That's My Baby! by Vicki Lewis Thompson Page A

with—”
    “See? You don’t know, either! Antibiotics can make birth control pills useless!”
    So it was true. The realization washed over him in an icy wave. A child. He had a child. His baby wasn’t a refugee, yet still the images of those sad-eyed orphans rose up to taunt him. Life had let them down, and sure as the world, he would let down any child that called him father.
    When panic threatened to overwhelm him, he looked for someone to blame. “If that’s true about antibiotics, it should be common knowledge! The doctor should have told you!”
    “How could he think to? I ran over to one of those all-night clinics, and they were busy as hell. The guy who prescribed the antibiotics didn’t know me or my situation, and let’s not forget that I was supposed to keep it so damn secret that I was involved in a sexual relationship.”
    He looked away from the accusation in her eyes. Guilty. He was so guilty. Loving a woman like Jess had been a mistake from the beginning. After only a couple of days ofknowing her, he’d realized she was a white-lace-and-promises kind of gal. Pursuing her had been pure selfishness on his part.
    But he’d wanted her in a way that reason and fairness couldn’t touch. He still did. One glance in her direction and the urge to take her came roaring back, especially now, when he was vulnerable and afraid. He’d discovered making love to Jess was magic. Holding her, pushing deep inside her, his fears always went away.
    He could still taste her kisses. Her mouth was red from them, her skin rosy from the brush of his beard. The scattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose had been something he’d missed more than he realized. He loved her more now than ever before, as she stood there defiantly challenging him, her wild mane of red curls a riot of color around her tight, angry expression.
    Then it finally struck him that she’d announced that they had a child, but she was here alone. “Where is the baby now?”
    The defiance whooshed out of her in no time, and her expression became heartbreakingly sad. “In Colorado,” she said quietly. “At the Rocking D.”
    “With Sebastian? ” Alarm zinged through him. “Sebastian doesn’t know a damn thing about babies! How long—”
    “Maybe we’d better go over there and sit down.” She gestured to a polished cherry table and two side chairs positioned by the window. “We have several things to talk about.”
    He couldn’t come up with a better plan. It was as good a spot as any for him to be while she flung one hand grenade of information after another. Walking over to the window, he opened the drapes. He’d closed them while she was in the shower as part of his preparation for seducing her. Now he needed a feeling of space.
    Below them the city still bustled even though it was nearly midnight. Which meant it was early morning in London. If his body ever stopped pumping with adrenaline, he’d probably keel over from lack of sleep. As it was, he felt as if he’d never be able to sleep again.
    “Are you going to sit down?” she asked.
    He turned. She was seated primly in one of the Queen Anne chairs, her elbows resting on the arms, her fingers laced together and her feet crossed at the ankles. He thought again how well she fit into this environment. She looked like a younger version of her mother.
    He also had the ignoble thought of going over to that chair and trapping her within its arms while he ravished her. There was something very provocative about that bulky terry robe covering her naked body, and the untidy mass of her just-washed hair made her look like a woman in need of ravishing. She had freckles across the top of her breasts, too, and he’d been too busy to take proper notice of them the first time he’d opened her robe. Those freckles called to him.
    She’d given birth to his child. He couldn’t take it in. His mind kept trying to reject the whole concept.
    “I guess you’re not going to sit down,” she