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"The difficulty lies in how your sperm was even registered," Dia was saying. "As I understand it, you and your wife—" Tessa looked instantly horrified and Chase interrupted sharply.
"Ex-wife. Dead ex-wife." Bitter, a quick slap of fury before it was gone.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Madison," both women said, but Chase had eyes only for Tessa, his gaze burning over her golden skin as he stared and stared, until she lifted her eyes to his. A small smile curved his lips, half there, half not, and it made her wonder what was hatching in his brain.
"You were going to use a surrogate," Dia finished, and Tigh agreed for him. "Well, while Mr. Madison's specimen should have been destroyed at the termination of his marriage, my client was listed as a surrogate."
Tessa jerked her gaze to her sister. "That's impossible."
"Is it?" Chase interjected.
She turned on Chase. "Yes, I would never have a child only to give it away, not for anyone." Her voice rose. "And Dr. Faraday knows this, knows exactly what I've been through!" Dia clasped her hand and Tessa fell into silence.
Chase's heart suddenly skittered. Was there a problem with the pregnancy? Though he wanted to know, needed to know, he didn't think she'd tell him if he asked.
"I will never give you my baby," she asserted, her beautiful eyes sparking with barely checked fury.
"Our baby," he countered across the table.
"No. Mine. The donor signed over rights when he donated sperm to the bank. That's why I chose it."
"Don't like men, do you?"
Tessa looked appalled and Chase had his answer.
"Regardless," their lawyers interrupted, sending their clients an I'm-supposed-to-do-the-talking look. Chase and Tessa settled back, stiff, their anger sizzling across the polished table.
"You both have rights. Suing the clinic will not change anything," came from Dia.
"I don't want to sue," Chase said.
"Then we can set up visitation rights when the child is born."
Chase's gaze jerked to her attorney's. "No way. I'm not visiting my own child. I want him."
Panic, absolute and undeniable, sent Tessa leaning forward, her hand gripping the table ledge. "I don't want you in my life, Mr. Madison, father or not!" She stood abruptly. "Possession is nine-tenths of the law, and until this child is born, you have no rights."
"I have the same as any father."
"Then go off and be anybody's father. We don't want you."
Dia rose and settled Tessa back into the chair, glaring at Chase. "It isn't wise to upset her," she remarked.
"Oh Dia, be serious," Tessa murmured under her breath. "I'm pregnant, not an invalid."
"Use any weapon you can," her sister whispered, and Tessa scowled.
"I think the court should decide this," Tigh suggested.
"No!" came from both parents, nearly bringing them out of their chairs.
Dia and Tigh glanced at each other, then their clients. The lawyers leaned their heads together, speaking softly, and Chase gazed at Tessa. She was fuming mad and he liked it. Even though she was going to fight him in every way she could, he liked it. She was protecting her baby, their baby. But he was just as determined to get what he wanted. His gaze lowered to her fingers drawing slow circles over her tummy, and Chase suddenly wondered what those fingers would feel like on his skin.
Damn.
Where did that come from?
Yet he watched her, the slight tremble in her breath, the way the force of the air conditioning fluttered the delicate fabric of her dress against her breast. She was truly a radiant woman, and he wondered, as any normal man would, what she looked like without his child growing so beautifully inside her.
"Have lunch with me, Miss Lightfoot?"
She blinked, stunned, then her green eyes narrowed. "Why?"
"Don't you think it would be better for all three of us—" he nodded to her stomach, "—if we came to at least a cease of friendly fire?"
Caught in indecision, Tessa let her gaze linger over him, his rugged features, his dark brown hair, short and cleanly cut, his eyes, blue as a kid's crayon and penetrating. But mostly, aside from the body in the dark suit, she noticed the lines around those incredible eyes, tanned and crimped and showing Tessa that this man, gruff and angry, smiled. A lot.
"All right." She nodded almost regally. "Cease-fire agreement. I promise not to throw food at you, at least."
Chase's lips tugged at the corners and he folded his arms over his chest, briefly glancing at the floor to hide a smile, but all Tessa noticed was the straining fabric, the muscles hiding beneath the tailored coat. Too sexy for his own good, and she imagined he knew it.
