same to her child. Sure, a pregnancy wasn’t convenient, but neither had Will’s autism or her falling in love with Beck been convenient.
You didn’t just erase the problem because you didn’t like the outcome.
Tom’s face turned paper-white. “I need a drink.”
Cady watched Tom walk to the bar and hoped that her baby didn’t inherit his knock-kneed walk. Or his lack of height. Or the cowlick just above his right ear.
He isn’t Beck...
Damn him for being the entire package, both smart and sexy. A blue-eyed wavy haired blond, Beck looked like he belonged on the cover of a surfing magazine. Long-limbed and muscular, he looked as good in a tuxedo as he did in a pair of swimming shorts. Unlike Beckett, Tom didn’t make her head swim or her heart race and she liked it that way. It was an adult relationship with no teenage hormones and irrationality to cloud her thinking. She certainly never felt short of breath or felt the need to rip Tom’s clothes off.
She’d been careful with Tom; she hadn’t given him any of her heart. She’d given Beckett everything—including her virginity—only to be dismissed when he’d had enough of her.
So, yeah, Tom never set her panties, or her heart, on fire and walking away from him was going to be easy. She’d just prefer not to be pregnant while she did it.
Single and pregnant. Her parents were going to be so proud.
Cady rested her hand on her stomach. There was only one fact of which she was certain: she was keeping her baby.
Tom banged his tumbler of whiskey onto the table and sat down again. He lifted his glass to his lips and sent her a long, cold look.
“Is it mine?”
Cady lifted her hands in the air. “Are you crazy? Of course it’s yours. I haven’t slept with anyone else but you since we started dating.”
Tom shrugged. He turned his head toward the bar, leered at a new female arrival and turned back to her, looking supremely disinterested.
“The baby is yours, Tom,” Cady repeated, enunciating the words.
He pouted. “So you say.”
“Tom, we’ve been seeing each other for the best part of a year.”
“I didn’t think we were dating only each other.”
Cady blinked, utterly astounded. What the hell?
Wait, hold on a second... If Tom thought that they weren’t exclusive then that meant that he had colored outside the lines, so to speak. “Have you cheated on me?”
“Since I didn’t think we were exclusive I don’t consider it cheating.”
“You bastard!” Cady stopped herself from banging the table. “Who?”
“Does it matter?” Tom asked, his voice cool. He motioned to her stomach, and his next words catapulted this exchange from a bad dream into a nightmare. “Get rid of it or you’re fired.”
“You can’t fire me. I have a contract with you!” Cady stated, not recognizing the cold, heartless man sitting opposite her. God, if she lost Tom’s business, as well...
“So sue me.” Tom shrugged, unconcerned. “I’ll win. Cady, I’m not interested in having a baby. If you want child support you’re going to have to sue me for that, as well,” Tom stated after draining his glass of whiskey. “But I should warn you that I’ll sic both sets of lawyers on you—mine and my wife’s.”
What? His wife’s lawyers? He was divorced; he’d been divorced for a little over a year. He’d divorced her because she’d refused to date him until he was free.
Oh, dear God...
“You called Gretchen your wife.” Cady forced the question through her now-numb lips. “Have you been cheating on me with your wife?”
Tom’s cold look pushed ice into her bones. “Cady, I never divorced her. I’ve been cheating on her...with you.”
* * *
After sending a text message to the group name “family” on his phone—telling them he was fine and enjoying his trip—Beck sat down at the desk in his luxury hotel room to Skype Amy.
His computer did its thing and then Amy’s pixie face filled his screen. She scowled at him. “It’s about time you called.”
“Hello to you, too,” Beck said with a faint smile. Beck wondered, not for the first time, who was the boss in the relationship. He might be a Ballantyne director, but Amy, the PA he shared with Linc and the person he and his siblings entrusted with the most confidential information, was the power behind the throne. “What’s up?”
“So much,” Amy answered and held up her index finger. “Don’t go away. I’m just going to get my wine.”
Beck laughed when Julia hung her face, upside down, over the screen to blow him a kiss. Amy’s long-term partner and soon-to-be wife was a goofball, and around her loved ones, she rarely acted like the cool professional the financial world knew her to be.
Beck picked up his laptop, walked toward the bed and placed the device on the bedside table. He tucked pillows between his head and the headboard of the massive bed and stretched out his legs. He liked beds to be big enough to accommodate his six-four frame.
Beck placed his laptop on his knees and reached for his beer. He sipped it as he watched Amy’s cat, Lazy Joe, jump with great effort onto her chair and curl up into a gray-and-white ball. Amy returned, picked up the cat and resettled the feline on her lap.
“God, look at you with your messy hair and your stubble, wearing only a pair of track pants. So hot.” Amy tossed a quick look over her shoulder. “Julia, I’m thinking of going straight.”
“Stop lusting over Beckett, you pervert. He’s your boss.” Julia’s voice drifted over from the kitchen, sounding perfectly relaxed.
“And you’re not my type. Even if you were straight we’d have no chemistry,” Beck said mildly.
“True. So, I’m now going to ignore that fabulous chest and six-pack abs.”
“So kind,” Beck murmured.
“You look like you’re having a miserable time on your forced break,” Amy commented.
After his first year of working for Ballantyne International, Connor had insisted that, because he was a driven, relentless workaholic with a habit of working sixteen or more hours a day, he take a week off every four months. Initially, he’d felt like Connor was punishing him for working too hard, but he eventually realized that it was his uncle’s way of looking after his health. Connor knew that he couldn’t force Beck to stop working but he could at least manage him.
No one did that now. Connor’s death had leveled the playing fields between him and his brothers and he no longer took orders that he not work so hard. His siblings didn’t understand, and he’d never explain, that he liked to work insane hours, that his devotion to Ballantyne International
