The Billionaire And The Bassinet. Suzanne McMinn
Lanie said automatically, not surprised. Since when had the Blakemores ever accepted her as one of their own? She’d only faced Walter Blakemore once, at Ben’s funeral. And the old man had coldly turned his back at her approach. A slap couldn’t have been plainer.
She worked to place Garrett’s name. Ben’s cousin, she remembered quickly. She recalled that he and Ben had been close as children, but not so much as they’d grown older. The two had been raised like brothers after Garrett’s parents had died in a plane crash. Garrett had fitted right into his uncle’s empire of wealth, real estate and business holdings. He loved the power, the pressure, the hours and the travel. All the wheeling and dealing that Ben had detested had come naturally to Garrett.
“I’m here on behalf of Walter Blakemore,” Garrett went on without acknowledging that she’d even spoken. “In regard to the letter you sent him.”
Lanie froze, instantly alert. Months of inner turmoil had preceded the letter. Ben had described his father as controlling, domineering, powerful. But this baby was a Blakemore, and her conscience had left her no choice. Walter Blakemore had the right to know his grandchild. And her baby, already robbed of one parent, had the right to know his grandfather.
“The baby isn’t due for another month,” she pointed out. What could Walter Blakemore want with her now, before the baby was even born?
“Right. Well, there are several things that need to be settled, if you feel well enough to talk.” Garrett arched a brow and waited.
“Settled?” Lanie’s nerves went on red alert. “What do you mean, settled?” An unfamiliar bunching sensation moved across her lower abdomen. Instinctively she slid her hand over her stomach. Then the pain receded, and she refocused on the man before her.
He moved to sit down in one of the chairs across from the couch. “Do you mind?” he asked politely, and Lanie shook her head again.
He chose a hard-backed chair. It was Friday afternoon—a business day. He’d probably spent the morning in an Austin boardroom before making the hour’s drive to Deer Creek, yet his shirt wasn’t even wrinkled. Somehow, his ultrameticulous appearance only added to the daunting aura that surrounded him. He was a man accustomed to wielding power, to efficiently dictating to the world around him—and having it obey him.
“Walter is concerned about the baby’s welfare,” Garrett said abruptly. “He’s worried about the baby being born in a rural area, where the medical care may be inadequate. He’d like to bring you to Austin—”
Lanie’s eyes popped. Shock drummed through her bloodstream. “What?” She had no intention of going anywhere!
“He’s prepared to provide you with a place to live, and the finest medical care until the baby is born. As you know, Ben was his only child, and if this is Ben’s baby, it will be his only grandchild and heir—”
“If this is Ben’s baby?”
“Of course,” Garrett went on, not responding to Lanie’s interruption, “paternity—and the child’s rightful inheritance—can only be established by the appropriate blood and DNA testing which we will arrange to have performed at the time of the child’s birth—”
“No!” Hurt, more than she’d thought possible, considering she barely knew Walter Blakemore, washed over Lanie. Just knowing anyone would even think she might lie about the baby being Ben’s—for money, no less!—felt like a stab to the heart.
“According to your letter,” Garrett carried on calmly, “you’re now eight months pregnant—which is approximately the same amount of time that has passed since Ben’s death.” His cold eyes raked her. “I’m sure you can understand Walter’s concerns.”
“No. No, I can’t.”
Lanie pushed herself up from the couch heavily, her hips aching from the baby’s weight. As she stood, another painful sensation, this time sharper and harder, spun out over her belly, and she bit down on her lip to keep from crying out.
Garrett stood as well. “I understand you’re upset—” He stopped short. “Are you all right?” He stared at her, and for the first time he didn’t look quite so sure of himself.
“I’m fine,” Lanie bit out. “I want you to leave. You can go back to Austin and tell Walter Blakemore—oh!” She couldn’t speak as another agonizing sensation rolled over her abdomen.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” He sounded downright panicky now. Lame felt the hysterical urge to laugh, but she was in too much pain.
“I don’t know.” She sank back down to the couch, shaky, wrapping her arms over her belly as the pain ebbed again. “I think—I think I might be in labor.”
Chapter Two
“What did you say?” Garrett wanted Lanie to tell him he’d heard wrong.
She didn’t.
“I think I might be in labor,” she said again. Her voice shook and her pupils grew enormous.
Apprehension fingered up Garrett’s spine. He wished he was back in Austin. He wished he was anywhere but where he was. He wasn’t used to being around pregnant women. Especially pregnant women who said they were in labor. “I thought you said that you were only eight months along,” he insisted.
“I am only eight months along,” Lanie said quickly, her big eyes filled with anxiety. “It’s too early! And Patty’s out of town. I can’t have the baby when Patty’s out of town.” She sounded really scared now.
Garrett blinked. “Who’s Patty?”
“She’s a friend. She’s my birth coach.” She twisted her hands in her lap.
Her obvious distress registered with Garrets. Suddenly whether Lanie carried Ben’s baby or not didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she was a human being who needed help.
And so did he. Emergency childbirth was not in his repertoire. Stocks and bonds, real estate and development, business mergers and takeovers—not babies. Definitely not babies.
“We need to get you to a doctor.” And fast. Lanie looked like a terrified rabbit, and Garrett wasn’t feeling much better himself.
“Yes.” Lanie didn’t move.
“Do you have a bag?”
She stared. “A what?”
“A bag. You know, a bag. To take to the hospital with you,” he clarified impatiently.
They always had bags in the movies, didn’t they? Garrett’s thoughts hurtled along. In fact, he was starting to feel like one of those movie dads-to-be—as in, panicked. Only in the movies, the moms-to-be always seemed to know what they were doing, and in this case Lanie wasn’t helping.
“I haven’t packed one yet.” Lanie stared at him. “You know, I might not even be in labor,” she said abruptly. “I don’t want to go to the hospital. Maybe it’s false labor. I don’t even feel anything now.” She seemed to latch on to the idea, brightening.
False labor. Garrett had no idea what that was, but he wasn’t taking any chances on ending up playing doctor in the parlor. She needed medical attention. He couldn’t be responsible for any harm coming to her unborn child, even if it wasn’t Ben’s.
“You’ve fainted,” he pointed out. “Shouldn’t you at least let your doctor know about that?”
He heard the soft intake of her breath, watched her press her fingers to her lips. “You’re right.” She looked worried now.
Garrett took charge. Picking up the phone on the side table, he turned to her. “What’s your doctor’s number?” He checked his watch. He hoped her physician didn’t leave early on Fridays.
Lanie reeled off the number automatically while Garrett punched