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“Not a chance.”
Regan’s pulse danced uneasily at the steely determination in his voice. “Then you leave me no choice but to call the police and have you removed,” she said with more conviction than she felt. She started toward the phone, when suddenly Slugger decided he hadn’t finished playing games for the day. Her stomach dipped. A wave of nausea rolled through her. “Excuse me,” she mumbled, and tried to move past Cole before she lost what was left of her lunch in front of him.
Cole blocked her path. “I don’t think so. Not until we talk.”
“Get out of my way,” she commanded, fighting back the nausea climbing up her throat. “I mean it, Cole. Get out of my way, or you’re going to be sorry.”
“Sorrier than you were twelve years ago when you realized what a mistake you made by marrying a poor bastard? Oh, I forgot, my being a bastard isn’t quite so bad now that I have money, is it?”
For a moment the dots in front of her eyes cleared, as the full measure of his bitterness hit her. Regan blinked back the tears of anger and hurt stinging her eyes. “Go to hell.”
“No thanks, sweetheart, I’ve already been there once because of you. And I have no intention of going back. In fact, now that you’re pregnant, I—”
The shock of his words hit Regan like a punch, and on its heels came another wave of nausea. She clamped one hand over her mouth and used the other to shove past him. Cole caught her shoulder, pulled her around to face him. Then it was too late. She upchucked all over his expensive black shoes.
Stunned, Cole stood frozen for several seconds. As he battled through the anger that had gripped him at Regan’s dismissal, he registered her paper-white pallor, the beads of sweat dotting her brow.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered, a horrified expression on her face, before she broke free and fled.
“Regan, wait,” Cole shouted, charging after her. He skidded to a halt when the bathroom door swung shut, barely missing his nose. He pounded on the door with his fist. “Regan!”
“Go away!”
Concerned, he twisted the doorknob, found the thing locked. “Open the door, Regan.”
“Go away!”
Not a chance. Liz hadn’t told him that she was sick. Regan never got sick—at least not that he could remember. Even during her short pregnancy years ago, she hadn’t suffered so much as an hour of morning sickness. She hadn’t been sick a single day—until the miscarriage.
Suddenly the idea that Regan and his baby could be in any danger had the blood chilling in his veins. Damn! He should never have baited her the way he had, recalling the way the color had drained from her cheeks when he’d lashed out at her. He washed a hand down his face, shamed by his actions. Worse, he was scared. If something happened to her or the baby, it would be his fault. His insides suddenly churning, Cole raised his fist but forced himself to tap on the door, gently this time. “Princess? Are you all right?”
When she didn’t answer, Cole knocked again. Guilt and worry played havoc in his mind as he envisioned Regan lying on the bathroom floor helpless, maybe in pain. “Princess, can you hear me?” he asked, growing more anxious by the second. “Unlock the door. Let me in so I can help you.”
When she still failed to respond, the knot of fear in his stomach balled into a fist. Cole tried the doorknob again, gave it a menacing twist. Then he heard it—that terrible wretching sound of someone being sick. On the heels of that came a soft moan and then the sound of running water. He shoved at the door, contemplated kicking the thing in. “Are you all right?” he demanded, nerves making his voice sharp, his temper short. “Dammit, Regan, answer me.”
“I’m all right.”
But she didn’t sound all right. She sounded as weak as a newborn kitten. Sucking in a calming breath, Cole attempted to rein in the jumble of emotions racing through him. “Open the door, princess,” he coaxed, deliberately gentling his voice even though inside he felt raw, violent. “I know you’re sick. Please…open the door. Let me help you.”
“I don’t want your help,” she tossed back with more spirit than he’d expected. “I just want you to leave.”
Too bad, Cole thought, gritting his teeth. No way did he plan to leave—not until he was sure that she was okay. And the baby, he amended. After all, the baby was the reason he was here in the first place. Raking a hand through his hair, Cole sighed. According to Money magazine he was a smart man, a virtual business genius. So how the devil had he gotten himself into this mess? How the devil had he let himself get tangled up with Regan St. Claire again?
The answer was simple—Liz, his oldest and dearest friend, the woman who had taken a street-smart, angry punk under her wing and given him a chance to be something more. He owed her more than he could ever repay in one lifetime. But hell, this time Regan’s aunt Liz had gone too far.
And whose fault is that?
His, Cole admitted. Because he had only himself to blame for getting into this fix in the first place. After all, he knew how clever Liz was, and he also knew how much the woman loved her niece. Liz had known exactly which buttons to push to convince him to be Regan’s sperm donor. And idiot that he was, he’d fallen right into the trap….
“Forget it, Liz. If Regan needs a sperm donor, you’ll have to find someone else. Maybe one of those uptowners with the mile-long pedigrees.”
“Fine,” Liz agreed easily.
Too easily, he thought. The woman was as sharp as a tack and never gave up that easily. Narrowing his gaze, he looked at her, knowing instinctively she was up to something. “I mean it, Liz.”
“I said okay, didn’t I?”
“But?”
“But what?” she asked innocently.
Cole sighed. “Whatever it is you’ve got up your sleeve isn’t going to work.”
“You make me sound like a scheming manipulative woman.”
“That’s because sometimes you are, but I love you anyway.”
She sniffed, tipped up her nose.
“Why don’t you just spit out whatever it is you’re up to?”
“I’m disappointed in you, Cole Thornton. I never thought you’d let pigheaded pride stand in the way and stop you from having the one thing you’ve always wanted.”
Cole laughed. “If you think I’m still pining after Regan, you’ve been standing too close to the ether, doc. Getting tangled up with your niece once was enough for me. Believe me, I have no desire to repeat that mistake.” Certainly not when he still bore the scars from their short-lived union.
Her brown eyes twinkled in a way that said “gotcha.” “Isn’t it interesting that you thought I was referring to Regan?”
Cole scowled, annoyed as much with himself as with Liz.
“I was referring to a baby. More specifically, your baby.” Her expression sobered. “I remember how devastated you were when…when Regan miscarried. I know how much you wanted that baby, how much you were looking forward to becoming a father.”
Pain ripped through Cole at the reminder of that dreadful day when Regan had told him she’d lost their baby. Even after all this time, it hurt to think of his child, his little girl, that had never had a chance to live, that he had never had a chance to hold. “Leave it alone, Liz.”
She reached out, touched his hand. “For whatever reason, fate stole your and Regan’s daughter, Cole. Nothing can ever change that. But don’t you see? If you helped Regan now, it could be a second chance for both of you.”
Memories crowding him, Cole pulled away. “There are no second chances, Liz.”
She frowned. “Careful, Cole. You’re beginning to sound a lot like my brother. I’d hate to see you end up like Philip. Despite all his blessings, he was an unhappy and lonely man until the day he died.”
“I’m nothing like him,” Cole snapped, insulted to be compared to the man he’d once admired and whose approval he’d struggled so hard to win; the man who had been his employer and, briefly, his father-in-law. The man he’d grown to hate so fiercely that he’d spent the past dozen years of his life working like a madman just to prove how wrong Philip St. Claire had been about him.
“Are you sure? You’re rich and successful just as you swore you’d be, but I don’t see that it’s made you happy.”
“I’m happy.”
“Then why are you still alone? And why in all the news clippings I see of you with one beautiful woman after another on your arm, why doesn’t the smile on your lips reach your eyes? For all my brother’s sins, he at least had Regan. She was the best part of him, and worth a hundred times more than all of his priceless jewels. She brought love and laughter into Philip’s life, and now that he’s gone, she’s carrying on his legacy. What about you, Cole? You have the power and fortune you always wanted, but what else do you have? Who do you have to bring love and laughter into your life? Who do you have to carry on your legacy when you’re gone?”
The reminder of how empty his life was staggered Cole, yet he refused to admit that fact to Liz. Instead, he hardened his jaw and met her eyes. “I don’t need love in my life. I stopped believing in it a long time ago. As for the rest, if and when I decide I want someone, I’ll buy them.”
Liz shook her head, her expression sad. “And you say you’re not like Philip?”
Suddenly the image of Philip St. Claire trying to buy him out of Regan’s life came rushing back. Angry, Cole snapped, “I’m not like him. I don’t judge people by their pedigrees and bank accounts. I may have made mistakes, but I own up to them and I learn from them. Marrying Regan was the biggest mistake I ever made, and I have enough sense not to repeat it.”
Liz arched her brow. “Funny. I don’t recall mentioning the word marriage. All I was suggesting was that you be Regan’s sperm donor. Obviously, I was wrong in thinking that the idea of becoming a father would appeal to you. So, please, don’t give it another thought. I’ll just find someone else.”
Only she hadn’t had to find someone else. Because he had taken the bait—fallen into the trap. The momentary madness that saw him agree to Liz’s outrageous plan had lasted a full month. But by the time the folly of his actions had set in, he’d been in Europe and knee-deep in sensitive negotiations. He’d put off making the call to Liz, reasoning that he’d have time to take care of everything and tell Liz he had changed his mind when he got back. After all, he’d read all the data. He knew that the chance of the insemination procedure working on the first try was at best thirty percent. He’d thought he had time, and he’d put off making that call to Liz.
Big mistake, Thornton. You should have followed through, called Liz the minute you’d changed your mind and had her destroy the sperm sample.
But he hadn’t followed through—a mistake he seldom made in business. Not for the first time, Cole cursed his own carelessness. He had no one to blame for this mess but himself. He’d known Liz had an agenda. He just hadn’t anticipated how quickly she would set it into motion or that she would be successful on the first try. Nor had he anticipated, returning after a grueling trip, the news that Regan was already pregnant—with his child.
“What a mess,” Cole muttered. Still suffering from jet lag, he rolled his shoulders, tried to work out some of the kinks. After getting Liz’s message earlier, he hadn’t even bothered unpacking. He’d simply boarded a plane for New Orleans, determined to talk with Regan and figure out a way to straighten out the mess they’d gotten themselves into.
Only his partner in this particular mess was now locked in the bathroom puking her guts out. Cole listened at the door and was relieved not to hear any more wretching or moaning, just the sound of Regan moving about the room. Satisfied she was in no danger, he looked down at his soiled shoes and winced, then retreated to the kitchen to see what could be done to salvage them.
After cleaning off his shoes as best he could, Cole tackled the spot where Regan had missed him and caught the carpet instead. The entire job took no more than a few minutes. Since she still hadn’t emerged from the bathroom, he headed back to her office area to wait.
He didn’t have to wait long. Ten minutes later Regan left the bathroom. She did a quick scan of the spacious area that made up the offices and design quarters of Exclusives. Apparently satisfied, she headed for the kitchen at the rear of the big room. She hadn’t seen him, Cole realized, as he straightened from beside the worktable where he’d stooped down to retrieve an emerald that must have fallen on the floor when she’d rushed past him. Closing his fingers around the glittering green stone, he watched Regan put the kettle on top of the stove and begin to prepare herself a cup of tea. He should announce his presence, Cole told himself, feeling like a voyeur. Yet, he remained silent.
In the dozen years since she had ripped out his heart and made a fool of him, he’d been with other women. Women far more beautiful than Regan St. Claire, women with bloodlines and fortunes far more impressive than hers. Yet, not one of those women had ever been able to make his blood heat or his body grow hard the way Regan did now—just as she had the very first time he’d seen her. She’d been seated on the veranda of her family home watching him plant azaleas. And then she’d smiled at him. The impact of that shy smile had hit him like a sucker punch, stealing his breath, making him ache, making him want. Even after all this time and all that she’d done, that one thing hadn’t changed. All he had to do was look at Regan to want her. He’d wanted her a year ago when he’d seen her at some charity gala he’d been roped into attending in the city. Only sheer force of will had enabled him to walk away and ignore her.
He didn’t ignore her now. Instead he feasted on her with his eyes. Unguarded, without the polite mask she so often wore, Regan didn’t look much different now than she had at seventeen. Oh, her figure was slightly fuller, more curvy than it had been, but not by much. Just enough to make her more tempting. From what he could determine, her taste in clothing hadn’t changed. She still preferred silky, feminine things if that floral slip-like dress she had on was any indication. The way she carried herself hadn’t changed either—like a princess—spine straight, shoulders back, head tilted at a proud angle. Staring at her face, he noted her skin was still porcelain-smooth, nearly translucent. Desire coiled inside him as he recalled the feel of that skin—whisper soft and sunshine warm.
Biting back a groan, Cole continued his appraisal, taking in her elegantly carved features—the high cheekbones, the patrician nose, the stubborn chin. Her wide-set eyes were the same fiery green he remembered—but there was a lingering sadness in those eyes now, shadows that dimmed the glow of her pregnancy. And he suspected those shadows didn’t have a thing to do with her being sick.
Why so sad, Regan?
The answer came quickly—her father’s death. It had been eight months since Philip St. Claire had died of a heart attack. And despite the fact that the man had been a ruthless SOB, Regan had idolized him. So much so that when forced to choose between them, she had chosen her father instead of him. Oh, he had told himself at the time that the money had been the deciding factor. He’d had none, and her father had had plenty. But deep down inside, Cole had known the truth. The novelty of tangling in the sheets with a bastard from the wrong side of the tracks had simply worn off, and Regan had realized she didn’t love him after all.
Swallowing past the bitter memory, Cole stared at the woman who had been his wife, the woman who once again was pregnant with his child.
His child.
The impact of those words sent a surge of protectiveness through him. Suddenly the logical plan he’d hammered out on the flight from the west coast—the plan for sharing custody, for visitation schedules and arranging financial support—no longer seemed viable. He couldn’t let this child be born illegitimate. How had he even thought for one moment that he could? Honor demanded that he do the responsible thing and marry Regan—if only temporarily. Liz had been right. He did want this child.
And the child’s mother?
Cole skimmed his gaze over Regan again, noting how her thick blond braid fell over one shoulder to graze the curve of her breast. Heat stirred inside him again as he noted how her dress caressed the lines of her body, swirled around her calves. Dragging his attention back to her face, he stared at that sulky pink mouth. Unbidden, memories ambushed him—memories of those soft lips moving over his body, hot and eager. Desire already simmering, flared hot, curled tight and low in his groin, and he squeezed his eyes shut.
At the squeal of the kettle, Cole snapped his eyes open and cursed his own weakness. Despite Regan’s betrayal, despite everything she had done, he still wanted her every bit as much now as he had twelve years ago. Maybe more. The admission angered him, frustrated him—especially since he realized now he’d only been kidding himself. He had allowed himself to fall into Liz’s trap, for the simple reason that he’d never stopped wanting Regan.
And he would have her—her and their baby, he vowed silently. But first…first he had to convince Regan that marriage was their only option. With that thought in mind, Cole strode across the room to where she stood at the kitchen counter, stirring her tea. “Feeling better?”
Regan shrieked. The spoon flew from her fingers, clattered noisily as it hit the china. She spun around. “Cole,” she gasped.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“I—I thought you’d left.”
“We need to talk.”
“There isn’t anything for us to talk about,” she informed him and resumed preparation of her tea.
“What about the baby you’re expecting?”
She hesitated a moment. “I assume Aunt Liz told you?”
“Of course, she told me. Did you think she wouldn’t?”
“Well, she shouldn’t have. After all, it certainly doesn’t concern you.”
“Is that so?” he asked, his voice deadly soft. Did she think he would walk away from his child? From his responsibilities?
Regan gave him a puzzled look. “Yes, that’s so. Besides, why should you care if I’m pregnant? This time you had nothing to do with it.”
The sneaking suspicion that had been prickling at the base of Cole’s spine since Regan had refused to see him, suddenly curled around his throat like a hangman’s noose. He scrubbed a hand down his face, feeling like a fool as the door to the trap Liz had set slammed firmly shut on them both. “I’m afraid that’s where you’re wrong, princess.”
“W-what do you mean?” she asked, her eyes as wary as her voice.
“I mean that I had quite a lot to do with your being pregnant this time, too, because I’m the baby’s father.”
Two
“No! I don’t believe you. Aunt Liz would never do that to me,” Regan insisted. Frantic, she prayed that was the truth…that her aunt had not put her…put either one of them in such an impossible position.
“Liz did do it to you. She did it to us both.”
Regan shook her head. “No! She would have told me. I know she would.”
Cole swore, jammed his hands through his hair. “I thought she had told you. But whether you like it or not, I am the father of the baby you’re carrying.”
It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. Panic racing through her, she blurted out, “You’re lying. You have to be.”
“Why the devil would I lie? What could I possibly hope to gain?”
“Vengeance,” she replied without hesitation. “You hate me. You told me so the day I ended our marriage.” As long as she lived, she would never forget the bitterness in Cole’s voice when he’d thrown those words at her. Or the way she’d felt—as though he’d run a knife through her heart.
“I was angry at the time.”
“You meant it.” And he had. She had seen it in the way he’d looked at her with such utter contempt. Even now just the memory made her shudder.
“Can you blame me?” he snapped. “Can you? You were pregnant with my child. You had married me, sworn that you loved me, would always love me. But the minute your father showed up and threatened to cut your purse strings, all those pretty vows you took weren’t worth spit. You high-tailed it home with daddy and left me.”
“I told you later why I did it. I tried to explain—”
“You made excuses, princess. That’s all they were. Excuses. The truth is that you liked the sex between us and needed to dress it up as love to justify what we did. But you didn’t love me, and you didn’t trust me to take care of you and our baby.”
“Believe what you want.” Defending herself against his accusations would be pointless. If he hadn’t believed her twelve years ago, he certainly wouldn’t believe her now. Besides, even if she did manage to convince him that he’d been wrong, what good would it do now? They couldn’t go back and undo the past. Whatever love he’d felt for her—if it had indeed been love and not simply a mixture of lust and guilt over taking her innocence—those feelings had died the moment she’d told him she’d lost their baby. Even now, a chill went through her as she recalled Cole asking her if she’d lost his child or gotten rid of it. Shoving the crippling memory from her thoughts, Regan met his wintry gaze.
“I believe what your actions told me. The fact that you chose daddy and his money over me said plenty.”
Not up to arguing with him, Regan shrugged. Feigning a calm she was far from feeling, she shifted her gaze away from those laser-sharp eyes and reached for her now-tepid cup of tea. She took a sip. The brew could have been dishwater for all she knew because her mouth tasted like ashes. “Which brings us back to my point. I bruised that monster-sized pride of yours, and you’ve never forgiven me for it. You swore someday I’d regret making a fool of you. Aunt Liz telling you about the baby and how I got pregnant would make it easy for you to pretend you’re the father and certainly give you an opportunity to settle the score.”
“Is that what you believe? That I’m settling a score?”
“Why should I believe otherwise? Even if Aunt Liz had asked you to be my sperm donor, we both know you would never have agreed. You hate me too much.”
“Evidently not nearly as much as you seem to think,” he said, his voice as tight as his expression. “Because you are pregnant, and it’s my baby you’re carrying.”
Another flutter of panic twisted through her. Regan tightened her fingers around the cup she held. She didn’t want to believe him, didn’t dare believe him. “You’re lying—”
“I’m telling you the truth,” Cole countered, cutting off her denial. His expression thunderous, he moved closer, crowding her until her back nudged the kitchen counter.
She started to move away, but Cole’s arm shot out, blocking her escape. Regan slapped her gaze up to his. And she went still at the cold determination in his eyes.
After a long moment, he said, “Liz told me about your problem a few months ago, and she did ask me to be a sperm donor. Foolishly, I agreed and until a few minutes ago I thought you had, too. But then, I guess I should have known better. Because you would never have wanted a man like me to father your baby, would you, princess?”
She didn’t even bother dignifying his taunt with an answer.
“But the fact is it was my sperm Liz used. Mine. Unfortunately, you’re just going to have to accept the fact that the baby you’re carrying is mine.”
He was telling her the truth. Even if the conviction in his voice hadn’t told her, she could read the truth in his cold, hard eyes.
She was carrying Cole’s baby. Just like the last time. No, not like the last time. This time there was no love, no tenderness.
As the full measure of her predicament hit her, Regan’s hands started to tremble. So did her legs. Suddenly the cheery lemon-and-white kitchen began to spin, and her body began to slide to the floor.
Cole swore. “Regan!”
On some level, Regan was aware of Cole snatching the wobbling cup from her fingers, of his strong arms wrapping around her, of him muttering something about crazy women. The colors in the room collided, turning into a sickly shade of gray. Then, as though in a dream, she felt herself being lifted, her head falling against his sturdy chest where a heart beat strong and fast beneath her fingertips.