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What the hell had he been thinking having sex with her again?
He’d known it was a mistake, the second he’d touched the soft skin of her nape and slanted his lips across hers, but her gasp of surrender had sent the arrow of need soaring straight into his groin.
Tess Tremaine did something to him, something that sliced through all his self-control, until he was acting on autopilot, feeling instead of thinking, wanting instead of weighing up. And running solely on the endorphin rush of spectacular sex.
He adjusted his pants, discomforted by the memory
of how his control had snapped so suddenly. One minute they’d been sniping at each other and the next they’d been going for it on her kitchen counter.
He rubbed his hands down his face, the frustration now warring with embarrassment and disbelief.
Get over it, Graystone.
He eased his head off the seat and stared down the street. Getting worked up about what an ass he’d been was getting him nowhere. This wasn’t about him, it wasn’t even about the sex they’d had, this was about Tess and her complete inability to give him a straight answer about anything. She’d lied about not being pregnant, he was sure of it. Because however volatile and contradictory and confusing and downright intoxicating the woman was, one thing was for absolute sure: unlike Marlena, she couldn’t lie worth a damn.
And he had a bad feeling he already knew the reason why she’d lied.
He glanced up at her block, curious now at the thought of the empty apartment and all those packing boxes. Where exactly was she moving to? Didn’t he have a right to know that? If he was the father of her child?
The picture of a child—his child—rose unbidden in his mind. He rubbed his palm against the tightening in his chest, swallowed down the tightening in his throat. What if she was planning to head back to Britain?
Picking his phone up, he stabbed in Walter Jensen’s office number.
He didn’t want to think about the baby. And he wasn’t going to, not until he absolutely had to. But he was through playing nice with Tess Tremaine. She was going to give him the truth and if that meant getting his attorney involved—and staying the hell away from confined spaces—so be it.
CHAPTER SIX
‘NATHANIEL, do you have any idea how complex the laws governing fathers’ rights are?’ Walter Jensen rested his forearms on his large maple-wood desk and sent Nate a look he’d hated ever since he had been twelve years old, and the family lawyer had explained to him in calm, measured tones that taking his father’s car for a joyride and getting picked up by the cops was not the smartest thing he’d ever done.
‘Any kind of court action could potentially take years.’ Walter paused to take a breath, his gruff paternal tone pulling Nate back into one of the lowest periods of his life. ‘And you don’t even know for sure that this baby is yours. Or even if it actually exists.’
Nate stood, the anger that had built overnight coursing back up his spine.
‘She lied to me about the pregnancy. And I don’t know where she’s living. I don’t care what my rights are, but I want the truth. I can’t just let this go. You know I can’t.’
Knowledge flashed in Walter’s pale eyes, the knowledge that had always remained unspoken between the two of them. The bitter taste of regret curdled Nate’s insides. Even in his sixties, Walter had a brilliant legal mind, sharp, insightful and analytical, and more importantly he was a good man. But Nate had never been able to trust him completely, because, like most of the adults he had known growing up, Walter had made a living keeping his father’s dirty little secrets safe.
‘Okay, calm down,’ Walter said, lifting his hands in a quelling motion.
Nate dropped back into his chair, embarrassed to realise he’d raised his voice.
‘This is what I suggest,’ Walter continued in the cool, dispassionate tones of a man well used to talking people down off an emotional ledge. ‘We ask Miss Tremaine in here, and we negotiate. If you’re willing to offer her a generous subsidy to take care of all her living expenses until the baby’s born—’
‘I am...’ Nate cut in. He wanted this settled once and for all. He wanted Tess to cooperate, to be straight with h
im and he’d pay whatever he had to to achieve that. But most of all he wanted the hideous suspicion that had been torturing him most of the night—that he had always been his father’s son after all—to go the hell away.
Walter glanced up from the papers on his desk, sending him a level look. ‘Then I’m sure she’ll listen to reason.’
Knowing how contrary Tess Tremaine had been already, Nate wasn’t betting on it, but he nodded anyway. ‘Great, when can we do it? I don’t want this messing with my head any longer.’
He still hadn’t quite figured out what he was going to do when he knew the truth for sure, but once he had the ‘Tess Factor’ under some semblance of control, he would take the necessary steps to ensure he did what he had to do. If the child was his, he would provide for it. And acknowledge it. That much was non-negotiable.
Walter flicked through the large leatherbound planner on his desk. ‘I’ll have my office contact her and see if we can set something up this week. If the baby does turn out to be yours, one thing you’ll want to do is start establishing a quantifiable interest in it as its biological father. Most courts so far have determined that a father’s rights are directly related to how involved he has been in the nurturing of a child.’
Nate nodded stiffly, the thought of nurturing a child paralysing him for a moment.
‘Right.’ Getting up from the chair, he held out his hand to the elderly man, glad to be finally setting something concrete and definable in motion. This didn’t need to be the emotional minefield Tess was trying to make it. They could negotiate this situation sensibly, like civilised adults. But given their bad habit of resorting to mind-blowing sex every time they were alone together, involving a third party was the way to go.
