Falling For The Pregnant Heiress

CHAPTER THREE

TRENT CALLED HIS PILOT. Having an international cell phone, as Trent obviously did, she was tempted to call her mom but decided against it. When he finished his chat with his pilot, they climbed into the limo and headed to the airport. They landed on a private airstrip in Spain a few hours later, but it took another hour to get from the rural airstrip to Trent’s condo.

When he opened the door for her and she stepped inside, she gasped. The place was amazing. Built in an old factory, the condo retained the original brick walls, but they’d been scrubbed to clean perfection. A row of four tall, thin windows brought in light that accented peach-colored club chairs across from a modern gray burlap sofa. The coffee table was a shiny wooden rectangle. Its open middle would have been the perfect place to stack magazines or books. But there were no magazines or books. Not in the open space of the table or strewn around. There wasn’t a personal item anywhere.

“Let me guess. You don’t come here often.”

He tossed his keys on the long island of the spotless kitchen. Sturdy wood cabinets had been painted sage green. Shiny green, white and gray geometric-print tiles created the backsplash. Stainless-steel appliances completed the kitchen.

“No. I’m here all the time.”

She glanced around. Even as particular as she was, she had magazines, books, pictures, scattered about.

“It’s just all so...clean.” Sanitary. As if he didn’t have a personality. Or a family—

He had told her that he was distanced from his family.

The thought of not having pictures of Jake, Avery and Abby on her mantel or Seth, Harper and Crystal on the end table by her sofa squeezed her heart. The thought of not having her brothers and their families in her life or being in theirs almost brought tears to her eyes.

“I’m not one for having things lying around.”

Okay. She’d give him that. But it had to be sad, difficult, having a mom but not being able to call her with questions or brothers and sisters-in-law to laugh with.

Before she could ask him about his family, he said, “Here’s the plan. I’ll contact my personal shopper. We’ll have her send over some jeans, a few T-shirts and something nice to wear tonight so we can go out.”

Not hardly. Her plan was for a soothing bubble bath. “We can go out?”

“For dinner. You do have to eat.”

“Oh. Okay.” She fought the urge to squeeze her eyes shut, dismayed with herself for jumping to conclusions. She was so uptight about Pierre that she kept assuming Trent was as bossy as her ex. She had to relax.

He picked up his phone, hit the screen three times and after a few seconds he said, “Claudine. I’m back in Barcelona. Unfortunately, it was an unexpected trip and I’ll need clothes for at least another two days. Make it three.”

He paused as Sabrina assumed the person on the other end of the call spoke. He laughed. “Yes, everything, including something nice to wear out to dinner tonight.”

He paused again, chuckling. He clearly liked his personal shopper.

A sliver of jealousy wound through her, surprising her. First, she had no claim on Trent—didn’t want one. Second, the woman he spoke with was in his employ. She laughed with her employees all the time.

“I’m traveling with a friend. She’ll need three days’ worth of clothes and something pretty for dinner.” He caught Sabrina’s gaze and grinned devilishly. “Yes. You know my taste. Get her what one of my dates would usually wear.”

Sabrina’s eyes widened. She’d seen his dates in sparkly little red dresses that clung to their bodies but looked okay because they were wafer-thin. She, on the other hand, had boobs and hips.

“I can’t wear what your girlfriends wear!”

Trent ignored her. “About a size eight.”

Shocked that he’d hit her size on the head, she nonetheless stormed over to him. “I’m not wearing something you’d get for one of your girlfriends!”

He clicked off the call. “Oh, sorry. You said that two seconds too late.”

“No, I didn’t! You deliberately hung up, so I couldn’t change what you’d told her!”

He ambled over to the sofa. “Is that so bad?”

“Yes! Your dates are thin as paper! I have curves.”

“Exactly. Curves that you never show off. You’ll look great.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I do. Besides, wouldn’t it be fun to be someone different for a night?”

She shook her head. “I don’t do things like pretend to be someone different.” It had taken her too long to become the perfect McCallan daughter to step out of character.

“You just made my point. You don’t do things like this, things that are fun just for the sake of having fun. You need to loosen up a bit. If you don’t like the outfit, it won’t matter. We’re in a city where no one knows you. You can toss the dress when we get home.”

Seeing she wasn’t changing his mind, she marched to the Carrara marble island and grabbed his phone.

“What are you doing?”

“You think it’s so fun to dress like someone else.” She hit the redial button on his phone. “I’m calling your shopper and... Claudine? This is Sabrina McCallan. I’m Trent Sigmund’s friend...the woman you’re buying the dress for.”

He sighed. “Seriously. I think you’ll look great in something...”

Putting her hand over the phone she said, “Cheap? Sleazy?”

“Just a tad more sparkly.”

She shook her head once, quickly, in disbelief. “Are you ashamed of me?”

He laughed. “Actually, I want to show you off.”

Her breath stalled. He wanted to show her off—

She caught that thought before it could run away with itself. She was a McCallan. Her mother always said they had more dignity than to “show off.” Still, she wasn’t the one showing off. Trent wanted to show her off. Like someone who was important to him—

She’d never been important to anybody but her mom. She’d certainly never been important to a man. Her heart filled with warmth, but she fought it. She didn’t need a man to show her off.

Still, one look at Trent’s face and she knew she wasn’t changing his mind. But the craziest idea popped into her head. “And what if I want to show you off?”

He shrugged. “Have at it.” He took the phone from her hands. “Claudine. I’m going to put Sabrina back on the line. Get me whatever she says.”

He handed the phone back to her.

She looked from the top of his curly black hair, down the chest and flat abs she remembered from the morning, to his feet.

“I think Armani. A charcoal-gray suit with a pale blue shirt... I want it to be such a pale blue that it’s almost white...and a silver print tie.”

He made a gagging noise.

She said, “Thanks, Claudine,” then also asked for a curling iron and hair-dryer before she hung up the phone. “Now we’ll see who likes dressing like someone else.”

He shook his head. “I don’t hate suits. I just don’t wear them often.” He grinned. “This is going to be a fun night.”

She sighed. “You really need to get out more.”

* * *

They bummed around for most of the afternoon, eating lunch, walking under the leafy canopy created by the trees lining the streets of Barcelona. She marveled at the simple beauty of the city. She’d never been to Spain before, let alone walked the streets of one of its fabulous cities. It was easy to see that Trent spent a lot of time here because he knew the best restaurants, said hello to passersby, was casually comfortable walking along.

When they returned to his condo around six, the purchases of Trent’s personal shopper sat in two stacks of boxes and bags on the marble top of the kitchen island.

“Our clothes have arrived.”

She strode over, running her hand along the first box. Pink-and-white-striped with a black bow, it reminded her of coming home from school and discovering her mom had been shopping that day. It usually meant her dad was traveling and dinner that night would be happy.

Sensation after sensation poured through her. Relief. Joy. Expectation.

“Want to look at what’s inside or take everything to the spare bedroom and try things on?”

“I think I want a few minutes to myself with the red spandex dress.” A few minutes to get her heart to settle down and to savor the good memories flitting through her brain. She hadn’t had the horrid childhood her brothers had, but a river of caution and fear had run through their Upper East Side penthouse. Good memories had been few and far between. When they came, she enjoyed the feelings they brought with them.

She took the bags and boxes to the spare room and began sorting through to see what was inside. Two pair of jeans and a pair of shorts—Barcelona was a tad warm—undergarments, and the smallest dress in recorded history.

Her memories forgotten, she marched back to the kitchen, waving the little blue dress. “I can’t wear this.”

“Have you tried it on?”

She sighed.

He opened the suit box. “Don’t forget I’m stuck with this.”

“It’s a suit. You’ve worn them before.”

“And you’ve worn dresses before.” He shook his head. “Come on. Let’s just have some fun tonight.”

The seriousness in his brown eyes reminded her that his childhood might not have been filled with fear, but it had been filled with loneliness. So he wanted to have some fun? Couldn’t she, for once, forget her mom’s voice in her head and do something silly to make someone else happy? Someone whose childhood might have been sadder than hers?

Not wanting him to realize she was capitulating because she felt an unexpected connection to him, she gruffly said, “All right. But I’m tossing this sparkly little thing when we return tonight.”

He shrugged. “Fine by me.”

She huffed back to the bedroom where she showered, fixed her hair, applied makeup. When she couldn’t put it off any longer, she shimmied into the blue dress and stared at herself in the mirror.

It wasn’t god-awful.

Okay. Seriously. She went to the gym three times a week so though she wasn’t waiflike, she had a nice figure. And the dress—damn his hide—looked good. She wouldn’t want to be wearing it walking around with her mother, but she was with a friend.

A male friend who wanted to see her in a tight dress.

She shook her head. This was Ziggy...

No. Actually, she was with Trent. Adult. Sexy. Trent.

She slid into the tall silver shoes the shopper had also bought. Trent had said she made distinctions that didn’t matter? Maybe thinking of him as a different guy was one of them?

Maybe she should go back to thinking of him as Ziggy—Seth’s friend, not hers—to end all this confusion?

* * *

Sabrina came out of her bedroom, and Trent’s mouth fell open. He’d known she’d look good. He assumed Claudine had bought the blue dress to match with what Sabrina had instructed her to get for him—

But wow. Blue was her color and she was born to wear the sparkly fabric that hugged her curves.

“I look like a hooker, Ziggy.”

“No. You look like a woman who wants to have a fun night out on the town. And don’t call me Ziggy.” His voice softened with the familiarity he was feeling with her. “I like when you call me Trent.”

He smiled at her and she weakly returned his smile. He couldn’t imagine why a shift of names seemed to trouble her, so he turned in a half circle, showing off the Armani suit. “And how do I look?”

“Like a guy who forgot his tie.”

He’d nixed the tie and had opened the top few buttons of his shirt in deference to the heat. But he also wasn’t about to wear a suit dancing. And come hell or high water he was taking her dancing.

“Let’s go.”

She stayed right where she was. “If I’m going out in this, you’re wearing your tie.”

He relented. Not because she intimidated him but because he intended to get her on his side so that when he suggested dancing she’d happily agree. But he also had to acknowledge there was a certain boost a person got when wearing expensive clothes. He might like to fish. He might also be very at home in a small-town bar. But he was equally at home with power brokers.

Whether he liked admitting it, Sabrina was a sort of power broker. Smart and savvy, she could hold her own with the best of them. In a way, it was a coup that he’d gotten her to dress sexy.

Now he just had to come up with interesting dinner conversation that would win her over and put her in the mood to dance because if he was in Barcelona he was going to his favorite club.

But the second they were settled in one of Barcelona’s beautiful restaurants and had ordered, she asked about his work.

“I buy stocks. I sell stocks. I buy bonds. I sell bonds. There’s not much else to it.”

“I know you think there’s not much to what you do, but it’s a skill. A gift.” She looked at him over the salad the waiter sat in front of her. “Have you ever considered creating your own mutual fund?”

The horror of the thought almost made him choke. “Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know. To contribute to society? To help other people?”

“Look, I have everything set up so that I do a reasonable amount of work and still have time for fun.”

“I’m just saying you’re the perfect person to create and manage a mutual fund.”

She went on talking about business through the entire dinner. When dessert arrived, Trent felt four IQ points smarter, but not one iota relaxed.

He came to Barcelona to relax. She was ruining that.

“Do you always talk business?”

“No.”

“Just with me, then?”

“It’s the one thing we have in common.” She shrugged. “My father always talked business at the dinner table with my brothers.” She shrugged again. “It just seemed like the right thing to do.”

Her past came into focus for Trent. “Let me get this straight. You talked business at the dinner table every night?”

“Not every night. My dad had business dinners some nights. When he was away, my mom would joke and play with us. But when my dad was around, we talked business.”

“You think men only want to talk business?”

“Not just men. Women like to talk business, too.”

“All the time?”

“Some of my most productive conversations are over lunch or dinner.”

Knowing what he’d been told by Seth about their childhood and adding in this tidbit, even more of Sabrina’s personality clicked for him. “Oh, honey.”

“What?”

“We are so going dancing tonight.”

He rose from the table, walked over and helped her with her chair. “Dancing?”

“I’ve seen you at charity balls. You love to dance.”

And now that he thought about seeing her dancing, he realized he’d never seen her dancing with Pierre. Hell, he’d never seen Pierre.

“I do love to dance.”

“Remember how much fun you had at the art show in Paris last year? The one where you could be Sally McMillan because your family isn’t as recognizable in Europe as they are in Manhattan?”

* * *

Sabrina’s heart stopped. One of her brothers had told him. “All right, who do I shake silly? Seth or Jake? That alter ego is a secret.”

“Seth mentioned it and accidentally.” He winced. “He was telling me how good your work is and how proud he was of you last year in Paris when you could be Sally because you knew you wouldn’t be recognized.”

Unexpected warmth filled her. It surprised her that her brother bragged about her, but it surprised her even more that Trent remembered something from a year ago. Some years Pierre forgot her birthday. He never remembered her showings, and even if he did remember to come, he wouldn’t be able to recall what had happened an entire year later.

“I do remember how much fun I had that weekend.” There had been an after-party where she’d danced and danced with Avery and Harper.

He smiled. “Then let’s go dance.”

She nodded as his argument sank in. Just as in Paris the year before, no one in Barcelona would know her. Why not have fun the way she had in Paris? There’d be no one to tell her mom if she looked just the tiniest bit unladylike in the shiny blue dress—

Except she didn’t feel unladylike.

She felt—

Actually, she felt young. Carefree—

A woman who was going to have a baby felt carefree?

She couldn’t explain it. But the reminder that she was a soon-to-be-mom about to go dancing didn’t make her unhappy. If anything, new joy filled her.

So, yeah. She was going dancing.

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