Return of the Secret Heir (6 page)

“
All
of these? There must be thirty different vitamins and supplements in there.” She felt queasy thinking about swallowing that many pills.

A frown line appeared on his forehead above the aviators he hadn't removed. “I'm not sure. I just took anything she said was important for pregnant women.”

A smile crept across her face, imagining JT at the store, totally out of his depth but still trying to do the right thing by his baby. “Thank you. That was sweet.”

“It's part of my responsibility. I told you I'd take it seriously.” He headed for the door. “I have to go back to the car for the rest.”

“
More
pills?”

“No,” he called over his shoulder, “breakfast.”

“Right,” she said to the empty room and sat down on a stool to look through the bags of supplements. She had work in her briefcase that she'd brought home for the weekend, but the events unfolding in her apartment were too bizarre not to have her full attention.

Within five minutes he'd covered her kitchen counter with eight bags of groceries and heaven knew what else. She might have been indignant…if she could stop thinking how good those broad shoulders that tapered to narrow hips looked in her small kitchen. She swallowed and refocused on the grocery store that now resided on her counter.

“How many people are coming for breakfast, JT?”

He threw his keys and sunglasses on her dining table and went back to his bags. “I read some websites overnight. They say you need a healthy breakfast.”

He unloaded a brand-new juicer onto the bench.

“I have a juicer in the cupboard,” she pointed out, unable to keep the wry amusement from her voice.

He glanced up. “I wasn't sure. You need as much sleep as you can get, so I couldn't ring late last night to check.”

She'd probably been awake—she'd spent much of the night staring at the ceiling and worrying about the baby, and listening to her body to see if she felt different now that she knew she was pregnant. Although…

Vitamins and supplements. Groceries. A new juicer. Internet research. “Did
you
sleep last night?”

“A couple of hours,” he said, placing an assortment of fruits and vegetables in her sink before washing them all thoroughly. Winston came over from his place on the window seat to join her watching the commotion. “Sorry, Winnie, but I don't think he's catering to cats this time.”

JT lifted his head, his dark-lashed eyes trained on her. “That reminds me. Ever heard of toxoplasmosis?”

“Should I have?”

“It's a parasite carried by cats.” He stacked the washed fruit and vegetables on the bench, and reached for the juicer. “And it can be harmful to pregnant women.”

“You're not suggesting I get rid of Winston?” she said, looking over at the innocent bundle of fur who'd been with her for eight years. She couldn't imagine being without his soft, purring presence in her life.

JT squirted detergent into the sink and turned on the hot tap. “No, but to be on the safe side, I'll clean his litter box from now on.”

She let out a sigh of relief that the solution was so simple. “He doesn't have a litter box. He has a cat door to the courtyard at the back.” The courtyard was tiny, like the back of all the ground-floor apartments in the complex, but it had a small patch of grass and a few shrubs. That little oasis was the main reason she'd chosen to live here.

“Even better. But that means you won't be doing any gardening. I'll have someone do it weekly.” JT finished cleaning the juicer, then made her a celery, carrot and apple blend. “It's best if it's made fresh each time, but I can make more now and put it in the fridge if you'd prefer,” he said as he handed it to her.

For a moment, she wondered if he meant he'd be here to make it fresh each time, but surely not. “This will be fine for now, thanks.”

Watching him make his way expertly around her kitchen, she had to concede that under different circumstances, she'd enjoy a regular morning visit from a gorgeous man who wanted to feed her—a gorgeous man with lean hips, a tight butt and pecs she wanted to splay her hands across. She could get used to this.

A chill crept over her skin. If she wasn't careful, she'd be in danger of letting impossible dreams of a picket-fence future unfurl in her mind.

Never mind that she hadn't worked out how she was going to tell her boss about her pregnancy yet. Ted Howard was not going to take this well. She'd need to go to him with a plan. Another issue that had kept her awake last night.

From one of his bags, JT pulled out a small frying pan with the label still on the handle, and proceeded to wash it in the sink.

“I have a frying pan, too,” she said.

He spared her a quick glance. “You might have had the wrong size.”

Eggs came out of another bag and, sipping her juice, she watched him make an omelet. “Are you also making one for yourself?”

He opened a couple of drawers until he found her cutlery and pulled out a fork. “This isn't about me.”

“You expect me to eat food you've made with you watching me?” The idea made her squirm on the stool.

“I'll clean up and leave while you're eating,” he said, not distracted from his task.

Despite a small part of her wanting to rebel at his treatment of her as his baby's walking incubator—there was a fine line between cosseting and treating her as if she was incompetent—something inside her chest twisted at the thought of this man staying up during the night to research her body's needs, then arriving early, loaded with supplies and cooking her breakfast, then leaving while she ate without tasting a bite himself. She couldn't turn him out of her home unfed.

She walked behind him and found her own omelet pan and handed it to him. “Make one for yourself, too.”

He paused for a lingering moment, his eyes wary and assessing. It seemed neither of them wanted to play happy families. At least they were on the same page.

“Okay,” he said finally and pulled three more eggs from the carton.

Ten minutes later she was sitting across from JT with a cheese and tomato omelet, toast and a plate of fresh fruit laid out before her.

“This looks good,” she said and meant it. She usually just grabbed a yogurt and coffee.

“It might need salt,” he said, handing her the salt grinder. As she reached to take it and her fingers brushed the warm skin of his, sensation exploded in her veins like a shaken magnum of champagne. His eyes widened, locked on hers, and the world faded away, leaving only JT and her and this living electricity that was between them. Slowly, too slowly, reason shouldered its way back into her mind. She blinked away the unwanted response to the man she'd once planned to marry, and reached for her juice.

JT cut into his eggs, his voice only a little uneven. “I did some research last night on fainting during pregnancy. It could be a number of things—possibly low blood sugar or low blood pressure. I'd like us to see a doctor as soon as possible.”

“It was only once.”

“But if it happened again and you were driving or in the bath, it could be worse.”

A horrible vision rose of her slipping in the bath and falling, bringing on another miscarriage. And she wasn't taking a single risk with this baby. “I wonder how long waiting lists are for specialists?”

“A couple of guys who work for me have had babies recently. I asked them who the best specialist was.”

“You didn't mind interrupting
their
sleep?”

He smiled. “It wasn't too late when I was thinking about a specialist. They gave me some names and the top person on each list was the same. I'll ring first thing tomorrow and get an appointment.”

From the corner of her eye, she watched him add pepper to his eggs and take another mouthful. Threads of heat spiraled down her spine and out to her fingers and toes. Even watching this man eat sparked too much sensation in her body. The muscles working under the tan, hair-dusted skin of his forearms. The way his Adam's apple bobbed down then up as he swallowed. Her cheeks caught fire and she determinedly cut into a tomato.

“This omelet is really good,” she said, hoping her voice was even. “You've learned to cook.”

“I was seventeen when you knew me.” He arched an eyebrow.

Of course he'd changed, he was a man now. A man whose gaze across the table held a deeper confidence and assurance than he'd had at seventeen. A man who'd proven only weeks ago he could make her writhe in unparalleled passion. A man who was staking a claim against his biological father's billion-dollar will—that she was administering. Her shoulders lost a little of their poise.

“How's your claim coming along?” she asked, to remind them both of the dangers of their involvement.

He scrubbed a hand across his smooth, shadowed chin. “Philip Hendricks is putting the final touches to the paperwork. We'll lodge it soon.” His face became more solemn. “Are you going to tell your parents about the baby?”

During the night, she'd imagined their horror when she announced she was once again pregnant by JT Hartley. And once again, was unmarried while pregnant by JT Hartley. The last thing she needed now was more stress,
and their judgmental attitudes and potential interference would definitely cause that. They'd have to know at some point, but the longer she had to get her own head around the news, the better.

“Not yet,” she said, watching her plate to avoid meeting his eyes. “Are you going to tell your mother?”

His mother had been thrilled for them last time. Worried because they were so young, but she'd offered all the help she could give. Tears sprang to the back of her eyes, remembering Theresa Hartley's clucky excitement about her first grandchild. Another person Pia had hurt when she'd caused the miscarriage. She'd apologized to Theresa several times since, but Theresa, the sweet woman, always made her feel like it wasn't her fault.

Eyes guarded, JT gave a sharp shake of his head. “Not yet. It's probably best to keep this between the two of us for now.”

Not telling her parents yet was one thing. Theresa was a different story. Even though the right to pry into JT's reasoning was something she'd forfeited years ago, something inside told her there was more to his reluctance.

She chose a slice of melon and chewed slowly, watching JT from under her lashes. Then she turned away. There was enough to worry about without getting involved in the workings of JT's mind.

She had a precious baby coming soon. And a promotion to salvage.

J
T walked into the doctor's plush waiting room, gripping Pia's hand. Medical suites weren't his favorite places at the best of times, but being here over a possible health risk to his baby? That had to be the worst imaginable reason to visit one. His body was clenched so tight that it was difficult to breathe.

Pia leaned close and whispered in his ear, “Tell me the truth, do you think there's something wrong with me? Something that explains the fainting and the miscarriage?”

He reached for her other hand and clasped them both firmly. The fingers on the hand he hadn't been holding were cold, so he rubbed them between his palms. “I've always thought you were perfect,” he said, dodging the question.

She gave him a tremulous smile and they stepped up to the reception counter.

“Pia Baxter to see Dr. Crosby,” he said to the woman behind the desk.

The receptionist's smile included them both as she handed Pia some forms. “Just take a seat and start on these while I see if the doctor's ready for you.”

As the receptionist disappeared behind a swinging door, they sat on the upholstered bench seats. Pia was so still, so silent that he gave her the most reassuring smile he could muster and murmured, “It'll be okay,” and hoped like hell he wasn't lying. She nodded and began filling out the forms.

He'd got them in with the city's best specialist in two days. He'd wanted sooner, but this appointment before official opening hours was the best they could do. Of course, it was a hell of a lot better than anything they had first time around. Back then, his mother had taken him and Pia to a free clinic. The staff had been nice and put Pia at ease, but what if they'd missed something that had contributed to the miscarriage? A band of steel clamped around his chest. He'd make sure nothing was missed this time. This time, he could afford the finest health care in the country and his baby would receive the best possible medical attention.

He glanced over at Pia as she filled in the forms with her neat, even handwriting. They'd talked about the possibility of being seen together visiting Dr. Crosby, but decided they'd have to be pretty unlucky to run into someone who recognized them both on one quick trip together. And if they did…

It was a risk they just had to take—he couldn't countenance her coming to this appointment alone.

The receptionist appeared again and showed them into a smaller room. As they entered, a dark-haired middle-aged
woman with a stethoscope around her neck greeted them and asked them to take a seat.

“Thank you for seeing us on short notice,” he said.

Dr. Crosby smiled. “You're a very persuasive man, Mr. Hartley,” she murmured and shook his hand. She turned a beautiful smile on Pia. “Ms. Baxter, I see you've finished the forms Amy gave you.”

Pia handed over the paperwork. “Please, call me Pia.”

Dr. Crosby scanned the forms, then frowned and pursed her lips. “This is your second pregnancy, Pia?”

“Yes. I… Yes,” she said, her voice drying up. JT squeezed her hand.

“You lost that baby?” the doctor asked gently.

JT smoothly cut in so Pia didn't have to explain. “Pia had an accident when she was about halfway through that pregnancy. She fell from a window.”

“I see.” Dr. Crosby turned to Pia with compassion in her eyes and asked detailed questions. He watched Pia answer in a low voice, her eyes downcast, and he wished he could spare her these questions, too.

“With your permission,” Dr. Crosby said, typing something into her computer, “I'd like to request a copy of your hospital records for review. I want to make sure I have as much information as possible so that we know what we're dealing with.”

“Of course,” Pia said.

“I'll get Amy to organize a letter for you to sign. Now, you said you had a fainting spell?”

Pia nodded. “My blood pressure is normally on the low side, and I had troubles with it early in my first pregnancy.”

“She fainted once then, too,” JT said. That day down by the river, he'd come close to panic. He'd had no idea what to do and had never been so happy to see someone open their eyes again.

“Okay,” the doctor said, standing, “let's get you on the scales, then into a gown for the exam. We'll do a urine test to confirm the pregnancy, too.”

He gave Pia's hand a final squeeze as she put her handbag on the floor and slipped away. Her eyes were too large—her fears written plainly on her face.

The doctor made a quick note on her computer and followed Pia behind the curtain.

Left alone, he looked around the pale blue room and tried to relax his shoulders, but the weight bearing down on them was too heavy to allow it. He would do everything in his power for this baby, but that guaranteed nothing—with a pregnancy, Mother Nature was in charge and he hated ceding control to anyone or anything, including nature herself.

And even if this baby lived to be born, then what? Fourteen years ago, he'd thought he'd known how things would play out. Even after Brianna died, he'd thought he and Pia would still have each other. Maybe one day start a family again. Not to replace Brianna, but new additions to their family unit. They could have waited until they were financially stable, had their own house. But it had never occurred to him that he and Pia wouldn't be together. Fool that he was, he'd imagined they'd grow old side by side.

They'd made private vows to each other under the moonlight, words that had been sacred to him. Yet at the moment they'd needed each other the most, Pia had broken her promises and abandoned him.

No matter what happened now, how much it felt like they were on the same team, he'd
never
forget that she might cut and run when the going got tough. He couldn't depend on her, couldn't trust her.

But he would be here for her while she carried his child.

The curtain rustled and the doctor appeared, Pia soon
after, and something in his chest eased a bit to have her back beside him, where he had some illusion of control of the situation. He gave her a tight smile which she returned as she sat back in the chair beside him.

Dr. Crosby made a few notes before looking up and smiling. “You seem in good health, Pia. We'll send these blood samples off for testing, but I suspect because you said your blood pressure is on the low side, your fainting was a result of that. It's a little low now, but nothing alarming.”

Pia shifted in her seat, her fingers knotted together. “But is it safe for the baby?”

“Low blood pressure is less of a risk than high blood pressure. I'm hopeful that yours will come into a more normal range in the second trimester. But for now, there are some measures I want you to take. Drink lots of fluids, especially water. Avoid standing for prolonged periods, particularly when it's hot. And I want you to start on a regular program of exercise.”

JT looked from one woman to the other, imagining Pia fainting while she was out jogging or playing sport. “Exercise? Won't that put the baby at greater risk?”

“I'm not talking marathons here.” The doctor turned to Pia. “Gentle exercise will help you prevent episodes of low blood pressure.” She handed them a sheet of paper. “Here are some more ideas.”

Unsatisfied with the answers and fighting the urge to wrap Pia and the baby in a nice thick layer of cotton wool, JT frowned. “What if she faints again when she's driving or on a stairwell?”

Dr. Crosby turned back to him. “There's no reason to expect more fainting. Keep an eye on it and feel free to call me if you have any concerns.”

That was it? He leaned forward in his chair. Sure, he
knew he couldn't expect Pia to be confined to bed rest for the next eight months, but to have her continue as normal?

He pinned the doctor with a stare. “How exactly will we keep an eye on it?”

“You can buy a home blood pressure monitor,” she said, turning to Pia. “Take it twice a day and keep a record.” She reached to some shelves above her head and extracted a pamphlet. “This has the healthy range that we're aiming for.”

JT scanned the slip of paper over Pia's shoulder. “And we'll ring you if it's out of this range?”

“Absolutely,” Dr. Crosby said. “Otherwise, I'll see you at your next appointment. You can make one with Amy on the way out. Oh, and don't forget to sign the letter so I can access your medical history, Pia.”

They thanked her and made a new appointment with the receptionist, then headed for his car. Something insistent gnawed in his gut. It'd all seemed too easy, too low-key. Or was it just that he was expecting the worst? That his baby wouldn't make it.

With his body braced as if expecting a blow, he drove Pia back to her place in time for them both to get to work—after a quick detour to pick up a blood pressure monitor.

 

Barely two hours later, Pia stood in Ted Howard's reception area, palms sweating. He'd been held up in a meeting, leaving her here, becoming progressively more anxious.

As she paced from one side of the room to the other for the tenth time, the senior partner walked through from the hall, folders under his arm, greeting his secretary and indicating with an incline of his head for Pia to follow.

She walked into his office behind him, taking rigid steps. Having an unblemished record at the firm had been
a source of pride, and she was about to blow it. More than blow it—she was about to obliterate it. Nausea that had nothing to do with morning sickness roiled in her belly.

“I have about three minutes,” he said as he closed the door behind her. “What can I do for you?”

She took a deep breath, then let it out in a controlled stream. “There's something I need to tell you.”

“Go ahead,” he said, his back to her as he stacked the folders he'd carried.

Saying the words to
anyone
this early in the pregnancy—where there was a risk of the unthinkable happening—would be grueling, but ethically she had no choice but to confess to her boss. She moistened her lips and raised her chin.

“I'm pregnant.”

He turned around slowly, clearly surprised. Though she'd expected surprise, since she'd never once shown any signs of interest in marriage or family life. It was his next reaction that mattered most.

“Congratulations,” he said, with a distant smile, clearly calculating the impact on the firm, on her cases in several months' time.

“Thank you.” She laced her fingers together behind her back and stood straighter. “But there's more.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”

“The father is JT Hartley.” She said the words short and sharp, then braced herself for his response, expecting the worst, hoping for the best.

Ted's eyes widened, then narrowed as he sat on the edge of his desk. “Let me get this straight…you're carrying the child of a man who's lodging a claim against one of the firm's biggest estates? The estate you're administering?”

She closed her eyes for a long moment. Hearing the words aloud made the situation become the awful reality
she'd been trying to deny. And yet, as bad as being pregnant with JT's baby was for her professionally, it was worse personally. The only positive was the tiny life in her womb—her son or daughter.

She resisted placing a hand over her stomach as she faced the consequences of her actions. “Yes.”

“You were supposed to keep me updated,” he said as storm clouds gathered in his eyes. “It seems you missed informing me about at least one important meeting.” He shook his head. “Why would you put everything you've worked for at risk?”

She bit down on her lip. Ted Howard had been her champion in the firm almost from the first—he'd taken her under his wing and nurtured her career. She knew he'd be disappointed in her and that knowledge tore right into her solar plexus. “I'm sorry, Ted.”

“Tell me this hasn't been going on the whole time.”

Regardless of how much it made her squirm to provide details, he deserved the information. “The day he came to the office, I saw him after work. It was only the one day.”

“Ah, Pia,” he said, shaking his head. “You know I have to take you off the Bramson estate case.”

Her stomach swooped as her fears burst to Technicolor life. “I understand, Ted, but I have some alternatives we could discuss. Other ways I can prove I'm still the best person for the promotion. That partnership means the world to me.”

“You still want the partnership now you're going to be a mother?”

A little voice at the back of her mind had been asking her the same question. She ignored it—when she came back from maternity leave, there would be options like nannies and flextime. She and the baby would cope just fine.

She looked Ted squarely in the eye, her hands clenched into fists to stop them trembling. “One hundred percent.”

He sighed and went around his desk to sit heavily in the high-backed chair. “I've made no secret of the fact that you were my preference for the next partner. Your ability and dedication to the job have always surpassed any other lawyer in the running. But I have to tell you, I'm questioning your commitment right now.”

“I can assure you, my dedication to this firm is still strong,” she said quickly, lacing the words with as much certainty as she could muster.

“You slept with a claimant to a will you were administering, Ms. Baxter.”

It was only the truth, but the accusation hit her like a blow and she steadied herself before replying. “I won't make another mistake. I give you my word.”

His gaze rested heavily on her for long moments, then he sighed. “Tell me about your alternatives.”

She stood straighter. “Linda Adams takes over the case. I'll assist her because I have the history with the estate and heirs, but she'll be the lead. In exchange I'll take something from Linda's caseload to free her up.”