The Baby Bonus. Metsy Hingle

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СКАЧАТЬ 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. СКАЧАТЬ