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She gripped her handbag, pressing her knuckles into the folds. She could’ve heard those rumors at any time and would have been unprepared to deal with them. She was unprepared to deal with them now. “Where are we going?”
“Back to your place because it’s closer, so we can talk. Privately.”
She took his words as confirmation of her worst suspicions and briefly closed her eyes. “So there’s a baby?”
Jordan nodded, not taking his eyes off the road.
“Did you know the mother?” She felt as if she was chewing sawdust as she said it.
“The first time I heard her last name attached to the rumors is when the photographer just said it. Yes, I knew her. But once and for a short time.”
“Once is all it takes, isn’t it?” she retorted.
This time, he did glance at her. “There’s no proof that I’m the father.”
“And there’s nothing to say you’re not.”
Jordan hit his palm against the steering wheel. “You’re asking me to prove a negative when I haven’t even taken a paternity test.”
How could this be happening to her again? Was she a marked woman? She’d now dated two men who’d had families—children—she hadn’t known about. For the second time, she’d experienced the most brutal deception.
“Sera, those kinds of accusations are not that uncommon for professional athletes.”
She knew what he was saying. Sports stars were targets for fortune hunters. Her own cousin Marisa was the product of a pro athlete’s short-term liaison, though Aunt Donna hadn’t asked for or received a penny from Marisa’s father, whose minor-league baseball dreams had died along with him in a freak accident.
“The story is that the girl is two and a half,” Jordan said quietly.
“When are you going to take a paternity test?”
He didn’t take his eyes off the road—didn’t glance at her. “This allegation has come out of the blue. I need to have Marv, my agent, arrange to investigate it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I figured it was baseless gossip until now. I want to have the facts first.”
Right. Time to figure out how to spin this story for her, perhaps? There was always a reason—an explanation. Neil had had one, too.
When they arrived at her apartment, she popped out of the car and shot for the door. She heard his car door slam and then Jordan rushing to catch up to her.
“Sera!”
She didn’t want to talk about this right now. How could she be so stupid? Again.
She must be giving some kind of signal to men: this one is easy to dupe.
Jordan touched her arm, and she spun toward him. “Leave me alone.”
“We need to talk. Listen—”
“No, you listen.” She stabbed a finger in the direction of his chest. “I don’t like being had.”
He had the indecency to appear surprised. “Neither do I.”
“There’s a lot about you I apparently didn’t know.”
“Let’s talk somewhere more private.”
“I don’t think so.” No way was she continuing this...discussion. Especially inside her apartment. So he could work his charm on her and gaslight her. There’d be nowhere to run if she was completely broken.
