The Tycoon's Paternity Agenda (11 page)

A
ccording to the ultrasound Dr. Meyer performed at their appointment later that evening, she was pregnant with a single embryo.

After a brief examination, he showed them to his private office and explained just about everything she and Adam needed to know about her pregnancy—she was honestly, truly
pregnant!
What changes to expect in her body, and the things she should and shouldn't eat. The kind of activity that was safe and what medications weren't. And her due date, which they learned was early the following spring.

But now the appointment was almost over and neither had mentioned the one thing they both needed to know. It was the huge pink elephant in the room. And since Adam didn't seem inclined to ask, it was up to her to put it out there.

“If you have any other questions for me—” the doctor started to say, and Katy said, “I have one.”

She looked over at Adam and he had a slightly pained look
on his face. “Suppose,
hypothetically,
that a surrogate were to have sex right after the transfer. Could that hurt the baby in any way?”

The doctor looked up sharply from the notes he'd been jotting in her file. “You didn't, did you?”

His reaction startled her.

It couldn't be that bad, could it? “Even if we did, the embryo latched on,” she rationalized. “So no harm done. Right?”

“Successful implantation is only part of the reason. For surrogates like yourself, who have no known fertility issues, there's also the problem of conception.”

“But didn't we want her to conceive?” Adam asked, before she had the chance.

“In all likelihood, because the embryos were implanted at the most fertile stage in her cycle, her body also released its own healthy and viable egg. And I'm sure I don't have to explain to either of you what happens if you introduce sperm with an egg.”

Katy's stomach bottomed out, and Adam went pale.

The doctor looked from Adam to Katy. “Gauging by your reactions, should I assume this might be the case?”

“So what you're saying,” Adam clarified, as if it wasn't crystal clear already, “is that it could be Katy's own fertilized egg, and not one of the embryos.”

“It could be.”

Katy felt sick to her stomach. This could not possibly be happening.

Under the circumstances, Adam sounded unusually calm and detached when he asked, “Is there any way to tell?”

“Only though a DNA test. Either after the birth, or through amniocentesis.”

“How soon could the amnio be done?” Adam asked.

“At the earliest, fourteen weeks, but I do have to warn you that there are risks involved.”

“What kind of risks?”

“Infection, miscarriage.”

Katy stared at him, slack-jawed, feeling as though she had just taken the leading role in the world's most horrific waking nightmare.

“So what kind of odds are we looking at?” Adam asked. How could he be so
calm?
Panic was clawing at her insides. It was all she could do not to get up and pace the room like a caged animal.

“Of course, I can't be certain, but I would put the odds at somewhere in the ball park of five to one.”

She felt a slight tug of relief. As far as odds went, that wasn't
too
bad.

“Five to one that it was one of the embryos?” Adam clarified.

“No. That it was Katy's own egg.”

Oh, crap.

Katy felt light-headed, like she might faint. What the
hell
had they done? Having her sister's baby was one thing, but to have her own baby, and with Adam of all people? This was crazy!

She wasn't ready to have a child yet, especially not with her sister's husband! A man she loved, whose only interest in her was to produce his offspring.

She had a sudden and disturbing vision of her family up on the stage during a
Jerry Springer
episode.

Her family. Oh, God. How was she going to explain this to her parents? They had been so excited when she called to tell them the good news earlier. They would be furious enough if they knew she had slept with Adam, but to learn she could be having her own baby, not Becca's? They might never speak to her again.

Adam put his hand on her arm. She looked up at him and he gestured to the door. She realized, the appointment was over. There was nothing else the doctor could do for them at this point. From now on it would just be a waiting game. At least twelve more weeks.

It sounded like a lifetime.

Her legs felt unsteady as Adam led her out. She only half heard him as he stopped to make next month's appointment, then he ushered her out of the office and to the elevator. He was taking this awfully well.

“I can't believe this is happening,” she said, as the elevator doors slid closed. “This is all my—”

“If you say it's your fault one more time, I swear to God I'm going to make you
walk
home,” he said sharply, his eyes flashing with anger.

Whoa.

So much for him taking it well. Apparently he was as freaked out as she was. He was just better at hiding it.

He took a deep breath and blew it out. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap. I just think that blaming each other, or ourselves, isn't going to get us anywhere. It's happened, and now we have to figure out the best way to deal with the situation.”

She nodded.

Reece was waiting for them when they walked out of the building. After they got in the limo, Adam asked, “Would you like to stop someplace and get dinner?”

The thought of food made her stomach roil. “I'm really not hungry right now.”

“You've hardly eaten a thing all day. It's not healthy to skip meals.”

Nor would it be healthy to eat a meal, then barf it back up, which is what would probably happen. “I'll have something later. I promise.”

They were silent for the rest of the drive back to his place. She figured they would talk later that evening, after they'd each had a chance to process it, but as they walked inside she was hit with a wave of fatigue so intense she knew she needed to rest first. She was so exhausted she tripped on the foyer step and would have fallen on her face if Adam hadn't caught her by the arm.

“You okay,” he asked, brow creased with worry.

“Just really tired. I think I need to lie down.”

“You know we need to talk.”

“I know. And I'm not trying to avoid it. Maybe if I sleep for an hour or so, I'll feel better.”

“Of course,” he said, leading her upstairs to the spare room.

“Would you possibly have an old shirt or something that I can sleep in? I didn't know I would be staying over so I didn't bring extra clothes.” She felt uncomfortable enough sleeping here, where this nightmare of a situation had been conceived, she couldn't imagine doing it in her underwear.

“I'm sure I can dig up something.” He left for several minutes, then reappeared with a long-sleeved, button-down silk pajama top. “Will this work?”

“That's perfect. Thanks.”

“I'll be in my office if you need me.” He hesitated by the door, like he wanted to say something else, then he left, closing the door behind him. A second later she heard the muffled sound of him walking down the stairs.

It took all the effort she could muster to change into the pajama top, and though it was way too big for her, it was cool and soft against her skin. And even though it was freshly laundered, it smelled like Adam. That might have excited her if she hadn't been so dead on her feet. It was as if it was all just too much to take in and her body was shutting down.
She crawled into bed, under the covers, and must have been out before her head even hit the pillow.

She woke later, feeling drugged and disoriented, not sure where she was, or if it was day or night. She recalled the doctor visit and for a second thought maybe it had all been a terrible dream.

But she was at Adam's house, and it hadn't been a dream. It was very, very real. She looked over at the digital clock, blinking to clear the sleep from her eyes. It read 1:15 a.m.

One-fifteen?
She shot up in bed and swung her legs over the side, instantly awake. She and Adam were supposed to talk. He was waiting for her!

Then she realized, he had probably gone to bed already, and their conversation, critical as it would be, would have to wait until morning. She was disappointed, but at the same time relieved. She needed time to think this through, to wrap her head around it, and knowing Adam, he would want to make a decision right away. He would want to begin planning their next move.

She got up and used the bathroom, then brushed her teeth with a spare brush she found in the cabinet. Since she would have to wear the same clothes tomorrow for the drive home, and there was nothing she hated more than not feeling fresh, she washed her panties in the sink and hung them on the towel bar to dry.

She was about to climb back into bed when her stomach let out a hollow rumble, and she realized that she was famished. She recalled how delicious the enchiladas were that they'd had for lunch and wondered if there were any leftovers. She should really eat something. Because as Adam had pointed out, she shouldn't be skipping meals. Cliché and silly as it sounded, she was eating for two now.

She opened the door and peeked out into the hallway. The house was quiet and dark, just as she'd suspected. She felt
her way down the stairs and tiptoed through the living room to the kitchen.

“Going somewhere?”

At the unexpected voice she let out a squeal of surprise, and whipped around. Adam was sitting slumped down on the couch, holding something…a drink, she realized. He was sitting in the dark drinking. Not that she could blame him. If alcohol wasn't bad for the baby, she would be drowning in it by now.

“I woke up hungry,” she said. “I was going to get something to eat.”

As her eyes adjusted, she could see that he was shirtless, and wearing what looked like a pair of pajama bottoms.

Oh, my.

“I though you'd gone to bed,” she said. “Couldn't sleep.”

Well, that was understandable. She wondered if he was upset, or even angry with her. It was too dark to see his individual features so she really couldn't get a read on him.

“I'm sorry I slept for so long.”

“S'okay.”

“I wasn't trying to avoid you.”

“I know.”

She took a step closer. “Are you okay?”

“What do you think?”

Fair enough. “Do you want to talk?”

“Actually, I think I'd prefer you take off your clothes.”

She actually jerked backward. Was that another joke? “E-excuse me?”

“I want to see you naked.”

“N-naked?”

“You said before that if I wanted to see you naked, all I have to do is ask. So I'm asking.”

She may have said it, but she didn't actually
mean
it. And
never in a million years did she believe he would actually ask. It had to be the alcohol talking. “You're drunk.”

“So what if I am?”

“So, you're clearly not thinking straight.”

“Isn't that the point of drinking?” He downed the contents of his glass and set it on the table beside him. “Besides, it's not like I haven't seen you naked before.”

“Yes, but don't you think it will inevitably lead to something else?”

“Again, that's kind of the point.”

Her heart started to hammer. “But we said we wouldn't.”

“We said a lot of things, and look where it got us. So get naked, now.”

He was only doing this because he was upset and intoxicated. He didn't really want her. Not the way she wanted him. “No. I'm upset, too, but this isn't going to solve anything.”

“No, but it'll feel good, and that's enough for me right now. Don't you want to feel good?”

Maybe feeling good wasn't enough for her.

But what if it was? Maybe she could have him just one more time.

No. Bad idea.

“Adam, I'm serious. Stop. We can't do this. I don't want to do this.”

“Making love to you again is all I've been able to think about,” he said, and his words warmed her from the inside out. Even though she knew he was only saying them because he'd been drinking and his inhibitions were compromised. And even if he had been thinking about it, it was just sex to him. It had nothing to do with love. That's the way it was for men.

The men she knew anyway.

“We shouldn't,” she said, but with a dismal lack of conviction. He was starting to wear her down.

“Come here, Katy,” he said, in a low growl that set every one of her nerve endings ablaze.

He reached out to grasp her wrist. She put up only the slightest bit of resistance before she let him pull her down into his lap. She was straddling his thighs, his silk pajama pants feeling unbelievably erotic on her bare bottom. Then he kissed her, tangling his fingers through her hair. Tenderly, his lips soft, his mouth sweet and tangy as his tongue slid against hers.

Wait a minute…
sweet?

She broke the kiss and pulled back to look at him. Where was the alcohol taste? She grabbed the glass he'd been drinking out of and sniffed it. “What was this?”

“Orange juice.”

“With vodka?”

“Nope. Just plain old orange juice.”

“But…you said you were drunk.”

“No,
you
said I was drunk. I just didn't correct you.”

“But I thought—”

He didn't let her finish. He covered her lips with his and kissed away whatever she'd been about to say. He stroked and caressed away her doubts, until there was nothing left but raw need. When he pulled the pajama top up over her head and saw that she wasn't wearing panties, he growled low in his throat. “I think you forgot something.”