Dominic's Child Page 6

  “Well, then?” He fixed her in his laser-sharp gaze. “What’s your answer? Are we engaged, or not?”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  OF COURSE she and Dominic Winter weren’t engaged! The question was preposterous. They were on the brink of the twenty-first century, for heaven’s sake, and shotgun weddings had gone out of fashion a long time ago, along with marriages of convenience.

  On top of that, he didn’t much like her. No man who proposed marriage in such cut-and-dried terms could possibly harbor any fondness for his intended bride. And although she might find him scandalously appealing, Sophie wasn’t so far in thrall to the attraction that she was willing to sacrifice herself on the altar of conventionality because she happened to be carrying his baby.

  “Well, Sophie? What’s your answer? Are you going to marry me?”

  She studied his well-shaped head with its sweep of thick black hair, and the equally dark parentheses of his brows. She hazarded a glance into those still green eyes, found it a thoroughly unnerving experience and quickly passed on to his very sexy mouth.

  A terrible mistake! Desire, plain and simple, stabbed her, laying waste to what was left of her meager supply of common sense. If she’d dared close her own eyes, she knew her mind would have been filled with memories of St. Julian. Of the heady perfume of flowers and the rhythmic roll of the surf. And of Dominic lying naked beside her, all smooth, firm muscle and sleek, silken strength. The possibility, however slim, of that same sweet rush of passion consuming her again, of its weaving an indelible thread through the fabric of her life, seduced her into what she could only assume constituted temporary insanity.

  Her mouth formed a reply without any regard for the frantic message from her brain. “All right, we’ll give it a try.”

  He rubbed his hands together with the brisk satisfaction of a man who’d just effected a contract so full of loopholes through which he could extricate himself that he didn’t have to worry about the problems inherent in its execution. “Good. What sort of wedding would you like? A traditional affair with all the trappings—” he let his glance slide fleetingly to her stillslender waist “—or something more discreet?”

  Scrambling to gather her scattered wits, she said, “Right now, I’m more concerned about our reaching a clear understanding of the kind of marriage we’re entering into than I am about the social correctness of my having a white wedding.”

  “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

  “Well, this isn’t exactly the customary way to go about things.”

  He inclined his head in assent. “I thought we’d already agreed that it’s not.”

  “Yes,” she said, “we have.”

  “Then what is it you don’t understand?”

  She might have known he’d make her spell it out. “What do you want of me in all this, Dominic? What sort of living arrangements do you have in mind?”

  “Are you talking about sex, Sophie?”

  A blush chased all the way up from her feet to her face. “I’m trying to discuss a delicate subject without causing either of us unnecessary embarrassment, something which you’re obviously incapable of appreciating.”

  “You are talking about sex.” A hint of glee touched his mouth but was gone before it had time to reach his eyes. “If I was not prepared to honor my obligations to you, I would not have proposed marriage. The same code of decency forbids my demanding conjugal rights from an unwilling wife. Whether or not we share the same bed is entirely up to you, Sophie. I am perfectly willing to follow your lead.”

  “You—you’re making this very difficult,” she stammered.

  “Not at all. I’m not made of stone, nor am I immune to your considerable charms—witness the fact that you conceived my baby in a thoroughly orthodox fashion. If you want me again—for whatever reason—all you have to do is let me know. We’re both normal, healthy people, subject to normal, healthy urges, and I can’t imagine that either of us will jump to any farfetched conclusions in the event that we choose to satisfy them. Does that clarify matters for you?”

  Dear Lord, yes! In spades! He would marry her and even enjoy sex with her, but he would not love her.

  “I see that I have.” He stood up and flexed his shoulders, a gesture Sophie found herself watching with morbid fascination. “It’s been a long day. Why don’t we table further discussion until tomorrow?”

  It was probably the only smart suggestion he’d made all night. Sophie needed to be alone. More than anything, she needed to climb into bed and sleep the clock around, and hope that that would be enough to restore her sanity.

  And then she could do what she should have done tonight: say “Thank you very much, Dominic, but I won’t marry you although I do appreciate your having asked.” She’d do it now if she wasn’t so desperately tired and he wasn’t so hard to say no to.

  He touched her face, running the back of his fingers from her jaw to her cheekbone. “I have a meeting with my architect at nine in the morning, and another with my project manager right after,” he said, “but I should be finished by noon. What say we get together for lunch some time after that, and you can tell me what you’ve decided on in the way of a wedding? And then, perhaps, we should break the news to your family. I imagine they’d like to hear it before it becomes common knowledge around town.”

  The mere thought of her parents’ shock and surprise at learning their daughter was rushing headlong into marriage with a stranger almost had Sophie doing the brave and decent thing and saying right there and then that she couldn’t continue playing this charade a moment longer. But there was something so invincible in the set of Dominic’s spectacular shoulders, in the unwavering gaze of his long-lashed green eyes, that she took refuge in cowardice once again.

  “I suppose so,” she hedged, disgusted by the pitifully indecisive creature she’d become.

  Her tone, or perhaps the way she fairly drooped with exhaustion, had Dominic subjecting her to an even more thorough scrutiny. “You look worn out,” he said, the concern in his words seriously eroding her composure.

  “I feel worn out,” she practically whimpered.

  “Then go to bed and get some rest.” He leaned forward and surprised her with a kiss full on her mouth. It was brief and hard and dismayingly arousing. “Good night, Sophie. Sleep well and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She had an early appointment herself the next morning, a consultation for a fountain garden in the atrium of one of Palmerstown’s grand old houses, which was being turned into apartments. Although she always made a point of looking her best for such meetings, Sophie spent extra time that day, applying more makeup than she usually wore, in an attempt to camouflage the ravages of fatigue. Because, Dominic’s exhortation notwithstanding, she had not slept the previous night, let alone slept well. Her mind had been too full of the man whose impact on her life had her swinging repeatedly from resentment to desire, from simple logic to wild fantasy.

  What if she married him and things did work out between them? she’d wondered as midnight crept past. What if they fell in love after the fact instead of before? It wasn’t unheard of after all, and their one experience of intimacy had been breathtaking, at least for her. Why couldn’t it always be that way? Why couldn’t something strong and enduring grow out of the passion and closeness that came from lovemaking?

  But then the pendulum swung the other way, stripping her dreams of their magic and revealing them for the foolish delusions they were. A man like Dominic Winter wasn’t the type to switch allegiance so quickly. He had loved Barbara and was still grieving her death. Sophie was merely an inconvenience he’d brought upon himself during a moment of weakness, one for which he was paying the price.

  For him, it had been sex, careless sex: something that never would have happened had he not been so tormented by his loss. But happen it had, and since he no longer had a future with Barbara, he was doing the honorable thing by the woman who had briefly brought him surcease from his pain. If truth be known, he probabl
y had to think twice to remember Sophie’s name.

  And so it went, back and forth, until the cold light of reason, coinciding with that of morning, finally won out. She was twenty-seven, not seventeen, and had too much pride to run second best with any man, even if he was the father of her child.

  She chose her wardrobe with care: a wool dress with a dropped waist and flared skirt, simple gold jewelry and plain black leather accessories. The ensemble boosted her confidence just an extra notch because she didn’t delude herself. Rejecting Dominic wasn’t going to be easy.

  She did briefly entertain the thought that he, too, might have had second thoughts and decided to call the whole affair off. It seemed unlikely, however, especially when she checked her answering service about ten-thirty and learned that he’d made a one o’clock lunch reservation in the Lakeside Room at the Royal Hotel. A person didn’t need to go to such lavish lengths to end things, especially not when a simple phone call would do the job just as well. She very much feared that, as far as Dominic was concerned, the engagement was still on.

  Being kept waiting left Dominic in a very testy frame of mind. Admittedly, it wasn’t her fault that he got to the hotel ten minutes early, but that didn’t prevent his irritation from growing when she still hadn’t shown up at five past one.

  He dismissed the notion that her nonappearance might be an indication that she’d had second thoughts about marrying him. If she thought that by standing him up she’d so easily slither off the matrimonial hook, she sadly underestimated him. At the very least, he expected the courtesy of a face-to-face refusal. And in this case, a refusal wasn’t an option he was prepared to accept.

  Forcing himself not to look at his watch again, he thumbed through the morning paper to the business section and immersed himself in the stock market report. Too bad women weren’t as easy to analyze!

  Granted, she’d looked a bit thunderstruck last night when he’d come out with his proposal and he supposed, to be fair, that he might have employed a little more finesse, but hell, she wasn’t the only one reeling with shock. Just when, if ever, she’d planned to let him in on her little secret, had he not shown up when he did, was something he’d never know. The point was, as soon as he’d found out she was pregnant, there’d only ever been one outcome for the two of them and that was marriage.

  It might not be the ideal solution but, the way he saw it, they could both do worse. He was going on thirtysix, experienced enough to know women weren’t repelled by him, and smart enough to know that it took a lot more than illusions of love to make a marriage work. Furthermore, he’d meant what he said about a child needing two full-time parents. Weekend daddy was not a role he’d willingly adopt.

  And she?

  He flipped the page irritably. Hell, by her own admission she was no sexual ingenue. She knew how babies were made and if she hadn’t wanted to be saddled with a child, she should have kept her distance, instead of seducing him with sympathy.

  Her familiar white car screeching to a stop outside the hotel’s front entrance diverted his attention. The driver’s door swung wide on its hinges, a daintily shod foot emerged, a flare of teal blue fabric swirled around a well-turned ankle. Pale gold hair spilled over the collar of a winter white cape, a head turned, a smile captivated the doorman into whistling for the parking attendant.

  She smiled again and, gathering the collar of her cape close at her throat, hooked a black handbag over her wrist and reached out a gloved hand to set the hotel’s revolving brass doors in motion.

  To his intense annoyance, Dominic felt his mouth go dry.

  The Royal was the most splendid among Palmerstown’s admittedly few hotels, but that was not to say it lagged behind its big-city counterparts. Its old-world opulence and dignity rendered it beyond question the only place in town with the glamour and panache to host special occasions. Weddings, anniversaries, charity balls, it knew them all.

  Sophie, though, had always found its Austrian chandeliers and extravagantly molded ceilings rather formidable. Even the views of Jewel Lake from its tall, elegant windows were overwhelming. However, it was the sort of place that suited Dominic Winter to a T—big, impressive, invincible.

  The minute she entered the foyer shortly before a quarter past one, she saw him. He leaned against one of the ornately carved library tables, scanning the morning paper and looking as he always did: well dressed and supremely at ease with himself and his place in the greater scheme of things. No one would have guessed he’d found out, just the night before, that he had fathered a child with a woman he barely knew.

  “Sorry I’m a bit late,” she said, slightly out of breath more from nerves than exertion. “I had rather a full morning.”

  He pushed away from the table and cast a pointed glance at the grandfather clock in the corner. “Did you? Well, the next time you decide to keep me waiting, do me the courtesy of phoning and letting me know in advance.”

  She refrained from telling him there and then that there wasn’t going to be a “next time”, at least not in the way he thought, and said only, “Sorry, it couldn’t be helped.”

  Of course, he couldn’t just leave well enough alone. He looked down at her from his lofty height and said patronizingly, “Time is money in the business world, you know, and I have little patience with people unwilling to appreciate that.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” she retorted, her own hackles only too ready to rise in retaliation, “provided you do me the courtesy of remembering that I’m in business, too, and it just so happens I had a previously scheduled appointment across town that took up most of my morning. As it is, I had to cut things short to get here when I did.”

  “Humph,” he snorted. “Well, now that you are here, let’s get a move on. We have a great deal to discuss.”

  Slapping the newspaper down on the table, he relieved her of her cape and deposited it in the coat-check booth. At about the same time, a burst of laughter erupted from the Lakeside Room, followed seconds later by a group of women who streamed across the carpeted foyer toward the revolving doors.

  Striding back toward her, Dominic took Sophie by the elbow and drew her aside to let them pass unimpeded. Perhaps if he hadn’t, they might have flowed around her, too involved in their animated conversation to take note of the rather ordinary woman busy scooping her hair free of her dress collar.

  But no matter what their age, Dominic Winter was too arresting a man for women to overlook, especially when they were a little giddy from a celebration lunch. And most especially when they belatedly recognized the person he was escorting and saw the way he held on to her as if he had the right, as if, like a parcel of land, she was something he owned.

  “Why, look, Anne!” one of them caroled. “Here’s Sophie, come to check up on her mother!”

  Sophie stood rooted to the spot, appalled to find herself and Dominic the object of mass curiosity. Eight pairs of eyes darted birdlike from her face to his and back again as the chatter, which moments before had filled the lobby, sank into expectant silence.

  Her mother was the one to break it. “Hello, dear!” she exclaimed. “What a nice surprise running into you like this!”

  She didn’t add, With this interesting, handsome man and when are you going to remember your manners and introduce us? but she might as well have done. Neither her attention nor that of her friends faltered by so much as a blink.

  “Um...” Sophie muttered inarticulately. “Um... Mom...?”

  Anne Casson’s gaze flitted to Dominic again. “That’s right, dear,” she said encouragingly. “What brings you here in the middle of the working day?”

  “I’m... um, we’re... having lunch.”

  “Oh, so were we,” her mother chirped. “Our annual Valentine’s Day lunch. You know the ladies from my bridge club, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” Sophie mumbled, continuing to behave like a socially arrested teenager. Miserably aware of Dominic looming at her side, she faced up to the unavoidable. “And this... um, this i
s...”

  “Dominic Winter.” The scowl provoked by Sophie’s late arrival melted beneath the warmth of the smile he turned on her mother. “How do you do, Mrs. Casson? I’m delighted to meet you.”

  Anne Casson never had had much of a head for wine. One glass stretched her tolerance practically to the limit. Sophie could only suppose she’d had two that day. How else to account for the outrageous liberties she proceeded to take?

  Simpering at Dominic, who was busy doling out more charm than he’d ever spared Sophie in all the weeks she’d sort of known him, her mother said, “I’m very pleased to meet you, too, Mr. Winter,” then had the nerve to add coyly, “Have you and my daughter been friends for very long?”

  “Long enough for me to ask her to marry me and for her to accept,” he announced baldly.

  The mingled gasps and squeals that elicited from his audience quite swallowed up Sophie’s groan of dismay.

  “Marry? Oh, my dear, what wonderful news!” Wreathed in smiles, Anne folded Sophie in a hug. “When did all this happen?”

  “Last night, which is why you weren’t informed sooner,” Dominic said, speaking for both of them as if Sophie’s tongue had taken a walk. “We’re hoping to finetune the arrangements over lunch.”

  Sophie’s mother dimpled disgustingly. “Then I won’t detain you, but won’t you both please come for dinner this evening? I know my husband is going to be as thrilled with your news as I am, and he’ll certainly want to meet the man his daughter’s agreed to marry.”

  “We’d be delighted, wouldn’t we, Sophie?” Dominic said, his perfunctory invitation for her opinion nothing more than token acknowledgment that she understood English.

  “Well, actually—”

  “Shall we say around seven?” her mother cut in, apparently no more concerned with her daughter’s views than he was.

  Placing his hand in the small of Sophie’s back and steering her firmly toward the dining room, Dominic nodded. “Perfect,” he allowed.