The Billionaire's Bauble (21 page)
“What? Pregnant? How is that possible? You told me you used protection. I saw your pills when we were in New York,” he said, and his brow furrowed deeply.
Was he mad? Couldn’t he see in her face that this baby was as big a surprise to her as it was to him?
Sloane looked at the ceiling, feeling empty. She covered her eyes for a moment and then rolled on her side to answer him. He stared at her, brown eyes round and questioning.
“I do take birth control
now
, but the first night we were together, I hadn’t had sex for years. The experience took me by surprise. I could have gotten the morning after pill, but I’m not sure I believe in that, at least not for me. Then I became so caught up in trying to avoid you, while learning my new job at Forster and planning for Charlie’s wedding. Honestly, I didn’t think about pregnancy once, not until I was in New York, at the hospital. That’s when I found out about the baby.” She could hear a needling tone in her voice and she struggled not to sob.
“So that’s what you were crying about? It wasn’t the sprain; it was our baby?” His eyes did not stray from her face, and she tried to appear calm and unaffected when inside her heart raced like a thoroughbred’s.
“Why didn’t you tell me then? You sent me away on the pretext that I didn’t love you, that you needed time to heal, but really, you wanted to figure out if you were going to keep this child?”
Sloane began to feel angry. “I never even considered not keeping the baby, David. What? Do you want me to get an abortion now?”
“Is that what you want?” he asked, and his own voice betrayed anger.
“No, I don’t.” She stated unequivocally. No way in hell was she going to give up this baby, and she couldn’t believe he was suggesting otherwise.
“So, now what?” he asked, rubbing at his forehead. His brown hair curled on his temples, and she longed to stroke him there.
Sloane reached for her blanket and covered her exposed flesh. She suddenly felt ice cold.
“Um, I wait seven months and bear a child. Isn’t it obvious?”
What was wrong with him? Couldn’t he be happy?
“So you plan to keep the baby?” he asked, shaking his head side to side.
“Don’t worry,” she said, “I don’t expect anything from you.”
Sloane threw the covers off and stood up. She walked to the bureau where her clothes lay and began to dress. David watched incredulously, his eyes boring into her uncomfortably.
“Well, I expect plenty from you. We’re going to be raising a child. That’s going to take a measure of cooperation, and since you seem to want to do everything your own way, I guess my job is just to wait and be told what to do and when to do it.”
David sat up then and she threw his clothes at him. He caught them and flung them on her bed. He stood up and stalked to her side. She tried not to notice his muscles, his powerful legs, the hairy chest only moments ago she clung to in passion. He took her chin in his hand and lifted it to face him. His dark eyes flashed dangerously.
“So, if you’re telling me we’re going to have a baby, I’m going to have a say in what happens. I love you, Sloane, but I won’t let you make all the decisions about the child once it’s born. You do realize I want to be a part of the baby’s life, don’t you?”
“Of course. That’s why I’m here. I could have stayed in New York and done it all alone, but I chose to come back. Of course, I didn’t expect you to have had a fling with your ex in the meantime.”
Sloane knew he hadn’t slept with Lexi, but she felt she had to say something to staunch the rising tide of his anger. Reminding him of Lexi didn’t do it.
“You know that’s not what happened.”
He stood over Sloane, and she turned away and walked into the living room. David followed, still naked. Why didn’t he at least put on his boxers? She could barely think with his body so close, so exposed.
“Well, I guess the next logical step is marriage then,” he stated.
Oh how romantic, she thought. Gee, just what she always dreamed of, a shotgun wedding.
“Don’t be stupid,” she replied, and her voice was as frosty as an Alaskan winter.
“Don’t
you
be stupid,” he retorted hotly. “We are in love, and we are going to have a baby. I won’t let my son or daughter be born a bastard.”
“That word died sometime in the 20
th
century, David. Marriage is not the inevitable outcome anymore, and don’t you ever call my baby a bastard!” Sloane was almost yelling now.
“Our baby, you mean. Ours.”
His voice rose, too, and Sloane wished she hadn’t said anything at all. She wished she could rewind her words, her actions. She wished she were back in New York.
“Will you put your clothes on?” she said reprovingly.
“No, not until I am good and damn well ready. Get back in bed.”
“What?” Sloane couldn’t believe her ears. “I’m not going to have sex with you again, especially when you’re making me so angry I could spit.”
He grabbed her arm and pulled her into the bedroom. She sat on the bed, and he came down next to her, on the floor, on his knees. He reached for his slacks next to her and pulled out a small red velvet box. He opened it with one hand, and she saw a huge diamond ring.
“I planned to propose to you tonight, and now is as good a time as any.”
He hung his head for a moment then looked into Sloane’s incredulous face.
“Sloane, will you marry me?” he asked, and she saw he was agitated.
He didn’t really plan to do it this way, did he? She wished he hadn’t. His eyes searched her face. This was not the way she wanted him. Why did he have to be so unreasonable, so impetuous, so damned sexy?
“No,” she said and turned her head petulantly away from him. If I don’t look at him, I won’t cry, she thought.
“You will, and that’s final.” He set the box down and grabbed her hands in his. “Look at me, Sloane. I’m sorry everything has been so difficult, but we must get married, don’t you see?”
All she could see were his full lips, his chiseled chin, his perfect nose, and his gorgeous eyes.
“Not like this. This baby and I are not your property. David, we’re just getting to know each other. Just a few minutes ago you told me you loved me for the first time. Rushing into marriage is not a good idea for you or me or this baby. I want you to be sensible, to think about what I want, not just what you want,” she ended, her voice quavering like her resolve.
“Okay, so you’re in charge, as always.”
He stood up and retrieved his clothes. He jammed his hands into the soft folds of his fine garments and walked into the tiny bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Sloane heard him getting dressed, and she went into her kitchen and put some water in the kettle for tea.
When he came out to join her, she stood at the stove, her back to him. He came up behind her and put his arms around her, resting his giant palms on her belly. She leaned back onto his hard chest for a moment and then stood rigid. She couldn’t let him act out of obligation.
“This is my baby, Sloane, and once he or she is born, you will be my wife, and we’ll raise the child together as a family. My mind is made up,” his voice rasped in her ear.
She turned in his arms to face him, to tell him in no uncertain terms that she would decide when and if she were going to be married, but instead she said, “Am I your soul mate?”
“You tell me,” he said, not missing a beat. “You’re the one who’s the expert on these issues. I’m just a man in love, a man about to be a father, a man who has tried to do the right thing, but is unable to please you—unless it’s in bed.”
The last words seemed crude as well as entirely untrue. He did please her. But she couldn’t let him decide everything. Sloane had been too independent for too long to let any man decide her future.
“I told you before;” she began, her tone pedantic, “I will not settle for less than a soul mate, a man who knows he is destined to be with me and only me.”
David groaned and then said in a voice verging on a growl, “Those are big words for a big occasion. If you marry me, I will say it was ‘destiny,’ that you are my ‘soul mate.’ I will prove it to you—not just say it. Words are cheap, Sloane, but this thing I’m trying to build with you isn’t.”
Sloane collapsed against his chest then and he held her closely. She spoke into the folds of his jacket, unwilling to look at him again.
“I need time to think, David. You’re like a bulldozer, and I can’t be bullied into a quick proposal and wedding. Just because you’re rich and powerful doesn’t mean I have to do what you say.”
“No, you have to do what I say because you love me and you need me to take care of you and our child.”
He might as well have dropped ice cubes down her dress.
Sloane stiffened and said, “I will not do what you say. N. O.”
David dropped his arms from her back and stepped away. He turned around and walked into the living room. The tea kettle whistled like a lonely train, and as she poured the water over a teabag, she asked him if he’d like a cup.
He didn’t answer.
David was gone.
David sped through the streets of Fairbanks. The road curved, and he almost lost control, but he didn’t. He slowed his sports car’s pace and drew deep breaths of the chill air. Clouds scudded across the evening sky as David made his way to Tony and Maya’s place.
He parked his car and walked up to their door. Not bothering to knock, he strode inside and yelled, “Tony! Maya! I need to speak with you.”
Tony emerged from the kitchen and said, “What’d you do wrong now?”
David stomped past him into the kitchen and yanked open the refrigerator. He grabbed a can of beer and popped the tab. He drew a long swig, and then he grabbed another one and threw it at Tony. Tony caught it with a victorious smile.
David said, “Sloane’s pregnant. I’m going to be a dad.”
Tony stood utterly still, his mouth open, as Maya entered the kitchen, surveying the scene.
“So, what’s wrong? Did you blow it with Sloane again?” She put her hands on her hips and waited.
Tony said, “Sloane and David are pregnant.”
Maya crossed the kitchen and put her hands on David’s slumped shoulders. “Well, that explains a lot.”
“Really? Please enlighten me,” David smirked.
“She has been complaining of nausea, she’s gained some weight, and she generally looks like she’s about to cry. That’s not Sloane at all. Add to that the fact that she had ‘something important’ to tell you. It is obvious, isn’t it, in retrospect?” Maya beamed and David groaned.
“We got in a huge fight over . . . hell, I don’t know what. I asked her to marry me, and she said no. I can’t figure Sloane out. I just can’t.”
“Give up, buddy,” Tony smiled and smacked David on the back. “You’re caught.”
Maya smiled, clearly appreciating Tony’s sagacity.
Sloane sat on her couch, sipping her steaming tea. She rubbed her belly absentmindedly. David had asked her to marry him. She couldn’t believe he had a ring—a big one. If only he had asked before she told him about the baby. The fact that he had planned to ask should have been enough, but she had wanted it to be like a fairy tale proposal. Sure, he had the ring, had gotten on his knee, had told her he loved her, but it hadn’t been enough to convince Sloane he believed she was his soul mate. He’d been naked, for goodness sakes, and she couldn’t help but giggle. She set the cup down and reached for her cell phone. The occasion called for a mother’s advice. Sloane dialed New York.