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Then in a matter of moments, she went from speechless astonishment to fiery indignation. It flared in her beautiful brown eyes as she jumped to her feet, glaring at Blake as if he were crazy. “I don’t know who you think you are, Mr. Winston, but I want no part of your money. This baby is mine, and I’m not giving her or him up to anyone.”
Pretty before, she was beautiful now, and Blake felt a startling bolt of desire shoot through him that he couldn’t deny. Ignoring it, he stood, too, and faced her. “Why would you want to keep a child by a man you don’t even know?”
The question didn’t throw her as he’d expected it to. “I might not know you, Mr. Winston, but I know this child. I’ve been carrying him for six months. I love this baby. I’ve sung to him, felt him moving inside me. I will never give him up.”
Blake’s shirt stuck to his back, and he could feel sweat beading on his brow. “You might not have any choice.”
His warning rattled Jenna. He could see the fear in her eyes as all the implications of their situation became clear.
Hurrying to the door, she opened it. “I think you’d better leave.”
No one dismissed Blake. After Preston Howard—the father of the girl Blake had imagined himself in love with—had done that to him nineteen long years ago, Blake had vowed no one would ever dismiss him again. Standing his ground, he said evenly, “With the money I’m offering, together with the settlement from the clinic, you’d be set for a while.”
Her spine straightened and her shoulders squared. “Obviously, Mr. Winston, you don’t know me. If you did, you’d realize I’m more sentimental than I am practical. Bonds and family mean more to me than money ever could. So don’t bother making your offer again because I won’t accept it. Please leave or I’ll call the apartment complex manager.”
This time he did as she demanded because he could see her hands were shaking and her chin was quivering. She was pregnant with his child, and he didn’t want anything to happen to the baby or to her. Yet he couldn’t let her think she’d won, either, because she hadn’t.
Before he crossed the threshold, he looked her squarely in the eyes. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.”
When Jenna closed the door behind Blake Winston, she almost collapsed against it. The emotions from everything that had happened today, along with the heat, seemed to press against her, making her short of breath. She knew she couldn’t let her emotions affect her physically. She had this baby to protect, and she would do that with her dying breath.
Closing her eyes for a few moments, thinking of the ocean and sand and waves, she calmed herself and her breathing became more even. Spinning around, she peered out the peephole. Blake Winston had indeed left. Not wasting a moment, she crossed to the cordless phone, picked it up and went to the window to catch a breeze. She pressed redial and hoped Rafe Pierson hadn’t left his law office. She hoped he wasn’t with a client. She hoped he could allay her fears. When she reached his receptionist, she gave her name again and the woman put her through.
Jenna had met Rafe’s wife, Shannon, through the elementary school where she taught. Shannon was a psychologist who used equine-assisted therapy to help troubled children. Three years ago, Jenna had heard about her success rate and recommended her services to the parents of one of her students. Shannon had invited Jenna to the Rocky R to give her a glimpse into her methods. She’d stayed for supper and gotten to know Shannon as well as her husband, Rafe, and their two girls. Grateful for the friendship that had begun before B.J. had died, Jenna couldn’t imagine discussing all of this with a complete stranger. Her upbringing as a minister’s daughter had taught her to keep her own counsel, to watch whatever she said and did because it would reflect favorably or unfavorably on her father. She’d never wavered from that course until she’d decided to be artificially inseminated with B.J.’s sperm. Her father had disapproved, but this time his disapproval hadn’t mattered.
“Jenna?” Rafe asked, his voice carrying honest concern. “What’s wrong? Has the clinic contacted you again?”
“No. Blake Winston has. He made me an offer he thought I couldn’t refuse to become a surrogate for him.”
Rafe swore. That was the first time Jenna had ever heard him use a vulgarity. As a former D.A., he usually kept his temper well in check. “What did you tell him?”
“I told him the child is mine. It is, isn’t it, Rafe? He said his lawyer would be in touch. He can’t really take this baby away from me, can he?”
There was a long moment of silence. “This is an area of the law that’s changing day by day. I can’t tell you Winston doesn’t have a leg to stand on because in reality, he is the biological father. If this was anyone but Blake Winston…”
“I don’t understand. Do you know him?” Rafe hadn’t mentioned knowing him in their last conversation.
“No, I don’t know him. I know of him. He has plenty of money and just as much influence. He grew up in Fawn Grove, then made a fortune in L.A. in security systems. He’s the CEO of a company that not only installs security but arranges it for politicians and stars.”
“And he lives in Fawn Grove?”
“He returned about three years ago and set up a branch of his company in Sacramento. He bought the Van Heusen mansion.”
Truth be told, Jenna didn’t read the paper often. As a teacher, her nights were spent correcting papers or doing lesson plans. Nevertheless, she knew the Van Heusen house and grounds. It was located at the northern end of town. As a child, she and her brother Gary had taken walks past it, wondering what it would be like to live in a house like that.
“And you believe his money will make a difference?” she asked, more than worried now.
“It’s not his money, Jenna. I’m just as concerned about his influence. Hold on a minute. Donna is passing me a message that came in on the other line.”
Jenna wondered how a judge would look at Blake Winston’s money and his mansion, as well as what he could offer a child.
“Jenna?”
“Yes, I’m still here.”
“The clinic called and they want a meeting.”
She’d given the clinic Rafe’s name and number, knowing she was going to let him handle this for her. “What kind of meeting?”
“They didn’t say, but I’ll find out. Are you free tomorrow?”
School was closed for summer vacation and her only commitment was filling in for her father’s secretary when Shirley left on vacation at the end of the week. But she’d fit in this meeting anytime. “Yes, I’m free.”
“Good. I suspect Winston and his lawyer will be there, too. In the meantime I’ll research case law on this. We’ll go in there as prepared as we possibly can be.”
“Rafe, I know I should give you a retainer or something—”
“Right now I’m your lawyer because I’m your friend. If it gets drawn out, we’ll talk about retainers. Okay?”
“I really don’t know how to thank you.”
“I’ll tell you how you can thank me. This has been a rough day for you. Get yourself a lemonade, put your feet up and try to do something mindless until tomorrow. I’ll get back to you with the time of the meeting.”
After Jenna had thanked Rafe again and given him her cell phone number, she hung up knowing she couldn’t stay here in the apartment in the heat. She’d stop at the ice cream parlor for a frozen lemonade and then go to the library. Maybe there in the air-conditioning, she could use their computers and do research concerning custody cases on her own. What bothered her the most about all of this was the quickening of her pulse and the roller coaster waves she’d felt when she’d looked into Blake Winston’s eyes. B.J. had been the salt of the earth, the consummate common man. He’d been a roofer and never aspired to more than that, living each day as it came. Through their years together, he’d convinced Jenna to do the same. She’d loved him with all her heart.
But she’d never had the reaction to B.J. that she’d had to Blake Winston. This rich man, the father of her child, made her pulse race in a way that had nothing to do with her pregnancy. That troubled her, almost as much as Blake’s warning that she’d hear from his lawyer.
As Rafe escorted Jenna on Tuesday afternoon into the same conference room where the bomb had been dropped on her yesterday, her gaze passed over her physician, Dr. Palmer, the clinic’s director, Thomas Franklin, the clinic’s counsel, Wayne Schlessinger, and a man she didn’t know. Then her gaze locked to Blake Winston’s. His smoky-gray eyes told her he was a complicated man. The fluttering of her stomach, which she’d like to attribute to anxiety and fear—but couldn’t if she wanted to be honest with herself—told her something else entirely. Seated at the end of the conference table, he was wearing a light blue polo shirt, navy casual slacks and supple leather loafers. Just noticing all of this made her feel as if she were betraying B.J.’s memory. Yet noticing Blake Winston’s clothes was a far better distraction than noticing the width of his shoulders, the beard line along his jaw, the vitality of his thick black hair.
“Mrs. Winton,” Wayne Schlessinger said in greeting.
“Mr. Schlessinger,” she acknowledged, and gave a little nod to everyone else, including her adversary.
After Schlessinger shook hands with Rafe, he motioned Jenna and her lawyer to two chairs on the opposite side of the table from the clinic’s representatives. Jenna found herself seated beside Blake, and an uncomfortable situation became unbearable. She was too aware of his cologne, too aware of his appraising glance as his gaze passed over her white-and-blue smocked maternity dress.
Schlessinger addressed Rafe. “I take it you’ve carefully read our settlement offer?”
“Yes, I have. But I haven’t advised Jenna to sign it.”
“May I ask why not?”
“I want her to be sure that she’s ready to waive her rights to any future lawsuits before she signs anything. It was unfair of you to pressure her to take the offer yesterday.”
“There was no pressure, Mr. Pierson.”
Jenna clasped Rafe’s arm, telling him she wanted to speak for herself. “Having a $100,000 check ready for me to endorse was pressure in itself, Mr. Schlessinger.” She looked at Blake. “Are you taking their offer?”
He repeated what he’d told her yesterday. “The clinic’s money isn’t the issue. My child is.”
“Mr. Winston,” Schlessinger interrupted. “We’ve gathered everyone here today to try to resolve this.”
“Resolve this?” Rafe asked wryly. “My client entered into a contract with you in good faith. She’s carried this child for six months. Do you think any amount of money is going to make up for the mistake your clinic made?” He directed his attention to Blake. “Do you think any amount of money will convince my client to give up her child?”
There was frustration on Blake’s face as well as a blaze of anger in his eyes as he answered. “If money won’t do it, then the law might. I’m the biological father of this child and I have rights. Joint custody at the very least. You’re right about one thing, Mr. Pierson, this isn’t going to be resolved today. Not unless your client is willing to sign a surrogate agreement and give up rights to the child when it’s born.”
Feeling as if she’d been struck by a lightning bolt, Jenna realized her child meant so much to this man that he’d use all of his power and influence to take away her baby. Although she’d been dealing with the situation since yesterday, she suddenly felt overwhelmed by it all. The information she’d read on the Internet hadn’t been encouraging, and the idea that she was having a child that wasn’t B.J.’s filled her with the same grief she’d experienced after he died. In the midst of the grief, she heard her father’s voice warning her against being artificially inseminated because it wasn’t natural.
Now she was going to have to tell her father she wasn’t even carrying B.J.’s child! She was carrying a stranger’s child, and this stranger wanted to take her child away from her—or at the very least, share custody with her.
Tears she’d been holding at bay for more than twenty-four hours sprang to the surface. There was no way she could hide them. Yet she wasn’t going to make a fool of herself in front of all these people.
Pushing away from the table so fast her chair tipped over, she fled the conference room. She heard Rafe’s voice but didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop…not until she’d rushed through the waiting room, pushed open the door and fled around the corner of the building to the parking lot. There under the shade of a live oak, she let the tears freely fall while she covered her face with her hands, wishing against all odds that this was a nightmare and she’d soon awaken.
When she felt a hand on her shoulder, she took a breath, choked back a sob and looked up, expecting to see Rafe. But it wasn’t Rafe who stood there. It was Blake Winston, the man who wanted her baby for his own, the man who’d replaced B.J. in her dreams last night.
She turned away from him, trying to hide her tears, trying to hide feelings she didn’t understand.
Chapter Two
Blake hadn’t chased after a woman since he was eighteen. That escapade had ended in disaster with a sense of betrayal that yawned so wide he hadn’t been interested in a serious relationship since. Yet when Jenna Winton had run out of that conference room, he’d known he was the reason. What he’d seen on her face was genuine distress.
Now, for the first time since his meeting with the director of the clinic yesterday, he tried to put himself in her shoes. She’d loved her husband—so much so that she wanted to carry his child even when he was gone. The news that she wasn’t carrying B.J. Winton’s child must have been devastating. Another woman might have wanted nothing to do with the baby. That’s fully what Blake had expected. Compensating Jenna Winton for her pregnancy and her services as a surrogate had seemed a reasonable and perfect solution to him.
Yet apparently she’d formed a bond with this child already and didn’t want to let go. If she was that kind of woman, she would make a wonderful mother.
“Jenna,” he murmured, using her given name as if it was his right. She was still turned away from him, and he realized she didn’t want him to see her tears.
Women used tears to manipulate. They used tears to bring a man to his knees, didn’t they?
Watching the sunlight play on the blond strands in Jenna’s light brown hair, seeing the tension in her small shoulders as she tried to keep her turmoil from him, compassion he hadn’t felt in a very long time stirred in his heart along with something else…something else he didn’t want to identify or examine.
Clasping her shoulder, he nudged her around. Still she kept her head bent, and he couldn’t keep from lifting her chin so she’d meet his gaze.
Her skin was soft, a creamy ivory under his tanned thumb. The few freckles on her nose attested to the fact that she wasn’t wearing makeup. Her lips were a bit pinker than natural and he suspected she’d applied lipstick. Not that sticky, shiny concoction that made women’s lips look like they were painted, but a creamy soft pink that suited her well. It was her dark brown eyes that made his chest tighten. They were swimming with tears and anguish, testifying to the fact that this wasn’t a performance for his benefit.
“I’m sorry if I upset you,” he said gently, realizing he meant it.
When she tried to blink away her tears, they rolled down her cheeks and she swiped at them self-consciously. “After B.J. died, I felt lost. Then I became pregnant and life seemed to have meaning again. Now you’re threatening to take away my baby and—”
The urge to take this woman into his arms was so strong Blake had to fight it with every ounce of his self-control. She had to look up a good six inches to meet his gaze, and although she was pregnant, she still looked slender and fragile. Yet from the way she’d stood up to him already, he suspected she wasn’t fragile at all.
“I do want this child, and I imagined I’d go about it just as I have everything else over the past twenty years,” he found himself explaining. “I’ve always set goals and reached for them, not letting anything alter my course.”
A tear she hadn’t managed to wipe away stole down her cheek. Before he thought better of it, he caught it and let his finger glide over her skin. This time her eyes didn’t waver from his, and he found himself aroused by simply touching her. The space around them seemed to be charged with a current that could shake the leaves from the trees.
“I can see now,” he went on hoarsely, “having a baby is quite different from opening a branch of my firm in another city, finding the best people to work with me, or topping last year’s revenue.”
The hum of cars on the street in front of the clinic was a backdrop to the most important conversation of his life.
Jenna’s gaze was troubled as she asked, “How can we settle this if we both want the same thing and neither of us will let go? You just learned about this child yesterday. I’ve been nourishing this baby and talking to it and playing music for it for the past six months. This is my child, Mr. Winston.”
“Blake,” he corrected her. “It’s Blake,” he said again. “Do you mind if I call you Jenna? Formality will only get in the way of whatever decisions we have to make.”
“That’s just it, Mr….” She stopped herself. “Blake. What decisions can we make if we both want to be parents?”
“I don’t know. I do know I think you and I have to talk about this without our lawyers. We need to spend some time together and discuss what all of this means to our lives.”
“I wouldn’t advise that, Jenna,” Rafe said from behind Blake’s shoulder. “Mr. Winston has had a lot more practice than you persuading other people to do his bidding.”
Stepping back, Jenna made space to include Rafe in the discussion. “I can listen to him, Rafe. Mr….” she stopped herself once more. “Blake isn’t going to convince me to do anything I shouldn’t.”
Then she gave her lawyer a weak smile. “I have to persuade twenty-five children every day to do exactly what they’re supposed to do. My persuasive skills might be on par with Mr. Winston’s.” She looked up at him almost apologetically for forgetting to use his first name again.
No matter how upset Jenna Winton was, she had spirit and a determination of her own that would give him a run for his money…or his child. “Let’s go for a drive,” Blake suggested.
She looked surprised. “Now?”
“Yes, right now. We can stop and get something for an early supper.”
“Jenna…” Rafe warned.
Moving closer to her lawyer, she put her hand on his arm. “It’s all right, Rafe. Really. I’m sure Mr…. Blake doesn’t have anything underhanded up his sleeve. After all, you’re a witness that he’s asking me to supper. I promise I won’t sign or agree to anything without consulting you.”
Looking unhappy with the whole idea, Rafe asked, “Do you have your cell phone?”
She blushed. “No. It wasn’t charged so I left it in the apartment.”
“I do have a cell phone.” Blake dislodged it from his belt and handed it to Jenna. “You take this. Apparently Mr. Pierson thinks you may have to send out a mayday.”
With a shake of her head, Jenna returned the phone to him. “I’m pregnant, gentlemen—not incapable of looking after myself or using my common sense.”
Blake almost smiled and knew he was right about Jenna not being fragile.
Rafe plowed his hand through his hair. “I can’t talk you out of this?”
“No, but just to make you feel better, I’ll call you when I get back.”
“I understand she’s pregnant, Pierson,” Blake assured her attorney. “I won’t take any chances with her or with my baby.”
“All right,” Rafe finally decided. “But there’s just one more thing before you go. Jenna, can I see you privately for a few minutes?”
Seeing that Pierson was obviously Jenna’s friend as well as her lawyer, Blake knew when to let well enough alone. “I’ll tell Schlessinger and the others that the meeting is concluded for today. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Fifteen minutes later, Jenna sat beside Blake in his Lexus feeling nervous and unsettled. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all. There was something about Blake Winston that made her feel electrified. When he’d touched her in the parking lot…
Blake hadn’t spoken much but instead switched on the CD player. She supposed the music was supposed to relax her. It was instrumental—piano, violins and guitar that at any other time she might have enjoyed. But as the man beside her glanced over at her, she knew she had to make conversation. She knew she had to figure out what she was doing here with him.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
