she seemed smaller somehow. Almost petite compared to a moment ago. “So you’re saying that the man I met was actually Finn Steele? I can’t believe, after everything that happened, that he wouldn’t tell me his real name.”
Sawyer could believe it. Masquerading as his brother gave Finn free license to do what he wanted without consequence. “If you don’t mind me asking, was it just a one-night thing between the two of you?”
She looked at him with conflict in her eyes. “Yes. That was the plan, at least.”
That was his brother’s style. Love ’em and leave ’em, regardless of what name he used. “Then I doubt he would bother to correct you if you thought he was me. In the end, what would it matter? It’s just a one-night stand.”
Kat’s expression softened for a moment as she glanced down at the ground, her eyes hidden beneath her thick auburn lashes. “It does matter, Sawyer. That’s why I’ve crashed this party even though it’s obvious he doesn’t want to see me again. It matters because I’m pregnant with his child.”
Katherine McIntyre had never seen a man’s face blanch to a ghostly white so quickly. Even at night, with the patio light behind him, she could see the blood drain from his face and his attractive tan fade. If he hadn’t seemed so steady on his feet until now, she might worry that he was about to pass out.
She wasn’t sure why he was so upset about the news. He wasn’t the father. He wasn’t pregnant. He hadn’t just found out he’d slept with a lying cheat. She was the one having a terrible night. Sure, he’d been slapped by mistake and would have a lot of explaining to do when he saw his date again, but this was hardly his problem.
The valet brought her car around at last. “I’m sorry. It took a few times for it to turn over,” he said.
Kat glanced to where the valet was waiting and then back at the dumbstruck Steele heir. “I’d better go.”
He reached out to her, almost appearing to surprise himself as he did it. “Wait. Come back inside and we can talk some more.”
She was tempted to say yes. There was a kindness in his eyes that beckoned her to climb the steps and chat with him. It was different than what she’d seen in those familiar eyes before, so his story seemed to hold up. While identical in appearance, the Steele twins were very different men. But talking made no sense when Sawyer wasn’t the one she needed to talk to. At least about the baby.
A white Rolls Royce started up the driveway and the front doors of the house opened. People started pouring out onto the stairs. It must be time for the bride and groom to make their exit. Kat wasn’t going to stay around for that. Even if her old Jeep wasn’t in the way.
“I can’t,” she said. “But Saw—I mean Finn—should know how to reach me when he gets back to the States. Please have him call me.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a business card. She’d given Finn one before, but it had likely ended up in the trash the next morning.
Sawyer glanced over his shoulder at all the people coming toward them and his jaw flexed with what looked like irritation as he reached to take the card from her hand. He sighed and nodded as he glanced down at it. “I’ll make sure he calls you before he gets back. I’m actually going to phone and wake him up right now. He deserves it.”
Kat nodded and walked around her Jeep to get inside. She told herself not to look in the rearview mirror as she pulled away, but she did it anyway. She watched Sawyer Steele as his gaze followed her into the distance. He was still watching as she turned out of the driveway and the big house disappeared from sight.
With a groan, she wrapped her fingers tightly around the steering wheel and pressed down the gas pedal. This was not how she had envisioned this night playing out. She’d just wanted to pin Sawyer—Finn—down to talk, the same as that first night. Pregnancy was not what she had been going for back then. Far from it. But now that it was done, she wanted to do the right thing and tell the father. If he wasn’t going to return her calls, she had to find another way to reach him.
The idea was to locate him, pull him aside to talk, and take things from there. Slapping the father of her child hadn’t been a part of her plan, but when she saw him dancing with that beautiful blonde, she couldn’t help it. Between morning sickness and pure exhaustion, she’d been uncomfortable for the last few weeks. He could be uncomfortable for a moment or two himself.
Then she’d found out she’d hit the wrong guy and everything just unraveled. China. Her baby’s father was in China and that was the least of her troubles. Her baby’s father was also a “trickster” in his own brother’s words, one who had no problem seducing a woman using his brother’s name. That was not the kind of man she wanted in her child’s life, but it was too late now. It was done and she would have to find a way to deal with the aftermath.
Kat slowly pulled into her narrow driveway and turned off the Jeep’s engine. She looked over at the historic Charleston-style house she called home. Located in the heart of the Peninsula, it had always been enough for her. The twelve-hundred-square-foot structure was the perfect space for a free-spirited artist. It had plenty of light, the traditional piazza patio allowed her to work outside sometimes and, best of all…the place was paid for.
She climbed from her Jeep and went inside. Her little abode was no Steele mansion, but what was? To be honest, she really hadn’t understood what kind of family she’d gotten involved with until she pulled into that driveway and got her first view of the house. The Corinthian columns, the whitewashed stone, the lane of old live oak trees dripping Spanish moss on the long drive to the house…it was like something out of a Southern gothic novel. In this day and age it was the kind of place that was usually a museum, or rented out for weddings and events. But no, the Steeles actually lived there.
Kat wasn’t a stranger to money. Both her parents had been successful, her father a famous mystery writer and her mother a celebrated painter. They’d done well for themselves, and when they were both killed in a car accident, their estates and life insurance policies had supported Kat through art school and allowed her to be an artist herself without worrying about starving or working a day job. Yes, she needed a new car. And yes, the house probably needed a new coat of paint, but she didn’t want for much.
She tossed her purse onto the couch beside a box of woodworking tools and wood scraps. It would go with her Monday morning when she went down to the District to work. The old warehouse-turned-artist-community was where she spent most of her days. She rented a studio in the building even though she had room at the house to work. Woodworking was messy, but being there was more about community and exposure than anything else. If she wasn’t working there or selling pieces to folks strolling by, she was hanging out with the other artists, who had become her family since her parents died.
Honestly, losing that place would be like losing her parents all over again. And that was what she was facing. That was why she’d gotten all dressed up and gone downtown to that stupid awards ceremony the night she’d met Finn. Because she was going to lose it all to the wheels of progress and commerce.
Four months ago, the owner of the District passed away and his children sold the building to a developer. The place would be gutted and renovated. It would remain an artist community—at least that’s what the letters they all received said—but it would be more about selling than creating, by necessity. The rent would be tripling to cover the costs of the renovations and bring the place more in line with the new owner’s vision.
Kat
