Return of the Secret Heir (5 page)

“I'm not
designing
hats. It's just a pragmatic solution when I can't find a suitable one.”

JT looked down into Pia's serious expression as they walked and wondered if she truly believed that. Had she sublimated her creative nature that far, or was she spinning him a line? Her eyes didn't flicker. She did believe it—she thought she was as straitlaced as her parents and sisters. Sure, he'd seen the signs when they'd met again—the conservative suits, the harshly pinned-back hair, the closed expression—but he'd thought it was a facade for her career's sake. And for his sake. But now it was obvious she truly believed it.

She'd forgotten the shape of her soul.

He rubbed a finger across his forehead. How was that possible? Perhaps it'd been the aftermath of losing their baby, when she'd closed herself off to him. It'd been the worst time of his life—perhaps it'd also been enough to rupture her self-image, her belief in her true self?

He blew out a long breath. Whenever it'd happened, whatever it was that had changed her from a free-spirited, joyful person, it was wrong. Suddenly desperate to ruffle her feathers, to mess up that oh-so-controlled mask she was wearing, he guided them away from the crowd, to another part of the garden that was open to tourists but seemed to be empty.

“Pia,” he said, low, as they walked, “you're not this person.”

Her gaze flew up to his, her violet eyes startled. “What do you mean?”

“This,” he waved a hand up and down her outfit, “is one of your sisters, not you.”

Her eyes hardened and her chin swung away as she spoke. “No, JT. I've grown up. Don't presume you know anything about me anymore.”

People grew up, sure, but they didn't change this much. There had to be the same person deep down inside her. “You're wilder, more creative, more dangerous than this.”

She shivered but her step didn't falter. “That was your influence. It was never the real me.”

His influence?
It'd been part of what attracted him to the teenaged Pia when he'd spied her at school on his first day. She'd been so free, so beautiful, so unpredictable.

They came to a greenhouse and he guided her inside to the hothouse flowers that scented the air with their ripe sweetness. “I think you're overestimating my ability to influence you. Sure I did some crazy things, but you were
the one who had us both breaking curfew to watch the sunrise from the top of my apartment building. And it was your idea to make love in the rain on my birthday.” His blood heated at the memory of that wild afternoon— Pia's hands all over him in a secluded part of her parents' garden, the chill of raindrops on his back, the heat of her body beneath his.

Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, a faraway look in her eyes, and he wondered if she was having the same stream of visual memories as he was. He slowed his steps until he came to a halt amid lush, damp ferns, and turned her to face him. The pulse at the base of her throat was chaotic.

“It was only when I was with you,” she denied. “That's not the real me.”

“Then why do you want to kiss me right now?” He stroked a fingertip lightly down the edge of her cheek, and a flush spread from her neck up to bloom across her face. “There might be no one around, but it's a public place. And you told me I'm off limits. The good girl you claim to be wouldn't be craving that forbidden fruit the way you are this very second.”

“I'm not craving you, JT,” she said. Her voice was resolute, but her mouth told a different story—her lips were parted, her breaths coming too fast. Oh, yeah. She was no good girl.

His heart thudded in his chest. “You want me so bad that you'd let me take you here if I tried.”

Her eyes flicked around their semiprivate enclosure and back to his mouth. “I wouldn't,” she said, her voice heavy with desire.

“Yeah, you would. Without a second thought.” He rubbed the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. “And God help me, I want you as much.”

He dipped his head beneath the brim of her hat and cradling her face in his palms, pressed his mouth to her soft lips. Without hesitation, her mouth opened to him as he'd known it would, her tongue met his, sliding decadently. A delicious shiver raced down his spine. As her hat slipped to the ground, her arms wound around his back, holding him tight, just where he wanted to be.

The heat of her mouth made all the blood in his body head south. The scent of her skin filled his head, her name resounded in his mind. Everything was Pia. And Pia was everything. Her hips swayed infinitesimally from side to side, setting every inch of him alight.

He couldn't get enough. He'd thought after making love to her three weeks ago that she'd be out of his system by now, but instead she'd been on his mind every waking moment. Thoughts of her lush curves in his hands—the same curves that were pressed against him now. There were too many clothes in the way.

As he reached for her shoulder strap, her kisses became gradually lighter. He groaned his protest, then she pressed a hand to his chest. His head began to clear from the fog of desire and he was thankful for her presence of mind—he'd been in danger of forgetting they were in a public place and someone could walk into the greenhouse at any time. Taking his cue from her, he moved to kiss the edge of her jaw, then he leaned his forehead on hers, breathing heavily.

“JT,” she murmured.

He loved the way she said his name. “Yeah, princess?”

“I'm not feeling that well,” she said, voice weak.

It might not be the best reaction he'd ever had to his kiss, but he was suddenly alert. Lifting her chin, he peered into her eyes. Her pupils were dilated, although that was probably from her arousal. He stroked her back, trying
to bring some comfort, then almost as if in slow motion, her face was leached of its color and she went limp in his arms. He caught her as alarm flared in his chest.

Sweeping her up, he carried her to a nearby bench before laying her carefully along its length. He shrugged out of his jacket and rolled it for a pillow. Her skin was so pale normally that now it was almost translucent. He could see the tiny blue veins beneath the surface, and a fine sheen of perspiration beginning to coat her forehead. His gut clenched tight and twisted.

“Pia, wake up,” he said urgently, stroking the sides of her face.

Her eyelids fluttered for agonizing seconds, then they opened revealing darkened eyes looking up at him. He said a silent prayer of thanks and let out a long breath.

“JT.” Her voice was dreamy and trembled a little, but it was enough to show him she was fine. Then her eyes drifted shut once more.

No, not again. “Pia, open your eyes,” he said in a harsh whisper.

“I'm okay,” she whispered. “Just give me a moment.”

He sat back on his haunches, his pulse slowing to its normal speed.

Any minute now, she was going to be embarrassed and probably come out swinging—he'd witnessed a momentary lapse of control. The decent thing to do would be to give her a target to swing at.

Her eyes slowly opened and she looked around before her unfocused gaze landed on him.

“You know,” he said with a smile, “it's not every day I have a woman swoon in my arms.”

She blinked up at him, then frowned. “I didn't swoon.”

Under other circumstances he might have laughed. Even before Pia had become oh-so-proper, she would have hated
seeing herself as the swooning type—he'd chosen the word purposefully. He pushed a little further, wanting to see her fighting spirit back. “Do you prefer faint, perhaps?”

She scowled and put her hands to her temples as she swung her legs down and gingerly sat up.

“Then what word would you use to describe kissing me one moment like your life depended on it, and then next you're limp and unconscious in my arms?”

She tucked the strands of fire-red hair that had come loose from her braid behind her ears. “I had a bit too much sun. It's called sunstroke.”

“Of course. That's it.” He inclined his head, attempting an expression of reasonableness. “Except for that one minor detail—we're not in the sun.”

“We were earlier.” She waved a hand in the air. “Delayed sunstroke.”

“Is that an actual condition?” He bent to pick up her bright blue hat and handed it to her.

She took the hat and shoved it on her head with a little too much force. “You think it was your kiss, JT?” she accused, eyes flashing.

There. Her fighting spirit, her passion, was back. His chest released the tension that had been cramping it tight. He folded his arms and rocked back on his heels, happy to tease her now for its own sake.

“Well,” he drawled, “I'm not buying your delayed sunstroke theory. Although now I think about it, you fainted in my arms once before. Remember?” He'd taken her for a ride down by the river on a bike he'd just finished rebuilding, and they were walking along the river's edge. Luckily he'd had an arm around her waist and had been able to catch her. Especially because she'd been pregnant.

The blood in his veins froze.

She'd been
pregnant
.

All traces of humor gone, he dropped his arms to his sides. “Pia, tell me you're not pregnant with my child.”

Her eyes became large and round. “I'm not. I can't be.” But her huge eyes reflected that same concern, then slid away. She'd wondered the same thing, too. And she was just as horrified by the prospect.

His head pounded. He stroked his fingers across his scalp to try to relieve some of the pressure building there. He had to do something, use the adrenaline coursing through his body. Find out the facts so they could make a plan.

He looked down at her, sitting on the bench. So vulnerable despite her reluctance to admit it. This situation needed to be addressed as soon as possible for both their sakes. “Are you okay to walk?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice wavering on the one word. Tentatively, she stood and smoothed down her dress before facing him with a falsely bright smile.

“Good.” He nodded once. “We're leaving. I'll bring my car to the side entrance so you don't have to walk far.”

She stood a little straighter, seeming to have found her strength again. “We didn't come together.”

“No, but we're leaving together.” With a hand at the small of her back, he guided her out into the sunlight, back to the real world. “Don't worry, you won't be seen with me—my car has tinted windows and you won't need to get out.”

She allowed him to lead her, but she held her chin high, not capitulating completely. “Where are you proposing we go?”

“To the nearest drugstore.” He looked down into her anguished eyes and felt that same emotion coursing through his body. “To buy a pregnancy test.”

T
hey pulled up outside her apartment in JT's silver coupe, but Pia didn't move. She sat, gripping the pregnancy test, stomach churning, wishing she were anywhere but here, about to do this test. Why had she thought she was safe? She'd been taking her daily protection, but hadn't considered that her cold might reduce the pill's effectiveness.

JT had been silent on the trip, probably as lost in his own thoughts and memories as she'd been in hers. The first time they'd taken a pregnancy test together, they'd been scared, but so full of love for each other and the life they'd created that anything had seemed possible. Both so certain they'd be together forever, starting a family had seemed natural and thrilling, if earlier than they'd planned.

What had they known?
Her heart spiraled low. They'd been two clueless teenagers with rose-tinted glasses. The family they'd planned had become a train wreck—their
little girl gone before she'd lived, and her parents not seeing each other again until now.

She glanced over at JT's profile as he stared out the windshield, his hands clutched tight to the steering wheel of his stationary car. This was an even less auspicious start for a child than Brianna's had been.

Please, God, don't let me have brought a baby into this mess.

And yet a rebel flicker registered behind her breastbone, an awakening of maternal yearning. She squeezed her eyes shut against its power. Not here. Not now. Not with this man.

JT blew out a harsh breath and pulled his keys from the ignition. “Let's get this over with.”

“JT, if—”

“We'll do the test first,” he said with harsh certainty, “and talk about everything else after we know the result.” He stepped from the car, ending any chance for discussion.

She sighed. He was right. There was no point generating options until they had the facts of the situation. She released her seat belt as JT opened her door. Searching his face for his feelings, she took his extended hand and stepped out onto the sidewalk, but his aviator sunglasses effectively hid any clues.

He placed an impersonal hand at her back as they crossed the street, passed through her foyer and into her apartment. Despite the gesture being something she knew his mother had drilled into him and it having no meaning, Pia drew strength from his palm's warmth as it seeped through to her skin.

Once they were inside, he dropped his hand and she felt the loss keenly, which only brought a new concern to the fore—she couldn't allow herself to depend on JT, not even in this minor way. She was an adult who needed
no one to lean on. She stretched to her full height. “This will take a few minutes. Perhaps you could…” She made a waving gesture with her hand, not really sure what she wanted him to do in the meantime.

He scrubbed his hands through his hair, as if waking from a trance. “I'll make coffee.”

“Good idea,” she said, then walked on unsteady legs to the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

Conflicting emotions swirled through her veins in a nauseous dance. Fear that she was pregnant foolishly fought with fear that she might not be. She leaned back against the cool wood of the door. Did she want there to be a baby or didn't she? If she wasn't pregnant, would she be relieved…or would she be devastated that she'd lost another chance at motherhood?

Her eyes slowly lifted to meet their reflection in the mirror, and held. She looked as terrified as she felt—eyes too wide, lips quavering, skin bleached of color. Part of her wanted to rush and get this over with, get past this mind-numbing unknowing. The other part pulled her back, fighting against finding out—not wanting to confirm that she was pregnant, not wanting to miss out on motherhood again…

And then there was JT. If this test showed she wasn't pregnant, she'd show him the door and never be caught alone with him again. If she
was
carrying his baby…

Breaking the connection, she ripped open the packet and performed the test quickly, trying to think of something—anything—else.

When it was done, she slipped into her bedroom and changed out of her blue dress and heels and into soft pants and a sweater, wanting the reassurance of comfortable clothes to face what lay ahead.

Picking up the little stick that would foretell her fate,
she emerged into the kitchen. JT stood at the counter, three mugs in front of him, eyes squeezed shut, skin pulled taut over his face. What was going on in his mind—was he sending up a prayer for the test to be negative? Bargaining for the chance to walk away from her? She bumped a chair and he swung toward her, his eyes wide and alert, yet giving away no clues to his silent thoughts.

She dug one hand into her pants pocket to stop it fidgeting, and held the test aloft with the other. “It has about two more minutes. We need to wait the full five minutes for a definite result.”

Relaxing a fraction, he nodded, then gestured to the steaming mugs. “I wasn't sure whether you'd be having coffee or herbal tea, so I made one of each.”

Her eyes stung with emotion at his thoughtfulness, but she blinked the moisture away. “Because we don't know yet, I'll take the herbal tea.”

He handed her a peppermint-fragrant mug, his gaze on the stick in her other hand. “Are those tests accurate?”

“The box says ninety-seven percent.” Fingers still tightly wrapped around the test, she walked to her window seat—her favorite spot in the garden apartment. She'd made cushions from pale pink satin and covered the foam base with a checked rose-pink fabric. She hesitated as it occurred to her that the colors were those in the bunny rug she'd bought for Brianna. Perhaps that's why this was her favorite place to sit. She folded her legs up underneath her and sipped the tea. She wasn't even sure where that rug had gone—it'd simply disappeared from her cupboard when she arrived home from the hospital.

JT dragged a dining chair over and sat within touching distance, all the while keeping his eyes trained on the clock on her wall. She didn't need to watch, the ticking was loud in her ears, counting down to her fate.

“It's been a couple of minutes,” he said as he turned to her.

She pointlessly looked up at the clock. Swallowing her fear, she lifted the stick.

Double pink lines.

Her stomach plummeted and her vision blurred as she thrust the stick at JT. She was pregnant. The entire world shifted on its axis leaving her dizzy.

JT took it from her numb fingers. “We're pregnant,” he said, his voice barely a rasp.

Unable to find her own voice, she nodded. Silence, heavy with all neither of them said, descended over her living room. Perhaps sensing the change in the emotional atmosphere, Winston appeared and leaped onto her lap. She put her tea down on the window sill and absently stroked the cat's soft fur, taking the comfort he offered.

She was pregnant for the second time in her life. By the same man. The child conceived in the same spot.

The room began a slow spin around her.

JT cleared his throat. “What do you want to do?”

She understood his meaning—it was the issue they hadn't once discussed the first time. And this time, having learned that JT's own father had wanted him disposed of, she knew, if anything, his feelings would be stronger. Hers were the same without question, despite the tangled web their decision would create.

“I'm keeping it.” This was a tiny little life and nothing would ever hurt it, she'd make sure of that.

“Yes,” he said, gripping his mug as if it were a lifeline.

But everything else would be different this time. This time she wouldn't have any naive romantic notions about JT and their future. That direction led inevitably to heartache.

“In case you're wondering, I don't expect anything from
you.” She rubbed the purring Winston's ears, not looking at JT. “There's no need to get married or create any artificial situation here.”

“I wasn't planning on proposing. I won't go down that track again. But this baby has a right to expect everything I can give. And she or he will get it,” he said with a quiet fierceness.

She'd known he'd support their baby in any way possible. Some things may change over the years, but that core of decency and his love of children wouldn't alter. If this baby made it to term, it couldn't wish for a better father than JT.

If.

With her lower lip caught between her teeth, her hand crept to her stomach. Losing another baby was inconceivable. Her throat ached with years of repressed memories, with the self-recriminations and the grief that haunted her dreams at night. Nothing would hurt this baby. Certainly not her.

“I won't make the same mistakes this time, JT,” she vowed. She wouldn't take a single risk. “I'll be careful.”

He nodded. “Of course you will.” Then his gaze—hyperalert now—snapped back to her, and he put down his mug. “Pia, you weren't to blame for Brianna's death.”

She frowned as she tried to read his features—was he bolstering her up or did he really believe that? “Of course I was. Brianna paid the price for my recklessness. If I hadn't been climbing out the window to run away from home, she'd be alive now.” Her teeth clenched as the pain ate into her heart. She'd killed her own baby through bad choices. It'd been the night she'd realized she needed to grow up and stop taking irresponsible risks. That she needed to make a break from her unhealthy obsession with JT. “She was totally dependent on me, and I failed her.”

JT leaned back in his chair, reeling from the double shock that had been lobbed his way. They were having a baby. Again. And he'd had no idea Pia had blamed herself for Brianna's death all these years.

“If you want to cast blame, try your parents. Instead of supporting you, they put you in a situation where you had to escape. Or me for not standing up to them more so you could have walked out their front door.” And hadn't he wished for fourteen years he'd done exactly that? “Besides, it was an accident, Pia, and you were a teenager.”

“Yes, I was. But I'm not a child now. Things will be different.”

You'd better believe things will be different.
Forcing himself to harden his heart, he reached for his coffee again and gulped a mouthful. He wasn't a child anymore either—he wouldn't let himself be carried away by the baby or Pia this time. Wouldn't let fairy-tale images of women who honored their promises cloud his reason.

“They'll be different,” he said, “but just so we're clear, I'll stand by you.”

A smile flickered across her face, then left again just as quickly. “I know you will, but thank you for saying it.” She picked up her cat and held him against her chest and it struck him how maternal she was with the cat. She hadn't had another baby, but she was still mothering someone.

Then her face paled. “JT, my job. Ted will be furious.”

She was probably right, but his mind was already reeling—he didn't have room to sort through other details yet. “We'll work something out.”

“You're right, I'll think about that one tomorrow,” she said with a grimace. “But in the meantime, I guess we should start making some plans.”

Everything inside him recoiled. “No.” Standing by her was a different proposition to becoming emotionally
involved. He'd provide everything he could to Pia in her pregnancy, but there was one thing that no force of nature could make him do—plan ahead. “We'll just take it as it comes for the moment.”

Memories of cuddling together and choosing names, of buying booties and making decisions about sleeping routines pushed at his mind, but he wasn't going there. If the pregnancy went to term, they could talk about that then. It would destroy him to plan ahead, to become excited, to open his heart, and be crushed into the ground again. Those days when he'd lost first Brianna then Pia had been the lowest point imaginable. Beyond despair, beyond agony. Most of what he remembered was shrouded in darkest gray and was thick with a dragging weight that could draw him down if he let himself dwell on it.

“JT?” Pia asked, her voice uncertain.

He shook his head quickly to release the black cobwebs that covered his mind. “I have to go.” He jumped up, needing air, to get out.

“Okay,” she said faintly.

He clenched his fists, restraining himself from running out her front door, determined to walk out like a sane person. “I'll call you later,” he said through a tight jaw and headed for the sanctuary of his car.

 

After an almost-sleepless night spent tossing and worrying, Pia was heading for the kitchen when she saw JT's silver coupe pull up on the street. Eight o'clock on a Sunday morning was early to drop by, but when he emerged her entire body woke up and stretched in a way that had nothing at all to do with surprise. Rumpled dark hair and aviator sunglasses led her eyes down to a black polo shirt that pulled taut over his biceps as he reached into the backseat and pulled out shopping bags. When
he stepped around the back of the car, the sight of faded denims sitting low on his hips incited thoughts of muscled thighs and…

She gripped the curtain and groaned. If she was to spend time with the father of her baby, somehow she had to find a way to rein in her recalcitrant mind. And her rebellious body.

But in some ways, it felt
good
to have thoughts that didn't involve anguish. Even if they were about JT. She buzzed him into the foyer and before he could knock, she opened the door.

“Good morning, JT.”

“Morning.” He edged past her and deposited the bags on her kitchen counter. “These are for you.”

She reached for one and peeped in. It was full of pill bottles and packets—large ones, small ones, brightly colored, some in pastels, many with pictures of a pregnant woman on the front. She looked up at him with an arched eyebrow.

He shrugged muscled shoulders. “The woman at the drug store said you should have these.”