- -
- 100%
- +
Hunter felt like a jerk, but he’d already lost one child. Now, the future of this child was at stake. Later he would find a way to make amends once Ashley had agreed to his terms. “My sperm was intended to go to Lauren, my sister-in-law, but it was used to impregnate you. That makes me your child’s father.”
“Did Lauren conceive?”
Under the circumstances it was probably a blessing she hadn’t. “No. My brother has a low sperm count and they thought that was the problem. Now, I don’t know what to think.”
“I’m sorry.” Ashley’s gaze met his. “If she had, would you have shared custody? What would your role have been?”
Hunter knew where she was leading and stopped short of smiling at her cunning. “I would have been Uncle Hunter, but it would have been different, because I’d have seen the baby every day. I’d have known he or she was being well cared for and if the child needed me, I’d have been there.” And it possibly would have proven that he was no longer selfish and self-absorbed, contrary to his father’s belief.
Ashley took a drink from her water glass and returned it to the coffee table. “I don’t think I could stand by and watch someone else raise my child.”
He had thought he could, because he would have done it out of love for his brother. Now, he realized how painful it would have been to watch someone else raising his child, a child he would never be able to claim. “Then you understand my position.”
“I do, but this baby is everything to me. It may very well be my last chance. I can’t—I won’t let you take this child from me.” She stared at him, then clenched her eyes shut as if struggling for composure.
He knelt beside the sofa and placed his hand over her abdomen, ignoring the way her eyes shot open and the sudden look of panic that crossed her face. “I may not have been in your bed at the time of conception, but I am this baby’s father in every sense of the word. I could talk for hours about my rights as a father that every court in Texas would enforce, no matter how much you might want it to be otherwise. But I won’t. You said this could be your last chance. It could very well be mine, too, and I want to be there for my child.”
She moved his hand to the sofa cushion. “Children are for loving. They’re for holding and kissing day in and day out. You can’t make a family six months out of the year.”
“People do it all the time.”
“Not with my child. That sort of uprooting is confusing. I don’t care who or what you are, I won’t subject my baby to that. And if you really cared about him or her, you wouldn’t either.”
He hated to admit it, but she was right. “I do care.”
“No, Hunter, I don’t think you do.” She stood. “And I don’t think we have anything else to discuss.”
He pushed himself to his feet. “We haven’t resolved this.”
“I have nothing else to say to you.”
“Will you at least think about what I’ve said? I admit that a child needs a mother, but he or she will need a father, too. Let me assume that responsibility. Let me be a father to my child.”
Her sudden anger caught him off-guard as she marched around him to the front door. “Is that what you see this as? A responsibility? What about love?”
“This is my child. He or she would never have reason to doubt my love.”
“Will that be enough?” she asked, opening her apartment door in silent invitation for him to leave.
He walked toward her. “I don’t know, but neither do you.”
She stared at him, giving no clue as to her thoughts.
When she remained silent, he paused in the doorway, dug out the five dollars she’d earlier pushed into his pocket and pressed it into the center of the pink bouquet on the table. “Dinner was on me.” Then he left, waiting outside until he heard her throw the dead bolt on the door. He hated leaving with things still unresolved, but doubted he would make any more headway tonight.
Okay, maybe things hadn’t gone so well, but she hadn’t slapped him. Actually, she had reacted far better than he’d expected. Far better than he would have had the tables been turned.
All things considered, the fact she had talked to him at all gave him hope. And there was still time. Tomorrow, after she had calmed down, he would talk with her again.
Hunter scratched his jaw as he strode to his pickup. While at his office that afternoon he had searched for case law to support his claim. He’d ignored the ringing phone and admitted she might have tried to call him. His time had been well spent as he had found five Texas Supreme Court decisions issued on appeal which left little doubt about a father’s rights—his rights. Odd that after finding cases to support his claim, he hadn’t used the information. Though he didn’t understand it, he chalked it up to the strain of reliving past events, events he’d tried to forget, but never had.
He unlocked his truck and slid inside. With time, he believed she would come around. She was obviously an intelligent woman who would eventually see he asked for nothing more than what was mandated by the courts.
Part of his job as prosecutor was to read people’s reactions to certain events and then judge their guilt or innocence. Tonight, he had handled things badly and come on way too strong. Ashley had responded to his demands with fear and anger, which had kept her from using her head and being rational. Tomorrow, he would keep the prosecutor part of him under wraps, voice his terms in a nonthreatening manner and do everything possible to keep her from throwing up her guard. Maybe then they could talk things out and come to an agreement.
He pulled away from the apartment and headed home, thinking he now had a better grasp on the situation. He was making progress, doing the right thing. So why did the thought of taking his child from Ashley suddenly feel so wrong?
Chapter Three
“Mind if I join you?”
Ashley looked up from her glass of milk as Hunter slid into the opposite side of the booth. She refused to turn to see how many of the restaurant patrons were members of the legal community. It was ridiculous to hope no one had noticed Hunter’s arrival, or his destination. The man stood as tall as an oak tree and had dark good looks that naturally drew attention. Not hers, but others. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Eating lunch with the prettiest woman in Hale, Texas,” he said, flashing her a crooked smile that sent a jolt of awareness through her.
It was just the raging hormones she’d heard all pregnant women experienced. Under normal conditions, she wouldn’t notice the tantalizing scent of his cologne—a heady mix of arrogance and potent male—or find him the least bit attractive. But from the moment the assistant district attorney had stormed into the conference room and staked his claim, nothing had been normal. And in spite of knowing better, she couldn’t stop the warmth that spiraled through her or the welcoming smile that worked its way to her lips. “Don’t try to sweet-talk me, Hunter Morgan. I’m on to you. It won’t work.”
He chuckled, a low rumbling sound that plucked a chord of need deep inside her. “In that case, I won’t bother telling you how that leopard print brings out the little gold flecks in your eyes. If you were a prosecution witness, I’d send you home to change into basic black, something conservative that buttons all the way to the neck and has long sleeves.”
“Why?” she heard herself ask, intrigued by the slant of the conversation and the way he watched her, the way he made her feel all warm and tingly on the inside.
His blue eyes darkened. His expression turned serious. “The way you’re dressed now,” he said, his gaze assessing, lingering here and there in a most disconcerting manner, “is quite distracting. All the men on the jury would be so busy ogling you, they wouldn’t hear a word of your testimony.”
It was working. Darn him. In spite of who he was and what she knew he was after, his seductive charm was doing a number on her. Hormones, she reminded herself. It was only a rush of hormones. No, it was more than that. More like an earthquake, a volcanic eruption or a tornado.
“I suppose I can see where, assuming the jurors are all males of reproductive age, they might be somewhat distracted by certain clothing on a woman,” she said.
“A very attractive woman.” One corner of his mouth lifted. “And what age group do you consider to fall into that reproductive stage?”
Oh, dear. She cleared her throat as she considered his question. “I assume that would be college—”
“Lower.”
“High school—”
“Lower.”
She blinked. “I, uh, wasn’t fortunate enough to have any brothers, so I’m rather ill equipped—”
“Oh, I think you’re very well equipped.” He flashed her a wicked smile that warned her he was up to no good. “Try junior high.”
Heat rushed to her cheeks, and she fought the urge to cover her face with her hands. “Really?”
“Pretty close.” His blue eyes danced with mirth. “Go on.”
How had she gotten herself into this? “All right, Mr. M—”
“Hunter.”
“Very well, Hunter. From junior high school to…” She thought about it a moment, then smiled. “From junior high to sixty-five.”
One brow arched, and he shook his head.
“Seventy?”
Nothing.
“Eighty?”
Still nothing.
She frowned at him. “Death?”
“Exactly. So you can see how we have to pay careful attention to what a witness wears. If the woman is a looker, like you, then it’s really a problem.”
A looker? Her?
Thankfully, a waitress who barely looked old enough to be out of school sauntered to their table and settled a huge glass of iced tea in front of Hunter. “You want the usual?”
“Sure thing.”
She nodded and moved to the next booth.
“You come here often?” Ashley asked, hoping to distract him from their earlier topic. Funny how his smile and easy banter had almost made her forget why he was hounding her. Almost.
He took a drink from the glass and shrugged. “Couple of times a week.”
“Do you always sit with available women, or is it just that you’re getting even with me for last night?”
“Getting even?”
“Once my boss hears we’ve had lunch together, he’ll probably fire me. I’m sure he would never believe we talked about witnesses.”
“And sex,” Hunter added with a devilish grin.
“Yes, and that.” Ashley cleared her throat and met his gaze. “Isn’t there some other woman in Hale you could pester? Why me?”
“Because you’re pregnant with my child.”
Ashley looked around to see if anyone paid them any attention. “Don’t say that so loud.”
“Why not? It’s true.”
She sighed. “Hunter, why are you here? What do you want from me?”
“You know what I want. Since you weren’t interested in my last offer, I thought we might negotiate, but if you would rather I go, then—”
“No.” In her haste to stop him from leaving, she knocked over her glass of milk, sending its contents into his lap.
Hunter righted the glass, then slid from the booth and picked up his napkin, still wrapped around his silverware.
Mortified by what she had done, Ashley grabbed her own napkin from her lap and stood. When she tried to dab at the milk soaking his pants, he caught her wrist. “I’m not sure you really want to do that.”
The waitress who had rushed to mop up the spill smiled as she smoothed the towel over the table before walking away.
Ashley shoved the napkin in his hand and returned to her seat, unable to look him in the face. Her cheeks burned at the thought of what she had almost done, what she had almost touched. She groaned, wondering if anyone would notice if she crawled under the table.
When Hunter slipped into the booth, he sat watching her, but she refused to have anything further to do with him.
“Ashley, look at me.” His fingers cupped her chin and turned her head. “Don’t worry about the pants. I have plenty of time to change before court resumes.”
“Have your suit cleaned and send me the bill.” She couldn’t remember when she’d been more embarrassed. “I believe you mentioned wanting to negotiate.” She wanted to change the subject and try to forget she had just dumped milk in the assistant D.A.’s lap.
“I still think the six-month split would work, but since you aren’t receptive, how would you feel about me taking summers and every other weekend? On even years, I’d get Thanksgiving, Fourth of July and Christmas holidays. And Easter, Labor Day, Memorial Day, spring break and birthdays on odd years.”
That wasn’t what she had hoped to hear. Her idea of a negotiation was him deciding a supervised dinner once a year would suffice. “I know you think I’m not being fair, but darn it, Hunter, my dream of having a family didn’t include you.”
“Then you’re rejecting my offer?”
“No, I haven’t rejected it…exactly. It’s just going to take a little time for me to get used to the idea of having to share my child.” Then again, it might take forever.
“So you’ll consider it?” He lifted his tea and drank, drawing her eyes to his tanned throat and how it worked as he swallowed.
She noticed the rising temperature and decided it must be a combination of the crowded dining area and the cooking going on in the kitchen. Wanting only to get rid of Hunter, she decided to agree. It wasn’t like she couldn’t later change her mind. Her prerogative. “I’ll give it some thought. It might be workable.” But she doubted it.
The waitress placed a huge platter containing a thick steak and fries in front of Hunter, then refilled his glass of tea and glanced at Ashley. “Do you want more milk?”
“No, thank you,” Ashley said, watching the waitress as she moved to the next table.
Hunter cut into the meat and took a bite. “Aren’t you eating?”
“No.” She stared at the pink liquid pooling on his plate and shivered. “Hunter, I don’t think that cow’s dead.”
“It’s a little rare, but I’ve had worse.”
“A little rare? It looks like it could crawl off your plate.” It sure was making her stomach crawl. When he cut another bite, she shuddered, wondering how he would feel about her getting sick on his loafers now that she had already dumped her milk in his lap.
“You’re looking a little green. Are you okay?”
She made the mistake of looking at his meal again. Bile rose in her throat. Catching the end of the table, Ashley grabbed her purse and stood. A mild cramp caught her unaware. She remained still, placing her hand over her stomach.
Hunter dropped his fork and was instantly at her side, slipping his arm around her waist. “Is something wrong?”
Ashley inhaled slowly, then shook her head. “Just a twinge. It’s okay now.” She withdrew from his grasp and returned to her seat. “Hunter, sit down. People are staring.”
He continued to stand there, frowning at her. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”
“Hospital? Goodness no. It was just a little cramp. Pregnant women have all kinds of little aches and pains that mean nothing.” At least that’s what her neighbor had told her when she’d gone over there the night before. After Hunter had left, Ashley had started feeling weird, so she’d sought out Martha, who was a nurse and had three kids. Martha had assured her that unless there were other symptoms, a twinge or two was nothing to be concerned about. So far, there had been nothing, except nausea which Martha had assured her was normal.
Finally he returned to his seat. “You’re sure?”
“Yeah. My stomach’s just rebelling from having to watch you eat that near-raw meat. You know, that really is disgusting.”
He gave her a look filled with doubt. Finally he retrieved his fork. “A growing boy can’t survive on a glass of milk…and neither can a pregnant woman. Do you always skip lunch? If it’s money—”
“It has nothing to do with money. I usually eat, but didn’t feel like it today.” She pulled two dollars from her purse and dropped them on the table as she slid from the booth, catching her jacket. “This has been a real experience, Hunter, but some of us have to work for a living.”
“I’ll get it.” He lifted the money and shoved it back in her purse. “Listen, Ashley, if you don’t get to feeling better, I’d like you to see a doctor. I also want your promise to call me if you have any problems, any at all.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. There’s nothing wrong with me, except a queasy stomach.”
He lowered his fork to the edge of his plate. “If you won’t give me your word to call if you need me, then I suppose I can check on you every few hours.”
She knew he would, too. Blast him. “Oh, all right.”
His lips lifted in a smile that stole her breath. “Good girl.”
Ashley glanced at her watch and groaned. “I’ve got to go. I’m already late.”
“Here.” He tugged his wallet from his back pocket and pulled out a business card, then scribbled two numbers on the reverse side. “This is my office number. The ones I added on the back are my home and cell numbers.”
“Thanks. I’m really sorry about your suit.” Ashley accepted the card and stuck it in her pocket as she hurried from the restaurant, intending to trash it the first chance she got. He was being overcautious. She never should have had lunch with him, not that he’d given her much choice. Still, she shouldn’t have had such a good time. Drat him. It was all his fault. No way would she ever call him, no matter the reason.
She hurried down the sidewalk, uncomfortable with the thought that Hunter worried about her welfare. It also pleased her, and darned if she knew why. He was everything she disliked in a man. She supposed nagging someone to death came naturally since he was a prosecutor, but he was driving her nuts. And darn it all, she was starting to enjoy it.
Had he really expected her to jump at his new offer? If so, he was a poor judge of character. Or maybe she was different than the females he knew. She found herself wondering about the kind of women he dated and whether he had a special someone in his life. Maybe his significant other would be jealous and put a stop to any notion he had of claiming this baby. If Ashley were Hunter’s woman, she wouldn’t like the idea of him fathering a child with another. Not that they—she and Hunter—had created this baby in the traditional way. Funny that she had no trouble at all envisioning him tangled in black satin sheets…naked.
She hurried inside the office, intending to throw his business card away at her first opportunity. She dug it from her pocket, then paused.
She tightened her hand around the paper, crumpling it, but couldn’t bring herself to drop it in the trash. More than once she’d discovered her boss going through her waste-basket in search of a discarded document draft. It wouldn’t do for him to stumble across Hunter Morgan’s business card with his home and cell numbers scrawled on the back. No telling what Mr. Williams would think. She shoved the card in her purse, promising to get rid of it when she got home.
Her inability to discard the numbers had nothing to do with Hunter telling her she was a looker. Nothing at all.
At four o’clock that afternoon, Hunter had given up on getting any work done. The arraignment had gone without a hitch and he’d gone to the high school to meet with the counselor and troubled teen Greg Johnson. Things had gone from bad to worse when Greg had walked out before giving them a chance to really talk. Several times Hunter had felt the urge to call Ashley after he’d returned to the office, had even picked up the phone a time or two, only to hang up at the last minute.
Now he sat in his pickup outside her apartment, waiting for her to get home so he could make sure she was all right. He’d thought to swing by her office, but decided she would have a fit and what little progress he’d made with her would be lost. He knew his being there was stupid, but since lunch, he’d had a niggling feeling something wasn’t right, that Ashley needed him. He’d always been one to play his hunches and would do so now.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.