do you know the baby is a boy?”
“I don’t, but I intend to be there when we find out and for every other milestone in our kid’s life. So, you might as well get used to that right now.”
Tanner had been raised by a single mother who sometimes worked two jobs to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table. She’d done a damn good job. His loser of a father had never paid a penny of child support. It was obvious Jordana didn’t need his financial help in raising their child. But the thought that she’d considered cutting him out of his baby’s life cut him to the core. His own father had been so absent from Tanner’s and his siblings’ lives that Tanner referred to him as “The Sperm Donor” rather than a father. As far as he was concerned, the name father or dad was a title earned by men who took their roles and responsibilities seriously. Tanner had always vowed he would be there for his kids … when the time came to have kids.
He just hadn’t expected that time to be right now. Since leaving the Air Force seven years ago, he’d been married to his company, Redmond Flight School. Although he wanted kids someday—in the very distant future—a family of his own hadn’t been on his radar. Well, that’s what he got for having impulsive, unprotected sex with Jordana. He had been taking her to the airport so that she could meet her family and fly back to Atlanta with them. The Fortunes had chartered a flight to take them home after they’d all gathered in Red Rock for the wedding of Jordana’s sister Wendy Fortune to Marcos Mendoza. When Jordana had heard reports of a storm bearing down on Red Rock, she’d refused to fly out with her family. Then she’d changed her mind. Tanner had offered her a ride to the airport. They’d both been a little unnerved about being stranded out on the road when the tornado struck. And they’d both sought warmth and comfort in the other’s arms. One thing led to another and … Well, you play, you pay.
“I know this is a hell of a time to ask, but were you not on birth control when we …?”
Stupid question. He realized it the minute the words passed his lips. The fact was further confirmed when sadness, or something just short of defeat, colored her golden-brown eyes. She shrugged and gestured toward the living room. “Sit down, Tanner. I need a cup of tea before I can deal with you at this hour. Do you prefer tea or coffee?”
He glared at her. Deal with me? “Coffee. But I don’t want any.”
She glared back. “How do you take yours?”
“I don’t want to put you out.”
“Well, I’m going to make it, anyway. So you’d be putting me out a lot less if you answered my question.”
The woman was pigheaded as all get-out. “Okay. Fine. Black.” At least he’d have her attention through the duration of a cup of joe, which he planned to nurse.
He watched her as she turned and padded barefoot, hips swaying under the cover of that big white robe, in the direction of what he presumed was the kitchen. He waited until she was out of his line of vision before he made his way into the living room and settled in a floral-print, overstuffed armchair.
He raked his fingers through the close-cropped hair on his head. How could he have been so stupid? He didn’t make a habit of having unprotected sex. Actually, he’d been so wrapped up in work lately, he hadn’t had many opportunities for protected sex. Nonetheless, he didn’t do it. For obvious reasons. But dammit, Jordana had been so aggressive that night. So wonderfully, deliciously insistent and responsive … only a dead man could’ve said no.
His body responded as he remembered that night. He sucked in a deep breath, fighting against arousal. Seeing her for the first time after all these months, with her clean morning face and her blond shoulder-length hair, slightly tussled as it started to dry, reminded him of why he hadn’t been able to resist her. She was sexy as hell, of course he hadn’t refused her. God almighty, despite the mess they were in, he even wanted her now.
He leaned forward in the chair, bracing his forearms on his knees, lacing his fingers loosely together. Maybe there really was a thin line between love and hate. Well, desire and hate, he quickly corrected. He didn’t know her well enough to be in love with her … no matter what his body was trying to tell him. Obviously, he didn’t really hate her, either. He was upset and more than a little angry at how things had turned out.
That had him focusing on the darker side of the desire-and-hate equation. The clear-cut side. His emotions might be muddled right now, but the one thing he knew for a fact was he hated the way Jordana had hidden his child from him. Anger coursed through his veins and clarified his momentary confusion.
He would stick to his plan. He would not leave Atlanta until she agreed to marry him and come back to Red Rock, Texas. His child would not be born illegitimate. Come hell or Jordana Fortune, he would do the right thing.
Jordana drew enough water in the kettle for a cup of tea for herself and a cup of coffee for Tanner. Her hand shook as she measured the French roast into the press-pot coffeemaker. The smell of the grounds—mixed with the thought of Tanner Redmond sitting in her living room with a stubborn set to his square jaw and a wild look in his chocolate-brown eyes made her stomach pitch. She held her breath for a moment, hoping to tamp down the awful sensation.
Smells she’d loved prepregnancy—like coffee and her favorite perfume—nearly turned her inside out now. Even so, enduring the stench of coffee was a small price to pay for an excuse to get away from Tanner for a few moments to gather her thoughts. Because the man who had been so gentle and patient with her back in December seemed like an entirely different animal now. She had about four minutes to figure out how she was going to change his mind and send him on his way.
Jordana stiffened as the wave of nausea swelled and tried to crest, despite the fact that there was nothing left in her stomach. She drew in a deep breath—in through her nose, out through her mouth. She repeated the process until her stomach finally settled. Morning sickness had plagued her since the second month of the pregnancy. In fact, it was her first clue that something different was going on with her body. Her doctor assured her the symptoms would go away in the second trimester, but so far, no luck. She’d been blessed with the variety of morning ills that sometimes lingered well into the afternoon. Today felt like it would be one of those days. It had been hard enough to drag herself into work and hide the fact that she was under the weather. People started to take notice when, for lack of a better excuse, she blamed her condition on rotating bouts of the flu and extreme exhaustion. Both excuses had worn thin a while ago. Now, what she didn’t need was for Tanner to come waltzing in and blow her cover.
She could just kill her cousin Victoria for spilling the beans to Tanner even after Jordana had explicitly told her she wasn’t ready to face him. In her trademark fashion, Victoria had pushed the issue, badgering Jordana, claiming she should just bite the bullet and tell him now because there would never be a perfect time to break news like this. Jordana should’ve known in Victoria-speak, her cousin was actually saying, “If you don’t tell him, I will.” The woman had never been able to keep a secret. When Victoria got something in her head, inevitably, it ended up rolling right off her tongue.
Jordana glanced at the clock. It was about six-fifteen in Texas. She had a sudden urge to pick up the phone and give the busybody a piece of her mind. But the kettle whistled, alerting her that the water was ready. She poured the water over the ground coffee in the press pot and over the tea bag in her favorite mug, setting the timer so both could steep for three minutes.
She’d talk to Victoria later, and when she did, her cousin was going to get a piece of Jordana’s mind, the likes of which she’d never seen before.
Jordana
