Claimed: The Pregnant Heiress (16 page)

He hadn't managed to get all their clothing off, but he didn't care. Another directive was already crashing down on him, compelling him to act. Bed. Get onto the bed. He eased her backward, falling into a shimmering slice of heaven. In one swift motion he ripped her pantyhose from her legs and shredded her thong. And then he cupped her. Her sweet, delicate scent drove him insane, as did the burning heat of her.

In. In. In. He knew that's what came next, but for the life of him he couldn't seem to get past the softness of her or the generous give of her body or the heady impact she had on every last one of his five senses. He just wanted to wallow in the moment, lapping it up in great greedy gulps. Maybe he would have if she hadn't taken the initiative away from him by unzipping his trousers and freeing him.

She filled her hands with him, the coolness against his overheated flesh nearly unmanning him. She shaped him. Stroked. Squeezed until his brain almost exploded. But it
was her sigh that was the final straw. It was the sort of sigh women made when they bit into a particularly delectable sliver of chocolate. The sort of sigh they made when they closed their eyes and rolled it across their tongue, savoring the sweet explosion of flavor. The sort of sigh that made women think of rich, dark Godiva and men think of rich, dark sex.

That sigh did him in.

He lifted her, parted her, surged toward salvation, sheathing himself in one swift motion. Her cry of encouragement compelled him, drove him to take her harder and faster, no matter how much he might want to slow the moment. Savor it. He tried to build gradually toward the glittering peak, but the enormity of it all crashed over him like a wave driven before a gale.

He slammed into his climax, sweeping her along with him, shaken to the very core, drained dry in one immense release. He gave her everything he had, heart and mind, body and soul. And it was in that moment of complete and utter clarity—a moment stripped of all artifice and control, a moment that left him more vulnerable than he could ever remember—that he faced the incontrovertible truth.

He loved Emma. He worshipped her. She was his everything and always would be. No matter what it took, he'd prove that to her. Bind her and protect her, encourage and support her. And he'd love her beyond reason until the end of his days. He started to tell her, to confess how deeply he cared. But by the time the power of speech returned, Emma was sound asleep.

 

A faint
ping
awoke Emma the next morning, along with an irritating vibration. She lifted her head and glared in the direction of the nightstand table. Someone had sent an email message to her BlackBerry.

She groped for the phone and accessed the message with a yawn, struggling to make sense of it. She stared blurry-eyed at the words for an endless moment before the scramble of letters rearranged itself into cogent sentences.

Chase, thanks for distracting Emma these past few weeks. Or should I say thanks for seducing her into compliance? She can't cause me any further problems now. Consider your job officially done. When do you return to NY? Rafe

I
t took several long seconds for the message to sink in.

The instant it did, Emma exploded from the bed. All this time. All this time she believed Chase actually cared for her, that he was falling in love with her. That even if there'd been no baby, something existed between them that promised a future together.

But with one simple message all her foolish dreams shattered, scattering around her like shards of glass, ready to cut and stab the unwary. Tears burned her eyes. She'd certainly been unwary, hadn't she? Instead of finding something lasting, something enduring, she'd placed her trust in the most fragile of commodities. A man who put finances ahead of every other consideration. A man like her father.

She'd trusted Chase, someone who made his living playing the odds. This time he'd played the odds with her and almost pulled it off. He would have pulled it off, if she hadn't gotten that email.

He didn't love her. Couldn't love her. He simply wanted to
ensure that his child didn't come into the world a bastard. All this time she'd believed he was nothing like The Barron. And all this time, Chase had been a perfectly replicated chip off the old Barron block. She'd witnessed her own mother's devastation when Ronald Worth had been unable to love her the way she craved. How it had destroyed her. Marriage to Chase would guarantee that history repeated itself.

Emma yanked out the spare clothes she kept stashed in the closet of the master bedroom. How could she have been so foolish? Chase had been upfront about his plan to marry her for the sake of their child. He'd even suggested a temporary marriage. Whatever it took so long as their baby came into the world bearing his name. When that hadn't worked, he'd used any and all means within his power—including seducing her—to achieve his ends. She dressed in quick, jerky movements, struggling to see through eyes gone blind with tears.

Even better, his grand seduction had kept her distracted by emotion at a time she should have focused her energy on protecting the employees of Worth Industries. Not Worth Industries, not anymore. Cameron Enterprises. Rafe's employees would be the ones to suffer now if he decided to strip Worth bare.

Emma fought to button her jeans, dismayed to discover they wouldn't close anymore. It was the last straw. Tears flowed freely. She heard the rush of pounding water coming from the bathroom. She wouldn't get a better opportunity to escape than while Chase showered. She glanced down at herself and groaned. She didn't doubt for a moment that she looked like a madwoman. Her hair was a mess, the buttons of her blouse were in all the wrong holes, her jeans gaped and not a scrap of makeup concealed the hollow, bruised expression edging her face.

Once upon a time, she'd have been conscious of representing Worth Industries whenever she stepped out the front door. A tearful laugh broke free. Only it wasn't Worth Industries
anymore, she reminded herself yet again. She'd stood right outside the beautifully landscaped corporate campus while Rafe lifted his arm, and with a snap of his fingers, changed Worth Industries into Cameron Enterprises. Now she didn't have anyone to represent but herself.

The shower shut off, warning that if she planned to avoid a confrontation with Chase, she'd better leave soon. The two BlackBerrys sat side by side on the nightstand table and she approached, examining each to determine which was whose. She scanned the incriminating email on Rafe's one final time and started to hit the “Mark Unopened” option. Her thumb hovered over the button.

Why bother? she finally decided. Let him see she'd read it. Let him know she'd uncovered his scheme. She tossed Chase's BlackBerry onto his pillow, the message glowing up at her with malicious glee. Then she stripped off her engagement ring and put it alongside the phone. Snatching up her purse, she swept from the bedroom and straight out the front door.

 

Chase entered the bedroom, a towel knotted at his waist, another slung around his neck. “Emma?”

The only reply to his call was the sound of the front door slamming closed. He scanned the room in a swift, all-encompassing glance. Emma's clothing no longer decorated the floor. The closet door gaped and the spare outfit she kept stored there was gone. Her purse was also missing. His gaze landed on the bed and the diamond ring that glittered alongside his BlackBerry. He snatched up both, read Rafe's email and swore viciously.

It didn't take any of his finely tuned analytical skills to guess what had happened. He reached the front door in five seconds flat and jerked it open. Emma was just backing out of the space where she'd parked her car the night before. He planted himself squarely in her path. Her brakes squealed and the car bumper bounced to a stop inches from his kneecaps.

He circled the car to her driver's-side door and made a circular, rolling-down motion. She lowered the tinted window, her expression one of undisguised fury. But it was the tears sliding down her cheeks that hit him like a fist to the gut. “It's not what you think,” he informed her.

“Don't hand me that, Chase. It's exactly what I think. Rafe's been calling the shots from the minute we met. For all I know he arranged for our accidental meeting back in November so you could gather intel on the Worths even then.” She wrapped annoying little air quotes around the words
accidental meeting
.

“Damn it, Emma, that's not true and you know it.” He shot a hand through his damp hair. “Be reasonable. Come back inside and let's discuss the situation in a rational manner like two civilized adults. I'm practically naked here, honey.”

She shook her head before he even finished speaking. “As far as I'm concerned there's nothing left to discuss.”

Son of a bitch! “I'm not going to stand out here in a towel arguing with you.”

“I didn't ask you to.” She threw the car in Reverse and pulled out of the parking spot. “Let it go, Chase. You and Rafe both got what you wanted. Be satisfied with that.”

“You're pregnant with my child, Emma. That hasn't changed.”

“No, it hasn't, but I'll tell you what.” She smiled brightly, a difficult proposition considering the tears overflowing her eyes. “I'll get you the number of our family lawyer and you can funnel all of your concerns and requests through him.”

She didn't give him time to offer any further arguments. She hit a button and her window silently rose, hiding her from view. Before he could think of a way to stop her, she pulled down the drive, through the gate and onto the main road. Turning, Chase shot back into the condo. He threw on jeans, snagged a shirt and shoved his feet into a pair of loafers. Finally, he snatched up his wallet, BlackBerry—damn Rafe to hell—her
engagement ring and his car keys. The entire process took a precious four minutes. Four minutes during which Emma was screaming down the road away from him.

Slamming out of the condo, he hopped into the Fiorano and started the engine with a muted roar. Then he went after her. It didn't matter what it took. It didn't matter what he had to say or promise. Nothing mattered more to him than Emma. His hands clenched around the steering wheel.

Dear God, how he loved her.

Chase shook his head in disbelief. He'd always been so careful, so guarded. Emotions were dangerous. Once people knew which buttons to push, they could get to you and twist you to their agenda. They could hurt you. He'd learned his lesson well at the great age of ten. He'd learned to hide behind a carefully constructed facade. To bury his emotions deep where no one would find them or touch them or wound what mattered most to him. But with Emma…

She'd found a way beneath his guard. Maybe it was because they were both wounded. Maybe because one wary, battered soul recognized another. She'd been hurt, too, and had learned to guard herself just as he had. But from the moment they'd first touched, that had changed. The trappings had melted away, leaving a core of honesty between them.

Chase's mouth tightened. Or it had until Rafe screwed things up. Until Rafe destroyed that fragile, delicate connection, tainting it with doubt and suspicion. He pulled off the highway at the exit Emma would have taken to return to the Worth estate. He wanted to get to her before she had the opportunity to barricade herself behind thick walls and locked doors. Before Ronald could step between them and interfere. To explain to her how it had all gone down and let her see the truth in his eyes and hear it in his voice. To confess what he should have last night.

To tell her he loved her.

Traffic grew heavier and the lights turned against him, but
he managed to dart and weave his way forward until he caught a glimpse of a distinctive white BMW. Okay, if he squeezed around a couple more cars and hit one of the next few lights just right—an iffy proposition, he was forced to admit—he'd have her. He didn't want to get too close. He wasn't racing her, merely pacing the drive so he'd pull into the Worth estate right on her bumper.

At the next intersection, she turned right and a hard, grim smile ripped across his mouth. Perfect. He'd have her within the next block. He made the turn and saw Emma sitting at a red light. She was the first in line and there were several cars stacked between them. With luck she wouldn't notice him, though with a screaming red Ferrari, it was a bit tough to fade into the background. Black, he reminded himself. Next time he'd rent a black car. You just couldn't go wrong with basic black. The light turned green and Emma pulled into the intersection.

And that's when it happened.

One minute life proceeded along normal, if turbulent channels, and the next it was unalterably changed, never to be the same again. A pickup came shooting through the light at a right angle to Emma's BMW. It was the oddest sensation. Everything slowed, like a recording put on pause and then allowed to creep forward frame by hideous frame. It seemed as though someone had pushed the mute button on the sound, as well, though for years afterward the screech of brakes and shriek of metal would wrench Chase from a dead sleep, shouting out a futile warning.

Pure raw sunshine shot down from the heavens, spotlighting the intersection. He opened his mouth, thought he roared out a single word…“No!” But he couldn't be certain. Maybe he called Emma's name. Maybe both. The black pickup, all tricked out with flames painted on the side and chrome everything, careened along its path of doom. It had been jacked up off the ground with special suspension and huge off-road tires that
chewed up deserts and blasted through mud. This time it blasted through Emma.

Her dainty cabriolet never stood a chance. The truck T-boned the smaller vehicle, sending it careening like a Ping-Pong ball, slamming first into the post of a streetlight and then into a helpless car sitting at the same red light the pickup had run. The BMW came to a rest, unrecognizable as the car it had once been, smoke and steam pouring from the crumbled bits and pieces that remained.

For a brief instant everything froze, a frightening tableau that defied understanding and belief. Then all hell broke loose. Around him people scrambled for their cells. Others ran toward the scene of the crash. The driver of the pickup stumbled out of the cab and dropped to the pavement on his hands and knees. No movement came from the BMW.

Every ounce of athletic grace and ability deserted Chase in those precious moments after the accident. He fumbled for the door and couldn't seem to figure out how to operate the handle. When he finally got it opened, he tripped, losing one of his shoes. He kicked off the other and ran barefoot toward the scene of the accident. Bare-chested, too, since he'd never gotten around to shrugging on his shirt. Not that he cared. In that moment, nothing mattered but Emma. He dodged open car doors and milling witnesses, evading the hands that reached for him, ignoring the incomprehensible words tossed his way.

By the time Chase reached the intersection, the police were on the scene. He didn't understand where they'd come from or how they'd arrived so quickly. He could only thank God they had. Right until one of the officers stopped him from getting to Emma.

The policeman straight-armed him, holding him at bay. “Please stay back, sir.”

“No!” He knocked the officer's arm away. “You don't understand. I have to get to Emma—”

The arm came up again, this time fisting around his biceps.
Sunlight bounced off the gold name tag he wore. Garcia. Officer Garcia. Of course. It would be. “I said, stand back. There's an injured woman. We need to keep the area clear for emergency personnel.”

“She's mine. That woman is mine. It's Emma. Emma Worth.”

Garcia's eyes widened. “The Worth heiress? Ronald Worth's daughter?”

“Yes.” Chase attempted to shove past the officer again. “Let me through. She's my fiancée. I have to get to her.”

Sympathy gleamed in the cop's eyes. “I'm sorry, I can't let you do that. There's a doctor with her now. He was in the vehicle behind hers.”

Chase fought to breathe. “Is she…?” He sucked air into his lungs, unable to use the
d
word, but Garcia understood.

“No, no. She's alive. But you have to let them work on her.”

“She's pregnant.” He strained to move past the policeman. “She's pregnant with my baby.”

“We'll let the doctor know. We'll also let him know you're here.” Compassion rippled across Garcia's expression and colored his voice. “As soon as he okays it, I'll let you through, I promise.”

“I need to be with her.”

“Trust me, I understand.”

The next five minutes felt like an eternity, filled with fear and helplessness. In the distance Chase heard a siren gradually, oh, so gradually, approaching. It seemed to be moving in slow motion like everything else around him. At long last one of the policemen stationed beside the remains of Emma's car waved in Garcia's direction.

“Go ahead,” the officer instructed.