All He Needs (All or Nothing) (33 page)

T
he traffic from Heathrow had been an utter nightmare, so three hours later, Dominic was in Dr. Bryce Clifton’s personal office, his shoes leaving prints in the plush carpet as he crossed the large room. The paneled office was elegantly appointed, the eighteenth-century fireplace still in working order, a real Canaletto on the wall, antique furniture artfully placed to best show its lines. The doctor clearly made a very good living. Dominic almost asked,
Is Amanda Parducci your patient?
but he didn’t want to involve her. Katherine wouldn’t have found this man otherwise though. Clifton wasn’t the kind of doctor who advertised.

“Please, sit,” the doctor smoothly offered. Dominic’s name had granted him immediate access.

“Thank you.” Dominic chose the larger of two Sheraton armchairs placed before an impressive desk and sat.

Dr. Clifton took note of Dominic’s double-breasted, navy with white chalk stripes vicuna suit. “Anderson and Sheppard?”

Dominic flicked a quick glance downward. “The lapels always give it away, don’t they?” He’d worn the fifty-thousand-dollar suit for a reason. The world’s rarest and most expensive fabric was an indulgence for only the very wealthy. It was official notice of his status.

“Yes, indeed. A signature feature.” The doctor showed
his perfect teeth in a polished smile; his hair implants were equally impeccable. “Now, how may I help you?”

Dominic returned the doctor’s smile. “You recently saw a Miss Katherine Hart. I’d like to know the particulars of her visit.”

“That’s impossible, of course. Patient confidentiality, you understand.” The doctor’s smile was still in place. He folded his hands on his immaculate desktop. “The law is quite clear, Mr. Knight.”

Dominic’s brows lowered marginally and his smile was only slightly less pleasant. “Spare me the lecture, Doctor. I know all that. But the matter is of some importance to me,” he noted gently, rather than hit the smug bastard.

“Then you should take it up with Miss Hart,” the doctor said irritably, unfamiliar with being countermanded.

“I intend to. But she’s back at work and she doesn’t like to be disturbed.” Dominic’s voice was exquisitely restrained. “I couldn’t help but notice your Canaletto,” he added, glancing at the beautifully framed and lighted painting. “
The Horse Guards
—isn’t it?”

“Yes.” The doctor immediately preened. “It was done when Canaletto was in England.”

“He has a way with light, doesn’t he? Atmospheric. You can almost feel the sun. I’ve seen another rendition, but not so fine a one as yours. Have you had it long?”

“It’s been in my wife’s family for generations,” the doctor said proudly.

And yet it was in his office—greedy fuck. Although that might make things easier.
Dominic took his phone from his suit coat pocket, quickly brought up a few screens, and
leaning forward turned the phone to the doctor. “Have you seen this Canaletto?
The Doge’s Palace
. It’s equally good.”

“I have.” The avaricious light in the doctor’s eyes was bright as a beacon. “The Hamilton Gallery has had it for sale since March.”

“Why don’t I buy it?” Dominic said smoothly. “What’s your address here?” He knew the address. He just wanted a commitment from the doctor.

Ten seconds.

Fifteen.

Dominic leaned back, tapped the screen a few times. “There. I can always use another Canaletto if you don’t want it.” He looked up and smiled at the doctor. Then he stared at the screen for a second more before he chuckled. “Douglas said he’d open his reserve whiskey for me. I’ve bought a few things from him over the years. Where should I tell him to send it?”

Dr. Clifton struggled with his conscience for only a few seconds more. Then he gave Dominic his address.

Dominic keyed in the doctor’s address, turned off his phone, and slipped it back in his pocket. “They’ll deliver it tomorrow at two. I hope you enjoy it. Now then.” He needed confirmation, not secondhand information.

“You understand my responsibility to my patients,” Dr. Clifton said, looking Dominic in the eye like any good horse trader who never gives anything away.

Dominic smiled. “Of course.”

“So I can neither confirm nor deny that Miss Hart is twelve weeks’ pregnant. Nor can I confirm or deny that she is in excellent health.”

Dominic sat quietly for a moment, absorbing the quick shot of happiness. Then he came to his feet. “Thank you, Dr. Clifton.” He dipped his head. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

Dominic left the office, a million thoughts tumbling through his brain, a continuous flicker of a smile twisting his mouth as he got in his car and was driven to Eaton Place. According to the doctor, Katherine was three months’ pregnant. Which meant he
should
have used a condom the night she’d had the shot. He smiled faintly. As if any man alive could have refused her huge, pleading eyes when she’d said softly, “Just don’t. Please?”

But fond memories aside, he had a problem on his hands.

Because he was still in hock to Gora for two more weeks or slightly more, depending on the birth of Gora’s son.

An inflexible interval. On the other hand, he expected it would take at least that much time for any woman to plan her wedding. So he had only to say,
Let’s get married in three weeks
and no further explanation was required. Although the timing was the least of his problems. Getting Katherine to talk to him was the dilemma. He hadn’t had much luck in the last ten weeks.

Hours later, when Max called to tell him that Katherine was home, Dominic was still unsure about how to approach her.

With no real plan yet, his emotions all over the map, and his entire world in flux, Dominic found himself standing on Katherine’s doorstep, the sun a faint golden glow
behind him, the horizon streaked with the brilliant magenta of sunset.

He knocked on the door and saw a curtain twitch on one of the street windows.

He knocked again, louder this time, using the brass knocker.

“Go away!”

Katherine’s voice was sharp, clear, hostile. And on the other side of the door now, not near the window. “I’m not going away,” he said, raising his voice just enough to make his point, but not enough to draw attention. “Open the door.”

“No!”

She heard a key turn in the lock, wondered if she could hold the door shut, but even before the thought was fully formed, Dominic had shoved the door open and was standing on her threshold. Looking breathtakingly handsome, casually dressed in a blue blazer and jeans, every hair neatly in place, tall and dark and treacherously beautiful.
Oh God… do not respond to all that irresistible maleness.
“Where did you get that key?” she snapped instead.

He ignored her question and gave her an almost invisible raking glance, taking in her loose-fitting T-shirt and sweats. “How have you been?”

“Fine. Perfectly fine. You?” She held out her hand for the key.

“Shitty. Really shitty.” He put the key in her hand because he could have more made. “May I come in?”

“No.”

“We should talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

He glanced up and down the street, still lively with people out enjoying the May evening. “We can talk about your having my child out here on the steps or we can talk about it where the tabloids won’t be taking pictures.”

“How do you know about that?”

He ignored her glare. “Contacts.”

“Meaning?” she said, her voice even more pissy.

“Max told me.”

“How did
he
know?”

“You’d have to ask him.”

“Are you still stalking me?” she hissed, the term spitting bullets appropriate to the occasion.

“Not personally, no,” he said, immune to imaginary bullets and glares and hisses and anything else that stood in the way of his mission. “Now, may I come in?”

She didn’t move.

“Did Nana tell you I visited her a few weeks ago? She might enjoy the tabloid pictures. Or CX Capital. The gossip rags always have the smuttiest headlines.”

She almost stopped breathing. “You went to see Nana?”

“She didn’t tell you? We had a nice visit.” He dipped his head. “I’m not going away until we talk about this. So we can do it on the street or in private. Your call.”

She stepped back.

“I appreciate your giving me some of your time,” he said softly, following her in and shutting the door.

She faced him, her jaw firm, her eyes cold. “Say what you want to say, then get out. Go back to your wife.”

He took a small breath, intent on avoiding the fight she
wanted. “My wife is a technicality,” he said carefully. “I’ll be divorced in two weeks.”

“Well, then go back to her for two weeks. Have you had your baby yet?”

He looked startled. “Baby?”

“Yes, the one you didn’t tell me about, the one you just confirmed with that revealing little twitch,” she said snidely. “You’re not always completely expressionless after all.”
She’d always suspected it would be the only reason someone could force Dominic into a shotgun marriage.

“It’s not my child.”

“That’s what they all say.”

“I’m not saying that about you.”

“Maybe you should. We didn’t spend that much time together. What—a grand total of three weeks? Although that’s probably a record for you. One-night stands. That’s more your style, isn’t it?”

Jesus, he didn’t like scenes. He’d done a lot of keeping his mouth shut and waiting in his life. And this wasn’t an argument he wanted to have. “I don’t have a style, Katherine,” he said quietly. “What I’d like to talk to you about is our child. As a matter of fact, it pleases me that you’re having our baby.”

She raised her hand to shut him up. “Fuck you, Dominic. You can stop that bullshit right now. I’m not interested in anything you have to say. I’m not interested in whether you’re pleased or not.” Her voice was taut with indignation. “You walked out on me twice. That’s twice too many,” she snapped, the fury in her eyes a hostile glow. “So this is my baby, not yours. Mine. Do you understand? You have nothing
to do with it.” Her voice was rising. “So I really don’t want to hear a goddamn word from you! Now or ever!” She was screaming now. “Get your ass out of here!”

Feeling a wave of relief that she wanted the baby, he said, very softly, “Calm down for a minute. Let’s—”

“Don’t tell me to calm down, you son of a bitch!” she shrieked. “I’m not calming down! I may never calm down! If you think you can walk back in like nothing happened and pick up where you left off, you’re crazy!” Her fists were clenched at her sides, her face was flushed. “Now get the fuck out!”

For a fleeting second Dominic considered picking her up, taking her to bed, and screwing her until neither of them could move. That usually worked with her. But she was really pissing him off; it probably wouldn’t be wise. She wasn’t the only one with a quick temper. Dragging in a breath of restraint, he forced himself to speak in a conciliatory tone. “Could we please talk about this like adults, Katherine? This baby involves me even if you don’t want it to. I’m the father. I can prove it with a paternity test if necessary. Although I’d prefer coming to some reasonable agreement.”

“About what, Dominic? About you fucking whomever you want—what the hell—marrying anyone you want, and I get to sit at home having your baby? Tell you what,” she snarled. “How about you knock up someone else and go talk to them. I’m not in the talking mood. So fuck off or I’ll call the bloody police!”

He leaned in close, his gaze blue flame, his jaw clenched so tight he could feel it in his shoulders. “This discussion
isn’t over,” he said in a low, grating rasp. “Not on your fucking life. You’ll be hearing from me.” Then he spun around, pulled the door open, and stormed out.

He didn’t even hear the door slam behind him as he strode down the steps, angrier than he could ever remember being.

Even angrier than he’d been in high school when he’d beat the shit out of a whole lot of bruisers and bullies.

Although Dominic and Kate could have contested peak anger levels.

Kate was so close to blowing a fuse, she actually flopped into a sprawl on the sofa, started some deep breathing, and turned on the TV in an effort to distract herself. Mother. Fucker. Did he have a gigantic set of balls or what? Just knock on the door, ask to come in, and proceed to take over as father to her child like he had any fucking right when he was married to someone else. Jesus!

She flicked to the Weather Channel that was always capable of zoning her out and sure enough, by the time the weatherman was droning on about the weather patterns over Africa she was breathing normally again. She really did have to be more considerate of her health now, turn over a new leaf in terms of her lifestyle. Learn to relax. She’d have to eat three meals a day too—like seriously—no messing around. The mental prompt brought her to her feet and she walked into the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator door, she stared at her semiempty fridge. Except for the champagne she hadn’t drunk because it reminded her too much of Dominic, the entire contents of her fridge consisted of a bag of nearly three-month-old apples, some shriveled
lemons, and lettuce so gross she’d need disposable gloves to touch it. Christ, everything was gross. She shut the door, ordered a pizza, and went online to see if she could find a grocery store that delivered.

She was eating for two and she didn’t want an unhealthy child because she was too stupid or lazy to put good food in her mouth. She let out a sigh of relief when she found a grocery delivery service; she ordered everything she liked and set up a delivery time for tomorrow after work.

But when she arrived home the next day, her refrigerator was already stocked with wholesome food, and dozens of prepared dishes like those Patty had packed in San Francisco, with the same kind of directions for cooking or heating or not heating. She could have killed Dominic for breaking and entering. But she smiled a little too. He was thinking of the baby. Damn him. Then everything went crazy in her head like it always did when Dominic was super nice and super kind and caring.

But she got herself under control a few seconds later when she thought of his wife.