you always run from awkward situations?” He really didn’t know much about her. Just that she and Camille were good-enough friends for her to be Camille’s maid of honor.
At Sierra’s pointed silence, Ben raked his hand through his black hair, deciding to let that question go so he could ask something more pertinent. “Have you seen a doctor?”
“Yes, I have.”
“What are you going to do about the pregnancy?”
Where before Sierra had seemed almost pale to him, her cheeks took on color now. “I will not get an abortion.”
“I’m not asking you to consider it.” He took a step closer to her, then wished he hadn’t because he inhaled her rose-scented perfume. It had driven him crazy at the party the whole time they’d talked, as well as the whole time they’d been naked together. “I just want to know if you can be sure this child is mine.”
“It’s your baby,” she replied quietly. At his silence, she asked, “You don’t believe me?”
His poker face must not have been as neutral as he thought. He was short on trust these days, especially where women were concerned, and it must have showed.
“Okay, Ben.” Fumbling with the catch on her purse, Sierra reached inside and pulled out a business card. “Here. Now you have my number and the address of my shop. Our baby is due at the end of May. Give me a call if you want to be involved in being a parent. If not, I understand.”
Before he could take a breath, Sierra hurried into the hall, her sandals clicking on the tile.
As he watched the sway of her hair across her back, the loose folds of her gauzy dress swinging around her legs, he knew he should call after her…go after her…bring her back to his office until they settled something. But he didn’t do any of those things. As one of the most level-headed, steadiest assistant district attorneys in Albuquerque’s violent crimes unit, he was shocked to realize he was shaken to his core.
He was going to be a dad!
He had to figure out a plan of action before he talked to Sierra again. He had to figure out if she was sincere, or if she might be trying to use him because she wanted monetary support for a child that might not even be his.
The phone on his desk rang.
Knowing Sierra had probably reached the elevator by now, Ben hurried to pick up the receiver, not at all sure tackling this situation with her would be any easier than prosecuting his hardest case.
Sierra gripped the phone Saturday afternoon as she waited for her aunt’s reaction.
“So you told him yesterday and he said…” Gina Ruiz prompted her niece from across the globe.
Sierra paced back and forth behind the counter of her shop, Beaded for You, on the outskirts of Old Town, Albuquerque. Her aunt Gina was questioning her with the fierce protectiveness of a mother. Her aunt had been more of a parent than either of her parents ever had, and Sierra loved her for it.
“He was…shocked.”
“I suppose that’s good. That means something like this doesn’t happen to him every day.”
In spite of Sierra’s queasy stomach, which always seemed to become unsettled midafternoon, she had to smile. “I should hope not. I never would have ended up in bed with him if I’d thought—”
She stopped, realizing what she had just said. This was her aunt, for goodness sake, not Camille.
“What happened, Sierra? This kind of thing isn’t like you at all. You told me Ben Barclay is going to be Miguel’s best man, but you don’t really know him, do you? Did he take advantage of you in some way? Put something in your drink? Did you have too many glasses of wine to celebrate Camille and Miguel’s engagement?”
Sierra remembered her first glimpse of Ben at the party. Oh, he was handsome all right, with black hair, thick brows, defined cheekbones and a jaw that looked very stern, except when he smiled. When his gray eyes had held hers for a long moment across the room, she’d felt…breathless, and had been unsettled by the tingles that had danced down her spine. With good reason. She didn’t date because the memories of her fiancé and the selflessness that had gotten him killed were still too fresh at times.
But, as Sierra knew, fate wasn’t something you could control. After she and Ben had been introduced, they’d begun a conversation about his work, about her shop. The room had gotten very noisy. She’d sensed he liked quiet as much as she did when he’d invited her to his room. She’d never expected their conversation would lead to bed.
“Sierra?”
“Aunt Gina, he was the perfect gentleman. I mean, it was both of us. It just happened. I’m not sure why or how. It just did.”
“Do you want me to come home?”
Sierra’s mother and father were anthropologists who traveled the world. Although they’d kept her with them when she was small, she’d always known she was secondary to whatever they shared, including their work. Her mother found nannies and teachers for her and often brought her back to New Mexico to spend weeks or months with her aunt.
Sierra had always felt extraneous. Once on a visit home, she’d heard her parents arguing with her aunt, her mother’s sister, about her need for normal high school years, a chance to socialize with children her own age and make bonds that would last longer than six months or a year. When Aunt Gina had invited Sierra to live with her for her four years of high school, Sierra had accepted joyfully, and would always be filled with gratitude for that time of her life.
Now her aunt was in Greece, a trip she had planned for most of her adult life. Sierra wasn’t going to make her cut it short.
“There’s no need for you to come home. Honestly, I’m fine. I really am. Camille and Miguel are here and so are other friends. I’ll be busy with Camille’s wedding next weekend.”
“But who will look after you when they’re away? What if you have a problem?”
“I can look after myself. My doctor’s a phone call away. Honestly, Aunt Gina, please don’t worry.”
The security bell dinged as her shop door opened. Ben Barclay walked in!
“Aunt Gina, Ben just came in. I have to go.”
“Don’t let him make decisions for you,” her aunt warned.
“I won’t.”
“Call me again soon.”
“I will. I love you,” she murmured into the cell phone, and after her aunt returned the sentiment, Sierra closed it.
With the brilliant New Mexico sun behind Ben, he stood in shadow until he approached the counter. His gaze assessed the space quickly—the glass cases filled with beaded jewelry created of lapis and tiger eye, turquoise and Venetian glass. She couldn’t tell from his expression what he thought, but she’d already learned that was normal for an encounter with Ben. Dressed in black cargo pants and a rust-and-black Henley shirt, he looked every bit as handsome as he had in his suit. She couldn’t keep other pictures from clicking through her
