Intimate Surrender Read online

"I'm fine. My ankle throbs but the rest of me seems okay."

  "You slept through dinner. Are you hungry?"

  Her brow furrowed as if she had to think about it. "I guess I am, a little," she said after a moment. "But you don't have to wait on me. I can find something."

  "Don't even think about it," he said sternly. "I talked to Dr. Harp before she took off and she said she wants you on bed rest for at least the next few days. I'll fix you something."

  "I don't want you to have to do that."

  "Is there anyone else lurking around Sweetwater I don't know about who can feed you?"

  "You know there's not."

  "Right. A smart woman like you should know when she's all out of choices."

  "Whoever said I was smart?" she muttered, looking so disgruntled he almost laughed.

  He knew damn well she was brilliant. She had told him she'd been admitted to Stanford early and he knew she had graduated with honors.

  He also knew enough about the inner workings at Crosby to know her brother Trent relied heavily on her brains and that she had revitalized research and development at the company under her tenure.

  Brains and beauty. His baby could do a whole lot worse in a mother, he thought.

  "Just give me a minute," he said.

  When he returned fifteen minutes later with a tray, she was reading a pregnancy book with a photograph of a smiling baby on the cover. She set it down, coloring a little, he was charmed to see.

  "I'm overwhelmed by all the things I never knew about pregnancy and childbirth. It's terrifying."

  "Not nearly as frightening as what comes after the delivery," he pointed out.

  "Don't think that hasn't been giving me nightmares, too."

  She paused and her fingers clutched the edge of the quilt again, her expression a jumbled mix of emotions, determination in the forefront.

  "Peter, I—"

  "Omelettes taste like rubber school erasers when they're cold. For the baby's sake and for your own, you need to eat," he said, cutting her off. He knew what was coming. Yes, they would talk about her pregnancy and all the ramifications of it. They had to talk about it.

  But he wasn't ready yet.

  Though she looked as if she wanted to argue, he gave her his best don't-mess-with-me look and she finally turned that determination to the tray he set in front of her.

  "This is delicious!" she exclaimed after a moment.

  "You sound surprised."

  "I don't know. I suppose I wouldn't have expected the Logan CEO to be a culinary whiz."

  He laughed. "I'm far from that. Mom insisted each of us have at least one specialty in the kitchen. Since I've always been an early riser, I was relegated to breakfast food by default. Besides omelettes, I also make a wicked French toast."

  He suddenly had the sobering realization that he knew relatively little about this woman who was pregnant with his child. "What about you? Do you like to cook?"

  She took a sip of the juice he had included on the tray, then set the glass down at the same time she shrugged. "Too much. I also like to eat. That's why I used to be huge."

  "I don't remember you as huge."

  She studied him for several moments, her expression unreadable. "You don't remember me at all, do you?"

  Again he tried to conjure up an image of her from before that night at the charity auction. He should remember her. Damn it, why couldn't he? "You used to have glasses and long, pretty hair, right?"

  "And an extra forty pounds."

  "I don't remember that part."

  She rolled her eyes and laughed. "As if you would admit it, even if you did remember."

  "We Logan men have never been dumb."

  He paused and his smile slid away. "Although I certainly was three months ago. I should have recognized you. I'm sorry."

  "Don't apologize. My own family barely knew me when I walked into the benefit. I've been hiding for a long time behind the image people expected to see when they looked at me."

  What did people expect to see when they looked at her? he wondered. And what was she hiding from? He wanted to ask but he sensed she already regretted her comment.

  "Why didn't you tell me who you were?" he asked instead.

  He had posed the same question to her before, after he first arrived at Sweetwater, but she had brushed him off with some glib answer about being carried away by the glamour and excitement of pretending to be someone else for a while.

  He hadn't bought it then. Now he didn't know what to believe.

  She set her fork down next to her half-eaten omelette and let out a slow breath.

  "I suppose I was shocked and flattered when you seemed interested," she admitted. "I've always been in the shadows, one of those women no one noticed. I didn't mind. I preferred it that way. But suddenly one of Portland's most eligible bachelors was flirting with me—me, fat, awkward Katie Crosby—and I didn't want it to end. I knew the moment you learned I was a Crosby you wouldn't be able to get away from me fast enough so I—I lied."

  There was more to this story, he thought. Why had she gone home with him? He had learned enough about her since he arrived at the ranch that he had a feeling her actions that night had been as uncharacteristic for her as they'd been for him.

  It had been far easier to accuse her of corporate thievery than to dig into his own psyche and ask himself why he had responded to her so instantly and so passionately—and why she had reacted to him the same way.

  "And the baby?" he asked. "Were you ever going to tell me you were pregnant?"

  He hadn't meant to ask the question, but somehow the words forced their way out.

  She met his gaze for just a moment, her expression guarded, then gazed at the fire. "No," she finally said.

  He was completely unprepared for the pain that pierced through him at her answer. "Why not?"

  Her laugh was short, harsh. "A million reasons. You didn't even know my real name. I'm sorry but I couldn't quite figure out a good way to suddenly show up at your doorstep and say, 'Hey, remember me? Funny thing, my name isn't really Celeste, it's Katherine Crosby. Yes, of those Crosbys, the family you hate. Nice to meet you. Oh, and by the way, guess what? Great news! We're having a baby.'"

  Without a pause Peter asked, "Didn't you think I had a right to know?"

  Her gaze shifted to the fire. "I couldn't think about that, not with everything between us. I don't know, maybe I would have told you eventually, but to be honest, all I've been able to focus on for the last week has been my own shock. I haven't even had time to get used to the idea myself."

  And yet he knew she already loved the child they had created together.

  "So where do we go from here?" he asked.

  "A baby was something neither of us ever expected. I don't know how or why it happened, not when we were so careful, but I do know I want this child, Peter. I don't expect anything from you. Tomorrow the roads should be clear enough for travel. You can go back to Portland and forget any of this ever happened."

  A muscle clenched in his jaw. "You think I would just walk away from you and the baby? You must think I'm a real son of a bitch."

  "I don't think that of you at all! I just don't want you to feel obligated to stick around and pretend to be happy about all of this. I know it's been a shock."

  He wanted to laugh at the understatement but he could find very little humor in this whole thing.

  He had thought of nothing but the future while he had sat by the fire watching her sleep. In that darkened room, he had gone over the very limited options available to them now that they had a child to consider and had come up with only one real solution.

  "We should get married."

  At his blunt words, her gaze flew to his and her mouth sagged open. She swallowed hard several times then shook her head vigorously. If she could have gotten out of bed, he had no doubt she would have stalked out of the room. "No. Absolutely not. Forget it!"

  "Just like that? You're not even going to think about it?"

>   "What's to think about? As far as proposals go—if that's what you want to call that…proclamation—this one is both unnecessary and unwanted."

  "I disagree."

  He didn't see any other choice available to them. Wherever possible, a child needed both parents. He believed it fiercely. His parents would expect them to marry when they learned a child was involved.

  He expected it.

  Getting married was the right thing to do, and since that day the Logans had plucked him out of a bleak future and given him the world, he had spent his life always trying to do the right thing.

  Katherine held her ground. "No. I am perfectly capable of raising my child by myself. I don't need you."

  "Not your child," he said coolly. "Our child."

  "You're the sperm donor. That's all."

  He narrowed his gaze and refused to let her see how those words wounded him. "Is that why you seduced me that night? The old biological clock was ticking away and you decided you needed a warm, healthy male? What did you do, poke a few holes in one of the condoms and think I'd never find out?"

  Even if he had believed his own words, the shock on her features would have told him how ludicrous that idea was.

  "Of course not!" she exclaimed. "I never expected to end up pregnant from that night. This was as much a shock to me as it is to you! I didn't believe it myself. I denied it as long as possible until I could no longer avoid facing the truth. I never would have tricked you like that."

  "And I'm supposed to believe you, Celeste?"

  She flushed but met his gaze steadily. "All the more reason why your marriage offer is completely ridiculous. You don't like me or trust me. How are we supposed to base a marriage on that?"

  "We'll just have to figure it out as we go along."

  "We won't have to figure anything out because I'm not going to marry you!"

  "This is my child, too. I intend to be part of his life."

  "Or her life."

  "Either way. I've got no preference."

  "Fine. You can be involved. You don't have to marry me to do that. People find themselves in this situation all the time. They manage to work it out."

  "To the satisfaction of no one involved," he pointed out, "especially not the child."

  "You think a marriage between two people who barely know each other is the answer?"

  "So we'll get to know each other. And then we'll get married."

  * * *

  Katie wanted to scream at his resolute tone. Of all the scenarios she had imagined for this conversation, this was a direction she absolutely never expected him to take. Marriage! Between a Crosby and a Logan. The idea was laughable.

  This was no Romeo and Juliet. She wouldn't marry him. She couldn't. It would be disastrous all the way around. Her feelings for him were already too complicated, too intense. She wouldn't be able to bear trapping him in a loveless marriage.

  She had seen the hell of her parents' marriage. The fierce fights, the cheating on both sides. They had stayed together far too long, not for the sake of the children—that novel idea never would have occurred to them—but because neither Jack nor Sheila wanted to be the one to cry uncle.

  They must have loved each other at some point. She had to believe that. But by the time they divorced, that love had morphed into something ugly and bitter.

  A marriage without even that foundation at the beginning didn't stand a chance—and an innocent child would be the one to suffer.

  "No," she said almost frantically. "No. I won't do it."

  Something of her distress must have shown on her features, in her tone, because Peter crossed the room, his expression concerned and faintly guilty. "Don't upset yourself about this right now. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pushed you. You need to rest and take it easy, not argue with me. We have time to sort everything out."

  Maybe they wouldn't have anything to sort out. The fear she had been holding at bay seeped through as she remembered just what challenges their child faced before entering the world. Maybe the pregnancy wouldn't survive and all this talk about marriage would be moot.

  No. She wouldn't think like that. You've always been much stronger than you've ever given yourself credit for, Laura had said. She had to believe she could be strong for her baby—for their baby.

  "Thank you for the omelette," she said to Peter. "Your mother would be proud."

  "Of my cooking skills anyway," he said, just a shadow of bitterness in his voice. "I'll leave you to rest now. I'll be out on the couch. Call me if you need anything."

  She nodded, then watched him carry the tray out of the room, wondering how it was that telling him about their child had left her feeling more alone than ever.

  * * *

  "No spotting at all and no cramping since yesterday afternoon, then?"

  "Nothing," Katie answered Laura the next day when she stopped at the ranch before heading to the clinic. "I'm a little queasy but other than that, I feel great."

  She had been too nauseated to even finish the French toast Peter prepared for her, though the few mouthfuls she'd been able to swallow had indeed tasted delicious, crispy and sweet and covered in cinnamon sugar.

  "Most pregnant mothers have a hard time accepting it, but believe it or not, queasy can be a good sign," the doctor said. "Still, I'd like to hook up the Doppler here and listen to the baby's heartbeat."

  "Can you do that this early?" Peter asked from where he stood by the window. The day before he had escaped to the barn while Laura was here but today he seemed reluctant to leave during her exam.

  "We should be able to find it. You're thirteen weeks along, right?"

  Katie nodded.

  "Let's see what we've got, then."

  Upon the doctor's instructions, Katie bared her midriff, chagrined at herself for feeling exposed with Peter in the room. The man had seen far more of her than her belly, she reminded herself. Still, that had been under far different circumstances. She couldn't help being a little uncomfortable in this intimate situation.

  She forgot about her unease when Laura rubbed a small device over her abdomen. Immediately a loud pulsing filled the room.

  "That's your heartbeat there," the doctor said, then passed the sensor across her skin again, pressing a little harder this time. After a moment the beats accelerated noticeably and Laura smiled widely. "And that's your baby's. You can tell because it's much faster than yours. It's a beautiful sound, isn't it?"

  To Katie's deep embarrassment, tears began to glide down her cheeks. "Wonderful."

  She was stunned when Peter crossed the room and sat beside her on the bed with an odd, stunned expression on his face. He placed his hand over hers and squeezed her fingers.

  "Is the baby all right?" he asked Laura.

  "I can't really tell without an ultrasound, but the heartbeat is strong and healthy, just the way I like them. You're not out of the woods yet, Katie my girl, but if you can make it to the second trimester—generally considered to be around fourteen weeks—the chance of miscarriage drops quite a bit. That's only another week for you."

  "Is it safe for her to travel? Can I fly her home to Portland?"

  Laura looked pensively at Katie. "That's a tricky one. Ordinarily I'd recommend at least a few days bed rest to give your body time to heal. That was a nasty fall and even if you weren't pregnant, I'd suggest taking it easy for a while. With that bum ankle, you could fall again, which wouldn't be good for you or the baby."

  She put her equipment away in her bag. "When you're so close to the magic number of fourteen weeks, I guess I would err on the side of caution and suggest you lay low until then." She shrugged. "On the other hand, if it came down to a choice between staying out here by yourself or flying back to Portland, I'd have to go with Door Number Two."

  Peter spoke up. "She's not by herself. I'll stay with her."

  Katie swiped her eyes with the tissue the doctor handed her and stared at Peter, certain she must have misheard. "You can't take an entire week away from Logan to
baby-sit me!"

  "Why not?"

  "Because you're—you're the CEO. Don't you have work? Mergers, meetings, that kind of thing?"

  "I'm surrounded by excellent people. They can run things for a while without me, I'm sure. Don't worry, Crosby. The company won't fall apart in a week."

  She couldn't believe he would consent to stay. He had already been stuck here for four days and she knew how restless he was to return to work. She wanted to tell him to go, to assure him she would be fine for a few days, even though she was so tempted to lean against him for a while.

  "I can't ask you to do that," she said finally.

  "You didn't. I'm offering. No, not offering, insisting."

  Laura stood. "I'm going to wisely stay out of this and head over to the Bar S to check on Darwin's broken leg. Let me know how it all shakes out, though my money's on Mr. Logan here."

  Katie thanked her friend for coming out to the ranch and bid her goodbye. She waited until Laura left before she turned on Peter. "You can't possibly stay another week."

  "You would rather take on the world and come out swinging than admit when you're backed against a wall, wouldn't you? I'm staying, Katie. Deal with it. Anyway, with the phones back up, I can find plenty of work to do from here. Don't worry about me."

  She didn't worry about him, she admitted. She worried about herself. Her emotions were already so vulnerable. She wanted desperately to lean on him for a while and she hated herself for it.

  She was a strong, capable woman who could handle pregnancy on her own. But as he had said the night before, she was also smart enough to know when she was all out of choices.

  Ten

  For a woman who had never been wooed before, resisting Peter Logan was proving an impossible task.

  Like her brother Trent, Peter was a man used to getting what he wanted. Right now he seemed to want her—or at least the baby she carried. With the same single-minded purpose and determination that made him a formidable business opponent, the blasted man was doing everything he could to attain his goal.

  He was charming, he was sweet, he was attentive. He brought her meals in bed and played games and watched old movies with her. Without a single murmur of complaint, he cared for the animals and made sure they had a steady supply of firewood.