An eye to the peephole confirmed her suspicion. She straightened and puffed out a breath. Barefoot and grubby wasn’t the proper armor for facing down enemy combatants, but his impatient pounding said her limp T-shirt and ratty jeans would have to do. Beneath shaking hands, the chains came off and the lock disengaged.
She wrenched open the door. “What do you want?” Despite her attempt to block him, he brushed by her and seemed to bring the chill of the winter morning with him. She shut the door forcefully. “By all means, come right in.”
He stopped several feet away, his arms akimbo. The ever-present Stetson dangled from the fingers of one hand and bumped against his hip. Casually dressed in crisp jeans and a heavy leather bomber jacket, he looked big, confident, and, she had to admit, gorgeous.
“You claim to be pregnant with my child.”
Her bare toes curled on the aged wooden floor, but she wasn’t about to back down. Possession was nine-tenths of the law, after all. You couldn’t get more possessive than carrying the point of contention within your body. “That’s not a claim. It’s a fact.”
He nodded, ceding her the point. “Then you won’t mind proving it.”
“Excuse me?”
“I want proof the child is mine.”
Of course he would. “As soon as that’s feasible, I’ll agree to testing. Now, are we done? I have things to do.”
“No, we aren’t done. I’m not going anywhere until we’ve established you are pregnant and the pregnancy is at eight weeks as you claim.”
She nodded toward the trash bag she’d gathered up during her cleaning spree. “The used pregnancy tests are right in there. Feel free to rummage through and find them, but they won’t tell you the date of conception.”
He eyed the large, black bag. “Tests, as in plural?”
“I wanted to be sure. I took three.”
He arched a brow. “Law of averages?”
“Something like that.”
His lips twitched at her grumbled answer, as if he might be fighting a smile, but considering the situation, she couldn’t see what he could possibly find amusing.
“I booked an appointment for an ultrasound at a local clinic at ten.” He checked his watch. “We’ll need to leave soon if we’re going to make it on time.”
Her jaw dropped open. She snapped it shut. “You what?”
“You say you’re carrying my child, and from your comments last night, I assume you’ve decided to keep it.”
She ignored his doubt about the paternity, zeroing in on his second comment. “Of course I’m keeping it.”
“Then I have some decisions to make as well. In order to do so reasonably, I need more information than, ‘Hi, Gabe. My name is Jane Whitmore. I’m having your baby.’”
He had a point. And she could be reasonable, too, but on her own terms. “Fine. I have my first baby appointment next week. I’ll call and request an ultrasound and send you the results.”
He shook his head. “Not good enough. I’ll come with you, today, and see the results for myself.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”
“This isn’t negotiable, Jane. You dumped a pretty big bomb in my lap last night. I’m not letting you out of my sight until I have some answers.”
“Then I’ll go with you tomorrow. I have to see my parents this morning. They don’t know about the baby yet, and believe me, working up the courage to tell them wasn’t easy.” Admitting to being anxious about the coming confrontation scraped at her pride, but she wanted him gone. If sympathy did the trick, so be it. “I can’t delay it any longer. The stress is killing me, and it isn’t good for the baby.”
The sympathy card proved a complete bust.
“Go get ready. I’ll wait. The appointment won’t take longer than twenty minutes. I’ll drive you wherever you want once we’re done.”
****
Jane snapped her seatbelt shut. “This is a bad idea. I’m about to shock the hell out of my parents. Your presence will only complicate things.”
“My lack of presence would be just as complicating, don’t you think? You didn’t get pregnant alone. I had a hand in it.”
Her head jerked in his direction. The test may have confirmed her pregnancy and the estimated gestation, but the paternity of the baby couldn’t be determined for some time. His claiming responsibility, before it had, made no sense.
“I’m not the kind of man who shirks his responsibilities, Jane.” He glanced her way. “I’m not a parent, yet, but if my daughter came to me to say some man had left her pregnant, I’d want to know what he meant to do about it.”
So would she, but she was afraid to find out.
“Besides, the doc said you needed to avoid stress.”
She choked on a mirthless laugh. “Showing up on my parents’ stoop with a strange guy to announce I’m pregnant is not my idea of avoiding stress.”
He smiled, and out popped the same secret weapons responsible for getting her into this mess in the first place. Dismayed at the helpless fluttering in her belly, she pressed a hand to her stomach. His eyes followed the movement, and his smile disappeared.
His sober gaze rose to tangle with hers. “I’m coming with you.”
Further argument would be useless. The successful businessman was back.