One Wild Night. Heidi Rice
feeling in her head was too much for anything else.
“And you had no intention of telling me?” Each word was clipped and sharp. This wasn’t the Chris who’d taken her sailing and made her laugh. And made her cry out with his touch. This Chris was livid. Cold.
“I just—”
“There’s no ‘just,’ Ally. Yes or no.”
“No! I mean yes. I mean—” Over Chris’s shoulder, she could see that Sarah, the owner of the bookshop across the street, watching her carefully, a worried crease on her forehead. A quick glance around showed Sarah wasn’t the only one paying attention. No one was headed in this direction—yet—but they had an audience. At least her office didn’t have street-front windows, or else Molly would be out here wanting to know what was going on. This public display had to stop.
She lowered her voice. “Look, I can’t talk about this. Not now. And certainly not here.”
The muscle in his jaw twitched. Chris looked around, noted the interest they’d garnered and nodded sharply. “Agreed.”
Relief swept through her. She set the smoothies on the mailbox and rummaged though her bag for a pen and piece of paper. “I’ll call yo—”
“Where do you live?”
Her head jerked up so quickly a neck muscle spasmed. “What?”
“We need to talk. Privately. Your place seems like the obvious choice.”
She’d hoped for a reprieve. A chance to plan strategy. A chance to at least get her heartbeat under control. “But…”
“Right here, right now, or your place. Take your pick.”
How dare he sweep in here and start ordering her about? She didn’t have to “take her pick” about anything. She didn’t need this kind of upset. She should just walk away. But guilt nagged at her. To be fair, he did have cause to be angry.
As she argued with herself, the tension in Chris’s jaw seemed to increase. She wasn’t going to get out of this, so she needed to pull herself together and deal with it as gracefully as possible. Better to get it over with now.
Yeah, keep telling yourself that.
“My apartment is about ten minutes from here. I’ll need to get my stuff and tell Molly I’m leaving for the day. I’ll be a couple of minutes.”
Another nod, this one so small it was barely perceptible. The man was so tense, the cords in his neck were visible.
She managed to open the office door calmly enough and made it inside. Once out of Chris’s eyesight, though, her knees began to wobble again as the magnitude of the situation hit her.
Zombielike, Ally placed the mango smoothie on Molly’s desk before collapsing in the adjacent chair.
Molly brightened as she reached for her drink. “Thanks. Yum.” She took a sip before looking closely at Ally, and the corners of her mouth turned down in concern. “Are you okay? You look pale. Are you going to barf again?”
Possibly. “I’m fine.” The emotional toil of the last ten minutes—not to mention the thought of what was still to come—washed over her and she rubbed her eyes tiredly.
Molly took her answer at face value. “Some guy came in looking for you about twenty minutes ago.”
A hysterical giggle tried to escape. “Oh, he found me.”
“He was all shades of cute. Who is he? Is he single?”
Fatigue—probably not all due to the baby this time—washed over her, and she rested her head in her hands. “Molls, please tell me what possessed you to tell a stranger over the phone that I was pregnant.”
Indignant, Molly nearly choked on her smoothie. “I did no such thing.”
“Really? Chris says he called here today and you told him I was pregnant.”
“Chris? Who’s Chr—Oh.” Molly’s lips puckered. “Someone did call, and when he said Chris, I thought it was the Kriss Brothers. I mentioned why we were fixing up that room. Are you telling me he was…That the guy who came in here…That he’s—” Ally watched as all the pieces fell into place for Molly. “Oh, Ally, I’m so sorry. No wonder you look so pale.”
There was that hysterical laughter again. Ally went to her desk and turned off her computer. “I’m taking the rest of the afternoon off. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Of course. Go home and lie down. We’ll sort this all out tomorrow. I have to say, though—hummina, hummina. No wonder you…”
“Molly…” she warned.
“Okay, okay. What did he say?”
“Let’s just say he’s a bit angry I didn’t find him when I found out.”
“I told you that you should. He has a right to know.”
“I know.” Overwhelmed again, she swung her chair around and sat. “But being pregnant was complicated enough, I didn’t need anything else. I thought he lived on his boat in the Caribbean, for goodness’ sake. How was I to know he really lived in Charleston and wasn’t just ‘free spirit sailor boy’? Like I needed another…”
“Another Gerry?”
“Exactly. I have enough folks—not to mention the baby—relying on me as it is. I just got one unemployed pretty boy off my hands, I didn’t want to get another one to support. For all I knew, Chris Wells was just another Gerry waiting to happen.”
“Wait a minute.” Molly’s eyes widened. “Chris Wells? And he’s from Charleston? He’s the Chris Wells?”
“Maybe. Why? Who’s the Chris Wells?”
“I thought he looked familiar. Good Lord…Ally, I know you didn’t want to contact him, but are you really telling me you didn’t at least look the man up on Google out of curiosity?” Molly was already at her computer, fingers flying across the keyboard.
“I didn’t want to know. It was just easier if I didn’t. Look, he’s waiting for me, and he’s not in the most patient of moods right now.”
“He can wait one more minute. Come here.” Molly swiveled her computer screen around as Ally sat in the chair across from her. “You need to see this.”
Chris on a sailboat, grinning at the camera. Her heart did a quick double beat as that was the Chris she remembered—not the very angry man waiting for her outside. “And?”
Molly sighed deeply. “Listen carefully. Ever heard of the OWD Shipyard outside Charleston? The W stands for Wells. OWD is the primary sponsor of Wells Racing, and the owner’s grandson, Chris, captains their boats. Team Wells has won every major race in the last five years—including the America’s Cup. They’re considered unbeatable. My God, Ally, you certainly know how to pick them. Chris Wells is the Tiger Woods of sailing.”
Slowly, Molly’s words started to sink in, and the information on the screen in front of her corroborated her story. “How do you know this?”
Molly waved a hand dismissively. “Back when I was dating Ray, he was really into ships and racing. It was all he talked about.”
“Yachts.” She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Chris was a celebrity. And the heir to the OWD Shipyard to boot.
Molly looked at her blankly.
“Those are yachts, not ships.” He’d lied to her. Said he raced some and occasionally won. Yeah, right. He was the freakin’ god of the sailing world and he’d led her to believe…Well, he hadn’t really led her anywhere, but he certainly hadn’t been totally honest, either. Chris wasn’t the only one angry now.
Not