Nine Months. BEVERLY BARTON

jacket fell open, revealing an expanse of white shirt and red silk tie.

      “It depends on what?” she asked, scooting to the edge of the chair.

      “On whether or not the child you’re carrying is mine.” He made the statement as calmly as if he’d said the sky is blue.

      Paige’s face paled. Her eyes widened into huge brown globes. She opened her mouth on a silent gasp. He knew! He knew she was pregnant. But how? No one knew except her parents and Kay.

      “How do you know I’m pregnant?” she asked.

      “I came back to the office while you and Kay were having lunch in the employees’ lounge.” He watched Paige closely, keeping his gaze riveted to her face, duly noting her worried expression. “I overheard a couple of sentences of your conversation. Enough to learn that you’re four months pregnant and that Kay thinks you should tell the father.”

      “You were eavesdropping. You had no business listening to our private conversation.”

      “If the child is mine, then your conversation was very much my business.”

      “What makes you think the child is yours?” Slipping the fingers of both hands together, Paige repeatedly rubbed her right thumb across her left palm.

      “Don’t play games with me, honey.” Removing his hands from his pockets, he balled them into tight fists and leaned forward. “You’re four months pregnant, and we had sex four months ago. Unprotected sex.” He rested his fists on top of his knees.

      Ever since the moment the doctor had confirmed her pregnancy, Paige had wondered just what she’d say to Jared at this precise moment. She had played through several different scenarios in her mind, but knew it all boiled down to one very important fact. Jared deserved to know the truth. She counted slowly to ten.

      “I am four months pregnant,” she said. “And you’re the only man I’ve had sex with in the past three years.”

      “Then there’s no question that the child is mine.”

      “No question at all. You’re my baby’s father.”

      “I see.”

      “Not what you wanted to hear, was it? I’m sorry.” She sucked in her cheeks, then breathed deeply. “I did consider inventing an imaginary other man and telling you he was the father, but I thought you deserved to know the truth. And so does my child.”

      “You’re right,” he said. “I’m glad you didn’t try to lie to me.”

      “Look, I don’t blame you for the situation. I blame myself. I’m a big girl who should have known better. All I ask of you is to allow me to continue working at Montgomery’s. The insurance will take care of most of my doctor and hospital bills, and I can get by just fine on my salary.”

      “You don’t expect me to take care of all your maternity bills? You don’t want some sort of settlement or some form of child support?”

      “No. No, I don’t want or expect anything from you,” she assured him. “But I would like to keep my job, at least until after the baby is born. So the insurance will cover everything. Then you can give me a good reference and I can find another job.”

      Was Paige for real? Jared wondered. Or was this some sort of game she was playing? Had his fears that she’d deliberately trapped him been groundless? Or was she just a very good actress?

      “Are you saying that you don’t plan to tell anyone I’m the father?”

      “No, of course not. But someday, I do plan to tell my child about you.”

      Jared shot up off the sofa like a cannon blast. “Dammit!” Tightening and loosening his fists repeatedly, he glared at Paige, who sat ramrod straight on the edge of the big easy chair. He didn’t know what to think, didn’t know if he dared to take Paige at her word. Past experience had taught him not to trust anyone. Would he be a fool to trust Paige Summers? “I could use a drink.”

      “Oh. Yes. I suppose you could.” Paige nodded, then quickly stood up and rushed into the kitchen. “I’m afraid all I have is some white wine. Will that do?”

      “Nothing stronger?” He needed a good stiff belt of something at least a hundred proof.

      “No, I’m afraid— Oh, wait a minute,” she called out from the kitchen. “I may have some whisky left over from last winter, when Mama brought a bottle over and fixed me a honey-and-whisky toddy. I had a horrible cold.”

      She opened doors and slammed them shut, searching for the whisky. Finally she saw it on a top shelf, far out of her reach. “I found it,” she told him. “It’ll take me a minute. I’ll have to get a chair to reach it.”

      She pulled a chair from the table, pushed it over to the counter and climbed up on the seat. Just as she reached out for the whisky bottle, Jared stormed into the kitchen and grabbed her around the waist. She plucked the nearly full bottle of Johnny Walker off the shelf seconds before Jared lifted her into his arms.

      “What are you doing?” She stared at him, breathless and flushed, her heart beating ninety to nothing.

      “You shouldn’t be climbing up on chairs. You could fall and hurt yourself. Hurt the baby.”

      “Oh.”

      She clung to the whisky bottle as if it were a golden prize, all the while staring at him with hungry eyes that reflected his own deep, devouring need.

      “Paige?” He wanted to carry her to bed and make slow, sweet love to her all night long, if only she’d let him.

      “Please, put me down, Jared, and I’ll pour you a drink.”

      He didn’t want to put her down, but he did. Easing his hand across the back of her legs, he slid her over the front of his body, slowly, intimately, allowing her to feel his arousal.

      “Every time I get near you, honey, I get hard.” He took the whisky bottle from her with one hand while he gripped the back of her neck with the other. “But you know that, don’t you?”

      She stared him straight in the eye, unflinching. Her chest rose and fell rapidly with the force of her accelerated breathing. “Please, don’t do this to me. Don’t take advantage of the way you make me feel.”

      “How do I make you feel?” He brushed her lips with his and smiled when she gasped. “All hot and damp and needy?”

      She squirmed, trying to free herself from his hold. He set the whisky bottle down on the table behind him and clutched her hip, drawing her even closer against his body.

      “What do you want me to say?” She looked at him, a fine mist of unshed tears in her eyes. “You make me want you. Want you enough to ignore my common sense. I did that once, the first time we met, and look what happened.”

      “Yeah, honey, I guess you’re right.” He loosened his hold around her neck but didn’t release her. Lowering his head, he nuzzled her throat and breathed in her sweet, flowery, feminine scent. The purely male instinct part of him wanted to tell her that the damage had already been done, so what would be the harm of giving in to their desire now? But the sane, sensible part of his brain warned him that Paige wouldn’t see it quite that way.

      Raising his head, he stared into her moist eyes and smiled sadly, then tenderly caressed her cheek. He released his hold on her and took a step backward, away from temptation. Paige sighed deeply but didn’t move.

      “I could use that drink now, honey,” he said.

      “Certainly.” Turning around, she opened a cupboard door, retrieved two small juice glasses and handed them to him. “I could use a drink myself.”

      Jared placed the glasses on the round wooden table, then opened the whisky bottle, poured his glass half full and gulped down a large swallow. He blew out a breath as the liquor burned a trail down his throat and landed like a ton of hot bricks in