The Baby Surprise (8 page)

She exhaled an unsteady breath. “What's that?”

“I want to take Emma to California.”

It was a good thing she was still holding on to the post, because his words nearly knocked her feet out from under her. “You've got to be kidding.”

She stepped down, moving past him as she tried to get her head around what he was saying. “Don't you think that's a little premature?”

He shook his head. “My parents are expecting me in California next week,” he admitted. “I didn't know what to tell them about Emma. I wasn't going to tell them anything until the test results came back, but I know she's mine, Paige. And you know she's mine. And I want my parents to meet her.”

“You can't honestly think I'm going to let you take her across the country with you.”

“Of course not,” he acknowledged drily. “But I thought you could come, too.”

She almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of the suggestion. “I can't just pack up and take off for California.”

“Why not?”

She frowned, realizing that she didn't have a ready answer to his question, that there was no legitimate reason to refuse
his request. And yet, her instincts warned that going anywhere with Zach Crawford was a bad idea. So all she said was, “I'll think about it.”

 

It was hardly the most promising response, but given that Zach had been prepared for an outright refusal, he was willing to accept it. At least for now.

He could understand why she might have some reservations, especially considering the chemistry that had been simmering between them since the beginning and seemed to be moving toward a full boil.

He knew she wasn't oblivious to it. At first, he hadn't been so sure. In fact, she'd seemed so cool and polite and distant, he'd thought the tug of attraction he felt whenever he was near her might have been entirely one-sided.

But recently, he'd noticed the way her gaze would drop away from his, as if she was afraid to maintain eye contact. Or the way she jolted whenever he touched her—even if that touch was the most casual or accidental brush of his hand against her arm. No, she definitely wasn't oblivious.

He only hoped her wariness wouldn't prevent her from agreeing to make the trip. He really wanted her to meet his family, to show her that he had parents and sisters who would love and care for Emma because she was part of their family, too.

In the almost ten days that had passed since he'd first come to Pinehurst, he'd barely heard her mention her own family—aside from Ashley and Megan, of course. And remembering Megan's earlier comment about Paige taking care of Emma on her own, he suspected that she didn't have a support system. That might be the reason why she was so reluctant to entrust him with any real responsibility where Emma was concerned—because she was just so accustomed to doing everything on her own that she didn't know how to accept help when it was offered.

Whatever the reasons for her resistance, he knew he didn't have very much time left to change her mind. His flight was scheduled to leave on Wednesday, and he'd already booked seats for Paige and Emma to go with him.

 

Paige couldn't sleep. She'd taken a hiatus from the law firm to figure out her plans for the future, but since Zach had shown up at her door, she now had to consider the possibility that Emma might not be part of that future. Because as much as Zach seemed to appreciate the role she'd played in the little girl's life, the reality was that if he got custody of Emma and was posted to Florida or Arizona or California—which was apparently where his family lived—it wasn't likely that she would ever see her again.

With that thought weighing heavily on her mind, she gave up even trying to close her eyes and instead pushed back the covers.

She made her way quietly down the stairs to the kitchen, where she found a bottle of her favorite merlot in the wine rack and poured herself a glass. Tucking the receiver for the baby monitor under her arm and carrying the glass in her hand, she slipped out through the patio doors onto the back deck.

The night was dark and quiet, but the sky was bright with stars. She set the monitor and the wine on the table and stretched out on a teak lounger.

She'd had second and third thoughts when she'd packed up everything she could fit in the trunk and backseat of her car and brought Emma to Pinehurst for the summer. She'd thought she would miss her work, her colleagues and clients, and the usual frenetic pace at the firm. She'd thought she would go crazy after only a week in this quiet town where she'd spent the last of her teenage years.

But the town wasn't as quiet as it used to be. Or maybe it was her own maturity that allowed her to appreciate the
slower lifestyle now, that made her see what a wonderful place it would be to raise Emma.

Paige knew she could find work here, if not at one of the firms in town, then by hanging out her own shingle. She was a good attorney and there were always clients who needed representation. The more difficult challenge might be finding a care provider for Emma.

She sighed and reached for her glass of wine, refusing to consider that care for Emma might not be an issue.

A light breeze rustled through the leaves and goose bumps rose on her skin, reminding her that she'd forgotten her robe. The cotton boxers and ribbed tank that were her summer pajamas had seemed warm enough inside, but the early June evening was several degrees cooler than her bedroom. Still, she wasn't overly concerned about her state of dress—until the patio door slid open again and Zach stepped out into the moonlight.

She hadn't turned on the outside lights, but enough illumination spilled over from the neighbor's yard that she could see his heated gaze rake over her, and her skin tingled everywhere it touched.

She was suddenly conscious of her half-dressed state and even more conscious of his. Because Zach was wearing nothing but a pair of jeans that weren't even buttoned. Without a shirt, she could see that his shoulders were even broader than she'd imagined and perfectly sculpted. And his stomach really did look like a washboard with all of those rippling muscles. As Paige's eyes skimmed over him, her mouth actually went dry.

If it was shallow to respond in a purely sexual manner to such a well-toned physique, well, then, she was shallow. She was also very close to whimpering.

She swallowed a mouthful of wine instead. “I, uh, thought you were sleeping.”

“I was,” he told her. “Until I heard the patio door slide open.”

His protective instincts were obviously very finely honed—or at least a lot more so than her father's. Philip Wilder had never noticed when his fourteen-year-old daughter snuck out of the house, or maybe he'd just never cared.

Regardless, she should have remembered that she wasn't alone in the house and put on a robe. Of course, it was Zach's presence that had kept her awake—and while she might have excused her inability to sleep as a result of her concerns over Emma's custody, she knew that was only part of the reason for her restlessness. The other—and maybe even the bigger part—was her awareness of this man.

She was definitely aware of him now. Aware and wanting and fervently cursing her hormones for not having the sense to realize how perilous wanting him could be.

She set down her glass and tucked her legs up against her chest so he couldn't see the hard peaks of her nipples pressing against the thin cotton of her shirt, so he wouldn't guess how desperately she wanted him to touch her, kiss her, take her.

She ignored the heat that coursed through her veins and said, “I didn't mean to disturb you.”

He dropped down onto the lounger beside hers but sat so that he was facing her. “You definitely disturb me.”

Paige thought it was probably wiser not to respond to the blatant innuendo, and so she said nothing. Not even when he reached for the wineglass she'd set down.

He lifted it to his nose, sniffed. His brows rose and he tipped the glass to his lips. There was something strangely intimate about him drinking from her glass, putting his mouth where hers had been.

He swallowed, and his lips curved again. “Stonechurch Vineyards merlot. The silver label Special Reserve.”

“You saw the bottle on the counter,” she guessed.

He shook his head. “My parents run the winery. Or maybe I
should say that they used to run the winery. My sister, Hayden, took over most of the operations a few years back.”

The revelation that she was drinking wine his family had made was as surprising as the realization that he had a family. It just wasn't something she'd thought about until he'd mentioned wanting to take Emma to California.

It was difficult enough to admit that this man might be the little girl's father, that he would have a legitimate legal claim to custody of the child who had taken complete hold of her heart, but she'd never considered that he might be able to offer her so much more than his name. That he had parents who could be Emma's grandparents, a sister who could be her aunt and maybe even an extended family who would want to be part of her life.

But all she said was, “I didn't know you had a sister.”

“Three of them, actually,” he told her.

“You're one of four kids?” She thought about how busy she was just chasing around after Emma. “Wow, that must have kept your parents busy.”

“I always tease Hayden—she's the youngest—that they didn't have more than they could handle until she was born because that's when they finally quit.”

“What is her response to that?”

“That the real reason they stopped having children was that they'd finally had the perfect one.”

It was the affection she heard in his voice as much as his response that made her smile. “She's the one who works at the winery?”

He nodded.

“What do your other sisters do?” she asked, genuinely curious about the siblings she'd only just realized he had.

“Lauryn is a doctor and Jocelyn is a college professor.”

“And you fly planes,” she noted, thinking that his parents definitely hadn't raised any slackers.

He nodded. “It's all I ever wanted to do.”

“Why the military?”

“I heard a rumor that chicks dig a guy in uniform.”

She smiled because she knew it was the response he expected. And because she didn't doubt for a minute that he'd found himself the object of countless affections, though she wouldn't assume that had anything to do with the uniform. Because even out of uniform, in only a pair of unzipped jeans, he was all too appealing.

She took back her glass of wine and swallowed a long, bracing gulp.

“What about you?” he asked. “Did you always know you were going to be a lawyer?”

“No,” she said. “In fact, I was in my second year studying geology when I had to vacate the apartment I was renting because it flooded. I ended up staying with a friend and the landlord took me to small-claims court to sue for nonpayment of rent.

“Of course, there was no way I could afford a lawyer to defend against the claim, so I started researching the law myself. In the end, I countersued for breach of contract, pointing out that I couldn't be expected to live in an apartment that was eighteen inches underwater.”

“And you won,” he guessed.

She nodded. “That's when I decided to go to law school.”

He shifted so that his knees were almost touching the side of her chair. The denim looked faded and worn and a lot softer than the rock-hard muscle that flexed beneath the fabric. Good Lord, just looking at the man's quads had her heart pounding inside her chest and her fingers itching to touch. Instead, she curled them tighter around the glass.

She finished off her wine and stood up so that the lounger was between them. “And that's where I met Olivia,” she reminded him—reminding both of them—of her close friend
ship with the woman who had been his lover and had likely given birth to his child.

“I cared about Olivia,” Zach told her, standing to block her access to the door. “I wouldn't have been involved with her otherwise. But I wasn't in love with her, and she wasn't in love with me.”

She lifted a shoulder. “Your relationship with Olivia really isn't any of my business.”

“And yet you keep throwing her name out whenever the topic of conversation touches on anything remotely personal, as if you're deliberately putting up barriers between us.”

“She was one of my best friends.”

“Are you afraid that she would disapprove of my being here?”

She shook her head. “According to the letter you showed me, she wanted you to have the chance to get to know Emma.”

“I'm talking about my being here with you.”

“You're not here with me,” she denied.

He smiled at that.

“I mean—you're here and I'm here,” she explained, conscious of the heat suffusing her cheeks. “But we're not together.”

“What if I want to change that?”

She shook her head again. “I don't think that would be a good idea.”

He took a step closer. “Well, apparently, we have a difference of opinion.”

She lifted a hand to ward him off and sucked in a breath when her palm came into contact with his bare flesh. He was every bit as solid and warm as he looked, and she wanted—more than anything—to lean closer, to press herself against him, to feel the hard length of his body against hers.

“Zach.” She'd meant to speak his name as a warning. Instead, it sounded like a plea.

He took the empty wineglass from her hand and reached around her to set it back on the table. Then he lifted his hand to her face and gently cupped her cheek. The gesture was so unexpected, so tender, she nearly sighed.

“I just want to kiss you,” he said and brushed his thumb over the curve of her bottom lip, slowly, sensuously.

“Definitely not a good idea,” she said, all too aware that the breathless tone of her voice contradicted her words.