mansions sitting on several acres of property. Balloons marked another open house and on impulse, Emma pointed to it. “Stop there. I’ll bet you’d normally have to make an appointment to tour that place. Let’s take a look. Do you mind?”

  “You really are a glutton for punishment.”

  “Think of it as cleansing your palette after eating something bitter.”

  “Okay, but don’t get your hopes up.”

  The two of them entered the house. The difference was so dramatic that they both heaved a sigh of relief, then laughed at their identical reaction. “Now pay attention to how it’s done,” he murmured.

  “You’re the expert.”

  He draped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. Her hip and thigh bumped up against his and she couldn’t stop herself from surrendering to his warmth. Not when he felt this incredible. It suddenly occurred to her that he hadn’t kissed her yet today and she missed those moments of passion more than she could have believed possible.

  He must have read something in her face because a hint of desire drifted across his expression and settled in his gaze. “Tonight,” he said, and she wondered if he meant it as a threat or a promise.

  A real estate agent greeted them, handing out literature detailing information about the property, including the multimillion-dollar price sticker. “Feel free to wander. I’m showing another party through, but I’ll be around if you have any questions.”

  They started with the living room. “See, now this is a terrific room. Nice flow,” Chase commented. “Our living room set would fit perfectly.”

  Emma blinked. “It would?” He gave her a swift hip nudge and she caught on. “Oh, right. It would.”

  “I love the stone fireplace. Put a couple of chairs there and we could read in front of the fire.”

  Emma shook her head. “A love seat would work better. That way we could curl up together with a glass of wine and a good book.”

  He feathered a kiss along the curve of her cheek. “See? You’re a natural.”

  Actually, she’d been serious. “Why don’t we check out the kitchen? Nilda worked very hard to teach me to cook and I’d like something worthy of my truly unfortunate skills.”

  “That bad?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Does it have a refrigerator? That’s all I care about.”

  Emma couldn’t prevent a laugh. Then she stepped into the kitchen and sighed. “Oh, Chase. It’s a gourmet kitchen.”

  “Gourmet?”

  “It has all the extras.” She pointed. “A grill, a warming drawer under the oven, a faucet over the stove, a walk-in pantry and wine cellar.”

  “Not to mention an industrial-size refrigerator.” Chase nodded in satisfaction. “I’ll bet that’ll keep my beer cold.”

  She waved him silent. “Look at the terra-cotta backsplash. It’s modern and yet has that Italian-farmhouse feel to it, don’t you think?”

  “You’re even better at this than my mother,” he informed her in an undertone.

  He still thought she was playacting. She sighed. “There’s a pretty breakfast room.” She wandered in that direction. “I like how it has a view of the water.”

  “Do you want to tour the upstairs?”

  “I really would.”

  She trailed behind him, admiring the wood trim and expert craftsmanship. Everything about the house appealed. It offered the beauty and lightness she craved and the sophistication better suited to Chase’s New York palate. She couldn’t have found a better blend of their two tastes if she’d designed the place herself.

  “Check this out, Emma.”

  She turned to discover that Chase had wandered down the lengthy upstairs hall of the south wing and into one of the rooms there. She joined him, inhaling sharply. “A his-and-her office.”

  The two rooms were identical, each with its own gas fireplace and doors that opened onto a shared balcony. Etched glass pocket doors could be opened so that the two rooms became one, or shut for privacy. The current owners had a pair of desks positioned opposite the doors, one in each room, hers a dainty French provincial in cherry and his a more substantial piece carved from mahogany.

  Chase stilled. “They’re facing each other.”

  “So they can see one another while they work.” For some reason, tears threatened and Emma crossed to the balcony door while she struggled to regain her equilibrium. “And look at this. The deck doesn’t connect to any of the others around the house. They have complete privacy.”

  “Did you notice the table and chairs?” He came to stand behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders. “I’ll bet they go out there at lunchtime and eat together.”

  She leaned into his embrace. “Or share a glass of wine while they watch the sunset.” She sighed. “I wonder why they’re giving up such a magnificent place?”

  He gestured toward a cane resting in the corner. “Maybe the steps have become too much for one of them. A shame, really. It’s a beautiful home.”

  Her heart went out to the owners. “Yes, it is.�
�� The kind of home she’d choose for herself.

  He must have read her mind. “Why don’t you have your own place?”

  She shrugged, hoping he didn’t pick up in the tension that gathered in the muscles beneath his hands. “No point. Not with that huge estate standing practically empty.”

  “I don’t suppose it has anything to do with the fact that if you moved out it would leave your father all alone on that huge estate?”

  “That might play some small part in my decision,” she admitted.

  “It’s going to happen, Emma, and soon.”

  “You’re assuming too much.” She pulled free of his hold. “We haven’t decided to marry. And if we don’t, it makes sense for me to live with our son or daughter in the home where I grew up.”

  “Not a chance.”

  She swung around to face him. “Why not? It’s a reasonable solution.”

  “No, the reasonable solution is to marry and for the three of us to live together as a family.”

  “In New York? In your apartment? I mean, it’s nice. But it’s not where I’d choose to raise a family,” she objected.

  He hesitated. “Would it influence your decision to marry me if I said I’d be willing to shift my base of operations to Vista del Mar?”

  It took a moment for his offer to penetrate. “You’d actually consider that?” she asked in an odd voice.

  “Yes, I would. I have zero interest in being a long-distance parent. If you’re adamant about remaining in California, then I’m willing to consider moving out here.”

  She hesitated, then approached, surprising them both by wrapping her arms around his neck. “I don’t know what this is between us….” She hesitated, attempting to put words to the confusing jumble of emotions racing through her. “Whether there’s something more between us than just a baby.”

  “You’re right. There is.”

  “Maybe so. All I know for certain is that I’d like to find out.” Truth time. She refused to give him false hope or false expectations. “I’m not ready to marry you, Chase, not even to give our child the legal right to your name. I can tell you that I won’t marry you for that sake alone. But the fact that you’re willing to move here in order to establish a relationship with our baby—”

  “And with you.”

  A slow smile lit her face. “I’d like that, Chase. I’d like that very much.”

  He leaned down, his mouth hovering above hers. “Shall we make it official?” he asked, his eyes gleaming with laughter.

  She planted a hand on his chest to hold him at bay. Taut muscles rippled beneath her fingers. “Is this how you make all your deals official?” she asked. “That’s a rather peculiar investment firm you’re running.”

  “Only with you, sweetheart. Only with you.”

  And then he kissed her.

  Eight

  Instantly, Emma fell into Chase’s embrace, lost to their surroundings. She couldn’t get enough of him. He tasted so incredible, while the restless stroke of his hands drove her emotions into a total frenzy. She’d been raised to be polite and calm and poised even in the most egregious of circumstances. Yet, Chase managed to utterly decimate that ability.

  When had she become so vulnerable to his touch, so completely open and defenseless? She could guess when. The seeds were planted the first time they were together, when she’d discovered that a single night didn’t come close to satisfying her. And how had she handled it? She’d run. She never dreamed that he’d find her again. Or that more seeds had taken root that night than an emotional susceptibility to him.

  Her fingers slid deep into his crisp dark blond hair and she anchored him close, opening to him and allowing all that was most intensely feminine respond to all that was most imperatively male. She had the sneaking suspicion that if they’d been anywhere else, their clothes would have long since disappeared and they’d have made the rug their bed. Instead, he reluctantly pulled back. “Emma.”

  “No,” she murmured, wanting more. Needing more. “Not yet.”

  “I know, sweetheart, but someone’s coming.”

  She stiffened within his arms, hearing them for the first time. The sound of their voices came from a few feet away. She’d been deaf to their approach, so lost in Chase’s embrace that she didn’t doubt for a moment the real estate agent and prospective buyers would have walked in on a moment of explosive passion if Chase hadn’t come to his senses.

  With a soft gasp, she ripped free of his arms and crossed swiftly to the doors leading onto the balcony. Exiting the house, she stood at the railing, her arms wrapped around her waist. She stared out across the water and dragged air into her lungs like a woman drowning.

  Control. She needed to regain her self-control. But deep down she knew that when it came to Chase, she asked the impossible. She forced herself to straighten and tuck her blouse into her slacks. Then she smoothed the collar of the cropped jacket she wore. The wind tossed her hair, adding to the tangles their embrace had created. Nothing she could do about that. Finally, she opened her purse and removed her lipstick and compact and outlined the swollen contours of her bare mouth.

  A moment later, Chase joined her, closing the door behind them to protect their privacy from the party being escorted through the house. “I don’t understand any of this,” she informed Chase without turning around. She snapped her compact closed and tossed it and the tube of lipstick into her purse. “I don’t know how to handle it.”

  “Don’t try,” he advised.

  “Whatever is going on with me must be hormonal. It’s the only explanation.”

  “Is it?”

  Something in his tone had her spinning around. “What else could it be?” Tears threatened again. “If it’s not hormones, that leaves lust or love. Take your pick.”

  He thrust his hands into his trouser pockets and leaned against the frame of the door. “Is it important to define what we’re feeling at this point?”

  “It would help,” she retorted defensively.

  He looked out across the water, much as she’d done. “This house is perfect, you know.”

  He’d changed the subject. Or maybe he hadn’t. Maybe he attacked it from a different angle. She glanced around, taking in house, grounds and ocean. Her throat closed over. “It is perfect, isn’t it?”

  “I can see us living here.” He shot her a smile that turned her insides liquid. “I can see us sharing that office. You could work on your paperwork for the shelter and the thrift shop while I did the same for Larson Investments.”

  His comment threw her off balance. “Your firm isn’t a one-man operation, is it? Wouldn’t you want an actual office downtown, with staff to run it?”

  He shrugged. “Sure. But that doesn’t mean I have to go in every day, especially after the baby’s born.”

  She stared at him, stumbling to keep up with the flow of the conversation. For some reason, she couldn’t quite grasp the implications. “I… You would stay home?” The concept seemed so foreign she couldn’t wrap her brain around it. “With the baby?”

  He raised his shoulders in a casual shrug. “Of course with the baby. If you need to put some hours in at the shelter, I don’t see why it would be a problem for me to watch Junior. We’d have to arrange our schedules around feedings and juggle who goes into the office when. I’m sure there’ll be the occasional work conflict. But with a little consideration and cooperation, we’ll manage.”

  “My…my father practically lived at the office,” she said, her voice faltering.

  It was the wrong thing to say. Chase’s expression darkened. He straightened from his stance and approached. “Let’s get something clarified right up front. I am not, nor will I ever be, like either your father or my own. And I strongly urge you to never attempt to compare me to either of them again.”

  She lifted her chin. “You can’t deny certain similarities.”

  He snagged that aggressive little chin and leaned in. “All men have a few things in common, as do all women. Other th
an that, I prefer to be judged on my own merits. In case you haven’t noticed, if I were anything like my father, I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t for one tiny moment consider moving my base of operations to Vista del Mar. And I sure as hell wouldn’t be standing on this balcony with you, seriously tempted to write out a check for this house, here and now.”

  Emma’s heart gave an odd tug. “Are you serious?”

  “Dead serious. I would like to take a look at the master bedroom suite and make certain there’s a suitable room for the nursery. But other than that, this place is perfect for both of us and you know it. It might as well have been built with both our tastes in mind.”

  His comment matched her earlier thoughts. Longing welled up, threatening to overflow and spill out in great, messy waves. He’d seen it, too. All this time she’d thought him oblivious to how beautifully suited they were to this home and how well it conformed to their needs. Instead, he’d taken it all in and recognized it for what it was. Perfection. She should have known. Chase missed very little. Even so, to buy a house of this magnitude on a whim. On a chance. On a dream that might never become reality…

  “Oh, Chase,” she whispered. “Please don’t do this. Not if it’s just an attempt to convince me to marry you.”

  He fisted his hands on his hips. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.”

  “That’s just it. I don’t have any good reasons,” she confessed. “And that terrifies me.”

  He reached for her, pulled her into warmth and passion and promises of a glittering future. “Take a chance, Emma.”

  “Not marriage, Chase. I can’t agree to that. Not yet.”

  “Then agree to the house. Agree to move in with me while we make our decision. If it doesn’t work out, you can always return to the estate.”

  She closed her eyes, fighting the temptation with all she possessed. But she couldn’t. She wanted the dream. Taking a deep breath, she leaped, praying she would fly instead of hurtle to the ground.

  “Okay, let’s do it.”

  The next week passed in an endless round of meetings that kept Chase busier than he would have liked. Inch by excruciating inch, they drew closer to finalizing the sale of Worth Industries to Rafe. Hour after excruciating hour they hammered out a contract filled with ifs, ands and buts that required the lawyers to pick apart every word. All the while Chase’s team of accountants put in countless time figuring out how each addendum and change would affect the bottom line.