“This Is My Baby, Cole,”

Regan said.

“Mine. I’d already planned on being a single mother, which is why I went to be inseminated. I have no intention of shuttling my child back and forth between me and the father. That’s not what I want for my baby.”

“Our baby,” he corrected her. “And I agree completely.”

“Does that mean you…that you will relinquish your rights and let me raise the baby?”

Her words hit him like blows. After all, it wasn’t the first time he hadn’t been found good enough, he reminded himself. In her eyes, for a child to have no father would be preferable than to have him as one. “Sorry to disappoint you, princess, but that’s not what I had in mind. I think a child belongs with both parents.”

“But that’s not possible.”

“Sure it is. All we have to do is get married.”

Dear Reader,

Twenty years ago in May, the first Silhouette romance was published, and in 2000 we’re celebrating our 20th anniversary all year long! Celebrate with us—and start with six powerful, passionate, provocative love stories from Silhouette Desire.

Elizabeth Bevarly offers a MAN OF THE MONTH so tempting that we decided to call it Dr. Irresistible! Enjoy this sexy tale about a single-mom nurse who enlists a handsome doctor to pose as her husband at her tenth high school reunion. The wonderful miniseries LONE STAR FAMILIES: THE LOGANS, by bestselling author Leanne Banks, continues with Expecting His Child, a sensual romance about a woman carrying the child of her family’s nemesis after a stolen night of passion.

Ever-talented Cindy Gerard returns to Desire with In His Loving Arms, in which a pregnant widow is reunited with the man who’s haunted her dreams for seven years. Sheikhs abound in Alexandra Sellers’ Sheikh’s Honor, a new addition to her dramatic miniseries SONS OF THE DESERT. The Desire theme promotion, THE BABY BANK, about women who find love unexpectedly when seeking sperm donors, continues with Metsy Hingle’s The Baby Bonus. And newcomer Kathie DeNosky makes her Desire debut with Did You Say Married?!, in which the heroine wakes up in Vegas next to a sexy cowboy who turns out to be her newly wed husband.

What a lineup! So this May, for Mother’s Day, why not treat your mom—and yourself—to all six of these highly sensual and emotional love stories from Silhouette Desire!

Enjoy!

Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

The Baby Bonus
Metsy Hingle

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Jimmy and Julie Hingle,

my darling son and his lovely wife,

and their very special “Baby Bonus,”

Caroline Josephine Hingle

METSY HINGLE

celebrates her tenth book for Silhouette with the publication of The Baby Bonus. Metsy is an award-winning, bestselling author of romance who resides across the lake from her native New Orleans. Married for more than twenty years to her own hero, she is the busy mother of four children. She recently traded in her business suits and a fast-paced life in the hotel and public-relations arena to pursue writing full-time. Metsy has a strong belief in the power of love and romance. She also believes in happy endings, which she continues to demonstrate with each new story she writes. She loves hearing from readers. For a free doorknob hanger or bookmark, write to Metsy at P.O. Box 3224, Covington, LA 70433.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue

Prologue

“I’m pregnant?” Regan St. Claire repeated, her nails digging into the palms of her hands. She stared across the desk at her aunt, New Orleans’ noted fertility specialist, Dr. Elizabeth St. Claire. “You’re sure, Aunt Liz? I mean there’s no mistake?”

The older woman shook her silvery-blond head and smiled. “I’m sure. Ran the tests myself—twice. You’re definitely pregnant, dear. Based on the date I performed the insemination procedure, you’re just shy of five weeks along.”

Regan squealed with delight. Too excited to sit still, she shot to her feet and raced around the desk to hug her aunt. “I’m going to have a baby! A baby,” she said again in awe, dancing them both around in a circle.

“Regan, child. Slow down,” her aunt admonished, laughter in her voice.

“I can’t. I’m too happy,” she countered, tears of joy stinging her eyes. Even now she could hardly believe that a diagnosis of endometriosis and possible infertility had spurred her down this path that had resulted in a…a miracle. Because that’s what this baby was. A miracle. “I’ve wanted a baby for so long. Ever since…” Ever since she had miscarried her first child—Cole’s child—all those years ago.

As though reading her thoughts, her aunt offered her hand. Regan clasped it, drew strength from the woman who had filled the role of mother for nearly all of her twenty-nine years. “Honey, it’s still early days,” Aunt Liz cautioned. “That tiny life inside you has a long way to go before he or she makes a debut.”

“I know,” Regan replied, her smile slipping a notch as she recalled her last pregnancy. She’d been seventeen and madly in love with Cole Thornton. As if it were only yesterday instead of twelve years ago, images of Cole filled her mind’s eye. Cole working in her family’s garden, sweat glistening on his sun-darkened skin, muscles rippling across his bare shoulders as he sank a shovel into the soil. Cole lifting his head, swiping the midnight hair from his face and staring at her out of those silver eyes.

There had been something wild and dangerous in his eyes when he’d looked at her. He’d been so different from the boys she knew—so serious and driven, so much smoldering passion. She’d been drawn to him instantly. After getting to know him, she’d admired his strong sense of honor and determination to make something of himself. But it had been the yearning to belong that she sensed in Cole that had stolen her heart. Making love with him had been as elemental as breathing to her. When she’d become pregnant, he had insisted they marry—just as she’d known he would. Convincing him to elope had been the tricky part. Yet, even after all this time, she remembered those magical days as his wife—days when she’d been so sure their love was strong enough to survive anything.

Until her world came crashing down, and she’d lost both Cole and their baby.

“…and I just hope that…that I’ve done the right thing. You mean the world to me, Regan. All I want…all I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy.”

Something in her aunt’s tone snagged Regan’s attention, pulled her from thoughts about the past. “I am happy, Aunt Liz. You’ve given me the one thing in the world that I want most—a baby…or at least the chance to have a baby.”

A worried frown chased across her aunt’s brow. “As wonderful as a baby is, it only fills a part of your life. What about a husband? Someone to share your life with? Don’t you want someone to be a father to this baby, to make more babies with you?”

Regan sighed at her aunt’s simple assessment of all the things missing in her life. “You didn’t need a man to make your life complete, Aunt Liz. Neither do I.”

“We’re not talking about me, dear. Besides, I did have someone once. Someone I was foolish enough to let go. I’m an old woman now, with most of my life behind me. But you…you have most of your life still ahead of you. Don’t waste it. Don’t settle for memories and regrets.”

“I’m not wasting my life,” Regan insisted.

“Are you sure? I can’t help remembering the last time you were pregnant. How happy and in love you and Cole were, and when the two of you got married—”

“Our marriage was a mistake. We were too young to know what we were doing.”

Her aunt’s frown deepened. The brown eyes so like her father’s pinned her. “You were old enough to know that you loved each other, to conceive a child together. I’ve often wondered if your father hadn’t insisted on that annulment—”

“Daddy did what he thought was best,” Regan countered, a lump forming in her throat. She turned away, stared out the window, hugging her arms about her as though it could somehow stop the ache that always came when she played the game of what-ifs. What if she had gone to Cole and told him about her father’s threats to have him arrested because she’d been underage unless she annulled the marriage? What if she hadn’t lied to Cole, hadn’t said she didn’t love him? What if…

“Honey, I know you loved your father. He was my brother, and I loved him too. But that doesn’t mean I was blind to his faults. He wasn’t perfect. Sometimes he made mistakes, judged people unfairly. He was wrong about Cole. And he was wrong to interfere in your marriage, to force you to make a choice.”

“What’s done is done, Aunt Liz. We can’t go back.” Determined to lock the painful door to the past, she turned around to face her aunt. “What matters is the future. This baby is my future.”

“You’re right,” her aunt said, sliding a worried glance to Regan’s stomach. “I just hope that whatever happens…”

Suddenly alarmed, Regan placed her hand protectively on her belly. Fear curled like a fist around her heart. “Aunt Liz, is there something you haven’t told me? Is there…is there something wrong with my baby?”

“No. Oh no, child. Nothing’s wrong with the baby.”

“Then what is it? Why the long face?”

She shook her head, gave her a tight smile. “I guess I’m just worrying that maybe I’m as bad as your father because I’m the one interfering in your life now.”

Relief washed through Regan. “You haven’t. You’ve given me a priceless gift.”

“But what if—”

“No what-ifs,” Regan insisted. “Everything’s going to be fine. Just wait and see. This time absolutely nothing’s going to go wrong.”

One

Absolutely everything seemed to be going wrong, Regan admitted as she retraced her path from the ladies’ room to her office at the rear of the jewelry salon. Pressing a hand to her still-queasy stomach, she eased behind the worktable where her jeweler’s tools, an assortment of gems and several pieces awaited her attention.

“Come on, Slugger,” Regan pleaded, smoothing her palm over her still-flat belly. “How about giving Mommy a break here? Morning sickness is called that for a reason. These tummy hijinks are not supposed to happen in the afternoon, too.” She certainly hadn’t expected the morning sickness to plague her long and late into every day, as had been the case during the two weeks since she’d confirmed her pregnancy. Nor had she expected her energy level to dip so drastically that it rivaled New Orleans’ below-sea-level position along the Mississippi River. Sighing, Regan shook her head. This pregnancy was so different from the last one, she thought, and immediately regretted the comparison as memories of the miscarriage came flooding back.

Squeezing her eyes shut a moment, Regan pressed a fist against the ache in her heart—an ache that time had dulled but never quite healed. She sucked in a breath and tried to banish the pain that always accompanied thoughts of that sad time in her life. Things were different now, she reminded herself. She was different. She wasn’t a starry-eyed girl unexpectedly pregnant with her lover’s child this time. She was a woman, without any foolish illusions about love. This pregnancy was the result of planning, not passion. And in just over seven months when she held her baby in her arms, she would have everything she wanted, everything she needed.

What about a husband? Someone to share your life with? Someone to be a father to this baby?

Her aunt’s words replayed in Regan’s head, taunting her. Ruthlessly, she shut them off. Aunt Liz was wrong, she assured herself. She didn’t need or want a husband. All she needed was her baby, a child of her own to hold in her arms, to give all the love she had stored in her heart. Patting her tummy, she whispered, “Don’t worry, sweetie. We’ll be just fine. You’ll see. You won’t even miss not having a daddy because I’m going to be the best mommy possible. I promise.”

The wink of diamonds caught her eye, and Regan glanced at the jewelry spread out before her in various stages of completion. Becoming mommy of the year would have to wait a bit longer, she decided. Right now, she had work to do—work that the store desperately needed if she hoped to make the mortgage payment on time this month. Thoughts of the hefty mortgage made her frown, and, not for the first time, Regan wished she had taken a few business courses along with her classes on gem-cutting and grading. Heaven knows she certainly could have used even just a little of what she had once considered the dull business know-how during this past year. But then, she’d had no idea she would ever need to worry about things like fiscal management and market share and interest rates. She certainly had never dreamed that she would find herself in a financial mess and in danger of losing the store that had been in her family for five generations. And while she’d managed to hang on so far, she wasn’t out of the woods by any means. Flicking on the work light, she repositioned the sketch she’d made of a ring, but her thoughts drifted once more to her finances.

You should have told me we were in trouble, Daddy. Why didn’t you at least let me try to help?

But she knew why her father hadn’t told her, Regan admitted. He had been protecting her—as he always did. Anger sparked anew as she recalled the dual shocks of her father’s sudden death and the discovery that Exclusives was on the verge of bankruptcy. But on the heels of her resentment came guilt. She had no right to be angry with her father—not when he’d given her so much. After all, it had been her father who had introduced her to the magical world of gems and nurtured her dreams of designing. Maybe he had been overprotective at times, but only because he had loved her. And he had been there when she needed him, had helped her pick up the pieces of her life when she’d lost both her baby and Cole. She owed it to her father to make the store solvent again, to pass on the legacy to her own child someday. And she would, Regan vowed. “I won’t let you down, Daddy,” she promised.

Swiping at the tears that seemed to surface so easily these days, Regan picked up the ring she’d been working on before her dash to the bathroom. “What do you say, Slugger? No more shenanigans until I finish this piece. All right?”

When her stomach had remained calm for a full five minutes, Regan grinned. Evidently, she and Slugger had worked out a deal. She glanced at the sketch and then at the ring and frowned. Running a fingertip along the gold band, an anniversary gift for one of the store’s best clients, she studied the piece with a critical eye. The four-carat Burmese ruby at the center of the ring was exquisite, she conceded, admiring the brilliant luster of the stone, the way it caught and reflected the light. Despite its size and origin, the silk effect, or straw inclusions, so common in rubies were so faint they were invisible to the naked eye. The diamond baguettes flanking either side of the blood-red gem set off the ruby perfectly. The ring was beautiful, and the customer would be very happy with it. Yet, Regan itched to replace the ruby with the fiery green emerald locked in the safe.

“Your mommy’s crazy, Slugger,” she muttered. Selling the ruby would be the smart thing to do, not to mention far more lucrative since it was a more expensive stone. But the part of her that had always been drawn to the magic of the stones rather than to their monetary value kept seeing the emerald nestled between the diamonds. The fact that the heart stone, as the emerald was known, would be all the more fitting for the occasion only compounded her desire to use it. Regan sighed again. Not only was she crazy, she decided, pushing back from her worktable, but she was a lousy businesswoman to boot. Walking across the room, she unlocked the vault and retrieved a black velvet tray of gems. She’d just placed the tray on her worktable when the intercom on the desk behind her buzzed.

“Ms. St. Claire?”

Turning, Regan hit the speaker button on the phone. “Yes, Amy,” she replied, wishing the new receptionist would call her Regan as she had asked her to do.

“There’s a Mr. Cole Thornton here to see you.”

Regan froze. Suddenly the air backed up in her lungs. Her stomach did a nosedive, and the room began to spin. Her knees wobbly, she sank down onto the chair beside the desk and tried to suck in a breath.

Cole Thornton. Here in New Orleans. To see her? After all this time?

Twelve years had passed since that horrible day when he’d looked at her with ice in his gray eyes as he’d lashed out at her before leaving town. He’d never spoken to her again. Not once. But she had never forgotten him. How could she when the city that had once shunned the dirt-poor young Cole was so eager to claim the successful real-estate mogul as one of its native sons? She’d lost count of the photos she’d seen of him at various business and charity functions over the years—the snippets of gossip about his latest acquisitions, the lavish parties he attended, the glamorous women he dated. As far as she knew, until now, he’d only returned to New Orleans once. Recalling her brief encounter with him on that one occasion still stung. Just remembering his cool indifference, the way he’d looked right through her sent a stab of pain through her. No way did she intend to put herself through that kind of anguish again. Especially not now.

“Ms. St. Claire? Should I send Mr. Thornton in?”

“No,” Regan shot back. Swallowing past the tightness in her throat, she assured herself that this rush of emotion she was experiencing was due to her pregnancy and had nothing to do with any lingering feelings she had for Cole. “Please give Mr. Thornton my apologies, Amy, and tell him I’m unavailable. Oh and, Amy, I’d appreciate it if you’d hold my calls,” she said before severing the connection.

Feeling a bit unsteady, Regan returned to her worktable and sank down to her stool. Think of work, she commanded herself. Work had been her refuge twelve years ago. It would be her refuge now. Besides, she reminded herself, she had a baby on the way and a staff who needed her to make sure Exclusives stayed afloat. Intent on removing the ruby from its setting, Regan didn’t even bother looking up when she heard the door open a few minutes later. “Whatever it is, Amy, I’ll deal with it later. I don’t have time right now.”

“Then I suggest you make time.”

The tool fell from Regan’s fingers and clattered noisily on the marble tabletop, at the sound of the voice that had once sent shivers of longing up her spine.

“Ms. St. Claire, I’m sorry,” a nervous Amy said as she rushed in behind Cole. Her eyes shifted anxiously from Regan to Cole and back again. “I tried to explain to Mr. Thornton that you couldn’t see him—”

“And I assured Amy that you would see me,” Cole replied.

“It’s all right, Amy,” Regan told the young woman in a voice that belied the fact that her heart was slamming against her ribs. “I’ll handle it.”

Amy didn’t need to be told twice. She scurried out of the room, pulling the door closed behind her. And as she watched the other woman escape, Regan fervently wished she could do the same. Bracing herself, she met Cole’s gaze.

“And just how do you plan to handle me, princess?”

Regan gritted her teeth at his use of the pet name he’d saddled her with years ago. Trying to instill ice in her voice she asked, “What do you want, Cole?”

His eyes darkened, gleamed a liquid silver, sparking memories of the nights she’d lain naked in his arms. He arched a brow. “Should I consider that an invitation?”

Color flashed up Regan’s cheeks, and she cursed her fair skin when she saw his lips twist into a smile. “Hardly,” she replied. Oh God, it simply wasn’t fair. At thirty-three, Cole was even more handsome now than he’d been at twenty-one. His hair was shorter, but just as thick and still as dark as midnight. There were faint lines etched at the corners of his eyes that hadn’t been there twelve years ago, lines that made him look harder, colder, she thought. But his eyes were still that same incredible shade of gray capable of going from frost to molten silver in an instant. His long lean body didn’t sport any extra pounds that she could detect, and she’d lay odds that the muscles beneath his designer shirt and suit were still as hard as steel. Unable to stop herself, she stared at his mouth—the mouth that had kissed her with such hunger, had tasted every inch of her body, had whispered promises of love.

“You still blush like a schoolgirl, princess,” he told her. “How is that possible?”

Flustered, Regan stood. “I don’t have time for games, Cole. I have a business to run. So why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”

His mouth hardened a moment, but instead of answering, he perched himself on the edge of her table and picked up the ring she’d been working on. “Far be it from me to waste your valuable time. After all,” he said, looking from the ring to her, “I know firsthand what a high priority you place on business. That’s why I’m here. To discuss business.”

The word business hit Regan like a slap. Immediately she recalled the gorgeous redhead who had accompanied him to the fundraiser at the city’s aquarium last year. Regan’s business, her primary business, was designing one-of-a-kind rings for Exclusives. Her throat grew tight. He couldn’t possibly expect her to design a ring for his lover, she told herself. Not even Cole would be that cruel.

Unless he felt he had a reason to be cruel. And, in Cole’s eyes, he believed he had a reason. He thought she had betrayed him. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t. He’d never believed her when she’d come to him later and tried to explain the reasons she’d had their marriage annulled, that she’d done it to save him. The result had been the same. She’d hurt him, had ripped his pride to shreds at a time when pride was all he’d had. What better payback than to commission her to design his future wife’s wedding ring? Regan stared at the ring in Cole’s hand and recalled the day he’d placed a thin gold band on her finger and promised to love her always. Always had only lasted ten days. Pain sliced through Regan, razor-sharp, at the memory. Deserving or not and no matter how badly she could use the sale and publicity, she refused to subject herself to that kind of misery. “As I said, I’m very busy. I’ll get my assistant to help you.”

“Like hell you will!” Quick as a snap he was off the table and in her face. “I’m not dealing with any assistant on something this important. I’m dealing with you, princess. And only you.”

Staggered by his sudden shift from cool control to white-hot fury, Regan took a step back. Emotions tumbled through her at breakneck speed, and she recalled the other two times she’d seen Cole in the grips of a temper like this—the day she’d told him she wanted an annulment and the day she’d told him she’d lost their baby. She drew in a calming breath. “I’d like you to leave.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “What’s the matter, princess? Changed your mind again? It’s a little late for that now, don’t you think?”

Regan frowned, confused as much by Cole’s remarks as by his hostility. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, and, to tell you the truth, I don’t really care. I just want you to go.”

“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.

And as she sank into the sea of gray that rushed up to swallow her, the last thing Regan remembered was the sound of Cole’s voice whispering, “Come on. Open your eyes for me, princess.”

At the sound of Cole’s voice calling her princess, Regan fought her way back through the gray fog that had engulfed her.

“Come on. That’s a girl. Open your eyes for me.”

Slowly she lifted her heavy eyelids, her lashes fluttered once, twice, and finally Cole’s face came into focus. His expression was grim, Regan noted and she caught a glimmer of alarm in his eyes. When the grip on her fingers tightened painfully, she realized that he was holding her hand.

“That’s it,” Cole murmured. He brushed a strand of hair away from her face, and he placed a cool, damp cloth on her forehead. “That’s it. That’s a good girl. Come on back now,” he coaxed.

“W-what happened?”

“You fainted,” he told her, his voice taut, his skin the color of paste.

“Sorry.”

“Dammit, Regan, I don’t want an apology. I…” He whooshed out a breath. “Are you all right?”

Regan blinked, taken aback by the concern in Cole’s tone. Lord, if she didn’t know better, she would actually think Cole cared about her. Just as quick as the thought came, she nipped it. That was one bridge she had no intention of buying. “I’m okay. I just got a little dizzy for a minute.” She started to sit up.

“Stay put,” he ordered, pressing a restraining hand against her shoulders. “There’s an ambulance on the way and Liz is going to meet us at the hospital.”

“What?” Regan slapped his hand away and sat up. Still slightly woozy, it took a moment before she realized that she was on the couch in her office. “You can just cancel that ambulance and tell my aunt not to bother going anywhere. Because I’m not going to the hospital.”

“You’re going.”

“Think again, Thornton. No one tells me what to do—least of all you.” She scooched herself up into a semi-sitting position and dragged in a calming breath. “Listen, I appreciate your concern. But there’s nothing wrong with me. I’m fine.”

“The hell you are!” Hands bunched into fists at his sides, Cole glared down at her. “You call tossing up your cookies and fainting fine?”

“No. I call it being pregnant,” she informed him.

He eyed her warily as though she were some alien creature that he wasn’t quite sure how to handle. Lord, but the man was a mess, Regan realized. He fit every cliché about expectant fathers that she’d ever heard of, from the off-color skin tone and panic-stricken eyes right down to the dark hair that looked as though he’d combed it with a rake. The last time she’d been pregnant, she couldn’t remember him being so shaken. Not that she would have noticed. She’d been far too busy—first trying to convince Cole they should elope and then later trying to placate her father. But the poor guy was definitely shook up now, she thought, an amused smile curving her lips.

“I’m glad you think this is funny,” the object of her musings snapped and rammed a fist through his already mussed hair. “You scared the hell out of me!”

“Sorry,” she murmured, but she couldn’t quite make herself feel remorse—not when her heart was still doing extra blips over the fact that Cole was actually worried about her. “I mean it. I really am sorry if I scared you. But please, no ambulance. Honestly, I feel fine now.”

Cole shoved his hands into his pockets and huffed out a deep breath. “For Pete’s sake. You’re pregnant, princess. What if something…is wrong?”

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” she assured him.

“What about the baby?”

The momentary pleasure induced by his concern for her died swiftly. Of course, it wasn’t her Cole was worried about. It was the baby. “There’s nothing wrong with the baby. I’m pregnant, Cole. Sometimes pregnant women get nauseous and have dizzy spells.”

“You don’t. The last time…”

He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to. Because they both remembered that the last time she’d been pregnant she hadn’t been sick at all. It wasn’t until she’d missed her period for the third time that she’d even bought a test kit and confirmed her suspicions. To his credit, Cole hadn’t hesitated to take responsibility. He’d insisted they get married right away. Oh, he had said all the right things that a seventeen-year-old girl needed to hear—that he loved her, that he would have asked her to marry him in a few years anyway, that they were just moving up the timetable a bit. Of course, she hadn’t realized at the time how important it was to Cole that his child be born legitimate or that his insistence that they marry might have been due to her being pregnant and not because he loved her. She’d had plenty of time to figure that out later—after she’d lost the baby, after Cole had refused to listen to her pleas for a second chance, after he had left town and her for good.

“I still don’t think you should take any chances.”

“I don’t intend to,” she told him, pulling her thoughts back from the past. She stood and made her way over to the phone and buzzed her assistant. “Amy, please cancel the ambulance Mr. Thornton ordered and then notify my aunt that I’m all right and there’s no need for her to go to the hospital.” After assuring the other woman she was indeed fine, she hung up the phone and turned to face Cole.

“I want you to see a doctor,” he informed her, a forbidding scowl on his face.

“I plan to.”

“I’ll drive you.” He started for the door, then stopped when she didn’t follow. “What’s wrong?”

“I can get to the doctor on my own.”

“How? By driving?”

“Yes—by driving.”

He frowned. “And suppose you have another dizzy spell or black out while you’re driving? What then? You could hurt yourself, the baby and God knows who else.”

She hadn’t thought of that, Regan conceded. Cole was right. She really had no business driving as long as she was having these dizzy spells. Still, she had no intention of going anywhere with Cole—not until she had a long conversation with her Aunt Liz and figured out exactly what she was going to do. “I’ll get Amy to drive me or I’ll take a taxi.”

“I said I’d take you.”

Refusing to be bullied, Regan sank down on the chair behind her desk. “I appreciate the offer. But I prefer going alone.”

His lips thinned. Marching over to her, he planted both hands firmly on the desk’s surface and leaned in so that she was forced to look at him. “Let’s get something straight, princess. That baby you’re carrying is mine. And I have no intention of letting you shut me out of any decisions or matters where my child is concerned. I have rights as the father, and I intend to exercise them.”

The mention of his parental rights brought Regan’s predicament slamming home. She didn’t doubt for a second that Cole was telling her the truth. That he had been her sperm donor. But she had no intention of admitting as much to him. Not yet anyway. Oh, Aunt Liz, how could you have done this to me? What if Cole fights me for the baby? What if…?

Regan clamped down on the panic bubbling inside her and once again reminded herself that she wasn’t the naive, love-struck girl Cole had married all those years ago. She was an independent, responsible woman now—a woman who refused to be intimidated by the likes of Cole Thornton. She shoved back her chair and stood. Squaring her shoulders, Regan tipped up her chin and said, “If this is in fact your baby that I’m carrying, then you and I will talk about your rights with our lawyers. But until I confirm that with my aunt, I suggest you back off.”

“Go ahead and talk to Liz. But if I were you, princess, I’d start getting used to the idea of me being around. Because I intend to be a part of my child’s life.”

Marching over to the door, Regan held it open for him. “If Aunt Liz confirms your story, I’ll have my lawyer get in touch with you.”

He walked over to where she stood with her back ramrod straight, her hand on the doorknob. He stood so close to her, she could smell the spicy scent of his cologne. As he stared at her, a devilish glint came into his eyes. Slowly, he slid his gaze down the length of her, then back up again, and Regan’s pulse began to stammer. When his eyes locked with hers again, his mouth twisted into that crooked smile that had made a seventeen-year-old girl fall head-over-heels in love. “Don’t worry. Liz will confirm my story.”

“We’ll see.”

His smile widened, giving her the full benefit of that killer smile. “One more thing, princess,” he murmured softly, catching her chin and leaning in close.

“What?” she asked breathlessly, far too aware of his nearness and the feel of his fingers on her skin.

“Forget about having your lawyer call.” He brushed his mouth against hers, a featherlike caress that sent tremors through her body, awakening memories and needs buried ages ago. When he lifted his head, he took her hand and pressed a card into her palm. “My cell phone number’s on there. You call me.”

But Regan didn’t call—not that afternoon or the next. Nor did she respond to any of the messages he’d left at her office, her home or on her car phone. Caught somewhere between irritation and concern, Cole half-listened on his cell phone to the hotel operator as she read off a string of new phone messages to him. Apparently everyone wanted to speak with him—his assistant, his banker, his stockbroker. Even the luscious redhead he’d met in Paris last week who had somehow managed to track him down at the hotel in New Orleans. Everyone wanted to speak with him—except Regan.

As the hotel operator droned on, Cole paced the length of the veranda at the front of the St. Claire estate, where he’d spent the past two hours waiting for Regan. Leaning on the banister, he stared up at the sky. The sun had set long ago, leaving a slight nip in the air. A full moon lit up the heavens, and stars splattered across the skyline, shimmering like diamonds on beds of black velvet.

“That’s the last of this batch, Mr. Thornton,” the operator said.

“Um, thank you,” Cole murmured, rubbing his weary eyes. “Just leave those in my box at the front desk with the others. But if Ms. St. Claire should call—”

“We’ll have her phone you on your cellular right away,” the operator said, then read off the number he’d left the other half-dozen times he’d checked in with the hotel on the off chance that Regan had tried to reach him there. “Don’t worry, sir. Everyone at the front desk’s been alerted that you’re expecting a call from Ms. St. Claire. The minute she calls, we’ll be sure to have her contact you.”

“Thanks,” Cole muttered as he ended the call, chagrined that he’d obviously made a nuisance of himself. “Dammit, Regan. Where are you? And why in the devil haven’t you called me?”

But he had a feeling he already knew the answer. It was the kiss. Kissing her had been a mistake. He still wasn’t sure what had possessed him to kiss her in the first place. The blasted woman had reminded him of a spitting cat yesterday afternoon with her green eyes flashing, that stubborn chin of hers poking up in the air while she ordered him to back off. He’d only meant to ruffle her fur a bit. Instead he’d been the one to get ruffled. Hell, ruffled didn’t come close to what that one kiss had done to him. A simple case of attraction had turned into full-blown lust and short-circuited his brain.

Dammit, he’d frightened her. Hell, he’d scared himself, he admitted. Because he’d wanted her with a fierceness that bordered on pain. And she’d known it, too. That was the reason she hadn’t called him. He’d pushed her too hard, too fast—just as he had twelve years ago when he’d used her pregnancy to bind her to him in marriage. She hadn’t been ready for marriage. He’d known it, but he’d pushed her anyway because he’d been afraid he would lose her. Thinking back to that time, to the mistakes that he’d made, Cole cursed his impatience and all that it had cost him. Regan had been so innocent—part girl, part woman and pure temptation. She’d been caught up in the flush of her first passion and too blinded to know the difference between lust and love. He, on the other hand, had been born old and was long past innocent. The four-year difference in their ages might as well have been forty. He had known from the time he was six years old what he wanted in life—to be rich, successful, respected—and he’d made up his mind to do whatever was necessary to make it happen. He’d allowed nothing and no one to deter him from the path he’d set for himself.

Until Regan.

He hadn’t counted on her coming into his life…on him wanting her, needing her, loving her. She was everything he’d ever dreamed of in a mate. Only she had come into his life too soon—before he’d been able to make himself into somebody, before he’d had a right to love her, to expect her to love him. But he’d been selfish and loved her anyway. And for the short time that she’d been his, he had felt less alone. He’d almost believed that she truly loved him, that who and what he was didn’t matter.

Of course, it had mattered. He grimaced as he reflected upon his self-delusions. Even now, the admission of his stupidity left a bitter taste in his mouth. How had he ever allowed himself to believe that a sharp mind, a strong back and ambition would wipe out the fact that he was the bastard son of a woman who cleaned houses for a living? He hadn’t belonged in Regan’s world of black-tie dinners, designer gowns and blue bloods. Just as she hadn’t belonged in his world of two jobs, rundown apartments, and no time to hit the study books. So he’d pushed her. And in the end, his impatience had cost him not only Regan, but the life of his unborn child.

The hollow ache that always came with thoughts of the baby daughter who had died before she’d ever had a chance to live threatened to claim him now. Dwelling on the past was the last thing he needed. He couldn’t change the past, Cole reminded himself. He needed to think of the future, of the new baby growing inside Regan.

His baby. Regardless of the circumstances, they had conceived another child together, which meant he and Regan were once again a part of each other’s lives. Once again, Regan and their unborn baby were his responsibilities. And, unlike his own father, he intended to live up to his responsibilities—even if it meant fighting Regan to do it. No child of his was going to be subjected to taunts and whispers, made to feel his or her birth had been a mistake. His child was never going to wonder who daddy was because his child was going to have his last name. A fact which he intended to make clear to Regan—just as soon as she got home.

If she got home. Cole stared at the cell phone, willed the thing to ring. It remained silent instead. Impatient, he flipped the phone open and started to punch in Liz’s number again. Just as quickly he slapped the thing shut. If Liz had heard from Regan, she would have called him—especially after he’d taken his well-meaning friend to task for meddling in his and Regan’s lives. Besides, Liz had said that when Regan had stormed out of the clinic four hours ago, she’d been royally miffed with her aunt and had claimed that she needed to think about what she was going to do.

So where the devil did you go to do your thinking, princess?

A late March wind, heavy with the scent of night jasmine, whistled through moss-draped oak trees that stood along the property that had been in Regan’s family since the turn of the century. The familiar scents of New Orleans brought back a rush of memories. Memories of the tiny, dank apartments where he had lived with his mother as a boy, places that had been sweltering hot in the summer and freezing cold in the winter. Other memories washed over him like scenes in a kaleidoscope—memories of his mother working, struggling to make ends meet by scrubbing floors in other people’s homes until her hands were worn and wrinkled. Unable to stop the flood of memories, he squeezed his eyes shut as the scenes tumbled behind his closed lids. His mother serving the fancy guests at parties in the beautiful homes. His mother shuffling him off to a corner in a kitchen and telling him to be a good boy while she worked. Him sneaking peeks at the party guests and wanting to join the other kids there. Him wishing he could be like those other kids, wishing that he belonged.

Cole opened his eyes and drew in a cleansing breath. Bracing his back against one of the home’s stately columns, he listened to the tinkling of a wind chime somewhere. The musical sound triggered another memory—a memory of other nights like this one—nights when, as a youth, he’d wandered through the dark, narrow streets of the French Quarter, lured by the soulful music and sultry scents, the ghostly tales of pirates and voodoo, the promises of sex and sin that lurked on every corner. He recalled how quickly one turn down a wrong street could prove not only dangerous, but deadly. Suddenly fear knotted like a fist in Cole’s stomach. How many times had Regan taken off to roam the French Quarter streets when she’d wanted to be alone to mull over a problem or brood about an argument with her father?

What if Regan had gone walking in the French Quarter tonight to think?

Bile rose in Cole’s throat at the thought. She knew the area like the back of her hand, the places to avoid, the areas no woman or man should ever venture alone, Cole told himself.

But what if she had another dizzy spell? Or if, in her distressed state, she wandered down one of those wrong streets?

Cole’s heart slammed against his ribs, and he took off across the veranda at a run. “Damn! Damn! Damn!” He should have insisted on going with her. She and the baby were his responsibilities now. If anything had happened to her or the baby—

Cole shut off the thought, refused to even give credence to the notion that something could have happened to her. Still, he raced down the stairs, taking them two at a time. His feet had barely cleared the last step when the black iron gates fronting the property’s entrance swung open, and Regan’s white BMW came cruising up the long driveway.

Relief flooded through Cole, making his heart kick. Remembering past mistakes, Cole forced himself to stay put, not to rush out to meet her and demand an explanation of where she had been. It took Regan no more than a few minutes to park the car and maneuver the path to the house, but to Cole it seemed an eternity. An eternity in which he jammed his hands into his pockets and dug deeply inside himself for patience while every instinct demanded he snag her close, run his hands over her and assure himself she was unharmed.

“Cole,” she said, her voice strained, her expression wary. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

From the expression on her face, he knew that she hadn’t wanted to see him here. The realization smarted more than Cole had thought possible, but he handled it as he had so many others in his life—by focusing on his goal. And his goal at the moment was the baby. “I didn’t hear from you,” he said, taking care to keep any accusation out of his tone. “When I couldn’t reach you by phone, I came here. Since you weren’t home, I decided to wait.” He saw no point in telling her that he’d been waiting for more than two hours, that he’d called everyone he could think of, searching for her, and that he’d been about to start tearing the city apart to find her.

“Looks like you didn’t have any trouble getting past the security gates.”

“No.”

She arched her brow in that imperious way that had amused him so often years ago. “I was led to believe my security system was top of the line and practically burglarproof. Obviously, that’s not true.”

Cole curved his mouth into a grin. “There’s nothing wrong with your system, princess. It’s actually among the best available. But one of the companies I own designs computer software for home security systems. It just so happens that your security firm uses my company’s software. Since I designed the program, I also know how to override the codes.”

“How convenient for you.”

“Yes. It is, isn’t it?”

A phone rang inside the house. “I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me. That’s probably my Aunt Liz,” Regan said, moving past him to head up the stairs. As she did so, Cole caught a whiff of her perfume. It was the same brand she’d worn when he’d first met her—a special blend that reminded him of honeysuckle. The fragrance immediately hurled him back to another time—to an evening spent making love with Regan and of waking the next morning to the scent of honeysuckle on his sheets. Cole sucked in a breath, fought the swift rush of desire that hit him and the sudden tightness in his chest. Hormones again, he told himself. Nothing more. He certainly wasn’t dumb enough to let himself fall under the woman’s spell a second time. She’d cured him of any romantic notions he’d had about love the first time he’d tangled with her. Baby or no baby, it wasn’t a lesson that he intended to forget.

Cole hesitated in front of the doors of the mansion. He couldn’t help thinking back to the very first time the butler had opened those doors for him. He’d felt like a mongrel with muddy feet. Shaking off the memory, he stepped inside the grand foyer entrance. The place was every bit as cold and imposing as he remembered, Cole thought. He swept his gaze over the high ceilings, the marble floors and silk wall coverings that echoed refinement and wealth handed down through generations. And despite the fact that he was now a millionaire a hundred times over, standing beneath the crystal chandelier amidst the elegance, he still felt like a mongrel who didn’t belong here.

“Yes, Aunt Liz, I’m okay. I’m sorry you were worried. I know he has. He’s here now,” Regan’s voice carried from the opposite end of the foyer, where she stood with her back to him as she spoke into the telephone receiver. “No, I haven’t decided yet. Yes, I’ll call you later and let you know. I love you, too.”

When she hung up the phone and turned around, Cole got a good look at Regan for the first time since he’d left her. Yesterday, all the old resentments that had begun to eat at him disappeared the minute he saw her face. In the moonlight and with the trees shading her face, he hadn’t been able to see her clearly. From her reaction to his presence, he had assumed she was okay. But now…now he could see that she was far from okay. She didn’t have a lick of color in her cheeks. Faint shadows marred the delicate skin beneath her eyes. And despite her regal posture, she looked as though a strong wind would knock her right off her feet. A surge of warmth and tenderness, two emotions he hadn’t associated with Regan for years, pumped through his system. The fact that he felt those emotions for her now grated. “What’s wrong?”

She arched her brow. “You mean aside from the mess we find ourselves in?”

He narrowed his eyes, told himself he wasn’t hurt that she considered their situation to be a mess. “I mean you look like hell.”

“Gee, thanks. That’s just what every pregnant woman wants to hear.”

Cole swore, dragged in a breath. “What I meant was you don’t look well. You look…exhausted.”

“I’m fine.”

“Did you eat anything? I heard that pregnant women need to eat lots of small meals, and that—”

“I’m fine, Cole,” she insisted, her voice tight, strained. “I’m just tired. And to be honest, I’m not up to playing word games tonight. You already know that I saw Aunt Liz and that she…she confirmed your story.”

“My story?” Cole repeated, irritated that she seemed to find it so difficult to say that he was the father of the child she carried. He followed her into the living room.

“That you were the sperm donor for my baby.”

“Our baby,” he corrected and had the satisfaction of seeing those green eyes flash with annoyance. But his satisfaction was short-lived and made him feel small because it was obvious she was dead on her feet. “Sit down—before you fall down.”

She hesitated for all of two seconds, then sank to the couch. She looked so fragile and lost sitting there. Something inside Cole unfurled, making him want to draw her into his arms and promise her everything would be all right. Instead, he claimed the chair across from her. Several heartbeats passed in an awkward silence. Then, sighing, Cole leaned forward and said, “I owe you an apology. I honestly thought Liz had told you that she’d approached me about being a sperm donor for you.”

“I know. She told me what happened. She also told me that you had apparently changed your mind.” Regan stared down at her hands as though she hoped to find the answers she sought there. “I’m sorry, too. If I’d had any idea…”

Regan didn’t finish. But then, she didn’t need to, because he knew he’d been right. He was the last man she’d have chosen to have a child with.

“I know Aunt Liz meant well. But she’s put us both in an impossible situation.”

“Awkward maybe, but not impossible,” Cole offered, wanting to ease some of the tension. “There are options available to us. Several in fact.” But there was only one option he could live with. And as much as Regan wouldn’t like it, he had no intention of settling for anything less than the course he’d decided upon already.

Her head snapped up. “I’m going to have this baby.”

“Do you honestly believe I would suggest you not have it?” He bit back the sharp jab that she might think such a thing of him. “Regardless of how this pregnancy came about, I want this baby.”

“The only question is how we’re going to deal with custody.”

Her eyes slapped to his, narrowed. “This is my baby, Cole. Mine. I’d already planned on being a single mother. I have no intention of shuttling my child back and forth between me and its father. That’s not what I want for my baby.”

“Our baby,” he corrected her again. “And I agree. I don’t want our child shuttled back and forth between us either.”

Hesitating, she curled her fingers into her skirt. “Does that mean you…that you would be willing to relinquish your rights and let me raise the baby?”

Her words hit him like blows. Gritting his teeth, Cole worked to keep his emotions in check. After all, it wasn’t the first time he hadn’t been found good enough, he reminded himself. In her eyes for a child to have no father would probably be preferable than to have him as one. But like it or not, it was his baby she was carrying, and he had no intention of walking away from his responsibilities. He forced his lips into a smile. “Sorry to disappoint you, princess, but that’s not what I had in mind.”

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.