The Pregnant Princess

She was growing mightily sick of his constant interrogations. “I wanted to visit the next of my many lovers to see if he could be the father of my child,” she snapped.

There was a moment of silence in the truck, a silence that nearly vibrated with electricity.

“I apologize,” he said in a low growl. “I know it’s my child.”

He did? Momentarily stunned, she turned her head to stare at him. He glanced over at her and his blue eyes were dark and sober. He looked nearly as shocked as she felt.

There didn’t seem to be much to say after that. She went back to staring out the window, though she was no longer seeing the landscape that was so foreign to her, no longer enjoying the contrast between what she’d grown up with and the stark, dry, blindingly bright Arizona desert.

He believed her. That one thought kept running through her mind, and she wondered what had convinced him. Yesterday he’d appeared to doubt her claim. The memory of her naïveté made her wince inwardly, and she took a deep breath to stave off the tears that wanted to rise again.

She’d promised herself last night that Rafe Thorton, under whatever name he chose to use, was never going to make her cry again. She’d been stupid and she’d learned a lesson from her stupidity. Several, in fact.

“How do you feel?” Rafe’s voice broke into her thoughts, gruff and deep and distinctly noncommittal.

As if you care, she thought.

“Fine, thank you.” She made her voice as chilly as possible while still being scrupulously polite.

“You’re not used to this climate,” he stated. “You’ll have to be doubly careful of the heat, especially in your condition.”

“Thank you for the advice. I’m sure it will prove invaluable.”

His mouth tightened and she was pleased to see that she was annoying him. He didn’t speak to her again, but picked up the phone that was installed in the truck and punched in a number, then tapped his fingers impatiently against the wheel while he waited.

She wondered who he was calling, then decided she didn’t really care. But she couldn’t prevent herself from glancing over at him.

“Hey, gorgeous!” Rafe suddenly became animated. Apparently someone had answered on the other end. Someone female, she suspected, from the way his face relaxed and his teeth flashed in a grin that sent an arrow through her heart. He’d smiled at her like that once, she remembered.

And you fell for it, dummy.

“In the desert,” he said and she reasoned that the woman had asked him where he was. “Listen,” he said, “I have a weird question. I need to know the name and number of a reputable obstetrician in Phoenix.”

There was silence on his end and one black eyebrow quirked up, then he laughed, a low and intimate chuckle that set Elizabeth’s teeth on edge. “A friend,” he said. “That’s all you need to know.”

He scrabbled in the side pocket on his door and came up with a piece of paper and a pencil, tossing them at Elizabeth. “Write this down,” he mouthed.

She glared at him, but as he repeated the name and number she did take them down, then slid the paper back across the seat to him.

“Okay, babe. You’re one in a million. I’ll call you later today.” Removing the phone from his ear, he punched the button to cut off the connection and let it dangle from his fingers for a moment while he drove. Then he studied the information on the paper and dialed again.

While he was talking, Elizabeth sat in miserable silence. Could things get any worse? Obviously, Rafe had a girlfriend, or someone special in his life. The silly fantasies she’d woven about him—about them together—seemed pathetic and ridiculous now. How could she have been so stupid? She might have led a somewhat sheltered life, but she knew what the world was like. Men got women pregnant every day of the week because they acted on sexual attraction without thinking. The resulting condition had nothing to do with affection or love or respect or long-term plans.

Now she was another one of those sad statistics, and her child would be fatherless because of her carelessness.

The words appointment this morning, penetrated her absorption, and she was startled into looking over at Rafe again.

“No! I don’t need a doctor.”

He ignored her.

“I won’t go.” She tugged at his forearm to get his attention. A mistake. Beneath her fingers, his bare flesh was hot, and the thick hair that grew along his arm was silky in texture.

“Cancel it,” she said fiercely.

“Thorton,” he said to the person on the phone. “Elizabeth Thorton.”

Her fingers clenched on his arm. Then she realized she was still holding on to him and she snatched back her hand. Again his eyebrow slid up into a bold dark arch as he threw her a questioning look. But before she could find her voice, he’d concluded the call and hung up again.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Making you a doctor’s appointment,” he said easily. “I want to make sure you and the baby are none the worse for wear after spending the morning standing in the sun.”

“I don’t need a doctor. Go on back to your girlfriend and leave me alone.” She tried to infuse the words with command, but even to her she sounded weak and cranky.

“My girlfriend…” He shot her a smug grin. “That was my secretary on the phone. She has twin grandsons, so she’s not exactly competition.”

“I’m not competing.” So there. “Why didn’t you use my real name?”

“Would you rather I’d given your real name?” he asked.

She drew in a sharp breath as his words penetrated, then slumped back against the seat. “No,” she admitted in a muted tone. “My parents don’t know yet.”

“Mind if I ask how long you were going to wait?” He sounded more than slightly shocked.

“I wanted to tell you first,” she said quietly. “When I get home, there won’t be any reason to delay.”

“You’re going home soon?”

Did she imagine the slight sharpness in his tone? She shrugged. “As soon as my business here is concluded.”

“Your business in Catalina? You never did tell me why you were going there.”

“No,” she said with more calm than she felt. “I didn’t.”

Three

She wasn’t one bit happy with him, Rafe reflected as he unlocked the door of his Phoenix home shortly after lunch. He eyed the rigid line of Elizabeth’s back and the regal tilt of her small, dimpled chin. They didn’t call her Princess for nothing.

When she’d realized that despite her protests he was adamant about taking her to a doctor, she’d become quietly furious. Through the appointment, and the quick lunch they’d had afterward, she hadn’t spoken one word to him beyond the absolute minimum civility required. If she appreciated his concern for protecting her anonymity, it sure didn’t show.

Now he ushered her into his spacious foyer, wondering what she thought of the skylights that let in the bright, cheerful sunlight, the flagstone floors and the soft pastel colors of the desert that he’d wanted for his private spaces. He’d designed it himself, initially intending to use it as a display for potential clients. But he’d liked it so much, he hadn’t been able to part with it in the end.

Elizabeth halted about three feet into the foyer and turned to face him. “May I use your telephone, please? I’ll put any charges on my calling card.”

He glared at her, oddly disappointed that she didn’t even seem to notice his home, and irritated that she would bring up a silly thing like telephone charges. “The phone is right through here.”

He showed her into his casually appointed den, then left her to go into the kitchen and get each of them a cold drink. The doctor had felt that Elizabeth was in good condition although he had advised her to drink plenty of fluids while she was in Arizona, a dictate Rafe fully intended to see she followed.