He couldn’t stay. She couldn’t have him there. Not at her house. In her space. And with her mind clearing as she went into self-protection mode, something else occurred to her.
“Why were you here?” she asked the man sitting on her front steps as though he planned to stay as long as it took.
She could call the police. Have him removed. No matter how tall and strong he was. If he thought he was going to come waltzing back into her life for another quickie, he had some learning to do. He’d had all of Charlize Kent he was ever going to get.
“That can wait.” He stood, his expression not quite as penetrating as he glanced at her. “Until after we get the test results.”
She wanted to argue. To insist he tell her why he’d been walking down her street toward her house. But sensed that he wasn’t going to give up on this one. And perhaps the reason no longer mattered.
Or maybe it did. Maybe he’d been on his way to see her. To explain. Apologize.
Glancing at his gorgeous face, the scruffy beard seeming to hide what she needed to see, to hide all expression, she reprimanded herself.
Really? Even now she was going to try to see fairy tales where there were none?
Angry again, she stood there, bag in hand. Contemplated options while he stood silently, toe to toe with her, saying nothing.
Oh, she could have him removed from her property, but the sidewalk was a public thoroughfare. In front of her house. Down from her house. Across the street from her house.
And she could get him for stalking if he hung out for any length of time in any of those places.
But the bottom line was, he had a right to the test result. Now that he knew there was need of a test. The responsibility for the act that had created their current situation was as much on him as it was on her. And she had to hand it to him; he was being decent about it. For the moment at least. He wasn’t losing his cool, wasn’t laying blame.
With a nod of her head, and a knot in her stomach, she led him up the stairs, unlocked the front door and felt his warmth at her back as he followed her inside.
He’d talk with the aunt while Charlize did what she had to do. It would speed up his retreat out of there when the test was through. His brain focused, popped up decisions in quick succession as was normal when his adrenaline was pumping.
One fact was very clear. Marriage and parenthood were not on the table. And forty-three years of going without it was good precedent.
“Is your aunt here?” he asked, looking around the immaculate, well-sized living room she led him into off from the front foyer. She’d told him she lived with an aunt. The question was understandable.
“She is, but don’t worry, she won’t be out. She’s got a migraine today. She took a headache pill about an hour ago and went in to lie down.”
One plan felled. He’d text Brody while Charlize was taking the test. Maybe he’d get lucky and the young attorney would answer. He could also check with someone at CI headquarters to see if perchance he’d shown up at the house with his cell phone still off. That would be the best-case scenario...
“Does she know about...this situation?” he heard himself ask when his brain had clearly been told to focus on finding Brody’s answers.
“No. No one does,” she said. Which told him that she’d spent the past two months at least, probably more like two and a half, carrying the situation around on her own. Worrying. Which made him feel like crap.
Made him want to know what kind of thoughts had been running through her head all those weeks—other than an obvious dislike of him, that was. Did she want to be a mother someday? To get married and raise a family of kids? It wasn’t something they’d talked about.
Just like he hadn’t bothered to mention that he was just a one up kind of guy. He always let the women he was with know what not to expect from him. Having any more family to look after didn’t appeal to him. At all. Hadn’t since he’d left home. And with so many years of work that touched the darkest side of life, he felt like more of a risk to any potential wife or kid than ever. Why hadn’t he been clear with her?
Not coming up with any answer he liked to that question, he sat there, a low life cringing with shame.
“I’ll...be back,” she said, leaving him standing there at the archway into the living room as she disappeared out another archway and off into the house.
Standing there in his jeans and tennis shoes, he didn’t feel like sitting down. Didn’t feel welcome. Not that he blamed her. He wouldn’t want him around, either, after the way he’d hoofed it out on her.
He walked around, looking at the bookshelves, wondering if it was Charlize or her aunt who liked to read historical novels. Didn’t care enough about reading material to follow through with any suppositions. Zipped straight to telling himself she wasn’t pregnant instead.
He was not about to find out he was going to be a father.
This was just a blip in a day that turned out to be filled with them. A distracting sidebar that would turn out to be nothing.
As the tightening of his muscles became uncomfortable enough for him to notice, he stood at the window and focused on the scene he’d witnessed just moments before when the truck had almost run over Charlize. He was waiting to hear back from Michaela. Either someone would need to come to Charlize’s house for a statement, or they’d need to go down to the station. Which they could do separately.
Better yet, a CSI like Sadie could come talk to her, to take photos of the tire tracks on the sidewalk and in the grass where the small truck jumped the curb. And he could stop home for his SUV and make a quick run to the station before the meeting with his siblings. And ask around about Wes Matthews and Capital X while he was there. He should get some photos of Charlize’s front yard on his own before he left, just to make certain there were some taken.
For that matter, maybe he should call Blythe Kent. Once he knew that he wasn’t...
Footsteps sounded. Light, little clicks against hardwood floor from sandals Charlize was wearing. She’d only been gone a minute or two.
Swinging around he looked at her. Saw the little piece of cardboard between two of her fingers. Glanced back at her face. She’d make a great poker player. Was giving him nothing.
He looked down at her hand again, finding it difficult to draw in a long, healthy breath. Had no personal experience with the stick things. He’d heard of them, of course. Couldn’t watch television without knowing some things, but none of his four sisters had had children yet, and...
“So?” he asked when he felt like his brain might explode with needing to know what he was dealing with.
She shrugged. “I don’t know yet. You have to wait three minutes.” She was expressly not looking at the strip on the stick in her hand.
“How long has it been?”
“However long I’ve been standing here, minus the thirty seconds it took me to get out here afterward.”
He stared at her hand. It was trembling, the little test also shaking. Wouldn’t matter if it was in vise grips right in front of his nose, he had no idea how to read results on it.
“Give it to me,” he said, reaching out for it. Either she would, or his question would tick her off enough to get her out of the seemingly panicked state she’d apparently fallen into.
She shook her head. “I can handle it just fine,” she told him, irritation clearly in her tone. So good, he’d pissed her off. Would distract her from any panic.
After looking at the phone she’d carried out with her, she dropped it back to her side, the stopwatch app he’d seen briefly now facing her skirt. She said nothing.
Apparently, he wasn’t privy to the timing.
So they stood there, facing each other from several feet apart. He didn’t know about her, but his heart was thumping and he either wanted a beer or to never eat again, depending on which second was ticking past.
When the high beeping sounded from her phone, he felt his entire body tense, though, thankfully, he didn’t reach for the gun at his side as he had earlier when the truck had first started careening toward Charlize. He’d been too far away at that point to get a shot off. And later, had only been interested in getting to her, making sure she was okay.
And...she’d glanced at the stick. Quickly. And then again. At which point, she didn’t glance away.
What was she trying to do? Kill him?
“Well?” he asked.
He knew, when her gaze met his, what she was going to tell him.
And still felt a blow from the words when she said, “It’s positive.”
She’d been worrying about that very moment for weeks. Ten weeks. Every day praying for her period that would tell her she wasn’t pregnant. And every night going to bed without it.
The reality of facing this situation was worse than anything she’d imagined.
Never, in her worst nightmare, had she imagined Riley Colton standing in her living room, losing color in the skin she could see above his beard, staring at her as though she’d just told him he had a week left to live.
And yet...she felt oddly...elated, too! Could that be right? Standing there, assessing everything from the outside in, as though she was in the home of one of her clients instead of her own, she checked herself.
Becoming a mother had always been as important to her as finding her one true love. So the latter had proved to be a fantasy that broke her heart—that didn’t mean she couldn’t thrive on the motherhood part.
A baby!
She had a baby growing inside her! She touched her stomach, feeling warm inside as she let her hand rest over the flatness.
She was going to be a mother...and have a son or daughter of her own!
Oh, God. She had to sit down.
Ramifications flooded her brain in no logical form or order of importance. She’d need a nursery. Aunt Blythe’s sewing room? She couldn’t ask her aunt to give that up.
Would they have to move? She loved their neighborhood—or had until a pickup had tried to run her over that afternoon. Aunt Blythe had several friends within walking distance.
And... Riley Colton was still there. Standing by the window. His expression seemingly vacant.
Seeing him, a bit of order returned to her existence. She had to get rid of him.
“Why are you here?” He’d said he’d tell her after the test. It was after the test. He needed to say his piece and vacate the premises. And her life.
Her phone rang. An officer was coming by within an hour to take her statement. Riley was answering a text. Looked over at her. “I’m going to head to the station to give my statement,” he said. “I’m going to take a few pictures outside first.” He moved toward the door.
“Wait a minute!” Just a damned minute. He wasn’t walking out on her again.
He turned back. Nodded, though she had no idea what he was agreeing to. Wasn’t even sure he knew. The man looked poleaxed. Not to be mean, but she kind of liked that he was suffering a bit after what he’d put her through.
And hated that he was, too. Because that was her way. She cared about people. Felt compassion for them.
“Why were you heading down my street?” she asked.
“We need to talk about...this.” He pointed to the basic vicinity of her midsection.
She wanted to refuse, especially since he couldn’t have known she was pregnant when he was walking down her street. She wanted to deny him any conversation at all regarding the rest of her life. But knew she didn’t have that right. Not ethically. And not legally, either.
“I agree,” she said. “And we will, but for right now, it’s best if we each get a little space to process. We just found out. Until half an hour ago, you didn’t even know of the possibility. Let’s think it over, and then talk.”
His nod this time was more vigorous. He seemed to almost smile, but with the beard, she couldn’t be sure. But she was pretty sure she’d just gotten closer to getting rid of him.
She had plans to make. A doctor’s appointment to schedule. Things to think about. She was going to be a mother!
Aunt Blythe would struggle a bit with Charlize not having a husband. As would her parents have if they’d still been alive. Falling in love at first sight, and having that passion last a lifetime, ran in their family like dark hair, long legs and the need to wear glasses. It was up to her, as their only child, to continue the family heritage...
“I’m here to speak with your aunt.” Riley’s words brought her attention front and center on him. Fully focused.
Huh? “What business do you have with Aunt Blythe?” If he thought he was going to tell her aunt about Charlize’s one night of stupidity, well...
He pulled a card out of his back pocket, came close enough to hand it to her.
Aunt Blythe’s calling card? She looked at him, frowning. “Where did you get this?”
“I’m working on a case,” he said, suddenly alive again, his newly vibrant essence taking over the living room. Filling her with a sense of security and fear at the same time. “My client was suckered into an investment scam. He’s out fifty grand. He brought me the brochures he picked up from the seminar he attended and your aunt’s card was among them. I’d like to speak with her, to find out what she knows...”
Charlize stepped forward, protective instincts in full gear. “You think she’s involved somehow?”
“That’s what I need to find out.”
“What’s the scam?”
“My client invested in a new vitamin that doesn’t yet have FDA approval. It was an illegal pyramid scheme...”
Alarm bells rang. “Vitamins?” She didn’t care about the legalities of pyramid schemes at the moment. He hadn’t even completed a nod before she said, “RevitaYou?” Please, let this all be a mix-up.
“You know about them?” His brow creased as his gaze filled with a renewed urgency. “You aren’t taking them, are you?”
“Me? No!” And as he visibly relaxed back a space, she asked, “Why?” Feeling not the least bit relieved.
“Because they apparently made my client’s girlfriend sick.”
Oh, God. She stared at Riley, her heart pounding. “There’s a jar of them in my aunt’s bathroom. And a case under her bed.”
“You think she’s taking them herself.” It was a statement not a question. And based on the jar in the bathroom, she nodded.
“For how long?”
“I noticed them a week ago.”
And Aunt Blythe hadn’t been feeling well recently. Granted, she’d suffered from migraines most of her adult life, but...
“I asked her about them...she’s still really independent when it comes to her rights to her choices so I can only do so much...she said she was trying to turn back time...” she continued. “I didn’t like the sound of that, but she said they’re only vitamins, nothing prescription, so I wasn’t all that worried. Worst case, they were placebos that did nothing.”
Riley nodded. “They’re supposed to make you look ten years younger within weeks. Or that’s the scam that’s being sold.”
“By who?” She was pissed now. More than pissed.
“That’s what I need to find out. I need to speak with your aunt. To find out what she can tell me.”
Scared to the bone now, she needed him to be doing better at his job.
“What about your client? Didn’t he tell you who’s behind this?”
“He’s given me everything he has, and we’re just in the beginning stages of the investigation,” he said, speaking slowly, in a way that made her think he wasn’t telling her everything.
Maybe he couldn’t. She had to know, anyway. Her mother’s two older sisters—Aunt Blythe, and an aunt not far outside Grand Rapids, Gracie—were the only biological family she had left.
“The case just came to me today,” he said. “My brother and sisters and I are meeting tonight to discuss our next steps. We’re all just collecting what information we can to bring to the table.”
She nodded. Gathered herself together enough to know that alienating him at that point was not smart. To realize that she might need his help.
Not with the baby, but...he was a better witness to what happened to her that afternoon then she’d be...and now this vitamin thing with Aunt Blythe...
She searched her mind for anything she might know that could help him. “Aunt Blythe has been acting kind of jumpy these past couple of days. Absentminded, maybe. Like she could be nervous about something. She wouldn’t talk about it, though.” She wanted to go straight to the older woman. Get her up and...
“She’s out cold when she takes those headache pills,” she said aloud. “She’s seventy-six years old and while she’s still in good mental shape, she gets a bit forgetful when she’s upset, and is best after she’s rested...”
“That’s fine,” Riley said, backing up toward the door. “I’ll check back with you in the morning. The police are on their way, but are you sure you’re okay here alone?” He’d stopped several feet before the door.
“We have a state-of-the-art alarm system, inside and out, and I’ll keep my mace and cell phone within reach at all times.”
He still hesitated. Frowning. Fearing baby talk, something she absolutely wasn’t ready for at that point, she said, “I’m a big girl, Riley. I’ve been dealing with destructive clients most of my career and am fully trained in self-defence, and capable of looking out for myself.”
He nodded. Glanced again at her belly. Opened his mouth as though he was going to say something, closed it again and still didn’t leave.
“We’ll talk about it tomorrow, too,” she said softly, her heart reaching out to him. She was a natural at feeling out the needs of others and offering what help she could. It made her good at her job.
“Can I have your cell phone for a second?”
The request was odd, but after pulling it out of the pocket of her dress, she handed it to him. She had nothing to hide.
He pushed the screen a time or two, typed for a second, handed it back to her. “I should have done that three months ago,” he said. “My number’s there. I keep my cell on, and on me at all times. Call me if there’s even a hint of trouble tonight. Or if you think of anything else...”
She wasn’t going to call him. Even if there was trouble. She’d dial 911. As was her protocol. But she nodded. Saw him to the door. Locked it behind him.
And then, leaning back against it, let the tears flow.