Falling for the Pregnant Heiress Read online

  Number one, she wanted the baby. Because of her parents’ abysmal marriage, she’d vowed never to marry, but she wanted to be a mother. This pregnancy might have sped up her timetable, but she was ready—

  No. She was eager to become a mom.

  Number two, she had to tell Pierre. She expected him to be appalled and tell her that he wanted nothing to do with their child. But she’d chosen him as a lover, someone with no intention of falling in love, not a father for her children, so that was okay. She had no qualm about raising this baby alone. In fact, she’d prefer it.

  Number three and four, telling her mom and telling her brothers couldn’t happen until she told Pierre.

  She had to go to Paris.

  She walked into the elegant lounge section of the ladies’ room and leaned across a vanity to get a peek at her makeup. Now that she wasn’t falling apart internally, her face had gone back to normal. She could have nitpicked every tiny imperfection. She could have second-guessed her choice of lipstick color. Except she looked like the lady her mother had raised her to be. She might not be perfect, but she was firmly in her role.

  She drew a long breath and left the restroom, heading back to the ballroom. She spotted Ziggy and walked in the opposite direction. Jake was about to introduce Seth and Harper and the bridal party. She ambled up to Harper, who looked elegant in her simple satin dress. Her short, dark hair gave her the look of a pixie. Her blue eyes sparkled with love—for Sabrina’s brother. Sabrina could never appreciate anyone more than she did Avery and Harper for helping her brothers to heal. Theirs were the rare unicorn of relationships that did revolve around love, exactly what her brothers needed.

  But Sabrina didn’t need to heal as her brothers had. A daughter, not a son, she hadn’t endured the kind of cruel mistreatment from their dad that her brothers had. Her chauvinistic father didn’t see her as a businesswoman, so he had no reason to “train” her. But she had seen how he treated her mom, how her mom had cried over his infidelities and worried for her sons. At fourteen, Sabrina had promised herself no man would ever treat her the way her dad had treated her mom. And she’d kept that promise.

  “Anything I can do for the bride?”

  Harper hugged her. “No. We’re fine. I’d just like to get to dinner already. I’m starved.”

  “You should have had some hors d’oeuvres at your penthouse. They were wonderful.”

  “I was saving my appetite for the Beef Wellington.”

  As Jake began announcing the wedding party, Ziggy walked up to her and escorted her to her seat. Jake then introduced himself and his wife, Avery, who joined him by the podium. He introduced Seth and Harper and the room broke into joyous applause.

  Tears filled her eyes. She really couldn’t express how grateful she was to her two sisters-in-law for saving her brothers, healing them, helping them to believe in love and lead normal, happy lives.

  Harper finally got her Beef Wellington and the dinner progressed with Ziggy making small talk with her one minute and turning to his left to talk to her mother the next. She supposed he was an okay guy—

  All right. He was sort of a great guy, considerate of her and kind to her mother. She shouldn’t have snapped at him.

  She never snapped at anyone.

  But there was something about Ziggy today. Something about the sexy way he looked in a tux—or maybe the way he’d asked if she needed someone to talk to—

  She didn’t know. Her hormones were a mess and so were her reactions. But now that she’d worked everything out in her head, she could get back to normal.

  The band announced Seth and Harper’s first dance, and her brother escorted his bride to the dance floor. When the music ended, the band announced Jake and Avery, who joined Seth and Harper, then Trent and Sabrina, who walked out onto the dance floor with them.

  The band began a slow, romantic song for the bridal party dance, and Sabrina drew a quiet breath. Trent slid his arm around her waist. She put her hand on his shoulder—his very solid shoulder.

  That was a surprise. Pierre was a tall, thin man, and touching someone more solid sent a jolt through her. She hadn’t expected Ziggy to be buff.

  “Do you work out?”

  He waggled his eyebrows. “Liking my muscles?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Can you be serious for one second?”

  “I tried to be serious in the limo. You shut me down.”

  “You weren’t being serious. You were prying into my life.”

  “See, there you go again. Making distinctions that don’t need to exist.”

  The music shifted into something faster for mere seconds, but Trent took advantage of those seconds to spin them around. Silly though it was, the movement lightened her mood. She laughed.

  “See? That’s what I wanted to hear. A laugh. A spontaneous one at that.”

  She shook her head. “You’re weird.”

  “No. We’re opposites.”

  She inclined her head in agreement.

  “Which means if you told me whatever was troubling you, I’d come up with an out-of-the-box solution that might help you.”

  This time she didn’t try to deny that she was in the throes of figuring out a problem. “You can’t help me.”

  * * *

  Her honesty surprised Trent. Not only did it mean she trusted him, but also, he’d never been able to do a real, solid favor for Seth. The McCallans wanted for nothing. If he could do something kind for the sister of the guy who’d given him the boost he’d needed to become the success he was, he was at her beck and call. “You’re so sure.”

  She looked away. “Yeah.” She caught his gaze. “Can you keep a secret?”

  Without hesitation Trent said, “Absolutely.”

  “There’s not really anything you can do about the fact that I’m pregnant.”

  Trent didn’t react. He’d already guessed that. “I have three getaway houses in the US and a condo in Spain. I have a yacht that’s really nice for privacy when you need it. If nothing else, let me give you a place to think this through.”

  She caught his gaze. “I don’t need to think it through. I need to go to France to tell the baby’s dad. I can’t use one of the McCallan jets because my family will know where I’ve gone. And I don’t want them to know.” She bit her lower lip. “At least not yet. I have to tell the baby’s father before I tell my family.”

  He perked up. “I have three jets.”

  Her blue eyes filled with hope. “You’d lend me one?”

  “Sure.”

  The hope in her eyes turned to skepticism as the song ended. “And you wouldn’t tell Seth?”

  He made a cross on his chest. “I’ll keep all of this a secret until you have a chance to tell everyone yourself. When do you need the jet?”

  “Tonight.”

  “So soon?”

  “I just want to get this over with. You know, get myself moving forward again.”

  He tucked his hands in his trouser pockets. “Okay. I’d give you the keys, but if jets have keys I’m pretty sure my pilot has them.”

  She laughed and impulsively hugged him. “Thanks.”

  The strangest feelings rattled through Trent. She was softer than he’d thought she’d be. Of course, he rarely dated women with curves, so that explained the surprise that hit him. But he felt a warmth, too. Probably the result of doing a good deed. It couldn’t be attraction. She wasn’t his type.

  He wasn’t exactly sure why he needed to remind himself of that.

  But he did.

  Twice.

  CHAPTER TWO

  THEY WAITED UNTIL Seth and Harper left their reception at ten o’clock that night. Trent told Sabrina he would arrange for a flight crew while Sabrina said goodbye to her mom and Jake and Avery. Lighter now that she had a plan, she strode over to say her goodbyes, then Trent escorted her thro
ugh the hot August night to the limo and they rode to the Park Avenue building housing her condo.

  He exited the limo with her, but she shook her head. “No need to come with me. I won’t be but a minute.”

  “A minute to pack?” He laughed. “I’ve seen how you dress. Everything coordinates. You’re probably going to have a suitcase just for your shoes.”

  Offended because it sounded as if he thought her trite or spoiled, she strode to her building. “I’m not that picky.” She wasn’t picky. She simply had a standard to uphold. If her mother had drilled that into her head once, she’d drilled it a thousand times.

  You are a lady. Act like a lady. Dress like a lady. Speak like a lady.

  With a quick push of her hand on the door, they entered the climate-controlled comfort of the lobby. Trent pulled a draft of frosty air into his lungs. She couldn’t tell if he was happy for the cool air or uncomfortable about having to explain himself.

  “I didn’t say you were picky. I’m just saying you always look nice.”

  She worked to stifle a smile. It shouldn’t please her that he thought she looked nice or that he cared that he’d insulted her.

  But it had.

  Puzzled, she led him to the elevator. She took out a key card to start it. “That’s okay.”

  “Are we going to a penthouse?”

  “No. Just an exclusive floor. Two condos. Half a floor each. I don’t need a whole floor.”

  “Nice.” He winced. “I still sometimes marvel at luxury.”

  She didn’t ask him what he meant. She knew his beginnings. Her brother had told her Trent had blue-collar roots and had worked his way through university alongside Seth. Then he’d quit the job Seth had found for him to invest on his own. She admired him. It had taken guts to leave his convenient job and trust his genius. She should probably tell him that—

  A funny feeling invaded her chest and brought her up short. She shook her head to clear it of the desire to figure out why she wanted to talk about that. Right now, she should be focused on throwing some clothes into a travel bag, driving to the airport, flying to France and facing Pierre—

  Because she was pregnant. Pregnant. About to be a mom.

  She pictured herself holding a tiny baby the way Avery had held Abby right after she was born. The sweet little thing would snuggle against her and, like Avery, she would marvel that she had created a life.

  Warmth filled her, along with a sudden desire to cry. Happy tears. Now that she’d adjusted to it, being pregnant was like a dream come true. Her life was busy but established. She could take time off, create a nursery in her big condo, set playdates, take her baby for long walks in Central Park.

  The elevator reached her floor. She stepped into the lobby with two doors. One to her condo. One to the condo of a nice, recently retired couple who traveled a lot. She had breakfast with them once a month when they were home, and if they ran into each other at the elevator, they chatted happily. They’d raised four kids and adored their three grandkids.

  They’d be the perfect neighbors for a single mom.

  She punched a code into her alarm to disable it, then pressed her key card to the lock and opened the door onto her pristine home.

  Wide-plank hardwood floors ran through the open floorplan that included a white kitchen, formal dining space and living room with a long sofa in the center of three conversation areas.

  She faced Ziggy with a smile. She’d already decided which room would be the nursery and that she could dismantle the third bedroom and turn it into a playroom.

  “Okay. Now that you’ve nudged me, you can go. Thank you for the use of your jet. Honestly, I’ll be happy to compensate you for the flight crew and the fuel when I return.”

  His head tilted. “Oh, you think I’m just going to hand over my jet?”

  “You’re not?”

  He laughed. “No. I’m coming with you. You’re my best friend’s little sister and you’re pregnant. I’m not letting you fly across an ocean alone. What if you get sick? Or just faint? For at least the first trimester, I don’t think it’s wise to travel across an ocean alone.”

  She was surprised he even knew the word trimester, let alone that that could be a scary time for a woman, but she let that go in favor of her real concern. “I don’t need help.”

  “Never said you did. My coming is more of a just-in-case thing. Just in case you get sick. Just in case you faint.”

  She wanted to argue, but she wanted to get to Paris more. It was night. She and Trent were both tired. They’d undoubtedly fall asleep for the entire seven-hour flight. When they woke in the morning, he’d be in a tux and she’d be in jeans and a shirt, suitably dressed to find Pierre.

  Before Trent could buy proper clothes for a morning in the city, she’d be at Pierre’s apartment, telling him about the baby. He’d undoubtedly say he didn’t want to be a dad and she’d say that was fine. She’d just thought he had a right to know he was about to be a father. Then she’d go back to the airport to fly home.

  There was no point in arguing with Ziggy because she could make the timing work for her.

  “Fine. Come to France with me, but all you’ll be doing is sleeping on the jet. We won’t even talk.”

  “I know the drill. I always fly at night.”

  “Great.” Without another word, she walked to her bedroom to throw enough into an overnight bag to get her through a flight and a day in Paris.

  When she returned to her main room a few minutes later, Ziggy stood by the wall of windows, staring at the twinkling Manhattan skyline. He’d removed his jacket and rolled his shirt sleeves to the elbows, revealing strong forearms peppered with black hair. He’d also taken off his bow tie and opened the top few buttons of his shirt. Now he was just a guy in black trousers and a white shirt. He could go with her to Pierre’s condo.

  It didn’t matter. Even if he begged, she wouldn’t take him to Pierre’s. Surely, he could keep himself busy for a few hours in the most glamorous city in the world.

  He took her overnight bag. “Ready?”

  She slid the strap of her purse over her arm. “Ready.”

  She’d chosen jeans and a peach-colored T-shirt with brown wedge-heel sandals for the flight and had combed out her long hair. Because of the curls of the up-do, it flowed in gentle waves to her shoulders.

  Ziggy’s gaze traveled from her hair down her T-shirt and along the line of her jeans to her sandals. When his eyes met hers, a little jolt of electricity zapped her.

  Now she knew what was going on. She was attracted to him. Sort of. The man was good-looking. But electricity? Sparks? She didn’t believe in those. Never had.

  Forcing herself to ignore the firestorm rolling across her nerve endings, she smiled her most professional smile at Ziggy and headed for the door. “Let’s go.”

  “Sure.”

  They drove to a private airstrip and boarded the jet. The front of the cabin had four cream-colored leather seats. Behind those were two rear-facing blue leather recliners angled toward an enormous TV. It wasn’t the kind of luxury she was accustomed to. Her family’s biggest plane had two bedrooms, a kitchen and a formal dining room. But Ziggy’s little jet was obviously expensive with plush carpeting, lush leathers. And it was convenient. With no unnecessary bells and whistles, it was almost cozy.

  “All the seats recline.” He pointed to a cabinet tucked behind the television. “Blankets are in there.”

  She tossed her bag into one of the empty chairs and got herself a blanket. “Great. I’m exhausted.”

  “Me, too.”

  But when she sat on one of the pale seats, he walked back to the blue ones in front of the TV. Glad he hadn’t sat beside her—she didn’t care to feel the crazy jolt of electricity she got when he was too close—she reclined the seat, snuggled into her blanket and almost instantly fell asleep.

  S
he slept deeply and eventually dreamed she had twins who sometimes morphed into triplets, and every time she took them to the park, Ziggy followed her, walking a big, furry dog on a leash that sometimes got caught in the wheels of her babies’ stroller.

  The chaos of it jolted her heart. She woke with a start to discover they had landed in Paris, and decided her dream was an extension of Ziggy’s following her around all day at the wedding. With a long drink of air to wake herself completely, she rose from her padded seat, grabbed her overnight bag and turned to go to the private area of the small aircraft.

  Rushing to the door in the back, which she assumed was a bathroom, she didn’t look right or left, not wanting to accidentally make eye contact with Ziggy. Or worse, wake him. The sooner she got out of here, the better her chances of leaving alone. All she needed to do was change her shirt, refresh her makeup and maybe take a minute to think about what she’d say to Pierre—

  She opened the bathroom door and gasped.

  Standing in the middle of the compact room, wrestling a shirt over his head was Ziggy—Trent.

  A broad chest with well-defined muscles that led down to six-pack abs?

  That was Trent. Adult. Sexy. And oh, so male. She’d never be able to think of him as her brother’s college friend Ziggy again.

  She spun away, her heart doing something that felt like a samba in her chest. “Sorry.”

  “No, wait. I’m done.” He slid out of the room into the main cabin and tossed a duffel bag onto one of the empty seats. “Didn’t want to be wearing a wrinkled tux around Paris.”

  “How’d you get an overnight bag?”

  “There’s always a go bag in my office. Had one of my assistants bring it to the plane while you were packing.”

  She worked not to glance down at his chest, now covered by a gray T-shirt. But the vision of his pecs and abs was firmly planted in her brain. “I didn’t think you would be going to Pierre’s apartment with me.”

  “I told you. You’re my best friend’s sister. I’m not going to let you go to some guy’s house alone and tell him you’re pregnant. God knows how he’ll react.”