“Riley,” the older woman said. “Do you know this young lady?”
“My name’s Katherine Schwinn,” she interjected. She swallowed thickly. “I’m pregnant with Riley’s baby.”
The older woman’s gaze canted to her belly and softened, and the questions that passed over her face all resolved into one gently spoken one. “How far along are you, dear?”
“Twenty-six weeks.” She bit her lower lip, tried not to look at Riley. “I’m due the first week of November.”
“Riley...” Stilts drew his name out. “Tell me this isn’t...”
“Do you have proof?” he asked.
She’d been prepared for his skepticism, but it still hurt. She met his glare unflinchingly. “What do you take me for?”
“What do you take me for? You don’t think other women haven’t tried—”
“Riley!” the older woman snapped. “That is not how you speak to a woman. I taught you better than that.”
“Mom—”
“Sorry for him.” Her eyes, a deeper green than Riley’s, twinkled. “My name’s Winnie. I’m this one’s mother. We’ve had a long night.”
Riley’s mother? Fish sticks and tartar sauce, it really couldn’t get worse.
“The movie!” Stilts exclaimed. She banged on the glass separating them from the driver. “Turn around. We’ve got to go back to the theater.”
“We can’t,” Riley protested. “What about...” He waved at Kat. “We can’t risk going back and having her throw a tantrum in front of the press.”
Anger seethed beneath Kat’s desolation and loneliness. She curved one arm protectively around her middle. Don’t worry, Sweetpea, Daddy’s just in shock...
“You can’t not show up for your own movie premiere,” Stilts exclaimed. “You’re doing a Q and A after the screening, remember?”
“Then, we’ll go back for that. Driver, hotel. We’ll sort this out and return to the theater in time for the end.”
Kat bristled. “If you think you’re going to figure out the future of our baby in two hours—”
“Two hours, two minutes,” Stilts breathed.
“—you have got another think coming.”
“If the baby is even mine.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
Kat raked her fingers through her hair. “You think I would’ve put myself through all this if it wasn’t?”
“People do all kinds of things for money.”
So that was what he thought this was about. Well...he wasn’t that off the mark. She straightened. “The baby’s yours. I didn’t sleep with anyone else after you, nor for months before you. I’m willing to do a paternity test to prove it.”
Riley harrumphed, yanked open the limo’s minibar and emptied a tiny bottle of whiskey into a glass tumbler. Winnie made a noise of disapproval. Kat wished she could share that drink to soothe her nerves.
“Let’s cut to the chase,” Stilts said as Riley tossed back his drink. “What do you want?”
Who was this woman? She looked far too intense and severe to be Riley’s girlfriend. “I think this is a personal discussion I should be having with Riley.”
“Any conversation you have with him you can have with me.”
Kat looked to Riley. He was staring out the window, grinding his jaw.
“Bryan,” Winnie called, knocking on the glass. She smiled pleasantly as the chauffeur lowered the partition. “I’m sorry, but can you go back to the theater, please?”
“Right away, Mrs. Jackson.”
“It’s Jacobsen, dear. I changed it back to my maiden name after the divorce. Jackson is Riley’s stage name, though I still don’t see why Jacobsen wasn’t good enough.”
Bryan the driver nodded his agreement. “It’s a fine name, Mrs. Jacobsen.”
Riley glared. “Mom—”
“I came all this way and got dressed up for this. I don’t want to miss seeing you on-screen. Sam...” She addressed Stilts. Of course. Riley’s agent, Sam, the woman she’d been trying desperately to get hold of since she’d arrived in LA. “You’re coming with me, dear. My son needs to speak with his friend alone.”
The limo hadn’t traveled far from the theater. In a few minutes, the driver dropped the ladies off behind the Fox. Winnie gave a pleasant look to each of them that communicated both warning and warm expectation. Sam offered only a scowl. The limo pulled away from the curb again and it was just the two of them.
Kat’s heart pumped acid into her chest and she swallowed tightly. Deep lines were carved into Riley’s glowering face. He looked tired, worse than he’d looked when Kat had first met him in Hawaii. His hair was a bit longer now, and his tan had faded. The wry twist in the corner of his mouth betrayed his black humor. Despite all that, he was still pretty hot.
“If what you say is true—” he couldn’t seem to look at her now, eyes fixed out the window, instead “—why’d you come here of all places to tell me?”
“You don’t think I tried calling? I got the runaround so many times, it was pointless. I wrote letters and emails. I never got an answer. I even showed up at your talent agency’s headquarters. They kicked me out and threatened to have me arrested for trespassing.”
His jaw worked. “Sam would’ve told me.”
“I didn’t even get to speak to her. No one believes me. You don’t believe me, and you were...f-fries and gravy there.”
His eyebrows clashed. “What did you say?”
She rubbed her neck. “I’m trying to quit swearing so the baby doesn’t hear something she shouldn’t. I replace swearwords with foods I’ve been craving.”
For a flash, his lips fought against a smile. But then his face puckered sourly once more. Softly, he croaked, “She?”
“I don’t actually know.” She pleated the hem of her dress. “I asked them not to tell me. Sometimes I say she...sometimes it’s he.”
He downed the last of his whiskey and replaced the glass in the minibar. “So you decided to come out here and...what? Embarrass me in front of the press? Make sure I pony up to whatever demands you have?”
“Let me make this clear.” She sat forward, indignation honing her words to fine points. “I wouldn’t have had to do this if you’d returned my phone calls.”
“You wouldn’t have had to do this if—”
“If what?” she challenged, the tip of her anger sharp and hot. “If I’d insisted you double bag it? If we hadn’t had sex when I happened to be most fertile? Come on, go ahead. Tell me how this is my fault.”
He clamped his lips so tight they turned white. He sank into the leather upholstery and was quiet for a long time. They hit three stoplights before he finally spoke up. “Suppose...if the baby is mine...”
She clenched her fists. “It’s yours.”
“So...what? I’m not going to marry you.”
She ignored the pinch to her ego. “I don’t expect you to. Seeing what you’re really like, I’m not sure I’d want to.” He flinched, and she mentally chalked one point for herself. “All I wanted was to tell you you’re going to be a father. And I want the baby to know you.” She took a deep breath and forged ahead, praying as she quietly