A Pregnant Proposal. Elizabeth Harbison

      “By criminal I mean two million bucks’ worth of mail fraud at a large accounting firm in Boston.” Matt shook his head. “He got off on a technicality.”

      “Ah.” She nodded. “I guess he didn’t mention that in his application.”

      “Nope.”

      She sighed and sat down heavily in her hard leather chair. “You’d better get down and take care of that, then.”

      “I hate to leave you alone with this right now.” He looked at her with so much concern, her chest tightened.

      But she didn’t want to be a burden to him, or to anyone. She waved him off with her hand. “Oh, I’ll be fine.”

      He didn’t look convinced. “How about dinner tonight?”

      “You don’t have to baby-sit me, Matt, honestly.” She looked into his eyes. “I’m really all right.”

      He put his hands up in surrender. “I believe you, I believe you. But I have selfish reasons for asking you to dinner. We still haven’t talked about the day care, and Kane’s breathing down my neck about it. I’d like to get your opinions and since we didn’t make lunch…”

      “Sold.” She was glad to have a good reason to accept because, the truth was, ever since he’d mentioned going out to lunch, she’d been hungry for a big juicy hamburger. Maybe she’d change it to a big juicy steak for dinner. The four doughnuts she’d had for lunch weren’t really very satisfying. “I usually leave around five-thirty, how about you? Should we go from here?”

      “Whatever you prefer, Jen, it’s your pick. After all, you’re the one doing me a favor.”

      In fact, she would have preferred to go home and get herself together first, maybe put on some makeup and a nicer outfit, but she didn’t want Matt to think she thought it was a date, so she said, “Great, then let’s go from here.”

      He gave a short nod. “I’ll come meet you here at five-thirty.”

      “Perfect.” She pushed her hair back off her face. “See you then.”

      He started for the door, then stopped and turned back to her. “In the meantime, Jen,” he looked at the telephone and then back at her, “don’t do anything foolish, okay?”

      “Me?” She smiled. “Of course not.”

      “Remember what I said, don’t talk to Sedgewick unless it’s through a lawyer. God knows what he’d get you to say.”

      “I’m a big girl.” She glanced theatrically at her belly. “A really big girl. I can take care of myself and whoever else may come along.”

      Matt eyed her for a moment, then gave a single nod. “All right.”

      She watched him go with a curious sense of emptiness. As long as Matt had been in the office with her, she’d been occupied. As long as she’d been occupied, she hadn’t had to make the call to Dutch Sedgewick that Matt was trying so hard to keep her from making. Yet she knew she had to do it. If she waited and had a lawyer contact Dutch for her, that would really set him off. He would look at it as a call to battle. That was the last thing she needed. Whereas, if she spoke with him herself, there was a possibility, at least, that she might be able to reason with him.

      And now that she was alone, she couldn’t put it off any longer.

      With more care than was necessary, she took the phone book out of her desk drawer and looked up the number for Sedgewick-Armour. When she found it, she had to fight an urge to slap the book shut and forget the call, but she had to make it. So she settled into the chair behind her desk, took several deep breaths for courage and dialed the number.

      “Dutch Sedgewick, please,” she said when a crisp-voiced receptionist answered the phone.

      “May I tell him who’s calling?”

      “Jennifer Martin.”

      “One moment please.” There was a click, then dead silence as she waited on hold. No fuzzy radio station or soothing Muzak for Dutch Sedgewick. He probably wanted his clients and his adversaries alike to hear their own hearts beat as they waited for him to come on the line. Refusing to give in to the anxiety, Jen hummed to herself and watched the timer on her telephone count the minutes—four and a half of them—until the receptionist came back on the line.

      “Mr. Sedgewick can’t be interrupted right now,” the voice said coolly. “May I take a number so he can call you back?”

      It took nearly five minutes for him to tell you he couldn’t be interrupted? Jen thought. She knew this was another of his lawyerly tactics, but she didn’t see that she had a choice. She left her work number and said that she would be there until five-thirty.

      He returned her call at five twenty-five.

      “Dutch Sedgewick here,” he said, in a voice that boomed like Fred Flintstone’s, without the humor.

      Jen’s heart did a bellyflop. All of her confidence left in a single hiss of breath. “Mr. Sedgewick,” she said, trying to collect her thoughts as they scattered like birds at the sound of a dog’s bark. “I called about the papers you sent over earlier.”

      “I figured as much,” he said and she imagined him drumming his fingers on his desk. “Are you prepared to settle this out of court?”

      She knew she had to be very careful how she answered him. “Well, I certainly don’t have any desire to go to court.”

      “Good. I can have custody papers drawn up immediately, if you’re willing to sign. I can bring them to you myself.”

      “No—”

      “No what? No, you’ll come here or no, you don’t want to sign?”

      “I don’t want you bringing custody papers to me—”

      “You prefer court, then?”

      “No, I prefer neither. You see—”

      “Miss Martin.” A world of implication bled from his emphasis. “ I don’t need to tell you, do I, that grandparents’ rights are very strong? Particularly in a case like this.”

      She didn’t know what he meant by “a case like this” but she didn’t want to encourage his legal argument right now, either. “Of course not, but—”

      “Grandparents’ rights are stronger, in many cases, than those of a single parent. Like you. As a matter of fact, sometimes that parent isn’t even allowed visitation when all is said and done. Now we can do this simply or we can play ugly, it’s up to you.”

      Jen twisted the phone cord around her finger. If this wasn’t ugly, what was? She bolstered her nerves by imagining Matt was still with her, encouraging her in that soft but steady way of his. “Mr. Sedgewick, to me this isn’t a game. I’m not going to play at all.” A tremble began in the pit of her stomach. “I’m sorry. I know that you and Mrs. Sedgewick must miss Philip terribly, but you cannot have my baby.”

      “Our grandchild.” There was not an iota of warmth to his voice. “The grandchild you evidently planned to keep a secret from us. If my wife hadn’t gone to your home to retrieve Philip’s belongings, we might never have found out. I suppose that’s just how you would have liked it, too, us not knowing about Philip’s son.”

      Her hands began to shake. “No—”

      “So you admit it!”

      Cold washed over her. Matt had been right, she shouldn’t have spoken to Sedgewick. She was in over her head; he was twisting all of her words. “No, what I meant was, you’ve got it wrong.”

      “Really.” She could hear him take a triumphant draw on the cigar he was almost never without. “Proceed carefully, Miss Martin.”

      “You’ve got to listen to me!”