‘Leave,’ she muttered.
‘No. You’re stuck with me now.’ His jaw clamped. ‘And I mean well and truly shackled.’ He felt her body tense to break point. Right now he wanted to break her. Docile and compliant—that would do.
‘You don’t trust me, do you?’ She changed tack.
‘Not a jot. And wasn’t I right not to? I’ve never met anyone so calculating in my life.’
‘You won’t believe that I didn’t plan this?’
‘Nope.’
Cally let the tension go out of her body, slackening her arm. He let it go immediately. Maybe she could pacify him. ‘I’m sorry, Blake.’
‘Sure.’ Granite incarnate.
‘Look, I’m grateful to you for wanting to be here for me. I am. But I don’t want or need anything from you.’
‘I’m not here for you, Cally. I’m here for my baby.’
She swallowed feeling stupidly hurt by the bald statement. ‘You were the one who said it was all a bit of fun. We weren’t talking marriage or babies, remember?’
‘We are now.’
She stared at him. Saw the hardness in his eyes. The same hardness that had been there when he’d said it that first night. A definite no-go area. There was definitely history behind him, some reason why he’d never intended to marry. Probably a past hurt. Although she couldn’t imagine him letting anyone get close enough to hurt him. He was all about surface fun and frivolity—naughty weekends that led to nothing.
But there wasn’t nothing now. He was all steel and determination and she had to fight.
‘You don’t want me, Blake. You don’t even want this baby. This is about you wanting control of this situation. You’re never out of control, are you?’
‘Stop and use your brain for just a moment, Cally,’ he answered softly. ‘I think you’ll find you already know the answer to that question.’
Their eyes met and she saw the dark desire, heard the echo of his hoarse cry as he climaxed inside her, the feel of the flood of his life force in her. She closed her eyes as a ripple of remembered ecstasy flowed from her belly out, making her want to … making her want him to …
Stop.
She didn’t want him taking over like this—didn’t want him taking advantage of her sexual attraction to him.
‘This is my baby,’ she whispered.
‘It’s my baby too. That’s my flesh and blood you’re carrying.’ He wasn’t going to give an inch.
‘OK.’ She’d still try compromise. ‘We can work out visitation rights. You can see the baby any time you like.’ She could do that. Surely he’d lose interest after a while?
‘No child of mine is growing up thinking he wasn’t wanted by his father. I am this child’s father and I will be there for her or him every step of the way. So get used to me being around, Cally, because I am going to be right beside you every minute of this pregnancy and beyond.’
Cally bit hard on the flesh of her inner cheek as she registered the passion, the deep conviction behind his words. Not good. Was that what had happened to him? He hadn’t been wanted by his father? Her heart ached and absurdly the urge to embrace him flashed through her. She knew what it was like not to be wanted.
‘You can be an involved dad—’
‘I am living under the same roof as this baby!’ he overrode her furiously. ‘Either you live under it with me or I have custody and I will fight to the death for that—don’t think for a second I won’t.’ Every muscle in his body was hard, every word shot out. ‘And trust me on this, Cally. When I fight, I win.’
She stared at the stranger in her room. She’d never glimpsed this side of him in that sex-drenched weekend. Then he’d been all about lust and laughter and unbelievable thrills.
She deepened her analysis—suddenly remembering the way he’d won the bet. This was a man happy to take risks to ensure he got what he wanted.
Calculated. Merciless. Driven.
No wonder his company was so successful. No wonder he had the reputation for being such a shark in the business arena. Single-minded, he was able to do whatever it took to ensure he got the result he required.
He was right. She had picked the wrong guy.
Desperately she searched for another way to appeal to him. ‘We don’t have to marry to get what we both want.’
‘What I want, Cally, is for my child to grow up as part of a family.’
That stopped her. Family? From the man who never talked marriage and babies? Suddenly he was talking family?
Anger resurged in her. She knew all about family. About betrayal and loss and how much it hurt when the security you were supposed to get never eventuated. Her parents had married for this exact reason—because her mother had got pregnant. And that marriage had failed—her mother walking out on them less than two years later and leaving her father in one hell of an ugly mess.
She paced towards him. ‘How can you honestly marry me? How can you promise to love me? How can you make that vow if you’re always so honest? If you always “deliver on your promises”?’ Scathingly she quoted him and then braced for the answer.
It was a while coming. When he did speak, it was quietly, deliberately and woundingly truthful. ‘You’re carrying my flesh and blood. You are the mother of my child. I will always honour you. I will always respect you.’
Components of love perhaps—but certainly not the whole recipe. He would never love her in that true sense. He didn’t quite say it, but he didn’t have to. She understood he had no other depth of feeling for her and, while it struck at her own dangerously soft heart, at least now she knew her child would have the benefit of two adoring parents. Emotion threatened to topple her, tears burning the backs of her eyes. ‘This baby means that much to you?’
‘Yes.’ He looked at her quizzically. ‘Is that such a surprise, Cally? Or is it only women who are allowed a strong parental urge?’
‘No.’ She shook her head. She knew damn well some women didn’t have any kind of a parental urge at all—her mother for one. But her father? Her father had loved her and cared for her and right this minute she missed him more than ever. She couldn’t deny her baby the possibility of a relationship as close as that with its own father. That realisation struck deep into her, and that moment she knew her fate was sealed. ‘Of course not.’
But while her father had been capable of great love, he’d been capable of deep hurt too. He’d been broken-hearted by her mother—by her blithe betrayal and her rejection of both him and their child. Cally was more her father’s daughter than her mother’s—she already knew how much she could hurt; Luc had proven that. Since then she’d tried to keep her heart hidden and protected. Unfortunately a little part had crept out under Blake’s playful caresses those few weeks ago. She knew she couldn’t handle the kind of humiliation and hurt that would come if she ended up falling for him while he felt nothing for her other than a kind of gratitude. She had to keep some kind of distance. Surely she had to say no to him.
But how could she? He’d win; he’d always win. He’d warned her just now and she knew to believe him. And the difference between her and Blake and the situation of her parents was that both she and Blake wanted this baby. Whereas her mother hadn’t, her mother had wanted money and a name, not a baby to have to care for.
Blake was making it clear he wanted to care for their child. He was determined to be there for it every step of the way—as her father had been there for her. How could she deny her child that?