The Ruthless Caleb Wilde

He was losing ground and he hadn’t even started talking. Why was she standing there, arms folded? Why didn’t she sit down? Maybe she was waiting for him.

Okay. He went back to the couch. Sat on the middle cushion. A second went by. Then she settled into the chair again.

“Look, Caleb, I know you weren’t expecting—”

“Sage, the thing is, I hadn’t expected—”

They spoke at the same time. “You first,” he said.

She nodded.

“I don’t mean to sound hostile. In fact—in fact, I know I owe you an apology.”

She licked her lips. Nerves, he knew, but it was a disconcerting sight, that kitten-pink tongue moistening a strip of flesh he knew was honeyed and tender.

Hell.

He shot to his feet again. Took as no-nonsense a stroll as a man could take through a room the size of a shoebox.

“Yes,” he said briskly, “you do. You should have told me the truth right away, but I’m willing to forgive you.”

“How nice of you.”

So much for apologies. Still, he knew he deserved it. He sounded ridiculous, but no way was he going to admit that.

“My point is, we have—we have a problem for which we need a solution.”

He almost winced at the sound of his own words, so stodgy, so formal, so pathetically inadequate.

Sage did more than wince. She fixed him with a look he could only think of as lethal.

“I am,” she said, “going to have this baby!”

“You’re going to …?” Caleb grimaced. “Did you think I was going to ask you not to?”

“Just so we have that straight.”

She was giving him the full treatment now. Icy glare. Raised chin. Folded arms.

“Of course you’re going to have this baby.” He ran his hand through his hair. “That’s what I want to discuss. The baby. You. Me. How we’re going to handle this.”

She relented, but barely.

“I started to tell you before … I’ve made plans. Tentative ones, but—”

“I assume you’ve seen a physician.”

“A nurse-practitioner at a clinic. Yes.”

“You’re not seeing a private ob-gyn?”

There was something in his tone she didn’t like. She didn’t like the fact that he was standing and she was sitting, either. Had he done that deliberately, for a psychological advantage?

Sage got to her feet. He was still bigger and taller and more imposing than she ever could be but at least she didn’t feel like a supplicant.

“No,” she said calmly, “I’m not.”

“You will, from now on.”