The Pregnancy Clause. Elizabeth Sinclair
fire damage. By next week, he could start to rebuild. If all went well, he’d have the house ready to go on the market in about four weeks.
A noise behind him drew his attention from the house. He swung around. Emily stood just inside the line of trees dividing their land, a blanket folded over her arm and a picnic hamper at her feet. Sunlight danced off her rich brown hair, which was caught back in a long braid. Her face, devoid of all makeup, creased in a tentative smile that tore at his insides. Her curves, encased by jeans and a bright yellow sweater, reminded him again that Emily had become a woman. Something inside him mourned missing the transformation from the little girl with the dirty face and the ripped jeans into this breathtaking beauty.
What had brought her here? After their last encounter, he’d thought she would avoid him at all costs. As she walked past him to the base of the large oak hanging over most of the yard, the smell of perfume drifted to him. Emily? Perfume? She’d never smelled like anything but the horses she loved.
“Hi.” She set the basket down, then spread the blanket in the shade.
“Hi, yourself.”
“I thought you might want some lunch.” She pointed at the picnic basket, the same one they’d hauled on many picnics as kids. Then she half-smiled. “Actually, it’s kind of a peace offering.”
Why did she feel compelled to come with a peace offering, when he was the one who should be apologizing? Tempted to lighten the moment by chiding her about her cooking, he held back. With the ease of their past association gone and the tension that hung between them, he didn’t feel comfortable teasing her anymore. Instead, he offered a weak, “Great! My stomach was beginning to think my throat had been cut.”
Avoiding his gaze, Emily opened the basket.
“Rose is away, so I had to make the sandwiches.”
“Rose?”
“My housekeeper. She came here after…well, after.” Fumbling with the contents of the basket, she looked at him expectantly. “I made—”
“—peanut butter and banana sandwiches,” Kat finished for her.
She brightened, as if pleased that he remembered her favorite sandwich. He smiled back. Her expression became hesitant, as if his smile made her uneasy. She quickly turned away. “Cooking was never my strong suit.” She fussed with laying out the contents of the basket, then glanced at the house. “What are you going to do with it when you get it done?”
“Sell it.” He noted the stiffness in her body begin to drain away. Relief that he wouldn’t be right on her doorstep? Her next words answered his question.
“Then you’re not planning on living here?”
Was that a note of hope in her voice? “No.” An honest answer, if a bit evasive; he didn’t plan to live in the house. Again, Kat thought he saw relief in her posture. The intense surge of disappointment he experienced took him by surprise.
The air between them became thick enough to ride a horse over. Kat searched for words, any words. Anything was better than this tension. Anything to bridge this gulf separating them. He sighed. Only one thing would do that and he had to be the one to do it.
“Emily, I’m sorry that I took off and never said anything to you.”
She turned slowly toward him.
“It was unfair. I wish I could tell you why I did it, but I can’t. Not yet.” He took her hand. “I promise that someday I will, but not right now. Trust me, okay?” Her fingers tightened around his. That small gesture brought something alive inside him that had been cold and dead. “I want to be friends again. Is that possible?”
Even as he said the words, currents of awareness raced up his arm from their clenched hands. For the first time in his life, Kat wasn’t sure exactly what he felt for Emily. Was it just friendship?
Before he could decide, she removed her hand from his. “I don’t know. Can we?”
The pain of Kat’s leaving still sat heavy on Emily’s heart. She wanted to know why he’d gone, but he obviously wasn’t going to tell her.
He’d promised long ago that he’d always be there for her, and he hadn’t been. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Kat’s promises were about as substantial as her father’s. She’d trusted him when they were kids. Dare she trust him again?
“I’d like us to be friends, Squirt.”
She looked into his dark eyes for a long time, trying to assess his sincerity. He winked. That familiar gesture, coupled with the use of the nickname he’d given her years ago, gave birth to a warm rush of contentment inside her. She’d missed Kat, but she truly hadn’t realized just how much until she’d come face-to-face with the one person who’d made her childhood tolerable. She wanted him in her life, but not just for the sake of fathering her child. She wanted her friend back, even if she wasn’t sure she could ever trust him again.
KAT SIGHED, laid aside the core of the apple he’d just devoured for desert and then leaned back against the old oak. Shadows covered his face.
“Squirt—” He studied her, then brushed at a stray strand of hair the slight breeze had deposited on her cheek. “I guess I’d better find a new name for you. You went and grew up on me.”
Emily wanted to remind him that, if he’d stayed around, he’d have been here for her growing-up, but she was too busy fighting the tingles of awareness racing the length of her body. She abruptly leaned away, breaking contact with his fingers.
What was wrong with her?
This was Kat, her buddy, not some hunk trying to seduce her. Resisting the urge to touch her cheek, she pushed the feelings aside. She had to concentrate on wording what she’d come here to ask him.
“Oh, oh. I remember that look. What’s going on in that devious little mind of yours?” He leaned down to see her face. “What do you want me to jump off this time?”
She shook her head, trying to produce a wide-eyed look of innocence.
Kat sat up, then leaned toward her. “Nope. That look hasn’t washed with me since you were six, and I took the blame for you almost burning up the field while you were practicing your Girl Scout campfire skills. You’re forgetting I know you too well. I haven’t forgotten that your teeth nibbling on your bottom lip means you’re up to something.” He smiled, then gently pried her lip free. “Out with it.”
It annoyed her that she hadn’t been aware, until he’d pointed it out, that she’d been gnawing on her lip or that she’d slipped so easily into their familiar ways. And it annoyed her even more that his casual touch had started those tingles up again.
Concentrate, Emily.
He’d given her the perfect opening. Instead of worrying about some crazy hormonal reaction, she needed to be thinking about how to form the words to get his agreement. After all, it wasn’t every day that she asked a man to father a child for her.
“I’m going to have a baby.” The words tumbled past her lips before she could stop them. Cautiously, she glanced at Kat.
His skin had paled slightly. He pushed himself to his feet. His mouth hardened. “What do you want me to say? Good going, Em?”
The bite in his words surprised her. What was he getting his shorts in a knot about? Then it hit her. He thought she meant she was pregnant already.
Before she could rectify her blunder, he turned away from her. “And who’s the lucky man?”
The edge in his voice cut through her confidence. She lowered her gaze. “You.” When he didn’t reply right away, she glanced up.
Kat had swung around, his eyes wide, his mouth hanging agape. “Excuse me? Would you remind repeating that?”
“I said, you.” Oh damn! None of this is going the way I planned. Emily stood, then