The Ruthless Caleb Wilde

Music up, roll credits.

Except this wasn’t a film, he wasn’t Tom Hanks and she wasn’t Meg Ryan.

This was real life, they hardly knew each other except in the biblical sense of the word—and that was what had gotten him into this situation in the first place.

A rush of ice water seemed to pour through his veins.

He wasn’t interested in marrying anybody, not for a long, long time. And when he did, it wouldn’t be to a woman who was, basically, a total stranger.

So, it wasn’t a proposal that came out of his mouth. It was something far more basic.

“You said you were on the pill.”

“I was.” Her words were clipped. “And it’s 99.9 percent effective, says the little brochure that comes with it.”

“Yeah. Okay. But—”

“But it turns out I’m that one percent. Sorry. That point-one percent.” She made a sound he suspected was supposed to be a laugh. “Terrific, right? A thing works virtually all the time … except when it doesn’t.” She looked at him, saw the expression on his face and her chin came up. “You know what? If you didn’t want to know, or if you don’t want to believe me, you shouldn’t have asked.”

She was right.

And the amazing thing, or maybe the not-so-amazing thing was, he believed her.

On a pragmatic level, why else would she have been fully prepared to take the CVS test?

And on a level that had nothing to do with pragmatism, Sage was the woman he’d held in his arms that fateful night. No matter what her “arrangement” with David Caldwell, Caleb knew she wouldn’t lie, especially about something like this.

“I believe you,” he said quietly. “It’s just—it’s a lot to take in.”

Sage wanted to say something clever and pithy, but remembering her own initial reaction to seeing those little test strips turn blue took the fight right out of her.

“I know.” Her voice was low. “I absolutely know.”

He nodded. “So, we have to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“You’re pregnant,” he said flatly. “I’m responsible for that pregnancy. Seems to me we have a lot to talk about.”

She wasn’t surprised.

Caleb Wilde wasn’t only a man who’d just learned something shocking, he was a lawyer. He’d have a speech to make, probably papers for her to sign.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire. With one huge difference.

Thomas Caldwell wanted to force himself into her life.

Caleb Wilde would want to keep himself out of it.

And that was fine with her.

He suggested they go to his hotel.

She thought of the ugly suite with its pretensions of grandeur and shook her head.

“Forget that. There’s a coffee shop right next to the subway station.”

“Right,” he said calmly. “What better place to discuss the fact that you’re pregnant than a coffee shop? We can always elicit advice from the waitress.”