Her Pregnant Agenda. Линда Гуднайт

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ his chest. Which left him out since a great gaping hole occupied the area in his rib cage where a heart once resided.

      He tried not to look at her stomach—a near impossible task. He’d never seen anyone quite so pregnant. Behind the brave thrust of her chin and the steady gaze, he saw the tear-stained cheeks and detected the vulnerable quiver of her full lower lip. All his protective urges leaped to the fore. Urges he hadn’t acknowledged for a long time. And though they disturbed him no little bit, he’d be hanged if this fiancé of hers got away without taking equal responsibility for those children.

      “Do you know this Benjy character’s current address?”

      “I know where he works.” She gave him the address. “But don’t expect him to be cooperative.”

      The idea angered him. What kind of worthless scum refused to acknowledge his own offspring? Children didn’t deserve to be pawns in domestic litigation. If he’d been fortunate enough to have a child…

      He put the brakes on that thought immediately. Just as he’d closed the door on love, he’d promised not to dwell on what could never be.

      He pushed a pad toward Ariana. “Will you write that address down? Along with the correct spelling of Mr. Walburn’s name?”

      The element of surprise was always important in these cases, so he needed to make certain he had every last detail, right down to the correct spellings. He was nothing if not thorough.

      Ariana gripped the chair arms and rocked several times, her off-center body not cooperating. When he started to offer his assistance, she held up one hand to stop him, and shook her head. “I can do this.”

      She rocked again and then again. On the next try she stood. Hiding a smile, Grant exhaled, unaware he’d been holding his breath. Her stubbornness appealed to him.

      He watched her move toward the desk, a light green dress billowing softly around her legs. Except for the enormous midsection, Ariana Fitzpatrick was actually very small and graceful. Tiny hands, slim shoulders, fine-boned, heart-shaped face with the kindest eyes he’d ever seen. An odd twist wrenched his gut. Sympathy pains surely, though he wasn’t prone to such feelings. A man couldn’t find a woman appealing when she was pregnant with someone else’s baby. Could he?

      Absolutely not.

      Taking the pen, Ariana leaned over the paper. Her hair spilled forward, inches from his nose. He inhaled—purely a function of normal biology—and filled his lungs with the faint scent of flowers. Gardenias, he thought.

      Nature forced another breath. Ah, lovely. So clean and fresh. He studied her profile, admiring the graceful angle of her neck, waiting for the moment she lifted her head so that he could study her delicate face more closely. Purely for professional reasons, of course. An attorney gained a lot of information from a client’s eyes.

      As she straightened, her naturally dark complexion paled, and she grabbed for the edge of the desk.

      “Whoa,” she whispered and weaved sideways, knocking his nameplate to the beige carpet.

      Grant was out of his chair and around the desk faster than a guilty criminal could say appeal. He slipped an arm around her middle and had the novel experience of feeling a stomach move beneath his fingertips.

      Instead of the aversion he’d expected, his own stomach quivered in awed response. He shook off the sensation. Sentimentality had no place in attorney-client relations.

      “Are you all right?” His voice sounded gruff.

      “Fine.” She panted a few times, then took a deep breath. “A little dizzy. That’s all.”

      He backed her to the chair and very gingerly eased her down, then remained standing in front of her, studying the pale line around her mouth. “Has this happened before?”

      A little pink tongue flicked out over dry lips. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back. “Occasionally.”

      Along one wall he kept a small refrigerator stocked with drinks—one of his perks as head attorney. Keeping one eye on Ariana, he went to it and retrieved a bottle of water. Uncapping the container, he held the drink to her lips. Her eyes fluttered open.

      “Thanks.” Her voice was a whisper. She took the water and sipped.

      “Are you eating properly?”

      She hedged. “Today was a bad day.”

      Placing a hand on each chair arm, he bent low and peered into her eyes. “What did you eat?”

      She sat up straighter. “I’m fine now.”

      “I don’t think so. You’re still pale. Are you getting prenatal care? Taking vitamins? Sleeping enough?”

      Her slender shoulders stiffened. She shrank back from him and in a soft voice said, “Am I on trial here?”

      “I beg your pardon.” He relented, leaning back slightly, though remaining close enough to notice the lines of fatigue around her eyes and mouth. What if she fainted and slithered out of the chair? He glanced at his watch. Time to go home anyway. “I’ll escort you to your car whenever you’re ready to leave.”

      She shook her head slightly. “I rode the T.”

      Of course she had. What was he thinking? Most everyone in Boston used public transportation, even him, though lately he’d taken to driving his car because of the erratic work hours. Fortunately, another of his perks was an underground parking space.

      He had a car and she didn’t. And she was unwell.

      One glance at this Rolex and Grant made a quick decision, his usual kind. “That settles it.”

      “Settles what?”

      “I’m driving you home.”

      “Grant, you’re very thoughtful.” Ariana recapped the water and placed the bottle on his desk. “But I’m fine now—really—and perfectly capable of seeing myself home.”

      “This has nothing to do with kindness and everything to do with common sense. You’re exhausted, hungry, and you nearly fainted. You have no business on public transportation. What if you pass out? As a gentlemen I would be remiss not to see you safely home.” He offered his hands, palms up. “Let’s go.”

      She drew back, stubborn chin lifting. “I need a lawyer, not a keeper.”

      He waited, offer still open. Couldn’t she understand that he knew best? “You’d risk your babies out of stubbornness?”

      Ariana fisted both small hands on her thighs. She was getting her Irish up, an attitude he found intriguing. “That was a dirty trick.”

      He allowed a tiny smile and shrugged. “I’m an attorney. What did you expect?”

      Ariana’s full mouth pursed as she thought over the offer. “Well…I am a little weak in the knees. And the T will be standing room only.”

      “Air-conditioned car. No jostling bodies.” He loved negotiations.

      Finally СКАЧАТЬ