“PREGNANT?” Sam said. “Me?”
“You,” Marta said gently.
Sam came as close as she could to laughing. “No. Don’t be silly. I have the flu. Half the population of Athens had it. I haven’t felt well for days…” She caught herself, heard what she saying and felt as if she were suddenly standing on the top of a cliff. “I’m not,” she said emphatically. “It’s the flu. And the long flight. And—and—”
She began to weep. Marta put an arm around her. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked softly.
Sam shook her head. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Not even the name of your baby’s father?”
“I told you, I’m not pregnant. And even if I were—which I’m not—I wouldn’t want him to know. I hate him, Mom. I despise him. I—”
Sam put her face in her hands and begin to cry in earnest. Marta murmured words of comfort, took her upstairs and put her to bed. Then she returned to the kitchen and sipped the tea Carmen had brewed while she tried to decide what troubled her most, that her daughter was unmarried and pregnant or that the determinedly independent child who’d grown into an impossibly independent woman, had come home.
Marta would be forever grateful that she had, but that didn’t change the facts. That Sam should have felt desperate enough to come home wasn’t just upsetting, it was frightening.
* * *
The next morning, Sam borrowed Marta’s car, drove into town and bought a home pregnancy test kit.
A waste of time, she kept telling herself. There wasn’t a way in the world she could be pregnant. She took the pill. Besides, wouldn’t she know? A woman would certainly know something like that.
A little while later, she stood at the bathroom sink, clutching it for support while she stared at the little stick that said her life was about to turn upside down.
The stick must be wrong. She couldn’t be pregnant.
“Sam?”
She spun towards the closed door. “I’ll—I’ll be right out, Mother.”
Quickly, she scooped up the stick, the instructions, the box and dumped everything in the trash basket. She was trembling when she opened the door.
“Are you all right, Sam?”
“I’m fine.”
Flushed face. Trembling hands. And, sticking up out of the trash, the edge of a box with the word “Pregnancy” printed across it.
“Well,” Marta said brightly, “that’s good to know. Sam. I was thinking…Why don’t I call my GYN and ask him to take a look at you? I know, it’s only the flu. You’re probably right. You can glare at me afterwards and say you told me so.”
It was ridiculous. The whole thing. The test. Her mother. There was only one way to sort this out. “Go ahead,” Sam said. “Make the appointment.”
The doctor had a cancelation in an hour. Sam almost balked. She hadn’t been prepared to get up on the examining table so soon. On the other hand, the sooner she did, the sooner she’d know how stupid all this was.
“I can’t be pregnant,” she said as she climbed onto the examining table.
The doctor poked and prodded. “Well,” he said with professional good cheer, “I hate to argue with you, young lady, but you are.”
Sam sat up. “I’m not,” she said sharply.
“About three months, I’d say, but we’ll do an ultrasound to make sure. I can have the technician see you right now.”
“It would be a waste of time. I absolutely cannot be—”
“Have the ultrasound,” Marta said softly. “Then you’ll know.”
What was there to know? Sam thought stubbornly. But there was no way out; the doctor was already on the phone. Sam went down the hall to another examining room, climbed on the table and stared straight ahead while the technician rubbed gel over her skin, then skimmed a small transducer over her belly.
“Okay,” she said, “let’s just take a look…There we are. See? Right there, down towards the lower right corner of the screen.”
Sam reached for her mother’s hand and held it in a white-knuckled death grip.
“I don’t see anything.”
“Darling?” Marta squeezed her hand. “Look at the screen.”
“I told you, I don’t…” But she did. A tiny blob of protoplasm. A fetus. And she remembered what she’d fought against remembering, the weekend she and Demetrios had become lovers, when she’d skipped a pill and tried to make up for it by taking an extra the next day.
One missed pill. One little slip. Could your entire life really be changed by something so inconsequential?
Marta chattered nervously until they were halfway back to Espada, then fell silent. Jonas Baron came sauntering down the steps as they pulled up to the house. He was trying his best to look unconcerned but not succeeding.
“How you doin’, missy?” he asked gruffly.
Sam looked at her stepfather. “I’m doing fine,” she said, and went past him into the house.
Left alone, Jonas and Marta looked at each other.
“Well?” he said.
Marta sighed. “She’s three months pregnant.”
“I hope you told her she can stay with us as long as she wants.”
Mara smiled at her husband. “Thank you.”
“Nothin’ to thank me for. Girl’s like one of my own.” His jaw knotted and Marta thought how remarkable it was that her husband could still look so strong, so resolute, so young. “She tell you who did this?”
“No.”
“It’s that Greek, ain’t it? The one she was workin’ for.”
“She didn’t tell me, Jonas.”
“Yeah, well, who else could it be? I think what this son of a bitch needs is a talkin’ to.”
“Darling, I know you mean well—”
“What I mean is business.”
“It takes two people to make a baby.”
“I only see one of ’em on this ranch.”
“Maybe he doesn’t know.” Jonas gave a snort of disbelief. Marta put her hand on his arm. “It’s possible. Sam’s in denial. How would she have told him she’s carrying his child if she didn’t know it herself?”
“That stuff only happens in books,” he said, “not—”
“Not what?”
Not in real life, he’d been going to say, but a long-buried memory was struggling to the surface, a memory he wasn’t willing to stir up just yet.
“Not very often. Sam’s not stupid. She must have known.”
“Well, she didn’t. Or didn’t want to, I’m not sure which.” Marta looped her arm through her husband’s. Together, they climbed the steps and entered the house. “And she doesn’t want him to know. That much is clear.”
“That’s crazy. The man has to stand up to his responsibilities.”
“It’s Sam’s decision, Jonas.”
“But if she loves him—”
“If,” Marta said gently, “if, darling. This is a new world, remember? There’s love. There’s sex. And the two don’t always go together.”
Jonas sighed. “So, you’re tellin’ me it ain’t his fault he’s not here. Okay. There’s always that possibility. But now she knows. We know. Hell, the world’s gonna know. It’s time he knew, too. A man ought to take responsibility if he has a child.”
Marta lay her head on her husband’s shoulder. Considering his own past, the son he’d refused to acknowledge for more than thirty years and now loved with all his heart, she wasn’t surprised he’d think that. Actually, she agreed with him. Whoever had made her little girl pregnant should know it. And if he already did and he’d turned his back, then he deserved the whipping Jonas was so ready to deliver.
But there was Sam to consider. Her daughter was a grown woman, entitled to make her own choices even if they were poor ones. She’d yet to say she even wanted her baby.
“Let’s give this some time. We’ll let Sam think about her situation and we won’t do anything impetuous while she does.”
“Some time,” Jonas cautioned. “Not too much.”
“No,” Marta said, “not too much.”
She kissed her husband. He went into his study; she continued up the stairs to the second floor and paused at Sam’s door.
“Sam?” Marta knocked gently. “Darling, may I come in?” She waited, then opened the door. The blinds were closed, casting the room in artificial twilight. She could see Sam sitting in a rocker, her legs drawn up under her. “Darling? Are you okay?”
“That sounds like the beginning of a bad joke,” Sam said. “‘Are you okay?’ the doctor said to the woman, and she said, ‘Well, Doc, that depends on your definition of okay.”’
“Wouldn’t some sun be nice?” Marta said briskly. She didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, she walked from window to window, opening the blinds and letting in the light. “There now. Sweetie, I know this is a shock, but—”
“I never even thought of it,” Sam said in a small voice. “Isn’t that stupid? When I think back on the last few weeks, I don’t know how I missed all the signs. I’d stopped getting my period but I just figured it was the pill. I mean, my periods are light as it is…”
“Darling. You don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to.”
“And I was nauseous,” Sam said, as if her mother hadn’t spoken. “I felt like I was riding an elevator that kept making sudden stops. You know?”
“I know,” Marta said, sighing. “I still remember, even after all these years.”
“I was moody, too, and tired all the time…” Sam shook her head. “Just like Amanda, when she was pregnant, but I didn’t put two and two together.” She swallowed. “I guess I didn’t want to.”
“No. Of course you didn’t.” Marta hesitated. “Still, you must have known. In the back of your mind, I mean, or you wouldn’t have…” She hesitated again. “I’m assuming that’s why you left—whoever it is that made you pregnant.”
“Maybe, subconsciously. The truth is, I left him because—because…” Because he was tired of me and my heart was breaking, knowing he didn’t really want me anymore.
“Because?” Marta prompted.
“Because our relationship had run its course,” Sam said carefully, “the way relationships always do. Why else would I have left him?”
Why, indeed? A woman who left a man for such a logical reason didn’t turn up on her mother’s doorstep looking hollow-eyed with despair, but Marta knew better than to say that.
“And now it turns out I’m pregnant.” Sam took a breath. “I just can’t believe it. I never intended—”
“Lots of pregnancies begin that way, darling.”
“This isn’t lots of pregnancies, Mother. This is my pregnancy.” She took a shaky breath. “I never thought about having children.”
Marta sat down on the edge of the bed. “I know, baby. As I said, lots of—”
“No.” Sam uncurled her legs and leaned forward. “You don’t know. Maybe I’m not saying it right. I really didn’t intend to have kids. Not ever.”
“Sam,” Marta said carefully, “I’ve watched you with your nieces and nephews. You’re wonderful with children.”
“Only because I knew they belonged to someone else,” Sam said bluntly. “It’s lovely to coo to a baby and cuddle it, even to wipe up after it, when you know you can give it a kiss at the end of the day, hand it over to its mother and go back to your own life.”
“I see.”
“Do you?”
Marta nodded. “Yes.” She took a deep breath. “And I’ll support whatever decision you feel you must make, darling.”
“Decision?”
“About what—what’s happening.”
Sam gave a harsh laugh. “I’m pregnant, Mom. You might as well say the word.”
“No. I mean, I’d rather not, if you’ve decided to—to—”
“Decided to…?” Sam stared at her mother. “You think I’m not going through with it,” she said softly.
“Samantha, you’re my child. I know, I know. You’re an adult, you make your own choices but you’ll always be my little girl. I’ll be there for you, whatever you do. I’d never turn away from you, even if—”
“Mom.” Sam reached for her mother’s hands and clasped them tightly. “I’m going to have my baby.”
Relief shuddered through Marta’s heart. “I thought you were saying—”
“What I was saying,” Sam said, with a little catch in her voice, “is that I really believed I never wanted kids or any of the rest of it, for that matter. You know. The house—puppy—kitten—babies thing. It didn’t interest me.”
“And now it does?”
“Amazing, isn’t it?” She gave a choked laugh. “That I’d suddenly want to trade a—a trip to Morocco for a trip to the maternity ward?”
Marta smiled. “Not so amazing, sweetie. We’re like that, we women. All it takes is the right man and…Samantha? Sam, what is it?”
Sam pulled her hands free of her mother’s. “But he wasn’t the right man. Don’t you see? I left him because he’s not for me.”
“He was, though, or you wouldn’t have become involved in the first place.”
“Mom.” Sam gave a little laugh. “I became involved because he’s incredibly sexy. He’s one of those men who—who just steal your breath away.” She knotted her hands together. “He wanted me. I wanted him. It was basic stuff. But he’s not the kind of man who’d ever settle down with one woman.”
“Really,” Marta said, while a cold knot formed in her stomach.
“He’s the kind of man a woman wants to go to bed with, not the kind she’d bring home.”
The cold knot was becoming a fist. “Charming.”
“But he was honest. He—he told me how it would be, that we had no future, and I—I didn’t care.” Sam got to her feet. “Sex is just sex,” she said blithely. “That’s what I’ve always believed. However long our relationship lasted would be enough.”
“And now you feel differently?”
Sam spun towards her mother. “Did I say that?” she demanded. “Why would I feel differently? It was sex. And it’s over.” Her voice broke. “And I’m pregnant.”
“Yes. That changes things.”
“It doesn’t.”
“Samantha, for goodness’ sake, of course it does!”
“He doesn’t know. And I’m not going to tell him.”
“Oh, Sam. You have to!”
“No, I don’t.”
“Sam. Darling, this baby is half his.”
“This baby is entirely mine,” Sam said savagely.
Marta watched the transformation in her daughter’s face. Her skin went from pale to pink, her eyes from flat to glittering. All good signs, indications Sam was herself again. Too much so, perhaps. That independent streak didn’t make sense in this situation.
“Sam,” she said, trying to sound reasonable, “no matter what you think this man said about the—the impermanence of your relationship, it’s different now.”
“It isn’t.”
“But it is! This man—dammit, what’s his name? I can’t see myself calling the father of my daughter’s child ‘this man’ forever.”
“You’re not going to call him anything because you’re not going to meet him.” Sam lowered her voice. “His name is Demetrios. Demetrios Karas. And that’s to stay between us, Mother. I don’t want anyone else to know about him.”
“Sweetie, honestly, you can’t keep a thing like that a secret. Your sisters will—”
“I’ll take care of my sisters.”
This was not the time to argue, Marta told herself. “Have you considered the difficulties of raising a child alone?”
“If you’re saying I’ll need money…”
“Yes. You will. We’ll be more than happy to help but knowing you—”
“Knowing me, you figure I’d turn you down. And you’re right.”
“But you don’t have a real job.” Marta winced as she said it. This was an old sore point between them. “You can’t bounce around the globe if you have a child to raise.”
“There are lots of good-paying jobs for translators in New York. I just never wanted one before.”
“Then think about the baby. Isn’t he or she entitled to a father?”
“Carin, Amanda and I did fine without one.”
Marta chose to ignore the tossed gauntlet. “Surely, you’ll admit Mr. Karas has the right to know he’s fathered a child.”
“No!”
“Sam—”
“He doesn’t want children. He as much as said so.”
Marta struggled to keep her temper under control. This son of a bitch who’d bedded her daughter was a mother’s worst nightmare. Put bluntly, he was, as the old saying went, a hit-and-run artist. Jonas was right. Someone needed to have a little talk with the man.
“I see,” she said calmly. “He’s not interested in commitment. He’s not interested in children. But he’s going to have a child, whether intended or not. And he’s obligated to face up to his responsibilities.”
Sam’s color deepened but her gaze didn’t waver. “It’s my responsibility, not his. He asked me about protection. I told him I was on the pill. And—and I slipped up.”
“So what? Does that mean he gets a free pass? Two people made this baby, Samantha, not one.” Marta made a desperate grab at the last of her composure. “Look, honey, lots of men think they don’t want children until they actually find themselves having them. Isn’t it possible that he has paternal feelings he’s never acknowledged? That he might change his mind if he knew you were pregnant? I’m not talking about his marrying you, Sam. From what you tell me of him, you surely wouldn’t want him for a husband.”
“His parents separated when he was little.”
“So what?” Marta folded her arms. “Don’t tell me you were taken in by some Casanova’s tale of childhood angst!”
“His mother went to live in New York.”
“Yes, well, if the gentleman’s father was anything like him, I don’t blame the lady.”
“His father kept custody of their son. Of Demetrios.”
“Well, if that was the arrangement—”
“There was no arrangement.” Sam wrapped her arms around herself. The room was warm, filled with midday Texas sun, but she was chilled to the bone. “There was just what his father wanted. He’s Greek. The rules are different. Men still have rights that we don’t even begin to understand. Wealthy, powerful ones, anyway.”
“And you think that would happen if…? But you just said, Demetrios Karas doesn’t want children.”
“And you just said that things change, when a man knows he’s fathered a baby.” She waited, let the seconds slip by until she was sure she could go on. “His father permitted his mother to spend two weeks a year with Demetrios.”
“Two weeks?” Marta shook her head. “No. I mean, things aren’t like that now. Besides, this is the United States, Samantha. There are laws—”
“Two weeks,” Sam said, her voice rising, “in Athens, where the visits could be supervised. And don’t waste your breath telling me about laws because if there’s one thing the last few months have taught me, it’s that men like Demetrios Karas make their own laws.” She bit her lip, swung away and stared blindly out the window. “He is never to know about this baby.”
“But Sam—”
“Never,” Sam said sharply. She turned around. “Promise me, Mom. Swear it.”
Marta looked at her daughter. There was more to this. The story about his father forcing his mother to give up her child was disturbing but it left lots of questions unanswered. Talk about wealth and power were all very good—married to Jonas Baron, Marta knew a bit about the iron will of men like that. But a strong woman could face down a strong man, and Sam surely knew she’d have the support of the entire extended Baron clan in a legal fight.
No. There was more, and as she surreptitiously examined her daughter’s face, she suddenly knew what it was. Sam had fallen in love. In love with a man who’d made it clear he’d never love her, who’d broken her heart.
“Don’t tell Carin and Amanda.”
“Oh, Sam!”
“Not yet, okay? Just—just give me time to make some plans.”
Marta sighed. “All right.”
“And give me your word you’ll never let Demetrios know he’s fathered my baby.”
Marta took her little girl in her arms. “He doesn’t deserve to know,” she said grimly, and consoled herself by imagining what she’d do to the man if ever she got her hands on him.
* * *
A little more than twenty-four hours later, the al Rashids and the Alvareses descended on Espada, their arrivals so closely aligned that the dust of the first Jeep racing in from the ranch’s private landing strip barely concealed the rising plume of the second.
Marta kissed her daughters, hugged her sons-in-law and told herself not to have such a suspicious mind. Then she herded them onto the lower level of the waterfall deck, waited until Carmen brought out lemonade and her children had settled into seats before she got down to business.
“Well.” She looked around, one brow arched in question. “It’s lovely to see you, but I’m too old to believe all of you just happened to pick today to pay a surprise visit.”
Silence. Then Rafe cleared his throat. “How is Samantha?”
“She’s fine, thank you for ask…” Marta stared at her son-in-law. “How did you know she was here?”
“Well,” Amanda said, “she’s not in Greece. At least, she’s not answering her e-mails. So I tried phoning Demetrios, but I could only reach his housekeeper, and she—”
“She doesn’t speak English,” Nick said, taking his wife’s hand. “Amanda told me she was worried about Sam, so I tried reaching Demetrios at his office. His secretary said he’d gone without leaving a forwarding number, which was strange. He’s never out of touch with his office.”
“Never,” Rafe said.
“His secretary didn’t know anything about Sam, so—”
“So,” said Carin, clearing her throat, “I began calling her apartment in New York, leaving messages on her answering machine, but she didn’t pick them up.” She smiled at her husband. “I told Rafe that Amanda and I were going crazy—”
“And,” Rafe said, with deceptive carelessness, “I tried this and that and the other thing and finally I spoke to somebody who knew somebody at the Athens airport, and they did some checking…”
“And we learned that Samantha left Athens and flew to Austin a few days ago,” Nick said. “So, here we are.”
Marta stared from one innocent face to the other. “Here you are,” she finally said. “Just like that.”
“There’s nothing wrong with us being here.” Amanda’s tone oozed defense. “We love her. And if something happened that upset her…”
“Why would you even think that?” Marta narrowed her gaze on her daughter.
“Well, she left Athens in a hurry,” Carin said carefully. “She hasn’t called us. And she came here, instead of going home. No offense, Mother—”
“None taken,” said Marta, in a voice that would have turned water to ice.
“But we all know Sam. She’d sooner eat nails than admit she needed help.”
“Why would she need help?”
“Mother,” Amanda said, “for heaven’s sake, must you keep asking ‘why’? All we’re saying is that Sam’s behavior is, well, weird. We love her. We decided to come see if she’s okay.”
“The four of you flew to Espada, rather than make a simple phone call to the ranch?”
Carin and Amanda exchanged looks. “Well,” Carin said, “well—”
“Oh, let’s stop beating around the bush,” Amanda said. “Look, we, uh, we sort of…we kind of…We thought Sam and this man—”
“Demetrios Karas,” Marta said coolly.
“Yes. We thought they might hit it off. So we, um, we tried to introduce them. And then Demetrios told Nick he needed a translator, and I mentioned it to Sam, and—”
“Your sister and Mr. Karas hit if off, all right.” Marta glared at her girls.
“Oh.” Amanda looked at Carin. “We, uh, we weren’t sure how well they—”
“A poor choice of words,” Marta said. “Because it isn’t well at all. Samantha is pregnant. And your Demetrios Karas doesn’t want any part of her.”
Amanda and Carin looked thunderstruck. Rafe and Nick surged to their feet, their expressions the same as Jonas’s had been the prior day.
“Is that right?” Rafe growled.
“Doesn’t he?” Nick snarled.
“Dammit,” Sam said furiously, from the lawn below the deck. “Mother, you promised!”
Everyone rushed to the railing. “Darling,” Marta said, “I swear, I didn’t tell them you were here.”
“Sam?” Amanda stared at her sister. “Oh, Sam,” she whispered, “I’m so sorry. I never meant—”
“Why didn’t you want Mother to tell us?” Carin said. “We love you, Sam. We want to help you.”
“I’ve had enough help from you. All of you.” Sam raised her flushed face and glared at her family. “People shouldn’t meddle in other people’s lives.”
“Well, we’re going to meddle in Karas’s life,” Nick said, his voice taut with fury. “When I find that son of a bitch—”
“When we find him,” Rafe said sharply.
“When we find Karas, he’s going to wish he’d never been born.”
The deck door banged open. “Try it,” a hard male voice said. “I hope to hell you do.”
Demetrios stood in the doorway, face white with rage, eyes hot with it, his fists bunched at his sides.
“Karas,” Nick said, his voice cold. He stepped forward. So did Rafe. “I didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to show up here.”
“Come on.” Demetrios took a wider stance and beckoned the men towards him. “Come on, take a swing. I’d love to take you on, the both of you.” His voice roughened. “Who in hell are you, any of you, to play God with a man’s life?”
“What are you doing here?” Rafe demanded.
“It’s none of your business.”
“It damn well is,” Nick growled. “Answer the question. What are you doing here?”
“I came to talk to Samantha.”
“Yeah, well, if you know what’s good for you—”
“If I did,” Demetrios said gruffly, “I sure as hell wouldn’t…” He hesitated. Some of his belligerence seemed to ease. “Is she here?”
Nobody answered, but they didn’t have to. Five faces turned towards the lawn. Demetrios moved towards the steps that led down from the deck. Rafe and Nick moved, too, and blocked his way, but he’d already seen her, his Sam, staring up at him as if he were a ghost, and he wondered how she could do this to him, make him want to love her and hate her in the same heartbeat.
She was going to run. He could see it in her posture, run the way she had the night she’d left him, the way she had when they’d first met, but he wasn’t going to let her get away with it. She had to face him and tell him why she didn’t want him. He’d tell her the same thing. And then—and then—
He took a steadying breath and looked at the two men standing in front of him.
“Get out of my way,” he said softly.
Rafe folded his arms. So did Nick.
“This is between Samantha and me, nobody else.” A muscle knotted in his jaw. “If I have to go through you, I will. I’ll do whatever it takes to reach Sam. Is that clear?”
Marta moved quickly, placed herself between her sons-in-law and Demetrios. She took a long look at the man she’d been prepared to despise. He probably hadn’t shaved in a couple of days and his hair looked as if he’d spent hours running his hands through it. But he was, just as her daughter had said, sexy and gorgeous—and he was looking past all of them, looking at her little girl in a way that would surely make any woman’s heartbeat quicken.
Sam was looking back at him, her eyes brimming with tears, the only kind of tears a woman should ever cry, Marta thought, and felt her heart lift.
“Of course it’s clear,” she said softly. “It’s as clear as glass. Rafe? Nicholas? Let him pass.”
“Marta. You don’t mean that. This man—”
“I do mean it. Let him pass.” Briskly, she clapped her hands. “Everyone inside.” Her daughters frowned. Their husbands looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Trust me. Samantha’s going to be fine.”
She shooed them all through the door, knowing they didn’t believe her, that her daughters would argue with her while her sons-in-law paced the house like attack dogs just waiting for a sign that they were needed.
Marta smiled to herself. Men were so predictable. How come she’d forgotten that?