Автор: Heidi Rice
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
isbn: 9781474003872
isbn:
“Molly…” she warned.
“Okay, okay. What did he say?”
“Let’s just say he’s a bit angry I didn’t find him when I found out.”
“I told you that you should. He has a right to know.”
“I know.” Overwhelmed again, she swung her chair around and sat. “But being pregnant was complicated enough, I didn’t need anything else. I thought he lived on his boat in the Caribbean, for goodness’ sake. How was I to know he really lived in Charleston and wasn’t just ‘free spirit sailor boy’? Like I needed another…”
“Another Gerry?”
“Exactly. I have enough folks—not to mention the baby—relying on me as it is. I just got one unemployed pretty boy off my hands, I didn’t want to get another one to support. For all I knew, Chris Wells was just another Gerry waiting to happen.”
“Wait a minute.” Molly’s eyes widened. “Chris Wells? And he’s from Charleston? He’s the Chris Wells?”
“Maybe. Why? Who’s the Chris Wells?”
“I thought he looked familiar. Good Lord…Ally, I know you didn’t want to contact him, but are you really telling me you didn’t at least look the man up on Google out of curiosity?” Molly was already at her computer, fingers flying across the keyboard.
“I didn’t want to know. It was just easier if I didn’t. Look, he’s waiting for me, and he’s not in the most patient of moods right now.”
“He can wait one more minute. Come here.” Molly swiveled her computer screen around as Ally sat in the chair across from her. “You need to see this.”
Chris on a sailboat, grinning at the camera. Her heart did a quick double beat as that was the Chris she remembered—not the very angry man waiting for her outside. “And?”
Molly sighed deeply. “Listen carefully. Ever heard of the OWD Shipyard outside Charleston? The W stands for Wells. OWD is the primary sponsor of Wells Racing, and the owner’s grandson, Chris, captains their boats. Team Wells has won every major race in the last five years—including the America’s Cup. They’re considered unbeatable. My God, Ally, you certainly know how to pick them. Chris Wells is the Tiger Woods of sailing.”
Slowly, Molly’s words started to sink in, and the information on the screen in front of her corroborated her story. “How do you know this?”
Molly waved a hand dismissively. “Back when I was dating Ray, he was really into ships and racing. It was all he talked about.”
“Yachts.” She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Chris was a celebrity. And the heir to the OWD Shipyard to boot.
Molly looked at her blankly.
“Those are yachts, not ships.” He’d lied to her. Said he raced some and occasionally won. Yeah, right. He was the freakin’ god of the sailing world and he’d led her to believe…Well, he hadn’t really led her anywhere, but he certainly hadn’t been totally honest, either. Chris wasn’t the only one angry now.
Not caring much anymore that Chris was waiting for her, she continued to click through the links, and each Web page brought a new emotion. She welcomed them. By the time she heard the chimes over the door, announcing that he’d gotten impatient and had come to get her, she no longer felt quite so shaky or defensive.
“Are you ready yet, Ally?” Anger still radiated from him, but she no longer cared how mad he was.
Molly, bless her heart, tried to defuse the situation. Extending her hand to Chris, she introduced herself. “We didn’t meet properly earlier. I’m Molly, Ally’s business partner.”
Chris nodded, but his eyes never left Ally. He seemed to be trying to stare her into the ground, but she felt steady and refused to give him the satisfaction of cowering this time.
Grabbing her things, she stood. Time to get this over with. “Yes, I am. You drive. I’ll see you tomorrow, Molls.”
Chris watched as Ally led the way to his car and climbed in without waiting for him to assist. Something had changed in the last few minutes, and he now felt anger radiating from her.
Other than the terse directions she provided, she sat in silence as they drove. What did she have to be so irritated about? He was the wronged party here. When he’d seen her come around the corner, his body had leaped to life, his blood heating and his hands itching to touch her again. But the look on her face when she’d recognized him had killed that feeling as it answered almost every question he’d asked himself on the drive down from Charleston. She was pregnant. The baby was his. And she hadn’t planned on ever telling him.
When he’d realized it was all true, the anger had boiled over and he’d blasted her with it. He hadn’t handled the situation as well as he’d planned, and now guilt nibbled at the edge of his ire.
The only important answer he didn’t have yet was why, but he planned to rectify that soon enough. With Ally practically vibrating with hostility as she sat next to him, though, he doubted he’d get a satisfactory answer at the moment.
In an attempt to both appease his guilt and ease the tension between them, he backtracked to less volatile territory—at least while they were in a small, enclosed space. “How are you feeling?”
Ally’s eyebrows went up and she seemed poised to attack. Instead she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “The mornings are pretty rough, and I’m tired a lot.”
“And that’s normal?”
She nodded. “Unfortunately.” Her lips twitched in amusement, and, for a brief moment, he flashed back to Tortola, back to when her inability to hide her reactions had charmed him. But the moment passed quickly, and her amusement faded as rapidly as it had come. “Turn left. That’s me on the corner.”
The two-story Victorian sat gracefully among its historic neighbors, beautiful and well cared for despite its age. He’d been so occupied on the short drive, he hadn’t noticed she was directing him to the heart of Savannah’s historic district. “This is your place?”
Ally didn’t break stride as she climbed the steps to the spacious verandah and slid her key into the lock. “The first floor is. I may not be the heir to a shipyard or have zillion-dollar endorsement agreements, but I do all right.”
So she did know who he was. She may not have known when they met, but at some point she’d done her homework. Which meant she could have contacted him if she’d wanted to. His ire flared up again.
Ally’s sandals slapped against hardwood floors, and the sound echoed off the high ceilings as she moved around the room before settling on an overstuffed red sofa. The apartment suited her—or at least the little he knew about her—old-fashioned around the edges but still modern. The absurdity of the situation hit him at that moment. A woman he barely knew was carrying his child.
“You wanted to talk. Let’s talk.”
The СКАЧАТЬ