The Detective's 8 Lb, 10 Oz Surprise. Meg Maxwell

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СКАЧАТЬ can and can’t explain. I’m so sorry I didn’t do more to protect you was one of the last things his mother said to him.

      Nick’s stomach twisted. He was never getting married. He was never having kids.

      He stood up, his chest tight.

      I’m pregnant with your baby, Nick.

      Well, unless Georgia had never slept with the Suit in the thousand-dollar shoes, Nick couldn’t understand how she could be so sure.

      He wasn’t going to be a father until she explained that little mystery. Not that he wanted to hear one damned word from her about it. He got it. Clear as day. Her actions had told him everything he needed to know about Georgia Hurley.

      Nick Slater, a father. He closed his eyes and almost laughed—that was how crazy the idea was. Yes, Nick could learn how to change a diaper and remember to point down tiny male anatomy so that he didn’t get sprayed in the chest—again. But being a father was about a hell of a lot more than just stepping up, which Nick would do if he really was the father of Georgia’s baby.

      As he was doing with Timmy. Stepping up. Taking responsibility, despite being 1,000 percent sure that he wasn’t Timmy’s father. He’d had a long, self-imposed dry spell in the women department until he met Georgia Hurley. And another since her. Whoever Timmy’s mother was, she definitely knew Nicholas Slater was not her son’s father. She’d chosen him as a safe keeper for a different reason.

      The problem here, Nick realized, was that he didn’t want to take care of Timmy. He would, but he didn’t want to. First of all, he wouldn’t be any good at it. Two, something about that helpless, defenseless, innocent baby had his protective instincts on red alert, giving him that unsettled, uneasy, on-guard knot in his chest and stomach. He’d lived with that feeling his first fifteen years of life and the past two, when he and his kid sister would be at each other’s throats and he was so damned afraid he’d mess up and Avery would decide to drop out of high school.

      So yes, he could take care of Timmy. But he did need to hire a full-time caregiver. That way, he could track down Timmy’s mother, find out what her situation was, do what he could to help and reunite a mother and child. The note she’d left made him think she wasn’t a nut job or a rage-aholic or an irresponsible, immature shirker.

      These days, though, Nick would give his gut, which had always served him well, a D-. Maybe an F.

      Someone knocked on the door. He glanced at his watch. Four o’clock. Timmy’s mother? Three hours separated from her baby had been enough, maybe. He rushed to the door and pulled it open.

      Oh hell. It was Georgia Hurley. She had a big basket in her arms.

      “I brought some things for Timmy,” she said, gesturing to the basket.

      She still wore the pale blue sundress that draped over her curves, her hair now up in a topknot. She was too damned pretty, too damned sexy, even at four months pregnant.

      He took it from her, eyeing the pack of diapers and various ointments and burp cloths. “Thanks.”

      “Can I come in?” she asked.

      He stepped aside to let her enter. “Of course.”

      “Nice place,” she said, glancing around.

      “I let my sister pick out a lot of the furniture,” he explained as he led the way into the living room. “Otherwise those couches would be black leather and not ‘eggplant twill,’ whatever that is.” Letting Avery do the decorating had saved their relationship back then; she’d been less angry about having to move, about not taking most of their furniture. The worn old upholstered recliner his father had fallen asleep drunk in most nights? Not taking it. He had brought over some of his mother’s favorite furnishings, but anything that reminded him of his father had gone into storage for Avery to decide what to do with when she was ready to furnish her own place.

      She smiled. “Did she leave the cat?”

      He was surprised she remembered that. “She sure did. Mr. Whiskers hates me. He pretty much sleeps all day in Avery’s room and comes out twice a day for breakfast and dinner. Sometimes I forget he’s even here.”

      “I had a stalker,” Georgia said suddenly, turning away and facing the window that looked out to the side yard. “That morning, the man...that was him.”

      Nick froze, his blood cold in his veins. He stared at her back, noting how tense her shoulders were. “What? If he was a stalker, then why—”

      Georgia turned and sat down on the love seat, taking a small throw pillow embroidered with an owl and clutching it against her stomach. “About eight months ago, my boss was replaced by a man named James Galvestan. He was so impressive. I was doing well at the company, on my way to being promoted to vice president of new business development, and he was my strongest supporter, my champion, crediting me even though I only developed his ideas further. ‘You did the work,’ he’d say. ‘You get the credit.’ He was so handsome, so gallant. I fell in love fast.” She closed her eyes and shook her head.

      “And then,” Nick prompted gently, everything inside him twisting at where this was going.

      She leaned her head back, letting out a hard breath. “And then he began making it clear he was attracted to me. A lingering look, a hand on my shoulder, moving down my back. I was so flattered, but nervous about dating not only a colleague but my boss. But within weeks, I began noticing how controlling he was. I had lunch with a male colleague with whom I was working on a project—the next day, that man had been transferred. I’d find James sitting in his car outside my house, and when I’d go out to ask him why, he’d say he just wanted to make sure I was safe.”

      “Or alone,” Nick said.

      “Exactly. It’s as if he was compelled to sit outside in his car and watch, check up on me. Like being with me wasn’t the point. Just making sure no one else was. That’s when I realized I had to put an end to our romantic relationship. And he got even scarier. He told me we were meant to be, that I was his dream woman, and when we were married, I’d make him the happiest man on earth. The word marriage scared me to death. I told him we were through. And he grabbed me and said we weren’t through until he said we were through, that I belonged to him. I quit my job to get away from him—that’s how freaked out he made me.”

      “Please tell me you went to the police for a restraining order,” Nick said.

      “I did. It made him even angrier. He’d come to my condo and by the time the police came, he’d be gone and I’d be unable to prove he was there. The police said that until he physically hurt me in some way, there was really nothing they could do.”

      Nick knew all about that.

      She stood up and walked over to the window, still clutching the pillow. “And then one day I came home and found him in my bedroom, going through my things. He had old address books, letters, keepsakes. He started saying things like ‘How nice that your grandmother owns a restaurant in a small town. One phone call and Granny will have an accident, poor thing. And your sisters. I know how much you care about them. Small towns just aren’t as safe as they used to be. You never know who’s creeping around waiting to attack a pretty redhead like Annabel. Or a dark-haired former foster kid named Clementine.’” Her voice broke and she turned around, her head dropping.

      Nick wanted to rush over to her and СКАЧАТЬ