Carrying The Spaniard's Child

Those hopes were quickly dashed.

“Pregnant?”

She risked a look at him. His jaw was hard, his eyes dark with rage.

“Yes,” she choked out.

She never expected what he did next.

Pulling her close, he put his large, broad hands over her cotton T-shirt, to feel the unmistakable swell of her pregnant belly.

He dropped his hands as if he’d been burned. “You said it was medically impossible.”

“I thought it was...”

“You said you could never get pregnant!”

“It’s a...a miracle.”

“Miracle!” He snorted, then narrowed his eyes. He slowly looked her over. “And here I thought you didn’t have what it took to be on Broadway. No gold digger ever lied to my face so convincingly. I actually thought you were some angelic little innocent. Quite the little actress after all.”

That low, husky, Spanish-accented voice cut right through her heart, and she staggered back. “You think I got pregnant on purpose?”

He gave a low laugh. “You really had me going with the way you defended true love. Letting me find you alone, sobbing in the garden over the fact that you could never, ever have a baby. I’m impressed. I had no idea you were such an accomplished liar.”

“I didn’t lie!”

“Cut the act, and get to the part where you give me a price.”

“Price?” she said, bewildered.

“There’s only one reason you would deliberately trick me into not using a condom when you fluttered your eyes and lured me into bed—”

Her voice came out an enraged squeak. “I never did that!”

“And that’s money. But I’ll admit,” he said carelessly, looking her over, “you earned it. No woman has ever tricked me so thoroughly. Except—” His expression changed, then he set his jaw. “How much do you want?”

“I don’t want money.” The room was spinning around her. “I just thought you had the right to know!”

“Perfecto,” he said coolly. Going to the door, he opened it. “You told me. Now get the hell out.”

Belle stared at him in shock, astounded that any man could react to news of his unborn son or daughter so coldly, refusing to even show interest, much less take responsibility! “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

“What did you expect?” he drawled. “That I’d fall to one knee and beg you to marry me? Sorry to disappoint you.”

Belle stared up at him, incredulous. She’d waited for twenty-eight years, dreaming of Prince Charming, dreaming of true love—and this was the man she’d slept with!

Anger rose like bile in her throat. “Wow. You figured me out. Yes, I’m desperate to marry you, Santiago. Who wouldn’t want to be the bride of the nastiest, most cold-hearted man on earth? And raise a baby with you?” She gave a harsh laugh. “What an amazing father you would make!”

His expression hardened. “Belle—”

“You call me a liar. A gold digger. When you know I was a virgin the night you seduced me!” She lifted her chin, trembling with emotion. “Was this what you meant when you called me naïve? Did you decide you wanted to be the one to show me the truth about the heartless world?”

“Look—”

“I never should have come here.” Tears were burning the backs of her eyes. But she’d let him see her cry once, that dark January night, and he’d lured her into destruction with his sweet kisses and honeyed words. She’d die before she let him ever see her weak again. “Forget about the baby. Forget I even exist.” Stopping at the door, she looked back at him one last time. “I wish any man but you could have been the father of my baby,” she choked out. “It’s a mistake I’ll regret the rest of my life.”

Turning, she left, rushing past the snooty butler and beautiful, rich guests who looked like they’d never had a single problem in their glamorous lives. She went outside, nearly tripping down the steps into the cooling night air. She ran halfway down the block in her flip-flops before she realized Santiago wasn’t following her.

Good. She didn’t care. When she reached her old 1978 Chevy pickup, she started up the engine with a roar. Her hands didn’t stop shaking until she was past the Lincoln Tunnel.

From the first day they’d met, she’d known Santiago was dark-hearted poison. How could she have been so stupid to let him seduce her?

For one night, let me give you joy. Without strings. Without consequences.

Belle choked out a sob as she gripped the steering wheel, driving south on the Jersey Turnpike. She was thrilled about the baby, but what she would have given to have any other man as the father!

For the last few months, when Santiago hadn’t returned her phone messages, she’d told herself that she and the baby would be better off without him. But part of her had secretly hoped for another miracle—that if she told Santiago she was pregnant, he’d want to be a father. A husband. That they could all love each other, and be happy.

So stupid.

She wiped her eyes. Instead Santiago had not only cavalierly abandoned his unborn baby, he’d insulted Belle and thrown her out of his house for daring to tell him she was pregnant!

The truly shocking thing was that she was even surprised. He’d made his feelings clear from the beginning. He thought babies were a thankless responsibility and love was for suckers.

Belle cried until her eyes burned, then at midnight, pulled over to a roadside motel to sleep fitfully till dawn.

The next day, the hypnotic road started to calm her. She started feeling like she’d dodged a bullet. She didn’t need a cold, heartless man wrecking her peace of mind and breaking their child’s heart. Better that Santiago abandon them now rather than later.

By the third day, as the mile markers passed and she left the green rolling hills of east Texas behind, she started to recognize the familiar landscape of home, and her heart grew lighter. There was something soothing about the wide horizons stretching out forever, with nothing but sagebrush and the merciless summer sun in the unrelenting blue sky.

Feeling a sweet flutter inside her, Belle put a hand to her belly. “So be it,” she whispered aloud. This baby would be hers alone. She would spend the rest of her life appreciating this miracle, devoting herself to her child.

It was still morning, but already growing hot. The air conditioning in her pickup didn’t work, but both windows were rolled down, so it was all right. Though she was lucky it wasn’t raining because one of them wouldn’t roll back up.

As she drew in to the edges of her small town, she took a deep breath. Home. Though it wasn’t the same, without her younger brothers. Ray now lived in Atlanta and twenty-one-year-old Joe in Denver. But at least here, the world made sense.

But as she pulled into the dirt driveway, she abruptly slammed on the brake.

A big black helicopter was parked in the sagebrush prairie, tucked behind her house.

She sucked in her breath. A helicopter? Then she saw the two hulking bodyguards prowling nearby. That could only mean...

With an intake of breath, she looked straight at the old wooden house with the peeling paint. Her heart stopped.

Standing on the wooden porch, with arms grimly folded, was Santiago.

What was he doing here?