Claimed: The Pregnant Heiress. Day Leclaire

he told her.

      For some reason The Look didn’t work with Brooklyn. “I’m just saying.”

      Fortunately, the crackers and the basketful of basic food groups he decided he should add to his ever growing list proved far less stressful to purchase at the grocery store. This cashier, clearly a native Californian, limited himself to a polite “Have a nice day.” And though he didn’t actually say “dude,” it was implicit in his voice. Considering that he’d been born and raised here in Vista del Mar, before going to live in New York with his father at the tender age of ten, he had feet planted on both coasts. Memories cascaded through him of a life he’d given up all those years before. Carefree years. Lean years. Years filled with laughter and a mother who adored him. He shoved the bittersweet images aside, refusing to dwell on the what-ifs if he’d made a different choice and forced himself to maintain his focus on the job at hand.

      Chase returned to the condo, collecting a speeding ticket along the way. Officer Garcia was also excruciatingly polite and Chase made an executive decision to avoid choosing a red Ferrari for his next visit. You just couldn’t go wrong with basic black. He found Emma where he’d left her and joined her on the floor, upending the bag from the pharmacy.

      Emma stared at the dozen boxes. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I don’t have this much pee.”

      “I didn’t mean for you to use all of them.” Though if the first result proved positive … or negative … Chase frowned. Proved baby-on-board, he’d insist she take another one. “I figured you could choose the easiest to use.”

      “I think they’re all pretty much the same. But maybe some are easier to read than others.”

      “Right. Start with those.”

      She lifted an eyebrow. “Start?” When he didn’t say anything, she sighed and pointed to the door. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather do this in private.”

      He stood and stared down at her. She looked so small and delicate, curled up on the floor. “You’ll call me as soon as you know anything?”

      “Of course.”

      “And, Emma …?”

      She spared him a swift glance, but didn’t speak.

      “If the baby’s mine, I’ll do the right thing,” he informed her. “For both you and the child.”

      And with that, he left.

      Three

      For several minutes after Chase exited the bathroom, Emma didn’t move. Then, reluctantly, she lined up the boxes along the spotless counter before sinking back down onto the equally spotless tile floor. She stared at them. They stared back, whispering to each other, no doubt talking about her and her situation.

      Pregnant.

      Emma splayed her fingers over her abdomen. Was she? She suspected it was all too likely. For weeks now she’d made excuse after excuse to explain away the telltale symptoms, first because she had no idea how to find Chase. And second because she dreaded the coming confrontation with her father when she informed him of her condition.

      The boxes continued whispering, and with an exclamation of annoyance, she snatched the first of the pregnancy tests off the counter—the noisiest of the twelve—and ripped it open. She scanned the literature, determined to get the test over with as soon as possible. Maybe then the boxes would shut up and leave her alone.

      The directions informed her that it only took One Minute! to obtain the results. Just Sixty Seconds!!—for those who needed further clarification as to the meaning of a minute. The directions didn’t lie. As promised, precisely One Minute! later she had her answer. Stripping off Chase’s dress shirt, she stumbled into the shower and stood beneath the pounding spray struggling to keep from hyperventilating.

      How odd that in Just Sixty Seconds!! her life could change so dramatically. From One Minute! to the next she went from being an average healthy woman to someone carrying the spark of new life. She snatched a deep breath. Okay, it wasn’t the end of the world, not even close. It simply confirmed what she already suspected in her heart. She could deal with this, she told herself. Sure she could.

      Sometimes life brought her to her knees with a blow so hard she didn’t think she could endure it. But she always fought her way back. She always came out swinging. She always triumphed. She’d handled far worse events during the past twenty-five years—the death of her mother, for one—and managed to survive the ordeal. She blinked against the painful burning in her eyes. She would on this occasion, too. Plus, a baby wasn’t a death to grieve or some horrible disaster, but a life to celebrate, even if unplanned.

      Another possibility struck. Tests like these weren’t always accurate. Lots of times they gave off false readings. What if this was one of those times? What if she’d read the directions wrong or hadn’t followed them correctly? She’d been in a hurry. It could have happened. She turned off the water, grabbed one of Chase’s large, fluffy towels from the built-in linen closet beside the tiled shower stall and wrapped it around herself. This time she’d read everything twice. Be meticulous. Make sure she followed the instructions exactly.

      Thirty minutes later she stood in front of the bathroom sink, one lined with a full dozen little sticks and wands and trays with circular windows. She clutched the stack of instructions for each of the tests while she went down the row, comparing picture to actuality.

      Two pink lines. Pregnant.

      A plus mark. Pregnant.

      Little window that actually spelled out pregnant.

      Another little window that had forgotten the not in front of that all-important word.

      Two blue lines. Very pregnant.

      On down the row she went until she reached the very last tray. They all said the same thing. The little windows glared up at her with their little lines and crosses and plus marks and those P words. She backed away from them until she hit the wall next to the shower stall and sank back onto the bathroom floor. She should be horrified. She should be terrified. In a panic. Her brows drew together. Why wasn’t she in a panic?

      Her hand stole across her abdomen. She was pregnant. Her baby grew here, nestled deep within her womb. Hers and Chase’s. She wasn’t panicked, she realized, any more than she was horrified or terrified. A child. Dear heaven, she’d been given a child. She’d been given the chance to have a family again, one not torn apart by death and disaster, dishonesty and despair. The tears came then, but to her amazement, she discovered they weren’t tears of misery or fear.

      They were tears of wonder.

      Chase frowned at the bathroom door, a firmly closed bathroom door. How long did a simple pregnancy test take, anyway? He thought he’d seen one of the packages exclaiming: Response in just one minute! Maybe she hadn’t used that one. Maybe she’d used the one that read: Response whenever we damn well want to give it to you!

      Unable to wait another second, he tapped on the door. “Emma? Do you need help?” He shut his eyes. Help? That was wrong on every possible level. “I have your tea and crackers.” Of course, the tea was now iced tea and the crackers were probably stale. The hell with it. “Emma, I’m coming in.”

      He found her more or less where he left her, curled up on the floor. Only now she wore a towel instead of his shirt. He couldn’t decide if that was a good sign or a bad one. She looked up when he entered and waved a slim hand in the direction of the counter.

      “Take a look,” she said.

      To his surprise, she’d used all twelve tests. “No wonder it’s taken you so long. How much water did you have to drink to pull this off?”

      “Think camel and add a gallon or two.”

      “So, what’s the verdict.” He examined the lineup and stiffened. “Some of these say pregnant.”

      “All