Julianne pulled out of Carly’s embrace and began to pace the room again. “But what about his personal life?”
Carly sighed. “I don’t know a lot about that. Like I said, he’s very private. He was involved with an actress from a crime drama that’s on cable, but I don’t think it was serious.”
“She said in several interviews they were very serious.”
“Aha! So you at least took the trouble to find out his name and keep tabs on him. Good to know.” Carly sounded relieved. “I wouldn’t worry about what some actress said. They all try to use a relationship with an athlete to get publicity . . . wait . . .” Carly stood and turned Julianne so they were face to face. “Is that why you never said anything to him about the baby? You thought he was involved with someone?”
“That was a big part of it. The birth control failed and I got pregnant. I didn’t want to mess up a relationship that might have been important to him because I wanted to keep the baby. I have the money to support a child, and I’m not the type of woman who wants to brag about her kid’s famous father just for publicity’s sake. Besides, the whole idea of having that conversation with a total stranger was humiliating. I just thought we’d all be better off if no one knew who Owen’s father was.”
“Well, you’re going to have to have that conversation now. And everyone is going to know Will is Owen’s father.”
When Julianne didn’t say anything, Carly reached out and grabbed her shoulders. “Oh no, Julianne.” Her voice was laced with disappointment. “You don’t seriously think Will is going to come in here, give his son a few pints of blood, and then walk out of your lives? Is that what you want? To take Owen back to Italy where you can hide out until you figure out what to do with your life? Pretending Will doesn’t exist?”
Carly’s tone implied she was disgusted again, the fragile truce they’d been working on these past few minutes gone. “There is something you should know about Will. He didn’t grow up with a father in his life. I don’t know the whole story, but I do know he is very passionate about a father doing right by his children.”
Pulling out of Carly’s hands, Julianne crossed her arms defiantly. “We don’t know that for sure. Maybe he doesn’t want kids right now. Maybe he’ll be just fine with us going back to Italy and going on with our life without him!”
The color drained from Carly’s face, her eyes focused owlishly behind Julianne. Taking a slow peek over her shoulder, she saw the object of their discussion standing in front of the curtain. His posture was equally defiant. Julianne licked her lips and wondered how a man so massive could move so quietly. As she turned, she took in his Gucci loafers and an Armani business suit that made him look like he preferred lobbying politicians to crushing opposing players. Her gaze wandered up from his strong, square jaw to meet angry green eyes.
“Don’t count on it,” he said before disappearing behind the curtain again.
Three
Mr. Clem prattled on about something, but Will wasn’t listening. Instead, he tried to rein in his temper. The woman was insane if she thought he’d let her take his son to live in another country. She was certifiable if she believed he’d give up his paternal rights to any child of his.
If in fact he was the boy’s father.
That pertinent bit of lab work still had yet to be resolved. His DNA had been collected as soon as he and his entourage had arrived at the hospital, but according to Mr. Clem, the results could take up to twenty-four hours in spite of the fact the hospital had put a rush on them.
That technicality didn’t deter the hospital ombudsman one bit, however. Mr. Clem was prepared to rip off Will’s jacket and begin transfusing blood immediately. The man’s enthusiasm for his job was a bit over the top, but Will was glad the baby had someone in this world protecting him. Someone other than his lunatic mother.
She burst through the curtain in much the same manner as he ruptured offensive lines, with a ferocious look on her face. Not that she was necessarily intimidating. Standing nearly a foot shorter than his six-foot-three-inch frame, she’d have to stand on her toes just to reach his shoulder. He knew from experience she weighed next to nothing. Pregnancy hadn’t exactly fattened her up. In fact, she looked nothing like the woman he’d encountered that long-ago stormy night.
Gone was the hot dress she’d worn to tantalize the men at the wedding. Today, she was dressed in an ivory turtleneck, the outline of the cross necklace she wore visible beneath it. Her black yoga pants fit snugly over generous hips, but they were frayed slightly at the bottom. Not exactly the haute couture she was supposedly famous for creating. Tortoiseshell glasses couldn’t hide her red-rimmed eyes or the dark smudges beneath them. Her wild mahogany hair pulled tight in a high ponytail accentuated the gauntness of her face. The only part of her that hadn’t changed were her lips: still pink and full where she’d obviously been gnawing on them, much like the night they’d made love.