believed he had a reason. He thought she had betrayed him. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t. He’d never believed her when she’d come to him later and tried to explain the reasons she’d had their marriage annulled, that she’d done it to save him. The result had been the same. She’d hurt him, had ripped his pride to shreds at a time when pride was all he’d had. What better payback than to commission her to design his future wife’s wedding ring? Regan stared at the ring in Cole’s hand and recalled the day he’d placed a thin gold band on her finger and promised to love her always. Always had only lasted ten days. Pain sliced through Regan, razor-sharp, at the memory. Deserving or not and no matter how badly she could use the sale and publicity, she refused to subject herself to that kind of misery. “As I said, I’m very busy. I’ll get my assistant to help you.”
“Like hell you will!” Quick as a snap he was off the table and in her face. “I’m not dealing with any assistant on something this important. I’m dealing with you, princess. And only you.”
Staggered by his sudden shift from cool control to white-hot fury, Regan took a step back. Emotions tumbled through her at breakneck speed, and she recalled the other two times she’d seen Cole in the grips of a temper like this—the day she’d told him she wanted an annulment and the day she’d told him she’d lost their baby. She drew in a calming breath. “I’d like you to leave.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. “What’s the matter, princess? Changed your mind again? It’s a little late for that now, don’t you think?”
Regan frowned, confused as much by Cole’s remarks as by his hostility. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, and, to tell you the truth, I don’t really care. I just want you to go.”
“Not a chance.”
Regan’s pulse danced uneasily at the steely determination in his voice. “Then you leave me no choice but to call the police and have you removed,” she said with more conviction than she felt. She started toward the phone, when suddenly Slugger decided he hadn’t finished playing games for the day. Her stomach dipped. A wave of nausea rolled through her. “Excuse me,” she mumbled, and tried to move past Cole before she lost what was left of her lunch in front of him.
Cole blocked her path. “I don’t think so. Not until we talk.”
“Get out of my way,” she commanded, fighting back the nausea climbing up her throat. “I mean it, Cole. Get out of my way, or you’re going to be sorry.”
“Sorrier than you were twelve years ago when you realized what a mistake you made by marrying a poor bastard? Oh, I forgot, my being a bastard isn’t quite so bad now that I have money, is it?”
For a moment the dots in front of her eyes cleared, as the full measure of his bitterness hit her. Regan blinked back the tears of anger and hurt stinging her eyes. “Go to hell.”
“No thanks, sweetheart, I’ve already been there once because of you. And I have no intention of going back. In fact, now that you’re pregnant, I—”
The shock of his words hit Regan like a punch, and on its heels came another wave of nausea. She clamped one hand over her mouth and used the other to shove past him. Cole caught her shoulder, pulled her around to face him. Then it was too late. She upchucked all over his expensive black shoes.
Stunned, Cole stood frozen for several seconds. As he battled through the anger that had gripped him at Regan’s dismissal, he registered her paper-white pallor, the beads of sweat dotting her brow.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered, a horrified expression on her face, before she broke free and fled.
“Regan, wait,” Cole shouted, charging after her. He skidded to a halt when the bathroom door swung shut, barely missing his nose. He pounded on the door with his fist. “Regan!”
“Go away!”
Concerned, he twisted the doorknob, found the thing locked. “Open the door, Regan.”
“Go away!”
Not a chance. Liz hadn’t told him that she was sick. Regan never got sick—at least not that he could remember. Even during her short pregnancy years ago, she hadn’t suffered so much as an hour of morning sickness. She hadn’t been sick a single day—until the miscarriage.
Suddenly the idea that Regan and his baby could be in any danger had the blood chilling in his veins. Damn! He should never have baited her the way he had, recalling the way the color had drained from her cheeks when he’d lashed out at her. He washed a hand down his face, shamed by his actions. Worse, he was scared. If something happened to her or the baby, it would be his fault. His insides suddenly churning, Cole raised his fist but forced himself to tap on the door, gently this time. “Princess? Are you all right?”
When she didn’t answer, Cole knocked again. Guilt and worry played havoc in his mind as he envisioned Regan lying on the bathroom floor helpless, maybe in pain. “Princess, can you hear me?” he asked, growing more anxious by the second. “Unlock the door. Let me in so I can help you.”
When she still failed to respond, the knot of fear in his stomach balled into a fist. Cole tried the doorknob again, gave it a menacing twist. Then he heard it—that terrible wretching sound of someone being sick. On the heels of that came a soft moan and then the sound of running water. He shoved at the door, contemplated kicking the thing in. “Are you all right?” he demanded, nerves making his voice sharp, his temper short. “Dammit, Regan, answer me.”
“I’m all right.”
But she didn’t sound all right. She sounded as weak as a newborn kitten. Sucking in a calming breath, Cole attempted to rein in the jumble of emotions racing through him. “Open the door, princess,” he coaxed, deliberately gentling his voice even though inside he felt raw, violent. “I know you’re sick. Please…open the door. Let me help you.”
“I don’t want your help,” she tossed back with more spirit than he’d expected. “I just want you to leave.”
Too bad, Cole thought, gritting his teeth. No way did he plan to leave—not until he was sure that she was okay. And the baby, he amended. After all, the baby was the reason he was here in the first place. Raking a hand through his hair, Cole sighed. According to Money magazine he was a smart man, a virtual business genius. So how the devil had he gotten himself into this mess? How the devil had he let himself get tangled up with Regan St. Claire again?
The answer was simple—Liz, his oldest and dearest friend, the woman who had taken a street-smart, angry punk under her wing and given him a chance to be something more. He owed her more than he could ever repay in one lifetime. But hell, this time Regan’s aunt Liz had gone too far.
And whose fault is that?
His, Cole admitted. Because he had only himself to blame for getting into this fix in the first place. After all, he knew how clever Liz was, and he also knew how much the woman loved her niece. Liz had known exactly which buttons to push to convince him to be Regan’s sperm donor. And idiot that he was, he’d fallen right into the trap….
“Forget it, Liz. If Regan needs a sperm donor, you’ll have to find someone else. Maybe one of those uptowners with the mile-long pedigrees.”
“Fine,” Liz agreed easily.
Too easily, he thought. The woman was as sharp as a tack and never gave up that easily. Narrowing
