The Millionaire's Proposal (8 page)

“You tested for pregnancy?”

He shrugged. “Just trying to rule out all probable causes for your symptoms. According to this, you’re positive.”

Her mouth suddenly felt dry as cotton. “That’s impossible. I’m sterile.”

“Says who?”

“David and I . . . we couldn’t have children. He’s gone on to have two kids, so that leaves me.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.” He regarded her with kind blue eyes. “Were you ever tested for infertility?”

“No . . .” The admission came reluctantly.

He contemplated her reply for a moment, then grabbed her chart again. “When was your last menstrual period?” He clicked his ball point pen, poised to jot down the information.

“I’m not very regular, so I don’t keep track.” She’d never had a reason to mark her calendar and count days because she was inevitably late. “I’d say somewhere around six weeks ago. I should start any day.”

Seemingly taking her comment for face value—that she hadn’t been sexually active as of late—he made a note about her irregular cycle then met her gaze through his wire-rimmed glasses. “It sounds like a false positive to me, or an error at the lab.”

She pasted on a bright, agreeable smile. “I’m sure you’re right.”

“And then there’s always the possibility of Immaculate Conception,” he said with a playful wink.

She laughed, but the light sound did nothing to ease the pounding of her heart, or the thought that kept popping into her head.
Could she really be pregnant
? She mentally scanned through her symptoms, and though she’d never been pregnant before, what she was experiencing were classic signs as she’d heard other women describe them.

How could that be possible
? Had she and David just been incompatible in as that they hadn’t been able to conceive a child together? Questions bombarded her mind, but as much as she wanted answers, she refused to ask Dr. Chase and risk his suspicion.

“Why don’t you stay home for the next few days to rest and have Darcy run the shop?” he suggested. “If you’re not feeling better by Monday, then come in and see me again.”

She nodded, feeling numb, confused, and more out of sorts than when she’d first arrived. Grabbing her purse, she stopped Dr. Chase before they exited the examination room. “I’d like to exercise my doctor patient privilege and keep this between you and I,” she said, stating her preference that her father not discover the results of that lab test.

“All right,” Dr. Chase said slowly, digesting her request and coming to his own conclusions. He hesitated for a moment, then his gaze softened. “Just because you and David couldn’t get pregnant doesn’t mean you’re sterile, Grace. There are a lot of variables when it comes to reasons why a couple can’t conceive, and even if you were tested and confirmed as infertile, there is always that miracle of a chance that you could still get pregnant and have a family.”

Grace nodded, unable to bring herself to tell Dr. Chase that although that bit of news thrilled her, it also struck an awful fear in her heart because she suspected her irresponsible actions with Ford might have produced irrevocable consequences.

Ford’s fingers tensed on the steering wheel of his car as he turned down Oakton Avenue and headed toward Whitaker Towne Square. Nearly five weeks after making love with Grace, Ford still couldn’t shake the regret that had lodged itself deep within him . . . regret for the way he’d handled the situation, and for hurting Grace with his stubborn silence.

And then there was also the heavy dose of guilt that had played tug of war with his conscience over the ensuing weeks. He should have told her the truth about Cutter Creek and FZM that night at dinner, but he’d believed he had time on his side to sway her, to court her, to gradually prove to her that he’d changed and belonged in her world.

Her father had stolen that opportunity from him, had reduced his plans to ashes with his harsh words and the bitter blame Ellis had cast upon him. From Grace’s bedroom, Ford had heard Ellis’s ranting, his dredging up of the ugly past, the accusations that had haunted him since the day Aaron had died. In that moment, all the years Ford had spent rebuilding his life and developing credibility had been crush into insignificance by one man’s hatred.

Old doubts and insecurities had settled in, mocking him with the possibility that he’d never be good enough for Grace Holbrook. He’d retreated when Grace had confronted him, a self-preservation tactic he’d learned as an impoverished kid, to protect himself from all the criticism he’d had to endure. It seemed his instincts were just as sharp.

She’d been angry that morning; he’d been defensive after listening to Ellis malign his character. Leaving seemed the best thing to do to let their tempers cool, to allow Grace time to absorb the fact that he’d be living in Whitaker Falls. Permanently. He had a reputation to establish, and his pride to win back.

In time, he would earn both.

But for now, it was time to find out if Grace’s reception would be any warmer than the few locals he’d encountered who’d eyed him with cool reserve.

She was pregnant. Without a doubt. The bright blue strip on the home pregnancy test Grace had bought at the drug store, along with the twenty other inconsequential items she’d purchased in an attempt to camouflage the glaring evidence, confirmed the lab results had been accurate. With a deep, internal shudder, Grace lowered herself to the closed lid of the commode and squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to suppress the tears burning the back of her throat.

She lost the battle, the rush of moisture seeping past her lashes. One blink, and a tear rolled down her cheek, then another. Oh, what a fine mess she’d gotten herself into!

She pressed a hand to her still flat tummy, guessing in another month or two her secret would be revealed to anyone who glanced her way. While she was ecstatic that she was able to have babies, she dreaded the emotional battle that lay ahead for her and her child, not to mention the possible scandal. Not only would she remain unwed in her pregnant condition, but not naming a father would surely add to the ensuing speculation. There was no way she was going to compound her mistake by announcing to everyone that Ford was the daddy.

She’d tell Ford her intentions upfront—that she planned to have this baby on her own, and wanted absolutely nothing from him except his silence. Since he obviously didn’t love her, and had his own personal agenda for returning to Whitaker Falls, she was certain she’d be able to gain his cooperation.

As for her father . . . well, she wondered if he’d believe Dr. Chase’s suggestion of Immaculate Conception.

Releasing a shuddering sigh, she managed a wobbly smile for the unexpected gift she’d been blessed with. She wasn’t one to wallow in misery and mistakes, and she refused to do so with this situation. This child would know love . . .
her
love, and that’s all that mattered.

A knock on her front door startled Grace, and kicked her heart rate into triple-time. Her mind spun as she took in the contents of the pregnancy test spread out on the bathroom counter. Guessing the uninvited guest was her father, who’d made dropping by an impulse lately, Grace frantically cleaned up the incriminating evidence. She shoved the small plastic cup and the instruction booklet into the box they came in and tossed it into the cupboard beneath the sink.

Another knock.

Swiping at her damp eyes with the heel of her hand, and trying to calm the jumble of nerves fluttering in her belly, she made her way through the living room. She opened the front door with a smile she’d dredged up from her cheerful reserve, which promptly fell into a frown when she found Ford standing on her porch.

Gone was the executive who’d seduced her, traded in for more casual attire that suited him just as well as the expensive wardrobe from his first visit. A pale blue striped shirt covered his wide, athletic chest, the threads of color making his violet eyes more dazzling, and intense. Crisp, new, form fitting blue jeans hugged a lean waist and hips, and outlined nice firm thighs. Leather cowboy boots completed the ensemble. He still looked successful, and incredibly gorgeous. And he still had the ability to set her pulse to racing—damn him.

“Hi.” Though his voice was rich, intimate, and just as sexy as she remembered, his eyes were dark and reserved. “I stopped by your flower shop, but Darcy said you’d gone home sick. You do look pale, and your eyes are puffy. Are you okay?”

His gaze scrutinized her face with a gentle concern Grace refused to believe was real. “I’m fine.” Her lips pursed in irritation. It was one thing knowing he was living in Whitaker Falls and having to deal with the possibility of seeing him in town, but it was another for him to think he could drop by her place uninvited. “What are you doing here?”

Her demand didn’t seem to faze him. “Considering where we left off last time, I think we have unfinished business to take care of. I gave you time to cool off, so the sooner we get this conversation over with, the better.”

She opted for a short and simple response. “I have nothing to say to you, so leave.”

Anticipating her next move, he wedged his booted foot into the jamb, effectively stopping the door from shutting in his face. His large hand clamped around the frame, and she knew it wouldn’t take much effort for him to push his way into her cottage.

“I’m not leaving until we talk, Grace.” He sounded firm and too determined.

“Then talk,” she said through the three inch of space separating them.

“Without the door between us.” Annoyance touched his deep voice.

Suspecting Ford possessed a tenacity to match all that self-assurance he’d developed over the years, she reluctantly let him into her living room. Closing the door, she headed toward the kitchen, needing something cool to drink to offset the heat prickling along her skin.

He followed, watching her as she retrieved a tall glass from the cupboard and filled it with iced tea from the refrigerator. “I’m waiting,” she said impatiently.

Coming up beside her, he grabbed his own glass and took the pitcher from her before she could put it away, pouring himself his own drink. She frowned at him, but he ignored her as he drained the liquid, then refilled his glass a second time.

He leaned a hip against the tiled kitchen counter, looking thoroughly masculine and as though he belonged in her cottage. His gaze swept over her, slow and searching. “So what’s this about you not feeling well?”

She wasn’t mentally or emotionally ready to spring the truth on him, not when she hadn’t yet had a chance to get used to the reality of her being pregnant. “I’ve had the flu, so don’t get too close.” She curled the corner of her lip, daring him to ignore her warning so she could take great pleasure in infecting him—if only her illness
was
contagious!

He laughed, low and husky. “You should know by now that I’m not afraid to swap germs with you.”

His confidence astounded her, and worried her. Something in her stomach unfurled—not a bout of nausea, but a sensual rippling of awareness she couldn’t restrain. Was she forever doomed to be attracted to this man despite everything he’d done to deceive her?

When it became clear that she wasn’t going to take his bait, he set his empty glass next to the sink, growing serious. “I was really hoping the past few weeks would have made you see a little bit of reason.”

She gaped at him. “How can I reason the fact that you deceived me?”

Regret clouded his handsome features. “I omitted a few things, true-”

“Just the teensy-weensy fact that the huge, sprawling house out at Cutter Creek is yours, and you’ll be living in Whitaker Falls.” She snapped her fingers, as if remembering a few more points. “Oh, not to mention that you’re wealthy, successful, and you own your own company now.”

His jaw hardened, and he pushed his fingers through his thick hair in a frustrated gesture, saying nothing. His expression grew hard, impenetrable, and defensive.

Grace took a drink of her tea, trying to calm the riot of confusion weaving through her. What they’d shared a month ago had been honest and real on her part, but she didn’t know what to believe of Ford’s intentions, could only remember his lies, and that awful sense of betrayal she’d felt upon learning the truth of
who
he was now. She couldn’t help but ponder what else he might be hiding behind that reserved expression of his.