The Best Man's Baby Page 3

  A snippy voice yanked him from his thoughts. “So, what do you want to talk about?”

  He didn’t answer for a moment. He was caught off guard by how appealing she was. Claire was beautiful. Sure, he’d always sort of known that, but she’d been off-limits to him. He knew her father probably wouldn’t approve of them dating. As he looked at her, standing in her jeans and shirt on the other side of the breakfast bar, he wondered how he could have repressed his attraction to her for so many years.

  He let his eyes wander over her perfectly formed body, looking for a hint of something, even though he knew there were no physical signs of her pregnancy this early on.

  “Stop checking me out and start talking, Manning.”

  He didn’t know whether it was the glare or the Manning reference that made him want to smile, despite the gravity of the situation. He pulled out a mahogany bar stool, sat down, and leaned his elbows on the gleaming granite countertop. “You’re pregnant.”

  She sighed and rolled her eyes. “I think that’s already been established.”

  He smiled. He’d never noticed she was this sarcastic. He kind of liked it.

  “I guess I don’t have to ask if it’s mine.” The minute the words were out he wished he could suck them back into his big mouth. You’re a jerk, Manning. Why would you say that to her of all people? Oh yeah, because you’re nervous as hell. Snap out of it.

  Oh crap, her chin was starting to tremble. He knew then that he preferred the insults and anger to tears. He ducked his head. “Sorry, dumb comment.”

  “No, no. That’s a very good question. Since our magical night ended so quickly, I thought I’d jump into bed with five other guys. And because you’re father material, I thought I’d pin the paternity on you.”

  Ouch. Her distaste for him was palpable.

  He looked over at the vibrating BlackBerry on the counter, watching it turn gently.

  “Holly,” she groaned, glancing at the caller ID.

  “Yeah, they were kind of—” He stared at her and chose his words carefully. “Kind of floored.”

  She leaned her head back, looking up at the white ceiling. “I guess I made quite the scene back at Holly and Quinn’s.”

  “Yeah, you could say that. I think pandemonium might be an accurate description.”

  “I hope I didn’t ruin their barbecue.”

  He didn’t want to break it to her that a wild woman stabbing a used pregnancy stick in a hamburger wasn’t exactly a crowd-pleaser. In fact, he thought it best they both pretend it never happened, not that his brothers would ever let him live it down. And she’d just put him on very rocky territory with his new sister-in-law.

  “No, no, it was entertainment for the guests.” Jake watched her as she turned away from him and filled a vase with water and then started clipping the stems off her flowers in the kitchen sink.

  “I’ll bet.” She went from a half laugh to dead silence in a second. “What about Amanda? Was she able to disengage her hands from your ass?”

  His mouth went dry. So she had noticed the unsolicited passes. He hadn’t even invited Amanda. She was a temporary receptionist at their office and had practically thrown herself on the back of his bike after work. He’d thought the barbecue was just for the family, but he should have known Holly was going to invite Claire.

  “Amanda is a temp at our office.”

  She leaned her hip against the counter and glared at him. “A temp? A temp what?”

  “Receptionist.”

  She muttered something under her breath. “Right. It’s perfectly normal for an employee to grope her employer and wear next to nothing at a barbecue.” Okay, so she had him there. And really he had no intention of pursuing anything with Amanda. He hadn’t wanted to publicly turn her down in front of everyone, but he was planning on doing just that after the barbecue. Except things hadn’t gone exactly as planned.

  “Was she looking for a raise?”

  He stared at her expression, his body going completely still. Was that a trick question? When Claire’s cheeks suddenly turned bright pink, it became obvious she knew how that had sounded.

  “Never mind,” she said, pointing a fluffy pink flower at him. “Don’t answer that.”

  “Claire—”

  “Know what?” She tilted her head to the side, her brown eyes narrowing. “I don’t care. It doesn’t matter what you do with Octopus Barbie. You’re here to talk about the baby, right?”

  “We can talk about whatever you want to talk about.”

  “I don’t want anything or expect anything from you.”

  Whoa. That was not what he expected her to say. She turned back to clipping her flowers and left him staring at her profile. This wasn’t good. She was shutting him out.

  “You’re keeping the baby, right?” Even though he was trying to sound calm, he knew his voice sounded shaky.

  She glared over her shoulder at him. “Of course I am.”

  He let out a huge sigh. Problemo numero uno, solved.

  “Good. Well, I’m not going anywhere. I’m thirty-five years old. I’m not a child. This wasn’t planned, but that doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing.” He could tell by her expression she was shocked when she slowly turned to look at him. And yes, hearing the words come out of his mouth seemed a little odd. He sounded more like his brother Evan than himself. But he was not going to run anymore. No, he was going to do the right thing.

  She averted her eyes and tilted her chin up before speaking. “I thought we—you used a condom.”

  He shrugged and walked around the island to join her at the sink. It was filled with purple and pink flowers. “I did.”

  She bit her lip and looked out the window above the kitchen sink. “Oh. It broke?”

  He almost smiled, speaking to the top of her head. Her hair was shiny, and he knew for a fact it felt as silky as it looked. “Evidently.”

  She turned abruptly, looking up at him. Her eyebrows snapped together. “Did you buy the cheapest condoms you could find?”

  “I’m not cheap. I only buy premium condoms.”

  She waved her hand in front of her face. He could tell she was embarrassed by the direction the conversation was heading, but he didn’t like being called cheap. “In fact, I think those ones were premium ribbed and—”

  “Jake!” At that moment, with her face brighter than the pink flowers in the sink and her eyes wide with horror, he felt like kissing her more than laughing.

  “We are going to make this right. I’m not going to let you have this baby by yourself. I won’t run from my responsibilities. We can get married.”

  His eyes wandered down to her lips, which were open, probably in shock. He fought the urge to reach out and kiss her. Just to comfort her, of course. It had nothing to do with the full lip she remembered nibbling between his teeth and sucking on…

  “You’re kidding, right? Married? Us?”

  Jake frowned. Not exactly the reaction he was expecting. “Of course I’m not kidding.”

  “Uh, no.” She said, crossing her arms in front of her.

  “Why not?”

  “I’m not getting married to you because of some antiquated notion that you have to marry me because I’m the mother of your child.”

  He met her eyes. He didn’t get what she was saying. It didn’t make sense. She was raised by people who had traditional views on marriage and family. Her father was a minister. He had avoided her for the past five years because of her father, because despite how well he and her father got along, Jake knew he would not have wanted him dating Claire.

  “I want the whole package. I want to be married to someone I love. I want to fall in love. I don’t want to be married to a man who is forced to marry me. I don’t think it’s healthy for a child to be raised by two people who don’t love each other. I won’t live the rest of my life with someone who is marrying me to do the right thing. No way. I’m not marrying you.”

  Her voice was a little too calm, and he felt his stomach fill wi
th something akin to panic. Jake stared at her, trying to find an ounce of logic in what she was telling him. Okay, fine, so she wanted love, but things didn’t always go that way. But he was going to be here for her. He’d go to doctor’s appointments, help get ready for the baby…anything. So what if love wasn’t part of the “support” package he was offering? They didn’t have to be in love for their marriage to work.

  “I get the whole married-for-love concept—”

  “It’s not a concept.”

  “But we don’t have that option right now. We can get married and raise this baby. Who knows, maybe in the future—”

  “We can get divorced?” She smiled a smile he was quickly coming to identify as her sarcastic smarty-pants smile.

  He scowled. “What? No. Maybe in the future we’ll grow to love each other.”

  “People usually do that before they’re married. Right now we have to think about what’s best for all of us. You, me, and the baby. I’m not going to marry you because of duty or responsibility. The man I marry—”

  “You’re not marrying anyone else.” He tried to check his temper. No other man was going to be a father to his child.

  “Excuse me?” She matched his frown. Actually, hers was probably scarier. Especially when she stood on her tiptoes in a futile attempt to match his height.

  “I won’t let you.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and pressed down gently until she stood back on her heels. There was no way in hell she was getting married to some other man. Not in this lifetime. He balled his fists and stuck them in his pockets.

  “Funny, I don’t recall asking for your permission, Manning.” She poked his shoulder.

  He sighed. “Fine, fine, poor choice of words. We should get married. We made a baby together, don’t fight what comes next.”

  “I don’t want to be married to a man who leaves a woman in a hotel room right after having sex with her. I don’t want to be married to a man who then takes off without ever calling. And I certainly don’t want to be married to a man who takes another woman—”

  “Claire.” He felt sick to his stomach because everything she was saying was true, and somehow he’d managed to convince himself that what he’d done was okay. He’d paid the hotel bill on his way out and then tried unsuccessfully to forget about her for six weeks.

  She turned from him and started arranging flowers again.

  “Nope,” she said over her shoulder. “We’re not getting married. We are completely wrong for each other. Let’s face it, I’m not your type.”

  “What? What are you talking about now?”

  She spun around to look at him. “Maybe if you were kind of losing your hair.” She paused, waving the flowers around his head. He was trying his best to follow her train of logic, but he wasn’t hearing anything logical.

  “And maybe if you were thirty pounds heavier and wore your jeans a little higher we’d have a chance at making this work. But as it stands, nope.” She was shaking her head, and he realized he was, too.

  “So you want to marry an overweight, balding man who wears jeans up to his armpits?”

  She nodded and smiled, throwing the flowers into the sink. “Exactly!”

  “I’m not following you.”

  “You don’t need to. Just accept what I’m saying and let’s move on. We can come up with some sort of visitation agreement.”

  “And exactly where are you going to live?”

  She spread her arms out. He refused to look down at the nicely rounded breasts he just knew were straining against her T-shirt. This was the problem. This was exactly what had gotten him into the hotel room with her—she was too damn sexy. Her enticing floral smell, her curvy body, and those eyes that could tell him to drop dead or kiss him without saying a word, all made her bloody irresistible.

  He shook his head. “You can’t raise a baby in this house.”

  “Why not?” She folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot.

  “It’s the size of a shoe box.”

  “Oh, and like your place is any better?”

  Okay, so his one-room warehouse loft above the Manning Construction offices wasn’t exactly child-friendly.

  “We’ll find a new place together.”

  “I don’t think so,” she said and turned her back to him. Once again, he forced his eyes to focus on the top of her head and not on the back of her jeans. Pregnant women shouldn’t be allowed to wear tight jeans anyway. When things with her were on less shaky ground, he’d mention it.

  “Why are you so opposed to us trying to make this work?”

  “I told you. I am not going to marry someone who doesn’t want me.”

  “Oh, I want you. I’m serious, marry me.”

  …

  Claire stared at her socks. They were navy with pink embroidered flowers on them. She liked her socks. They were so her, conservative but cute. Not the socks Amanda would wear. Amanda probably didn’t even own socks. Or any sort of undergarment, unless it was held together only by thin strings. The sound of Jake clearing his throat brought her back to the reality that was this insane moment.

  “Claire.” Jake’s voice interrupted her thoughts. She looked into his eyes, wishing for a second that they could go back to that night when he’d stopped in the middle of the ballroom and danced with her. When she still thought of Jake as the man of her dreams. But they couldn’t. He’d left. She was pregnant. And now…

  “Marry me.” His voice was throaty, gruff, and filled with emotion.

  This wasn’t the way her marriage proposal was supposed to go. No, she had naively dreamed up hundreds of different ways Jake Manning would one day propose to her. But in her kitchen, because she was pregnant, out of duty, was not one of them.

  She shook her head. “I can’t. We would never work. This was not the way my life was supposed to go, Jake. I’ve always done what everyone expected me to. I’ve always played by the rules, and the one time I gave in I wind up pregnant. What kind of loser gets pregnant the first time she has sex?”

  “Uh, like a quarter of the population.”

  “Yeah, except they’re teenagers, not women who are almost thirty.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were a virgin?”

  She stopped moving and felt every muscle in her body tense. “None of your business. Completely irrelevant.”

  “Uh, yeah, my business. Yeah, important. That’s a big deal, Claire. You don’t just shock a guy with that.”

  She still didn’t turn around to face him. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”

  “Um, yeah. Very noticeable.”

  “What do you mean? Was I that pathetic?” The sheer humiliation of the fact she was actually asking him if she’d sucked in bed was almost worse than the answer she knew was coming. He leaned down to look at her. His expression wasn’t one of a man about to tell her how horrible she’d been.

  “Are you kidding?” His hands moved from her shoulders to her face. Why did the feel of his rough hands, so gentle on her skin, make her melt into a thousand little pieces? She met his eyes and wanted to walk into him, a part of her knowing he would wrap his arms around her and make her believe everything really was going to be okay.

  She backed herself as far away from him as she could, the counter edge digging into the small of her back. She stared at the tanned skin exposed at the opening of his sweater, and knew it would be hot beneath her fingers if she touched it. She didn’t want to meet his eyes. Jake was so not the right man for her.

  “Claire,” he whispered, the tenderness in his voice making tears prick her eyes. His hands cupped her face, his thumb grazing her cheekbone, all but forcing her chin up. She met his eyes and the expression on his face made her forget why she couldn’t be with him. When his thumb traced her lower lip, she knew she needed to get the topic back to their argument or she’d be a goner.

  “I’m doing this on my own,” she whispered.

  He frowned and pulled back slightly, his arms dropping his sides. “Yo
u’re not raising our child by yourself. I’m the baby’s father and I’m not going anywhere. And there’s no way in hell I’m letting another man raise my kid. Besides, how are you going to run your business and raise a child?”

  …

  Jake couldn’t believe she was arguing with him still. It took all of his concentration to keep up with the argument as well, because at the moment he was lost in Claire and how appealing she was. He had thought about her every day of those damn six weeks.

  “I have it all planned out.”

  “Let’s hear it,” he said folding his arms across his chest.

  “Fine.” She ducked away from him and marched out of the kitchen. He followed her into the hallway. She stalked into a small room that must have been her home office. It was white and pink, but he couldn’t believe what he was looking at. It couldn’t be.

  Claire had two giant dry-erase boards on easels, and she was standing in front of them with two markers, glaring at him. She looked like a cross between a very hot teacher and a very angry woman. He was toast. He looked at the complex flowcharts she had on each board and felt his stomach sink like a lead weight.

  “Here is plan A,” Claire said in a clipped voice, pointing to the board on her left. There was a big bubble in the middle that said “Keep the business” and then all these squiggly lines leading to other bubbles. This was bad. He scanned the chart—his name wasn’t there.

  “So if I decide to keep my business once the baby is born, I plan on modifying my schedule so we are closed on Sundays and Mondays. Right now we’re just closed on Monday. Then I plan on promoting Leigh, who has worked for me since I opened five years ago. She can handle all the day-to-day operations. I can do most of the design work from home. I will just go in for bridal appointments and on Saturdays when my mother can watch the baby.”

  His jaw was clenched so tightly it felt like it might snap, but he was not going to lose his cool. Right now he needed to be rational and calm. Never mind the fact he wasn’t in any part of plan A. Maybe plan B would involve him. That sounded more likely since he had never been in anyone’s plan A.