One Night, So Pregnant!(7)

‘He won’t,’ Tess interrupted. And no way would she ask him again.

Whatever silly fantasies she might have had about Graystone sharing some of the burden had been knocked out of her this morning. And she wasn’t going to resurrect them, not now she knew that the man lurking beneath that sexy and charismatic exterior was as cold and judgemental as her own father. She hardly needed another one of those in her life.

If she was going to have this baby, she would be doing it solo.

‘Okay, let’s put the question of the father aside for now,’ Eva said, carefully. ‘The important thing is that you do what feels right, or you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.’

A lone tear trickled down Tess’s cheek, her palm settling again on the belly she jogged eight miles every morning to keep flat and toned.

She let her head drop back and blinked at Eva’s newly painted ceiling, realising that her flat belly would be history soon. And it didn’t bother her a bit. Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes as the giddy swell of excitement thumped at her chest. ‘I’m actually going to be a mummy,’ she whispered.

Eva covered Tess’s hand and laughed. ‘Welcome to the grand adventure, Mummy.’





CHAPTER THREE

‘ZANE, thanks for coming.’ Nate got up from the booth and pressed his hand to his best friend’s shoulder. ‘How was the drive up?’

‘Sweet.’ Zane Montoya flashed his trademark grin and Nate was immediately thrown back in time to their childhood, when that grin had only ever meant one thing—trouble. ‘I opened the Sixty-Seven up on 101 and she took those curves like a pro.’ Zane relaxed into the booth, his long legs stretching under the table.

Nate signalled the waitress to bring two Mexican beers before joining his friend in the comforting darkness. He’d wanted privacy for this chat, and luckily Murphy’s, the small neighbourhood bar a block from his offices, offered just that.

‘The Sixty-Seven?’

‘My latest acquisition,’ Zane replied, the face that had seduced a thousand women taking on a boyish glow of enthusiasm. ‘Sixty-Seven Mustang, soft top, Cobra Jet V8 engine, reconditioned gearbox and white-wall tyres.’

Nate gave a low whistle. ‘Where did you pick that up?’

‘Little old lady in Pasadena.’ Settling into the booth, Zane rested one arm across the back of it. ‘Who drove a mighty hard bargain. It needed a heck of a lot of work after spending forty years gathering dust in her garage.’

Nate doubted Zane minded a bit, as fooling around with cars and engines had been his passion since high school. That and chasing women—of every size, age, shape and religious persuasion.

The waitress arrived and placed their order on the table, gazing dreamily at Zane, then letting out a flirtatious giggle when he saluted her with his bottle.

Nate took a slow lug of the icy beer as the girl sauntered off, swinging her hips for all she was worth, and remembered that Zane had never had to chase any woman very far, because they all wanted to be caught. Usually sooner rather than later.

‘So what’s on your mind, Kemosabe?’ Zane asked, his gaze finally leaving the waitress’s butt as she disappeared into the crowd round the bar.

Nate cleared his throat and placed his beer bottle back on the table. ‘Remember that hook-up I told you about? A month or so ago?’

‘The British girl?’ Zane supplied. ‘Who you did in a janitor’s closet.’ Zane gave a rough laugh as Nate felt the flush burn the back of his neck.

‘Yeah, that girl.’ What had he been thinking mentioning it to Zane? His friend would be getting mileage out of it for the rest of their natural days. But at the time he’d been feeling raw and confused at the way she’d disappeared so abruptly—and he’d covered up the need for his friend’s input by boasting about it. Right now, though, he needed a lot more than just Zane’s advice.

‘She came to see me, last week.’ He paused, the niggling suspicion that had been digging away at the back of his mind ever since their meeting making him feel uneasy. ‘She says she’s pregnant.’

Zane’s eyebrows rose a fraction and his smile died. ‘That’s a complication.’

‘It’s not mine,’ Nate replied flatly, but the certainty he’d had a week ago failed to materialise. Why couldn’t he get that look of anguish in her face out of his head? Why hadn’t she argued? Why hadn’t she even attempted to persuade him? It didn’t add up.

‘You sure about that?’ Zane asked.

Nate thrust a hand through his hair, not liking the flat note in Zane’s voice. ‘I used a condom.’