Pregnant by the Maverick Millionaire (11 page)

“Don't do that to us, Brodie. Don't make it like that,” Kade said, his voice soft. “I'm not asking for anything other than for you to let me in. To share something of yourself, to trust a little, or even a lot.”

Kade's hand drifted over her hair and he bent down to kiss her temple. “I'm going to bed. Feel free to join me. Let me know if you decide to leave.”

Brodie nodded.

“And Brodie?”

“Yes?”

“Don't ever ignore my calls again, okay?”

* * *

Brodie tied the laces on her running shoes, brimming with energy. Her morning sickness was all but gone and she felt energized and healthy and ready to resume exercising. She wasn't going to hurtle around Stanley Park like she normally did but she'd get her heart rate up and her blood flowing. Surely that had to be good for the baby?

Brodie left her apartment and skipped down the stairs, thinking she still missed her early-morning runs with Kade. So much had changed since they'd first met. She was carrying Kade's baby, they were having hot sex, sometimes at his apartment and, like last night, sometimes at hers. After their fight last week, she was doing her best to be more open, to communicate better.

She loved spending time with him and she couldn't help wondering whether he felt the same, if he missed her at all when she wasn't around? Oh, she knew he liked her, he adored making love with her, but was that the sum total of his feelings? Was he feeling more, wanting more?

Because, dammit,
she
was starting to want more.

Brodie nibbled the inside of her lip. She'd promised herself she wouldn't do this again, with any man, but she was sliding further and further down this slippery slope that might be love. With every smile, every conversation with Kade, she felt another one of her walls dissolving. Soon she'd be stripped bare and at the mercy of the vagaries of life and love. It would hurt.

And how would she ever know if Kade truly loved her and not the idea of her as the mother of his child? What if they became too swept up in playing the happy family and when the novelty wore off he decided this wasn't what he'd signed up for and bolted? How would she cope then?

No, teetering on the edge of love or not, she couldn't risk relying on him and being let down. People always thought they wanted one thing and then it turned out they wanted another. Sure, everyone had a right to change their minds, but she'd prefer it wasn't her heart Kade practiced on.

She'd rather be his friend and his part-time lover for as long as that lasted. When it ended, she'd still be his friend. And he'd be hers. She could do that...

Possibly.

Brodie pulled open the front door, ran down the pathway and bumped smack into a bunch of men standing on the curb. Cameras flashed and she lifted a hand to shield her eyes. What the hell?

“How long have you being seeing Kade?”

“When are you due?”

“Is it a boy or a girl?

“When did you and Kade hook up? Before you matched him?”

“Are you getting married?”

She didn't need to be a rocket scientist to realize the press knew Kade was the father of her baby and she wasn't going for a run this morning.

“You owe us a statement, Ms. Stewart.”

“She owes you nothing, Johnson.” Kade's deep voice broke through the shouting. Brodie looked up and there he was, holding out a hand. His car was idling behind the reporters and it represented safety and quiet, both of which she needed right now. Brodie grabbed his hand and allowed him to pull her through the throng of reporters.

“Aw, come on, Kade. We need something.”

“I can give you a swift kick if that would help.” Kade opened the passenger door for Brodie and she slipped inside. Kade shut her door but she could still hear the questions, the demands. Then the crowd quieted and Brodie looked out the window to see that Kade, his back to her and blocking the cameras, had quieted the crowd. “You guys can take potshots at me, ask me anything, but Brodie is off-limits.”

“How long have you been together?”

“Are you getting married? Are you living together?”

“Was her matchmaking you just a publicity stunt? Did you lead those women on?”

“Has Myra accepted your offer to buy the franchise? We hear that the rookie is going to sue you personally.”

Kade didn't say another word but walked around the car to the driver's seat. He opened his door and dropped inside. He slammed the door shut but rolled down his window.

“You said we can ask you anything. Not fair, Webb!”

Kade grinned. “I said you can ask me anything, I never said I would answer.” Kade started the car, floored the accelerator and drove off. Brodie turned around in her seat to look at the agitated crowd behind them.

“They do not look happy.”

“Screw them.” Kade veered the car around the corner.

Brodie grabbed her seat belt and pulled it over her chest, clicking it into place. She looked at the creeping speedometer and bit her lip, tasting fear in the back of her throat. “Slow down, please?”

Kade sent her a quick look, then immediately slowed down and placed his hand on her knee. “Sorry. You okay?”

“Fine,” Brodie replied, looking at his annoyed profile. “So, how did they find out? Did Wren do a press release?”

“No.” Kade shook his head. “We were trying to delay it as long as possible, to put some distance between you becoming pregnant and arranging those stupid dates for me.”

“So how did they find out?”

“Someone recognized us when we went to see the ob-gyn.”

Brodie twisted her lips. “Anyone in the waiting room could've leaked the story, could've taken a photograph of us.”

“And they did. They sold the story to the tabloids and the paper that broke the news has had a photographer following us for at least two weeks. We're a double-page spread,” Kade told her, driving in the direction of his apartment.

“Dammit.” Brodie sighed. “Guess I am now, officially, one of Webb's Women.”

“You are Webb's only woman.” He glanced down at her stomach. “Unless there's a girl in there, then you'll have to share the spotlight.”

He was using a jokey, upbeat tone and she didn't know whether he was being serious or not. He placed his free hand on her tummy but kept his eyes on the road. “Twenty-six weeks, Brodes, and we'll know.”

Kade glided to a smooth stop in front of a traffic light and turned his head to look at her.

“God, the press will eat you up and spit you out.”

“I am tougher than I look, Webb.” The light turned green and Kade accelerated away.

“Just keep saying ‘no comment.' Maybe you should move in with me—my place is a lot more secure than yours.”

That wasn't going to happen. Brodie noticed Kade's eyes were dark with worry and his jaw was rock-hard with tension. She knew he cared for her, that he loved making love with her, but even after her trip to California and their fight, she hadn't been sure of how much until this moment. He was genuinely worried for her. Did that mean he loved her?

Stop jumping to conclusions. You're getting way ahead of yourself.

If she moved into the loft, then there was no way she'd be able to keep any emotional distance from him. Whenever they were together she found herself leaning into his shoulder, almost grabbing his hand, and she spent far too much time staring at his mouth.

“Nothing is going to happen to me. I'm healthy, the baby is healthy. And I can deal with the press.”

Kade tapped his finger against his steering wheel. “Tell me again in two weeks when they are still shouting questions at you every time you step outside,” he muttered.

“I'll be fine.” Really, how bad could it be?

Eleven

“I
feel like I've answered a million questions about me, what about you?”

Brodie clicked Save on her tablet and watched her database update before her eyes. She recognized the flirtation in the man's voice, the barely disguised interest. She glanced down at her bare ring finger and wished she was wearing her fake engagement ring. It had been a brilliant way to deflect unwanted male attention.

Thanks to the media that wasn't going to work anymore.

Ross Kimball was new to Vancouver, a marine biologist, and he knew no one in the city. During her hour-long interview she'd ascertained he was wealthy, judging by his nice suit, expensive watch and designer shoes. He'd only been in the city a month, he knew nothing about ice hockey, which was brilliant since she was tired of being gossip-column fodder and if she heard the words
Kade's baby-mama
bandied about again she'd stab someone with a fork.

For this moment in time she was Brodie again, matchmaker and businesswoman, and not the woman Kade impregnated. Win.

“As soon as I receive your background report and after I receive your first payment, I'll start the process.”

Ross smiled. “Great. Would you like another cup of tea? Juice? Coffee?”

Brodie started to refuse but then she saw loneliness flicker in his eyes. What would it hurt to spend ten minutes talking to this guy? And it would be refreshing to talk to someone who did not want to discuss her and Kade and the baby she was expecting. Instead of refusing she nodded and leaned back in her chair. “Okay. I'll have an orange juice.”

They spoke of the weather and the city and Ross's impressions of her hometown. “So, how did you become a matchmaker?” Ross asked.

Brodie gave him the standard spiel and when she was finished, added softly, “I hope I find you someone you can connect with.”

“Are you...connected with anyone?”

She'd opened the door to these questions so she'd give him a little leeway. “It's complicated.”

“It usually is.”

“I'm seeing a guy. We're friends. Good friends.”

“You're not in love with him?”

How could she answer when she wasn't sure what the answer was? How could she be in love with Kade when what they had was so different from what she had before? Jay had been sunshine and light, easygoing and happy-go-lucky. Kade was powerful, frequently sarcastic and reticent. The two men were galaxies apart. How could she possibly love such wildly differing men?

Was it love or was it just lust?

“What are you thinking about?” Ross asked.

“The difference between love and lust,” Brodie replied.

“Tell me.”

“Love is an intense affection for each other. It takes times to grow.” Like fifteen years. “Lust is based on physical attraction.” Lust was wanting to jump Kade every time he walked into the room. “It can transform into love over time. Love is about how interconnected two people are.”

She and Kade were having a baby together. How much more interconnected could they be? He knew about Jay and her parents. Her great-aunt regularly called his cell for a chat. His friends had become hers, she was far more comfortable in his loft than she was in her own apartment and he'd taken her car to be serviced. She picked up his laundry.

They were interconnected.

Maybe she loved him. But that thought made her feel intensely guilty because this bubbling mess of feelings she had for Kade was deeper and darker and harder and crazier than she'd ever felt for Jay. She had survived his death. She knew without qualification she could not live in a world that did not have Kade in it.

God, this was crazy! What had happened to her? Why was she doing this? She knew what it felt like to love and lose, and what if she allowed herself to delve into this emotion and all he wanted to be was her friend with brilliant benefits? What if he, tomorrow or the next day or the year after that, met the love of his life and decided to move on from her, from them? How would she stand it? How would she cope seeing him and talking to him and co-parenting with him while knowing he left her to sleep in another woman's bed? That he was holding another woman, loving her, laughing with her?

Brodie was such a fool. This had to stop. She had to pull herself back from the brink, to keep control. Yes, withdrawing from Kade would hurt but it would be nothing compared to what could happen down the line.

She could do this; she had to do this.

“Wow. That was one hell of a trip you took,” Ross said, his expression speculative.

“Sorry.” Brodie picked up her juice and took a long swallow. “What were we talking about?”

“Your fellow and whether you were in love with him.”

“I don't believe in love.” The words flew out of Brodie's mouth. Seeing his startled expression, she wished she could take them back. But then, suddenly, it was more important someone listen to what she was
saying
. Because if she could convince him, then maybe she could convince herself.

“At least not for me. I believe in sex. I believe in friendships, in being independent, in standing on my own two feet. I believe in my career, in forging my own path, in keeping an emotional distance.”

“He's not the one?”

Brodie made herself meet his eyes, trying to talk herself off the ledge. “I'm having his baby and, admittedly, he's stuck around but I don't expect he'll stay for much longer. Having a baby is a novelty, a whim, and he'll lose interest. He has a low boredom threshold.”

Oh, God, nothing was further from the truth, and verbalizing those lies didn't change how she felt about him. They just made her feel nasty and bitchy and guilty, dammit!

Under the table she patted her tummy and silently spoke to her child. “Ignore that, kiddo, your dad is not like that. In fact, the problem is that he is utterly wonderful. I just don't know how to handle him.”

* * *

Kade stood in front of the six-by-eight-foot oil painting dominating one wall of the gallery and reluctantly admitted his father was a ridiculously talented artist.

He recognized the scene—it was the view from the rickety back porch of a cabin in Pleasant, a town north of Whitehorse. He hadn't seen the snow-covered mountains, the icy beauty of the scene, he just remembered his skates had been too small and he'd had holes in his parka. And the cupboards had held little more than bread and cereal. His father had just spent the last of his money on more oil paints, a canvas and brushes.

Kade looked at the familiar signature in the bottom corner and waited for the flood of resentment and the bite of pain that usually accompanied it. When neither arrived, he took a step back and cocked his head, wondering what had changed. His father was his father and his childhood hadn't been a barrel of laughs, but it was, thank God, long over. Being his father's son had taught him resilience, how to be tough, that nothing came to people who didn't work their asses off. James's success was proof of that. He'd been consumed by his art and had thrown everything he had into it and, judging by the fact that this painting was on sale for seventy-five thousand dollars, sacrificing a relationship with his son had been worth it.

Kade blew out his breath, finding it strange not to feel bitter. He really didn't, not anymore. His father was his father, selfish and obsessive. Nothing was important to his father but his art. That there was no hint of the child who explored the country with him in any of the paintings exhibited was a pretty big clue he wouldn't care that he was about to become a grandfather.

Art was all that mattered.

Kade had felt like that about his career until Brodie dropped back into his life. Suddenly he had to—wanted to—think about someone else. He couldn't work fourteen-or sixteen-hour days anymore. He needed to find a balance between work and home, especially when the baby arrived. Besides, he didn't want to spend so much time at work. He enjoyed Brodie's company and he wanted to spend time with his child. He would not be his father's son.

Kade turned away from the painting, finally at peace with the fact that he would never have a relationship with James. He'd lost his father a long time ago, if he'd ever really had him. Kade could finally put these particular demons to rest.

With a considerably lighter heart Kade left the gallery. As he stepped onto the sidewalk, he felt his cell vibrate. He read the incoming message from Wren and clicked on the link she provided.

A reporter had gotten Brodie to open up—through subterfuge, but still. Worse, he'd gotten her to talk about how she was feeling, something Kade had difficulty doing. Strange that it should hurt so much. She could talk to strangers but not to him?

And then there was what she'd said to the blogger, scumbag that he was. Her words had Kade feeling like a clawed hand was ripping his heart apart. She didn't believe in love, didn't want it in her life and didn't believe Kade could provide it.

Despite everything they'd gone through, she still thought he was playing games, that he would bail. He might no longer think he was his father's son but Brodie certainly did, judging by the fact that she'd publicly stated she was expecting him to leave.

Man, that hurt. Even more painful than the hunger, the fear, the uncertainty he'd experienced as a kid. To have the woman in his life thinking so little of him...it felt as if she'd used his heart as a hockey puck.

Why? Kade stared down at his screen, unable to get his feet to move. Why did he care so damn much?

Because he loved her.

Crap, dammit, hell.

Because, like he'd always been with his father, Kade was desperate for her to love him. Because, again like his father had been, Brodie was Kade's world. And, like James, Kade wasn't hers.

How the hell had he let this happen?

Kade started to walk. He needed to move or else he would scream. He was in love with her, she didn't love him. What did he do now? He could walk away, break it off. In a couple of months he could sic his lawyers on her, demanding custody rights, and they could communicate that way. He didn't have to talk to her again if he didn't want to.

He didn't want to; he felt too raw.

Or he could go to her, give her a chance to explain. See if there was anything they could salvage out of this train wreck of a relationship. No, not a relationship; Brodie didn't believe in those... He should just let the lawyers deal with it, with her, but his feet didn't agree. They just kept walking in the direction of Brodie's office.

They might, if he was really lucky, let him walk right on past her building.

* * *

It was after eight in the evening and Brodie was exhausted. She couldn't wait to go home, maybe sink into the spa bath, preferably naked, with Kade. Pushing her chair back from her desk, she stood up and winced when the button of her black pants pushed into her stomach. She was going to have to buy some bigger clothes. Her tummy was growing at an alarming rate and, unfortunately, she suspected her bottom was following the trend.

Maybe Kade could show her some exercises she could safely do to keep her butt from spreading. Her tummy was on its own.

Brodie opened her lower drawer to pull out her bag and sighed when her computer signaled the arrival of a new email. She'd never been able to ignore a ringing phone or a new message so she clicked the mouse.

What?

It took a moment for her to make sense of the words on the screen. It was from the company she and Colin used to run background reports. It was fairly important their clients were who they said they were. That they weren't broke, had a criminal record...

Because she was swamped with clients this week, she'd done the interview with Kimball before she received the background checks, something she didn't like to do. If she had waited, she would've known Ross Kimball was not who he said he was. He wasn't living at the address he stated; there were no marine biologists working in the area, or in the country, under that name and his contact numbers were bogus.

Brodie pulled out her chair and sat down. She'd been played and played well. Who was Kimball and why had he used such an elaborate ruse to meet her?

It didn't take her long to come up with an answer.

Kade. And her relationship with him.

Since the world found out she was carrying Kade's baby—
a new generation of Mavericks!
—she'd been bombarded with requests for interviews and she'd refused every offer. Her standard response was a consistent and, she guessed, infuriating “no comment.”

As Kade had said, the press had gone looking for a story and Ross had sneaked in via the back door. He'd played the role well, she thought. She hadn't once suspected he wasn't who he said he was.

So, who did he work for and what had he penned? And how could she find out, preferably before Wren and Kade did?

What had she told the man? They'd discussed the city and how lonely it could be, he'd flirted with her and she'd shut him down...

Shut him down by telling him she didn't believe in love...

“‘Brodie Stewart is a walking contradiction, someone who earns a very healthy living matching people in that eternal quest for true love while discounting the notion for herself.'”

Brodie jerked her head up and winced when she saw Kade standing in the doorway to her office, reading from his phone. Well, guess she didn't have to go looking for the article. Kade—via the annoyingly efficient Wren, she presumed—had accessed it on his smartphone. And, judging by his furious expression, he was less than thrilled by its contents.

Brodie leaned her head against the back of her chair. “Who is he?”

“Ross Bennett. A blogger with an enormous following. Quite well-known for his ability to twist the truth,” Kade replied, looking back down at the screen. Then he started to read, his tone flat and terrifyingly devoid of all emotion.