style="font-size:15px;"> At the moment, though, it was hard to think about him being thousands of miles away, putting his life in danger, when he was right there, close enough to touch. And it was all Alexa could do not to erase the mere inches between them, to throw her arms around him, to see, smell, touch, taste that he was really and truly alive and well—
Hormones, she thought desperately. She’d read how pregnancy could lead to a skyrocketing of emotions, but the rationale failed to erase the dizzying rush of desire flooding her veins. Nothing more than a momentary lapse.
Unfortunately, her lapses were all too common at least where Chance McClaren was concerned. But just because she’d made a mistake didn’t mean she would keep making them. From now on, she would make no more impulsive decisions; she would do her thinking with her head, not her heart.
And certainly not with her hormones.
Taking a sanity-saving step back from the hold Chance had over her, she whispered, “You should go before...”
His lips twisted in a mockery of a smile as he came to his own conclusion as to what she was afraid might happen. “Right. Wouldn’t want your fiancé catching you alone in a hotel room with a guy you slept with.”
Alexa opened her mouth to argue only to stop. What would be the point? Maybe it was better for Chance to think she and Griffin were engaged.
“But don’t worry. We’ll have plenty of time to see each other around.”
She shivered slightly at the promise—warning—in his expression. “Why is that?”
“Didn’t my sister tell you? I’m your wedding photographer.”
* * *
Alexa smiled at the waitress who topped off her glass of water before looking across the small table to find Griffin staring at her. “What?”
“You’re not eating.”
After the confrontation with Chance, Alexa had wanted nothing more than to escape the hotel. When Griffin returned to their suite and suggested a trip into town, she’d instantly agreed. They’d spent the afternoon browsing through the charming stores along Main Street. She would normally have loved taking in the Victorian architecture—the turrets, the wraparound porches, the elegantly detailed trim work and bright colors of the painted ladies—but she couldn’t concentrate.
She sighed as she picked through her salad. Couldn’t eat.
After surviving bouts of morning sickness her first trimester, her appetite had come back with a vengeance. So much so that when she’d reminded Griffin she was eating for two, he’d asked, “Are they both linebackers in the NFL?”
But now, with her nerves so frazzled from the confrontation with Chance, she could barely swallow a bite. “If you want, we can go somewhere else,” Griffin offered.
He’d spotted the old-fashioned diner with its black-and-white floors, stainless-steel eat-in counter and red-vinyl-covered booths. Despite—or perhaps because of—the five-star restaurants boasted by many of his family’s hotels, he’d always enjoyed a basic burger and fries.
They were seated toward the back of the diner, and Alexa had a view of the entire place. The booths and barstools were crowded with a mix of tourists and locals. Pink-uniformed waitresses called out orders to a cook behind the counter, and fifties music bounced through the speakers. The smell of grilled meat and fried food would have been mouthwatering if she’d had any kind of appetite.
“No, this is fine.” She stabbed at a piece of chicken in her Cobb salad.
Dunking a fry in a pool of ketchup on the corner of his plate, Griffin casually asked, “That was him, wasn’t it?”
Alexa froze, midchew, convinced he couldn’t be asking what she thought he was asking. But his gaze was so certain, reminding her that she’d never been able to pull anything over on him. Still, she swallowed and reached for her glass.
“I’m sorry...” After taking a sip of slightly tart apple juice, she asked, “Who’s ‘him’?” Childish of her to play dumb when Griffin knew her so well. She might as well close her eyes and pretend the world—pretend Chance McClaren—couldn’t see her.
“You know.” He nodded to the spot hidden beneath the opposite end of the table. “Your baby daddy.”
Alexa set her glass back on the white-fleck Formica table with a thunk. “Have I told you how much I loathe that term?”
“Do you have a better expression in mind?”
Weekend fling...
Sperm donor...
Father of her child...
None of them did anything to settle the nerves spiraling through her stomach.
“Besides, it doesn’t matter what I call him. I’m still right, aren’t I? He’s the one.”
The one. Somehow that sounded even worse than all the others. Yes, Chance McClaren was the one man who’d made her forget herself for a long weekend. The one man who’d gotten her to take a chance, to risk stepping outside her comfort zone. The one man who’d made her feel free.
A flutter of movement in her belly seemed to mock that thinking. Not so free now.
But Chance was not the one when it came to the man Alexa might have picked to father her child. Not the one when it came to a man she would choose for a stable, long-term relationship.
She knew that in her head, in her heart. So why didn’t her stupid body get with the program and settle down? Why were chills still racing down her spine and gooseflesh rising along her skin after seeing him again?
“How did you figure it out?” Alexa had told Griffin she was pregnant, keeping most of the details, including Chance’s name, to herself. She wasn’t sure why, other than saying his name would have brought back even more memories. And she’d been trying so hard to forget.
“Other than the sparks you two were striking off each other?” Griffin downed a fourth of his cheeseburger with one bite before adding, “After seeing the way you reacted, I did some quick online research on the guy. Turns out he was at that benefit in Santa Barbara, the same one where you met your mystery man.”
Alexa sighed, knowing Griffin had her cornered. “I still can’t believe he’s here. A part of me thought I’d never see him again.”
“Because you thought he’d been killed?” A hint of chiding filled Griffin’s voice that she hadn’t told him the whole story.
“You read the reports?”
“It was hard not to. Plug McClaren’s name into a search engine, and every headline touts how the guy came back from the dead.”
Alexa pushed the chopped tomatoes in her salad into a small pile. “I know. And I would have told you, but you were in the middle of those meetings with your father.” Meetings over Griffin’s trust and the stipulations that, so far, had kept him from obtaining the money. “And by the time you
