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Rick spit out his morning coffee. The hot liquid hit the oatmeal bowl like so many chocolate chips dotting cookie batter.
He prided himself on being unflappable. A cool head and calm nerves were a must in stunt work, particularly when something unexpected happened. But as with everything concerning Chiara, levelheadedness walked out the door with his better judgment.
He looked around his West Hollywood rental, still his home since Chiara had canceled his roommate privileges and his Beverly Hills place wasn’t finished. The rain hitting the windows suited his mood. Or rather, it fit the rest of his life, which stretched out in a dull gray line in front of him. He got the same adrenaline rush from being with Chiara as he did from stunts, which probably explained the colorlessness of his days since their breakup.
Except now... Chiara was pregnant.
Rick was seized by turns with elation and shock. A baby. His and Chiara’s. He was going to be a father.
Of course he wanted kids. He’d just never given much thought to how it would happen. He was thirty-three and at some point he’d be too old for stunt work. Sometime between now and then, his life would transition to something different. He figured he’d meet a woman, get married and have kids. Except along the way, he’d never foreseen a fake relationship with a maddening starlet who would then turn up pregnant.
Suddenly someday was now...and it wasn’t supposed to happen this way—knocking up an actress tethered to fame when they weren’t even married, living together or talking about forever.
Chiara infuriated and amused him by turns, the combustible passion between them feeding on itself. They were good together. Hell, he’d thought things had been heading to...something. But never mind. She’d made it clear he’d served his purpose and now there was no role for him in her life.
Now, though, whether she liked it or not, he had a place. She was pregnant.
He wondered whether this announcement was a public relations ploy, and then dismissed the idea. Chiara had too much integrity. He knew that much even though they were no longer a couple.
Still, she hadn’t had the decency to tell him, and his family would be reading the news online and in print, just like everyone else. Her handlers hadn’t yet sent out a second volley in this juicy story, but already he was looking like a jerk. He just broke up with her, and now his ex-girlfriend has announc
ed she’s pregnant. That’s what everyone would think. Maybe he left her because there was a surprise baby.
There was one thing to do—and he wasn’t waiting for an invitation. He still had the passcode to Chiara’s front gate, unless she’d changed it.
Rick got his wallet, keys and phone, and then made a line for the door. He’d woken up this morning moody and out of sorts—more or less par for the course for him since his breakup with Chiara, but that was even before realizing he’d been served up as delicious gossipy dish for his neighbors to consume along with their morning coffee.
He cursed. “Moody” had just given way to “flaming-hot pissed off.”
He made record time on the way to Chiara’s house, adrenaline pumping in his veins. He knew from experience working on stunts that he was operating on a full head of steam. He needed to force himself to take a breath, slow down, collect his thoughts... Hell.
A baby. And she hadn’t told him.
When he got to Chiara’s front gate, rationality returned enough for him to pause a moment and call her from his cell. The last thing he needed was for Chiara to assume her surprise visitor was her stalker.
“It’s Rick, and I’m coming in,” he announced when she picked up, and then hit the end button without waiting for a response.
When he got to the house, the front door was unlocked and he let himself in.
He found Chiara in the kitchen, dressed in an oversize sweater and leggings, a mug in one hand.
His gaze went to her midriff, before traveling back to her face. Not that she would be showing yet—but she did look weary, as if she hadn’t slept well. He resisted the urge to stride over and wrap her in his arms.
“I assume you unlocked the door for me when I called from the gate and that you don’t have a standing invitation for your overeager fan to walk in.” It was a mild reproach, much less than he wanted to say.
She set the mug down. “What do you think?”
“You’re pregnant.” The last word reverberated through the room like the sound of a brass bell.
Chiara blanched.
“I found out the news with the rest of the world.”
“I didn’t have time to call you first.” She wrung her hands. “The story broke so fast.”
“You could have called me when the pregnancy test came back positive.”
