A Baby for the Bachelor. Victoria Pade
extent of what he’d been looking for. It wasn’t as if he’d been cruising for women.
Still, he’d noticed Marti more than once—how could he not have when she was such a knockout? They’d exchanged a little work talk in passing at the Home-Max displays. They’d spoken slightly more when he’d gone to the hospitality suite, and yes, his interest had been piqued by something other than the latest cupboards and countertops. But she’d been busy, he’d been interested in a lot of things at the convention and nothing had come of any of it.
Then, late on the last night of the Expo, they’d both happened to be in the nearly deserted coffee shop in the hotel where the convention had been held.
He’d nodded at her.
She’d nodded back.
He’d said hello.
She’d said hello back.
And there they’d been—Marti alone at one table, Noah alone at another table, only waitstaff and a single group of other customers in the entire rest of the place.
So Noah had invited Marti to eat with him.
And she’d accepted.
More small talk about hardware had accompanied two club sandwiches and despite the fact that the conversation was work related, there had been a few flirtatious undertones from them both. And when the check had come Noah hadn’t been eager to see her go.
So he’d asked her if she might like to have a nightcap with him at the hotel bar.
She’d hesitated long enough for him to have figured she was trying to find a way to let him down easy. But just when he’d been sure he was about to get the rebuff, she’d said a nightcap sounded good.
The bar had had live—and loud—music that had prohibited talking. So they had ended up dancing. And drinking. A lot. Enough so that when the bar had closed neither of them had been feeling any pain and not actually knowing each other just hadn’t seemed to matter. He’d felt comfortable with her. He’d sure as hell liked looking at her. The evening had become one of the best he’d ever had, and a playful kiss in the elevator had somehow led her to walk him to his door when they reached his floor.
A good-night kiss there had turned into a whole lot of good-night kisses. Good-night kisses that had moved from the hallway to the inside of his room, then to the bed.
Where a lot more than kissing had gone on…
Noah fed Dilly another carrot. “To tell you the truth,” he confessed to the donkey as if the animal had been privy to his thoughts. “I wish I remembered it better than I do. The details of things, you know? But I was really drunk…”
They both were.
So drunk that when things between them had gone pretty far and he’d told her he didn’t have any condoms, they’d stupidly decided to risk it…
Noah had forgotten that detail completely.
Now that it occurred to him—struck him, actually—everything seemed to stop cold.
He hadn’t used protection…
And now here she was, six weeks later, pregnant…
“Oh my God!” he said, loudly enough for Dilly’s ears to twitch.
No protection and now Marti was pregnant—it went through his mind again, sinking in enough for his mouth to go dry, for him to break into a sweat.
Her brother had said it was by artificial insemination, he reminded himself. Until that moment that’s what he’d assumed was true, and maybe it was.
But as much as he wanted to believe it, it didn’t seem likely. Had she spent the night with him, had unprotected sex that hadn’t gotten her pregnant and then decided to try artificial insemination? Somehow that was hard to buy.
But what if she’d already been pregnant at the Expo? What if knowing she was already pregnant had contributed to her willingness to forego the condom?
Okay, that did seem possible.
Possible enough to give him a little hope and let him at least breathe again.
“It might not be mine,” he said out loud even though Dilly was keeping her distance.
But it might be—he couldn’t help coming back to that. Especially when he factored in that Marti had been every bit as drunk—maybe more drunk—than he’d been. And if she’d been pregnant before that night, she probably wouldn’t have touched alcohol…
“Oh my God,” he said again. Marti Grayson wasn’t just a beautiful, hazy memory of a faraway night in a rustic hotel room at a hardware convention, but a flesh-and-blood person with brothers and a grandmother and who-knew-who-else to contend with and save face with by saying she’d gone to a sperm bank rather than admitting she’d had a one-night stand with a stranger and gotten pregnant.
But if he was the father of her baby, why hadn’t she come looking for him to let him know?
“Did I tell her I was from Northbridge?” he asked Dilly as if the donkey might know.
Truthfully he couldn’t remember. And if all he’d said was that he was from a small town in southern Montana and she hadn’t known his last name, she probably wouldn’t have been able to find him. Maybe it was only by some greater design or coincidence that they’d been brought back together after she’d done everything she could to locate him.
Or maybe the baby was his and she didn’t want him in on it so she hadn’t bothered to even look for him…
But thinking that just made things worse.
Was she another woman who wasn’t going to give him a say or any options as a father? Because if she was, that just wasn’t going to fly.
Sensing the anger that flooded through him then, the donkey backed up a few steps.
“It’s okay, Dilly. It’s not you,” he comforted the animal, offering the third carrot to make amends.
The burro came cautiously forward, keeping her big black eyes on Noah and getting only close enough to reach the carrot.
“It might not be mine,” Noah said once more in an attempt to calm the emotions that had him reeling. “But I’ll have to find out one way or another.”
Because if the baby was his, he was going to have to do something about it.
Something that could keep the past from repeating itself—again.
Chapter Two
Later that night, after Marti heard Theresa’s bedroom door close, she said to Wyatt, “How is she doing?”
“Gram?” Wyatt shrugged. “No better. No worse. She had a bad night last night. The nightmares have been happening on a regular basis and usually with that same theme—she says it’s crying for her, it won’t stop crying, she has to get it back.”
“Which is why we’re thinking it is not the land she wants back,” Ry contributed.
Since Theresa’s escape to Northbridge, Wyatt had been looking into their grandmother’s past there. What he’d learned so far was that Theresa’s parents had died when she was a young girl, and that Theresa had inherited the house and many acres of prime property in the heart of Northbridge. Because her only other relative—an aunt—had been ill and unable to take her in at the time, Theresa had spent eleven months after the deaths of her parents as the houseguest of local lumberyard owner Hector Tyson and his wife Gloria.
During those eleven months she’d had virtually no contact with any of her friends, and at the end of them—three months before her eighteenth birthday—she’d finally left Northbridge to live with her aunt in Missoula. Before she left she sold Hector Tyson her land for a quarter of its value. Hector Tyson had subsequently become