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SEBASTIAN ROLLED INTO SAN JOSE midafternoon, just in time to beat rush hour traffic.
With every additional mile of asphalt between him and Tallulah Cove, between him and Kate, the sense of urgency to get back grew.
A sense of loss took over, leaving him edgy.
He turned on the radio and flipped through about fifty stations before he found one he could tolerate. Then when he did, he couldn’t get the volume just right so he turned off the music entirely.
With her, he wasn’t just a ballplayer. For the first time since he’d begun focusing on his skills and performance for baseball scouts, he could just be Sebastian Macina, the man who loved adventure, simple entertainment, and fun banter...something Kate delivered in spades.
Tallulah Cove was supposed to be a reprieve from the barrage of media, groupies, and demands of his career while he healed, but it turned into a whole lot more.
Home.
The townspeople had seen him around. By the raised eyebrows, they’d definitely recognized him.
And despite that, they’d given him his privacy. They’d treated him as if he were just another local picking up a cup of coffee.
Just another single guy grabbing a pizza and beer on a Friday night.
No questions. No requests for pictures or autographs.
Since that last time he stood on the mound before a team of doctors delivered the solemn news of his injury, he wondered what he would do if he lost his career. Who he’d be? Where he’d land?
He didn’t have to wonder anymore. He’d be Sebastian Macina, Tallulah Cove’s newest coffee addict.
And if he was lucky, the love of Kate LeBlanc’s life even...no disrespect to her prior husbands.
He waited for some sort of flash of jealousy, but nothing. Instead, gratitude filled him that two men had loved her thoroughly.
Thoroughly enough that she still carried one of them with her, literally.
God, the sight she made with that urn tucked under her arm, smile on her face, and saucy gleam in her eyes.
Yeah, he knew right where he wanted to be.
In her arms.
In her bed.
In her heart.
He rolled into the closest space at Royce and Tillerman Law offices, shut off the engine of his car, and took a deep breath with his hands gripping the wheel.
A seed of resentment pulsed in his gut that Callie Sandville had put him in this position to begin with.
She started it, but he sure as hell would put an end to it, and that started today.
He had a whole other life waiting for him.
He stepped through the door and gave his name to the man behind the reception desk.
“Of course, Mr. Macina. If you’ll just follow me,” he said, rising to his feet and opening a heavy dark door to the inner sanctum.
Closed office doors lined the pristine hall all the way down to the end where just one stood open.
The man gestured and smiled. “Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea, soda, water?”
“No, I’m good, thank you,” Sebastian said. Any other time he would have asked for coffee, but he was already on edge, and between the caffeine and simmering anger, he might just blow a gasket.
“Sebastian, good to see you. I wish it were under better circumstances,” Justin Royce said, offering a hand.
Justin Royce had gone to the same high school, only ten years earlier, but he still held the batting record as the first major baseball talent from their high school.
He’d been offered a life-changing deal to play for Oakland, and he’d turned it down when even the obscene amount of money wasn’t enough for him to overlook the drawbacks to a major league baseball career.
Instead, he’d gone to law school, worked for a few years, and eventually opened his own firm, turning his focus to representing athletes.
There was no one in this business, not even his coaches, that he trusted more.
His coaches, as much as he respected them, were out to win.
Team owners were out to make money.
Justin’s dedication was to protecting Sebastian from all of it.
“You and me both,” he said.
“This is Miranda Kern from San Jose General. She’s going to collect the sample and take it in for testing.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Macina,” she said as she slid on medical gloves and peeled open a kit with long cotton swabs and a tube inside.
“I’m expecting Ms. Sandville and her attorney to arrive at any moment—”
“Why the hell are they coming here?”
“They have an offer they’d like to present,” Justin said, closing the door quietly.
“I don’t care. I didn’t sleep with her. So, unless she’s offering to go public and admit she’s a liar and a con artist, I’m not interested.”
“I knew you’d feel that way, but it’s still worth it to listen. The more they talk, the more chances she has to slip up. I plan on giving them enough rope to hang themselves,” Justin said, taking a seat at the head of the conference table.
Sebastian dropped into a chair and fought the urge to fidget.
“This won’t hurt a bit,” Miranda said with a smile, cupping his chin. “If you could just open your mouth. I’ll collect a sample from each side, and you’ll be all set.”
“Just like that and this whole mess will disappear, huh?” he said with a laugh.
“Well, in a few weeks,” she said with a smile.
He opened his mouth and waited while she swabbed each side of his mouth and sealed the samples in the tube.
She peeled off the gloves and popped the samples into her bag and headed for the door. “Try not to worry, Mr. Macina. Your sample is in good hands, and you’ll have answers soon enough.”
“Wait! How will we know so soon when she hasn’t had the baby? I mean, is she even showing yet?”
“I would imagine she’s going to have amniocentesis,” Miranda said.
“But is that safe?” Sebastian asked. Son of a bitch. Why did he even care?
Justin leaned back and tossed his pen on the papers. “It’s relatively safe, yes. Any procedure comes with risks, but Callie is making one hell of a spectacle, and I don’t think your reputation is going to ride out another six to nine months of her antics. No matter the outcome. It needs to be this way.”
“If there’s nothing else, I’m just going to get this back to the lab,” Miranda said, already backing out the door.
“We’re all set. Thank you, Miranda,” Justin said, keeping his eyes on the door. The minute it clicked shut, he pinned Sebastian with his shrewd stare.
“Let me do the talking when they get here.”
“Of course, I—”
“All of the talking,” Justin warned.
“That’s what I hired you for, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but you’re worrying me. Somewhere in there, you’re growing a heart, and there’s no room for it in this deal.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re worrying about the risk to the baby.”
“Well, yeah. Someone should.”
Justin’s eyes snapped to his. “Yes, someone should,” he said quietly. “But that someone is not you.”
“Then who?”
“I don’t care. Just not you. You said this isn’t your baby. You looked me right in the eye and assured me that this was impossible. If you don’t still stand by that, I need to know now.”
“Oh, it’s not possible. But that doesn’t mean I want anything to happen to her baby in the process.”
“Shit,” Justin muttered.
“What?”
“We can cancel.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re emotional about this, and I need you to not be for about ten minutes.”
“I can do that.”
Justin narrowed his eyes and studied him.
Sebastian stared right back.
The intercom beeped, ending the showdown. “Mr. Sterns is here to see you with Miss Sandville.”
Justin shoved a hand through his hair and sighed. “Send them in,” he said with a push of the button. Pushing to his feet, he pointed at Sebastian. “Let me do the talking.”
Nerves propelled Sebastian to his feet. He had no nieces or nephews, no real knowledge of kids other than having been one at one time.
He’d been raised in a home with love and support.
Kate had stepped in and helped her sister with her son. Even in the worst of circumstances for them, they’d had support.
Who did this kid have?
What would become of the baby if Callie was already using him or her as a bargaining chip?
A serious-looking man in a gray suit led Callie Sandville into the room. Sebastian had only seen her on TV, wearing skin-tight dresses, flouncing her long, wavy blonde hair, and blinking her fake lashes oh-so innocently.
Clearly, somewhere between then and now, she’d been told to dial it down a notch.
Or twenty.
She’d pulled her hair back in a sleek, low ponytail and instead of those skin-tight dresses, she wore a sleeveless blouse with a knee-length, soft-pink skirt. She didn’t make eye contact and instead seemed to be aiming for a demure image.
His eyes traveled over that and landed on the slight swell of her abdomen.
At worst, she was a total con artist.
At best, she was a desperate woman scrambling to do anything to support her child.
Sebastian wasn’t the victim in this.
The child she carried was.
“Mr. Sterns. Miss Sandville,” Justin said, shaking their hands and gesturing to the opposite side of the table.
Her attorney dropped his briefcase on the table with a solid thump.
Callie finally glanced up. Her eyes shot open wide, and her face blanched all color. She moistened her lips, her eyes darting around the room, landing anywhere but on him.
Justin smoothed a hand over the front of his coat and took a seat. “My client has already submitted his DNA sample. In the interest of expediency, I expect your client would be willing to submit to amniocentesis so the question of paternity can be answered as soon as possible.”
“My client will not be submitting DNA via amniocentesis. She will, however, comply with any request for DNA submission once the child is born.”
“That’s convenient. And let me guess...in the meantime you request my client pay for any and all medical as well as living expenses on behalf of your client?”
Their voices faded into the background as his complete focus went to studying Callie. Her hands shook. She finally locked them together, linking her fingers so tight they turned white with the pressure.
Her fear exposed her lie. Not to the public, but here in this room. But her fingernails...they told another story altogether.
Gone were the acrylics she’d waved around in public, and in their place were neat, short nails. The petal-pink color, dotted with nicks and lines, had been painted at home. She hadn’t waited long enough for them to dry, leaving them marred on the surface.
Once he focused on the clues, more and more cropped up.
The button on her blouse that had been ripped off at some point had been sewn back on with ivory thread, not white.
The seam along her arm where the thread had broken free and the frayed fabric tucked under peeked out.
The diamond-looking earrings in her ears, too big, too shiny to be real.
“Actually, yes. In addition, we request Mr. Macina to pay a monthly allowance to my client,” Mr. Sterns said, handing a stack of papers to Justin, “to set aside the sum of twenty thousand dollars to fund the baby shower, a separate fund of an additional twenty thousand dollars to outfit the nursery and purchase the essentials for when the child is born. Finally, we’re requesting one hundred percent of Ms. Sandville’s attorney’s fees to be paid by your client as well.”
He’d guess she was one overdue notice away from having utilities shut off and terrified. Maybe she’d tagged along with a few ravenous friends who told her where they could have a good time and maybe meet a guy with money.
“We will entertain no such offer,” Justin said. “And you should prepare you client for the rough ride over the next several months. There will be depositions, interviews, inquiries, and all under rapt attention of the public. She should think long and hard about whether or not she really wants to go down this road. When my client is absolved of all responsibility, Miss Sandville’s reputation will be left in tatters,” Justin warned.
Sebastian leaned forward. “Aren’t you tired of this?”
Tense lines formed around Callie’s mouth.
“Mr. Macina, I expect you to address me and not my client,” Mr. Sterns said with a firm note of authority.
Sebastian didn’t even spare him a glance. “The attention, the lies, scrambling to keep it all straight. It’s draining.”
She blinked, and her eyes glossed over with unshed tears.
“Sebastian,” Justin warned.
“Some callous son of a bitch got you pregnant and took off. Am I right?”
The cords of her throat worked as she swallowed hard.
“You were desperate. Thought this would be a quick way to get money. You thought I would pay for your silence,” Sebastian said quietly.
A single tear rolled down her cheek.
“You didn’t deserve to be left,” he said.
The quiet of the room swelled.
Callie stared down at the table, misery weighing on her slumped shoulders.
“I don’t deserve to be used.”
She chewed on the inside of her cheek.
“And this baby doesn’t deserve to be the victim of tabloid drama,” Sebastian said quietly.
Her shoulders shook, and finally, a series of soft sobs broke free. “It wasn’t him. It was never him,” she said through the tears as she hung her head.
Mr. Sterns tossed his pen and leaned back with a heavy sigh.
Justin scrubbed his forehead, no doubt trying to stave off a looming stroke as his client went rogue and ignored his every instruction.
And the pressure squeezing his chest of worrying about endless gossip and a hungry, invasive public fell away on sweet relief.
His problems weren’t over. Not by a long shot.
But now he could focus on healing.
On a future with Kate.
Callie continued to cry, tears dripping into her lap.
Alone.
“Justin, I’m going to need you to draw up an agreement. Callie agrees to go to the public and admit I’m not the father and agrees to still bring in her son or daughter for DNA testing after birth to satisfy any lingering doubts.”
“Okay,” Justin agreed.
“One more thing,” Sebastian said. “She signs a nondisclosure agreement in reference to the fund I’m setting up for her and this child. The child will be cared for through college. She will have money to get her degree and solidify her own career. She’ll have a home bought outright and reliable transportation.”
Callie’s head snapped up. “Oh, I can’t; it’s not right. None of this—”
“Sebastian, this makes you look guilty,” Justin said.
“Yes, hence the paternity testing to come. Then I look like a damned Boy Scout which I don’t want either. The nondisclosure should take care of that,” Sebastian said, pushing out of his seat and heading for the door.
“But why?”
“Because I don’t want to wonder if this kid is going to sleep at night warm, with a full belly. I want to know he or she is. Let me know when the paperwork is ready, and it’ll be a done deal.”
Callie rushed out of her seat and threw her arms around him at the door. Shaking with fear, relief, embarrassment, who knows, maybe all of it, she clung to him. “I’m so sorry about all of this. I can’t thank you enough for what you’re doing. I don’t deserve it.”
He pulled back and snagged a tissue from the side table. “Take care of that baby and yourself. That’s all I ask.”
“I will. I promise,” she whispered with a watery smile.
He headed down the hall and out the front door, letting the sun wash over him for the briefest of minutes.
Yeah, he didn’t need to be kind to the woman who’d fucked with his life. But he knew that look of misery on her face. That sheer panic of being trapped in a corner. He’d felt that way when he’d slunk to Tallulah Cove to lick his wounds.
And found Kate.
He wanted nothing more than to call her. To drive back to Tallulah Cove and walk on the beach with her hand in his.
To cradle her in his arms under a mass of warm blankets.
He had everything. Callie had nothing. Giving up that money had no impact on him, but for Callie, it made all the difference in the world.
And he’d get the one thing he wanted.
Callie to tell the world the truth.
TALLULAH NIGHTS 
CHAPTER EIGHT
