She stared at him, certain she hadn’t heard right. “What?”
“The baby. It’s mine,” he said flatly.
For half a second the room seemed to constrict, and then her common sense kicked in. She shook her head. “No. It most certainly is not. You—you—you’re—” Crazy.
Of course! She felt overwhelming relief, followed by a rush of compassion and a smidgen of regret as the harmless romantic fantasy she’d woven about him completely unraveled. Nevertheless, his being “confused” was the only rational explanation. Drawing a deep breath to steady herself, she said gently but firmly, “You’re mistaken, Mr. Churchill. I don’t know where you got this idea, but I assure you you’re wrong.”
“You’re not pregnant?”
“Well, yes, I am, but—”
“Then it’s mine.”
“No,” she said more sharply than she intended. “I mean—how could it be? I’ve never... And you and I most certainly have never...” Out of the blue, her imagination served up a brief but steamy vision of the two of them creating a baby the old-fashioned way. Mortified, she felt a betraying flush of heat rise in her cheeks. “That is, we’ve never even spoken before today,” she said hastily.
“There was a mix-up at the clinic. My semen was used in your procedure.”
She shook her head. “No—”
“Yes,” he contradicted, his voice suddenly harsh. “How the hell do you think I know about this? About you?”
His vehemence silenced her. The truth was there, not only in what he said but in his grim face. “Oh, dear. Oh, my. It can’t be. There must be a mistake. This is my baby. Mine...”
“Not anymore. Now it’s ours.”
Whether it was the shock, the heat or his alarming words, she suddenly felt faint. Black spots danced before her eyes and the room began to whirl around her. She must have swayed, because the next thing she knew he was at her side. Ignoring her cry of protest, he slid one big muscular arm around her back, slipped the other under her knees and lifted her into his arms.
If Susan hadn’t already felt faint, his sudden proximity would have done it. Cradled against his broad chest, she was bombarded by foreign sensations. There was his warmth, the steely strength of his body, the solid beat of his heart against her breast. She squeezed her eyes shut, awash in contradictory feelings. Part of her wanted him to put her down this instant. But another part, shameless and unfamiliar, had an awful desire to snuggle closer. Confused, she gave a grateful sigh as he leaned over and she felt the nubby surface of her couch against the backs of her legs.
Without a word, he sat beside her and forced her head toward her knees. “Breathe,” he ordered.
She nodded, doing as he said until the world quit spinning. “I’m sorry,” she murmured finally, shrugging off his hand and sitting upright. “I’m not usually a fainter. It’s just... I can’t seem to take it in...” Swallowing, she turned to look at him. “Are you sure?”
He nodded. “Positive. I just spent an hour with Margaret Richey. There’s no question. The child you’re carrying is mine.”
A dozen questions immediately popped into her mind. Like, why had the clinic told him before they’d told her? Wasn’t there some sort of rule that she had to be notified first? As far as that went, shouldn’t Mrs. Richey have come in person to tell her, instead of allowing Sterling to deliver the news?
Yet those things could all be answered later. Right now, the only question that mattered was the one she was most terrified to have answered. “Why—” she had to stop and clear her throat “—why are you here? What do you want?”
“I told you. We need to talk.”
As an answer, that was hardly illuminating. She considered him, trying to read his emotions and drawing a blank. Whatever he felt, he didn’t let it show on his face. He simply looked...remote. And very formidable. “I—I won’t make any claim on you,” she said slowly, wondering if that was at the heart of his reserve. “I mean, I know you have money, but this doesn’t really have anything to do with you. It was entirely my decision and I’m more than prepared to take full responsibility—”
“No.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said, no. Biologically this child is half mine. Not only do I expect to take my share of the responsibility, but—” for the first time he hesitated, if only for a second “—I’m willing to take all the responsibility.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that if you’ll give me the child, I’ll see to it that it has everything it could possibly need.”
She could feel her eyes widen as his meaning sank in. She jumped to her feet. “No!” Agitation stripped away the last trace of her normal reserve. “I could never do that. This is my baby! I’ve waited and planned and dreamed about having it, and I’m not giving it up. Not to you or anybody!”
He stared stonily at her, then leaned back on the couch and crossed his arms. “All right. We’ll get married.”
“What?”
“We’ll get married,” he repeated. “It’s probably better, anyway. Kids ought to have two parents.”
She’d been right earlier. He was crazy. “Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t even know you!”
He climbed to his feet, once again towering over her. “Then it’s time you start. And what you’d better understand is, that’s my kid you’re carrying, most likely my son, and I’m not going to stand on the sidelines, with no say in his upbringing, while he spends most of his life either alone or with a baby-sitter while you struggle to support him. So you can either marry me—or I’ll sue you for custody. Your choice. Although—” he took a pointed look around, his gray eyes unreadable as he examined her minuscule living room with its worn furnishings “—I think it’s only fair to point out that you’d have a mighty slim chance of winning.”
Susan stared at him. It was clear from his implacable expression that he meant every word he said. Still, the whole idea was crazy. Marriage was meant to be the kind of loving, trusting relationship her parents had enjoyed, not an alternative to being sued, for heaven’s sake.
Still, he was right about one thing. In the best of all possible worlds, a child should have two parents to love it. Not that she agreed with his crazy proposal. She couldn’t possibly marry him. The whole idea was preposterous.
Yet his expression made it clear that he expected her to acquiesce. “I—I’ll need some time to think about it,” she hedged instead, trying to buy herself some time until she could come up with a better solution.
His eyes narrowed. “No. Nothing is going to change, and I don’t want people counting on their fingers when our child is born. It’s going to be touch and go as it is.”
“But what if something happens? It’s still early in the pregnancy yet. Something could go wrong...”
“We’ll deal with that if it happens.”
“Oh, but—”
“Look, I’m not exactly wild about this myself.” For half a second, a bleak look came over his face. Then his expression hardened. “But it is the best solution. I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, but I’m not some sort of wife beater or anything. I promise I’ll take good care of you and the baby. You won’t have to worry about anything.”
“I’m sure that’s true, but still...”
“Yes or no?” he said intractably.
“I...”
“Choose.”
Oh!