The Tycoon's Paternity Agenda (7 page)

He sat there for a while, checking messages and reading email on his phone. Then he played a few games of Tetris.

After an hour, when she was still out cold, he decided to make a few calls. Careful not to disturb her, he stepped out into the hall and called Celia on his cell, asking her to have lunch ready when they got back, then he checked in with his secretary and returned a few other calls that couldn't wait until he got back to the office. When he finally returned to the room, Katy was awake.

“Oh, there you are,” she said, looking anxious. “I thought maybe you'd left.”

Did she really think he would just up and leave her there
alone? “Of course not. I just had a few calls to make and I didn't want to disturb you.” He reclaimed his seat. “Did you have a good nap?”

“Yeah. I must have gone out cold. All the stress probably. At least now, if we have to do it again, I'll know what to expect.” She touched his arm. “I wish it could have been Becca here with you.”

Emotion caught in his throat. “Me, too.”

There was a knock at the door, then the nurse stuck her head in. “You can get dressed and go now.”

“Already? I guess I slept longer than I thought.”

“And don't forget, strict bed rest for the next twenty-four hours,” she said sternly.

“Like I could forget that,” she muttered, sitting up.

Adam waited in the hall while Katy put her clothes on, then they went to the reception desk to make an appointment for her blood test in ten days.

“Can you believe that ten days from now we'll know if I'm pregnant?” she said excitedly as they walked down to the limo. His only concern right now was getting her home and back into bed. Although he was sure, the next ten days might just be the longest of his life.

I
t was official. Katy was starting to dislike Adam a lot less.

She had just assumed that when they got back to his place he would get her settled, pat her on the head and say good job, then motor off to the office for a shareholders meeting or something equally important sounding. In reality, he had barely left her side all day. She watched television and Adam sat in a chair beside the bed with his laptop.

He must have asked her a hundred times if there was anything she needed, anything he could do for her. And here she had honestly believed the only person he cared about was himself. He'd even smiled a few times.

And that kiss back in the doctor's office? What was up with that? It had been an impulse on her part. After all, what they were doing was pretty personal. It just seemed like the right thing to do. She'd never expected to
feel
it. Although to be honest she still wasn't sure what it was exactly that she'd
felt. It was an odd sort of…awareness. Not sexual exactly, but not completely innocent, either. It was as if some deeper part of each of them had risen to the surface and collided, causing a sort of cosmic friction or interference or something. And she could tell, by the look on Adam's face, that he'd felt it, too.

It had been a weird, but not unpleasant experience. In fact, it felt sort of nice. But that didn't mean she wanted it to happen again. Unfortunately the more she tried to forget it, forget how smooth his cheek felt, the tangy scent of his aftershave, the more it consumed her.

She couldn't help sneaking looks his way, wondering if he was thinking about it, too. But she wasn't being as sneaky as she thought because he finally looked over at her and asked, “Is there a reason you keep looking at me?”

“Am I?” she asked, as if she'd had no clue. “I didn't realize. I guess I must be doing it unconsciously.”

“Okay,” he said, although he didn't look as though he believed her. But he didn't push the issue, either. And she was glad. She made a conscious effort not to look at him again.

Around six when Celia brought them supper on a tray, it was a relief to be able to sit up for a while. Celia set her tray over her lap, then gestured Adam to the opposite side of the bed.

“You, sit,” she ordered.

“I am sitting.”

“Now,
niño pequeño,
” she said sternly. “Little Boy.” A holdover nickname from when he was small, Katy was guessing.

“Why can't I eat here?” He sounded like a little boy arguing with his mother.

“Because I said so, that's why. Now move, before your supper gets cold.”

“You're seriously not going to let me eat here? In a chair, I might add, that I
own?
”

“And you honestly think I'm going to let you eat spaghetti on
Persian silk?
Becca would roll over in her grave.”

He seemed to get that it was a losing battle, because he shoved himself up from the chair and mumbled, “The way you boss me around, a person would think this was your house.”

He rounded the bed, kicked off his shoes and climbed on, sitting cross-legged next to Katy. “Happy now?”

“Good boy,” Celia said, setting his tray in front of him, stopping just shy of patting his head. He looked more than a little annoyed, which Katy was guessing was the whole point. He may have
owned
the house, but Celia was clearly in charge.

It was one of the sweetest, most heartwarming things she had ever seen. The big powerful billionaire was really just a pussycat.

“Can I get you anything else?” Celia asked.

“A double scotch if it wouldn't be too much trouble,” Adam said.

She smiled and said, “Of course. Katy?”

“Under the circumstances, I should probably lay off the booze. But thanks for asking.”

“I didn't mean…” She sighed and shook her head, as if they were both hopeless. “Heaven help us, you're just as bad as he is.”

She walked out mumbling to herself.

“Niño pequeño?”
Katy asked, unable to stifle a smile.

“I swear sometimes she thinks I'm still ten years old,” he grumbled, but there was affection in his eyes. He loved Celia, even if he didn't want to admit it.

“I think everyone needs someone to boss them around every once in a while,” she said. “It keeps you grounded.”

“Well, then, I should be pretty well-grounded, because she bosses me around on a daily basis.”

And she could tell that though he wanted Katy to believe otherwise, he wouldn't have it any other way.

Celia returned several minutes later with his drink, then left them to eat. Katy just assumed that when they were finished, Adam would sit in the chair again. Instead he fluffed the pillows and leaned back against them. It was probably the most laid-back she had ever seen him. In fact, she'd never imagined he could be so relaxed.

She couldn't help but wonder if it had anything to do with the scotch. Maybe the alcohol had lowered his inhibitions. She recalled Becca telling her once, a long time ago, that if she wanted something, all she had to do was give him a drink or two and he was about as staunch as a wet noodle. And while Katy didn't necessarily believe it was ethical to take advantage of an intoxicated person, if it made him open up to her a little…well, what was the harm?

When Celia came back for their dishes, Katy asked her for a glass of orange juice. “And I think Adam could use another drink.”

He looked at his watch, then shrugged and said, “Why not?”

Around nine, after he'd drained his second glass and was clearly feeling no pain—he'd even laughed during one of the shows—she used the bathroom and changed into her pajamas, then climbed back into bed. The program they'd been watching had just ended, so she switched off the television, rolled on her side to face him and asked, “Adam, can we talk?”

He looked down at her and frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh, no, nothing,” she assured him. “It just only seems
right that I should get to know the father of the baby I'll be carrying. Don't you think?”

His brow dipped low. “Oh, you mean you want to
talk.
”

“What have you got against talking? It's how people get to know each other.”

He looked uncomfortable. “That wasn't part of the deal.”

“Maybe it should be.”

“You know, my life isn't really all that interesting.”

“I doubt that.” She gave him a playful poke. “Come on, tell me something about you. Just one thing.”

“Let me think. Oh, I know. I don't like talking about myself.”

She laughed. “Adam!”

“What?” he said with a grin. “You said one thing.”

“Something I don't already know. Tell me about…your father.”

He shrugged. “There isn't much to tell.”

“Were you close?”

“There were times, when my mom was still alive, that he would occasionally notice me. But then she died, and he checked out.”

That was the saddest thing she'd ever heard. If they were all the other had, they should have stuck together. They could have leaned on each other. The way she and her parents supported each other when Becca died. She supposed that sort of tragedy could either pull a family together, or rip them apart.

“You must have been very lonely.”

He shrugged again, “Celia was there for me.”

He said it so casually, but she had the feeling that losing his mother had scarred him deeper than he would ever admit. How could it not?

“How did your mother die?”

“Cancer.”

Which must have made learning about Becca's cancer all the more devastating. And scary. “How old were you?”

“Young enough to believe it was my fault.”

She sucked in a quiet breath. That was probably the most honest thing he had ever said to her. Her heart ached for him. For the frightened little boy he must have been.

He looked over at her. “Everyone has bad things happen to them, Katy. You get through it, you move on.”

Was he forgetting that she had lost someone dear to her, too?

“Have you?” she asked. “Moved on, I mean.” She knew the instant the words were out, as the shutters on his emotions snapped closed again, that she had pushed too far. So much for getting to know one another.

He looked at his watch and frowned. “It's getting late.”

He got up and grabbed his shoes from the floor.

“You don't have to go,” she said. “We can talk about something else.”

His expression said he'd had just about all the conversation he could stand for one night. Maybe a dozen nights. Maybe he was only in here to keep tabs on her. To be sure that she followed the doctor's instructions. “You need your rest and I have an early meeting tomorrow. I probably won't see you in the morning, but Celia will get you whatever you need.”

Like the turtles she and Willy used to catch in the grass by the riverbank when she was a kid, he'd sensed danger and retreated back into his shell. God forbid he let himself open up to her, let himself
feel
something. Would it really be so terrible?

He hesitated in the doorway, like he might change his mind, but instead he said, “Have a safe trip back to Peckins,” then he was gone.

Adam had actually started acting like a human being today, which she couldn't deny intrigued her. And now that
she'd had a preview of the man hiding behind the icy exterior, she wanted to dig deeper. She wanted to know who he was.

But when had this ever been about getting to know Adam better? And why would she bother? When it was over, and the baby was born, they would just go back to being strangers. Seeing each other occasionally when he brought the baby around.

She laid a hand gently across her belly, wondering what was going on inside, if the procedure had worked and the embryo was attaching to her womb. Her tiny little niece or nephew, she thought with a smile. Even knowing that there was only an average 10 percent success rate, she had a good feeling about their chances.

She switched off the light and lay in the dark, thinking about everything that had happened since she left Peckins that morning. The ease of the procedure, and the way Adam had stayed with her all day. She thought that they had shared something special, that they were becoming friends, but it was clear he didn't want that. And for some stupid reason the idea made her inexplicably sad.

 

It had only been seven days since the procedure, and would be three more days before she would even know if she was pregnant, and Katy had already determined that she agreed to have a child with the most demanding and obstinate man on the face of the earth.

Adam had called her about a
million
times.

Okay, so it was more like fifteen or twenty, but it sure felt like a million. She had only been back to Peckins an hour when he phoned to check on her, which, in light of his cool attitude the night before, she found sort of touching. He reminded her that the doctor said to take it easy for several days, meaning no heavy lifting or strenuous activity. Which she, of course, already knew. She assured him she was follow
ing the postprocedure instructions to the letter, and he had nothing to worry about.

Thinking that she'd made herself pretty clear, she was surprised when later that evening he'd called
again.

Was she eating right? Drinking enough water? Staying off her feet?

She patiently assured him that she was
still
following the doctor's orders, and when they hung up shortly after, assumed that would be the last she heard from him in a while. But he called again the next morning.

Had she gotten a full eight hours sleep? She wasn't drinking coffee, was she? And since country breakfasts were often laden with saturated fats, she should consider fruit and an egg-white omelet as a substitute.

She assured him again, maybe not quite so patiently this time, that she knew what to do. And she was only a little surprised when he called later in the day to say he'd been doing research on the internet and needed her email address so he could send her links to several sites he thought contained necessary information about prenatal health. And had she ever considered becoming a vegetarian?

If he was this fanatical before there was even a confirmed pregnancy, what was he going to be like when she was actually pregnant? Two to three calls a day,
every
day, for nine months?

She would be giving birth from a padded room in the psychiatric ward.

It wouldn't be so bad if the phone calls were even slightly conversational in tone. As in, “Hi, how are you? What have you been up to?” Instead he more or less barked orders, without even the most basic of pleasantries.

On day seven, he called to say that he'd been giving their situation considerable thought, and he'd come to the conclusion that he would feel more comfortable if she came
to stay with him in El Paso for the duration of her pregnancy. So he could “keep a close eye on her.”

It was the final straw.

“I will not, under any circumstances, drop everything and move two hours from home. The ranch is my life. My parents need me here. And all the phone calls and emails…it has to stop. You're
smothering
me and we don't even know that I'm pregnant yet.”

“But you could be, so doesn't it make sense to start taking care of yourself now? This is my child we're talking about.”

“It's also my life.”

“If you were here with me I wouldn't have to call. And you wouldn't have to do anything. Celia would take care of you.”

She liked Celia, but honestly, it sounded like hell on earth. She wasn't an idle person. Most days she was up before dawn and didn't stop moving until bedtime. “I
love
working, Adam.”

“But obviously you'll have to quit.”