“I’m happy.”
“Then why are you still alone? And why in all the news clippings I see of you with one beautiful woman after another on your arm, why doesn’t the smile on your lips reach your eyes? For all my brother’s sins, he at least had Regan. She was the best part of him, and worth a hundred times more than all of his priceless jewels. She brought love and laughter into Philip’s life, and now that he’s gone, she’s carrying on his legacy. What about you, Cole? You have the power and fortune you always wanted, but what else do you have? Who do you have to bring love and laughter into your life? Who do you have to carry on your legacy when you’re gone?”
The reminder of how empty his life was staggered Cole, yet he refused to admit that fact to Liz. Instead, he hardened his jaw and met her eyes. “I don’t need love in my life. I stopped believing in it a long time ago. As for the rest, if and when I decide I want someone, I’ll buy them.”
Liz shook her head, her expression sad. “And you say you’re not like Philip?”
Suddenly the image of Philip St. Claire trying to buy him out of Regan’s life came rushing back. Angry, Cole snapped, “I’m not like him. I don’t judge people by their pedigrees and bank accounts. I may have made mistakes, but I own up to them and I learn from them. Marrying Regan was the biggest mistake I ever made, and I have enough sense not to repeat it.”
Liz arched her brow. “Funny. I don’t recall mentioning the word marriage. All I was suggesting was that you be Regan’s sperm donor. Obviously, I was wrong in thinking that the idea of becoming a father would appeal to you. So, please, don’t give it another thought. I’ll just find someone else.”
Only she hadn’t had to find someone else. Because he had taken the bait—fallen into the trap. The momentary madness that saw him agree to Liz’s outrageous plan had lasted a full month. But by the time the folly of his actions had set in, he’d been in Europe and knee-deep in sensitive negotiations. He’d put off making the call to Liz, reasoning that he’d have time to take care of everything and tell Liz he had changed his mind when he got back. After all, he’d read all the data. He knew that the chance of the insemination procedure working on the first try was at best thirty percent. He’d thought he had time, and he’d put off making that call to Liz.
Big mistake, Thornton. You should have followed through, called Liz the minute you’d changed your mind and had her destroy the sperm sample.
But he hadn’t followed through—a mistake he seldom made in business. Not for the first time, Cole cursed his own carelessness. He had no one to blame for this mess but himself. He’d known Liz had an agenda. He just hadn’t anticipated how quickly she would set it into motion or that she would be successful on the first try. Nor had he anticipated, returning after a grueling trip, the news that Regan was already pregnant—with his child.
“What a mess,” Cole muttered. Still suffering from jet lag, he rolled his shoulders, tried to work out some of the kinks. After getting Liz’s message earlier, he hadn’t even bothered unpacking. He’d simply boarded a plane for New Orleans, determined to talk with Regan and figure out a way to straighten out the mess they’d gotten themselves into.
Only his partner in this particular mess was now locked in the bathroom puking her guts out. Cole listened at the door and was relieved not to hear any more wretching or moaning, just the sound of Regan moving about the room. Satisfied she was in no danger, he looked down at his soiled shoes and winced, then retreated to the kitchen to see what could be done to salvage them.
After cleaning off his shoes as best he could, Cole tackled the spot where Regan had missed him and caught the carpet instead. The entire job took no more than a few minutes. Since she still hadn’t emerged from the bathroom, he headed back to her office area to wait.
He didn’t have to wait long. Ten minutes later Regan left the bathroom. She did a quick scan of the spacious area that made up the offices and design quarters of Exclusives. Apparently satisfied, she headed for the kitchen at the rear of the big room. She hadn’t seen him, Cole realized, as he straightened from beside the worktable where he’d stooped down to retrieve an emerald that must have fallen on the floor when she’d rushed past him. Closing his fingers around the glittering green stone, he watched Regan put the kettle on top of the stove and begin to prepare herself a cup of tea. He should announce his presence, Cole told himself, feeling like a voyeur. Yet, he remained silent.
In the dozen years since she had ripped out his heart and made a fool of him, he’d been with other women. Women far more beautiful than Regan St. Claire, women with bloodlines and fortunes far more impressive than hers. Yet, not one of those women had ever been able to make his blood heat or his body grow hard the way Regan did now—just as she had the very first time he’d seen her. She’d been seated on the veranda of her family home watching him plant azaleas. And then she’d smiled at him. The impact of that shy smile had hit him like a sucker punch, stealing his breath, making him ache, making him want. Even after all this time and all that she’d done, that one thing hadn’t changed. All he had to do was look at Regan to want her. He’d wanted her a year ago when he’d seen her at some charity gala he’d been roped into attending in the city. Only sheer force of will had enabled him to walk away and ignore her.
He didn’t ignore her now. Instead he feasted on her with his eyes. Unguarded, without the polite mask she so often wore, Regan didn’t look much different now than she had at seventeen. Oh, her figure was slightly fuller, more curvy than it had been, but not by much. Just enough to make her more tempting. From what he could determine, her taste in clothing hadn’t changed. She still preferred silky, feminine things if that floral slip-like dress she had on was any indication. The way she carried herself hadn’t changed either—like a princess—spine straight, shoulders back, head tilted at a proud angle. Staring at her face, he noted her skin was still porcelain-smooth, nearly translucent. Desire coiled inside him as he recalled the feel of that skin—whisper soft and sunshine warm.
Biting back a groan, Cole continued his appraisal, taking in her elegantly carved features—the high cheekbones, the patrician nose, the stubborn chin. Her wide-set eyes were the same fiery green he remembered—but there was a lingering sadness in those eyes now, shadows that dimmed the glow of her pregnancy. And he suspected those shadows didn’t have a thing to do with her being sick.
Why so sad, Regan?
The answer came quickly—her father’s death. It had been eight months since Philip St. Claire had died of a heart attack. And despite the fact that the man had been a ruthless SOB, Regan had idolized him. So much so that when forced to choose between them, she had chosen her father instead of him. Oh, he had told himself at the time that the money had been the deciding factor. He’d had none, and her father had had plenty. But deep down inside, Cole had known the truth. The novelty of tangling in the sheets with a bastard from the wrong side of the tracks had simply worn off, and Regan had realized she didn’t love him after all.
Swallowing past the bitter memory, Cole stared at the woman who had been his wife, the woman who once again was pregnant with his child.
His child.
The impact of those words sent a surge of protectiveness through him. Suddenly the logical plan he’d hammered out on the flight from the west coast—the plan for sharing custody, for visitation schedules and arranging financial support—no longer seemed viable. He couldn’t let this child be born illegitimate. How had he even thought for one moment that he could? Honor demanded that he do the responsible thing and marry Regan—if only temporarily. Liz had been right. He did want this child.
And the child’s mother?
Cole skimmed his gaze over Regan again, noting how her thick blond braid fell over one shoulder to graze the curve of her breast. Heat stirred inside him again as he noted how her dress caressed the lines of her body, swirled around her calves. Dragging his attention back to her face, he stared at that sulky pink mouth. Unbidden, memories ambushed him—memories of those soft lips moving over his body, hot and