Finding Me (6 page)

“Chelsea,” Mac began as he gently pushed her aside to take over dressing little Ruan, “I know this is a delicate situation, and I also should probably mind my own business, but since Hannah came into my life…” he grinned, as if recalling a memory. “Let’s just say I like things sorted, nice and neat, wrapped up with a bow nowadays. It keeps me up at night when there’s unfinished business in my house.”

Christ, but the baby looked a hell of a lot like the pictures of him at that age. A pang of something indefinable twisted in his chest. He had the urge to hold Ruan, to touch him, like it might make all the difference in the world. The fact that she managed to pull his grandfather’s name out of the thousands of Afrikaans male names out there also astonished him. Chelsea couldn’t have possibly known.

“What is your blood type, Chelsea?”

She was at Mac’s side to take Ruan who just started to cry, presumably for her since he ceased as soon as she held him. “O Rh negative, why?”

“Hmm. And Ruan is…?”

“The same as me.”

Tiaan gripped his shirt and accidentally pressed too hard on a particularly tender area of his chest. If both mother and child were O type, that meant the father had to have O too, or at least O antigens in their system. He knew what was coming next, and answered without being asked. “Myself as well.”

“I guess we have a fairly good idea now.” Mac raked his hand through his hair and, from the look on his face, Tiaan could tell his friend was attempting not to laugh.

It’s not bloody well funny!
he wanted to yell.

“Chelsea, they can take a saliva swab so there wouldn’t be any needles, but for both of your sakes – and my sanity too – we should go ahead with this. I’ll pay–”

“No, I will,” Tiaan interjected. “And if he’s not mine, she can reimburse me the cost.”

As soon as he’d spoken the words, Chelsea shot him a look that could have killed him and all but ran from the room with Ruan in her arms. That little voice he shut off many times before emerged to the surface of his mind, telling him what a bastard he’d just been but he ignored it.

Rather, he attempted to, yet it kept on hounding him. Begging that he do the right thing and run after her, comfort her. That, deep down, he knew Ruan was his son and they needed him.

Persistent little bugger that his conscience was.

Thankfully, Mac cleared his throat, distracting him from his integrity or profound lack thereof.

“Try not to be too much of an asshole, Tiaan. Chelsea hasn’t exactly had it easy since she found out she was pregnant. If it wasn’t for Hannah, I honestly don’t know what would have happened to her. She spent a lot of her pregnancy in the hospital.”

Self-defences raised, he turned to his friend, stunned. “So you are taking her side on this?”

“Relax, I’m not taking anyone’s side. Jesus, Tiaan, I know you’ve been through hell, but just think about how it must have been for her. A single twenty-four year old girl living thousands of miles from her family who disowned her when they she told them she was expecting. She had to drop out of university and put herself in debt, just to keep a baby she didn’t even know she was having. Hell, she didn’t know the damned guy’s name that got her pregnant!”

“And this is all my fault then, hmm? If she’s so damned promiscuous, she should learn to use some kind of protection!”

Suddenly, he was backed against a wall with a thick forearm pressed to his neck. “It takes two people to make a baby, Christiaan. Obviously you did not offer to use a condom or go buy any. And who gives a damn if she
was
promiscuous? Grow the fuck up already, you’re only two years younger than I am so act your age! If we men can go around adding notch after notch to our bedposts, why can’t women do the same without getting a shitty name for themselves? Are we the only ones who are allowed to enjoy physical pleasure?”

Mac released him and Tiaan greedily sucked a few breaths in while massaging his neck. Just being in a position where he was held down brought terrifying memories to the surface. Memories that he wished he could lock away forever, maybe even forget them altogether.

Then it hit him, square in the solar plexus like a damned wrecking ball. Twenty-four years old. That made her
twelve years
his junior. Was she truly so young? Why hadn’t he noticed that back when he’d been in the hotel elevator with her?

He sat down on her bed to think, absorbing the information Mac just granted him. So, her parents disowned her. Big deal. His parents were deceased. At least hers were still alive somewhere. Eventually, they would realize their error and wish to reconnect with their daughter…right? Unless they were selfish bastards like his had been.

“This is a bloody mess,” Tiaan sighed into his hands. “Here I finally thought I might be getting some semblance of my life back and now…now I might have the one damned thing I never wanted. A God damned kid.”

“Well no one asked you to demand a paternity test! And I don’t want you in his life anyways!”

Shit. Tiaan sat up just in time to see Chelsea swinging a bag over her shoulder and bolt from the room like it was on fire. A slew of curses slipped over his tongue. Mac laughed, he actually bloody well laughed.

“Bastard.” Tiaan threw a pillow at him.

That only made the other man grab his sides and howl even harder.

~~~~~

Book III in the

Captive Hearts Series:

Reckless Passion

With passion this strong and emotions running wild, anything is possible…

Kayla Travers-Dunlop is all grown up and living on Vancouver Island. The past haunts her dreams, forcing her to keep her heart at arm’s length from the male population, with no room for exceptions. She’s got a very good reason for it and managed to last this long before breaking all her own rules.

Nathan Callaghan has secrets of his own. Dark and damaging secrets. A chance encounter on a flight crossing the Atlantic with a sassy young thing from England has him throwing caution to the wind and he wants nothing less than all of Kayla.

With a father like Mackenzie Dunlop taking stock of her every move and a man like Nathan intent on making her his, Kayla wonders if it’s possible to leave her demons behind and let love in.

Excerpt:

Men like him only existed in films or magazines and she hardly saw them in the flesh. His close-cropped hair and clean shaven jaw, coupled with the slight cleft in his chin easily made him sexy in a dangerous kind of way. Dangerous because he made her think of naughty things, the kind of activities that would undoubtedly be unbelievably gratifying. Dangerous because a girl could really lose her heart and have it smashed to bits by a man like him.

“Hey there, sleepy girl,” he whispered, gently brushing a few wayward strands of her dark hair away from her forehead. He had an accent like Hannah’s.

It took Kayla a second to compose herself after his unexpected touch. Since what she now referred to as ‘The Incident,’ she had tried her hardest to ignore men. Stupid, sexy, gorgeous men, with their chiseled abs and nice big biceps, like the one sitting next to her, with that wide jaw she wanted to hold onto while kissing him. This man incited almost every fantasy she’d ever imagined and suddenly the idea of joining the not-so-prestigious
Mile High Club
was at the top of her list. With him.

She squeezed her thighs together in a vain attempt to tamp down on her arousal. Very vain attempt. He was licking his lips and it only served to further her raunchy imagination.

“I was waiting for you to wake up before asking if you wanted to trade seats.” He motioned to his thighs, which certainly didn’t help.

Kayla slammed her eyes shut to avoid inspecting his lap further. The effort expended too much energy. Dragging him to the restroom to shag sounded so much easier.

“You okay?” Too much concern flooded his voice. A man who cared…

She groaned, rubbing her temples. The action allowed rank-breath to get a better foothold on her shoulder. He actually snuggled into her like she was his pillow.

“Hey, buddy.” Gorgeous guy reached over her chest, his firm forearm brushing against her already painfully hard nipples. Zings of need flashed down to the core. “Mind not sleeping on the lady?”

Old guy mumbled. Gorgeous guy poked him again, this time a little harder.

Oh boy, Kayla squirmed. If his arm pressed any harder, she might just come from the sensation.

“D’you mind?”

Gorgeous guy sharply raised a brow. “Yeah, I do. You’re sleeping on my girlfriend.”

Eyes bugging out of his head, coffee-breath took in the man on her other side’s muscles, his youth, and snapped away from Kayla. He mumbled a swift and useless apology, and hunched into the aisle.

“I’ve got an idea,” gorgeous guy continued, taking her arm and linking it with his. “Why don’t we all switch seats? You take the window, get good and comfy, sleep. I’ll sit in the middle and…” he paused, glancing at her. Kayla’s mouth went dry with the intense heat of his gaze. “My beautiful girl can sit in the aisle and snuggle up to me.”

Damn him. Damn him and his words, and his mouth, and his tongue, and his eyes.

Kayla was turning into a soggy, sweaty mess.

“Sure, I’ll take the window seat,” rank-breath said with a sleepy grin.

They all filed out into the aisle of the darkened plane and, once the old guy took his new seat, gorgeous guy sat down and Kayla sat next to him. She didn’t expect him to continue his ruse since the other guy had pushed his face up to the window and was already snoring, but he did. Gorgeous guy slid his arm behind her head and gently guided her to his chest. He felt too firm, too warm, and he smelled far too bloody sexy for her to be getting any sleep at all, sitting this close to him.

“You go ahead and get some rest now, sugar.” He kissed the top of her head, much to her disbelief.

Angling her head upwards, Kayla didn’t hesitate to grasp his jaw and push her lips to his. For the first time since that
incident
, she didn’t think about the consequences of her actions; she just kissed him and, bloody hell, did she ever enjoy it. His mouth paused, faltered even, then he slid his rough, calloused hands around her neck and into her hair, fisting it. The man knew exactly what he was doing with that tongue of his, which tasted like mint and chocolate. Every thrust, every graze, she experienced a sharp jolt at the juncture where her thighs met.

“Hell,” Kayla gasped, grazing her teeth over his chin.

Breathlessly, he replied, “That’s my line.”

~~~