The Ruthless Caleb Wilde

“Hi,” he said brightly, and sent a smile in the waitress’s direction. “Okay to, ah, to take a booth?”

She shrugged. “I guess.”

“And, uh, and could we have a big stack of napkins? So we can dry off.”

Another shrug. Caleb led Sage to a booth. She slid in on one side. He slid in on the other.

“Coffee?”

“Please. Actually, make it one coffee. And one herbal tea. My wife can’t drink coffee. She’s pregnant.”

Sage blushed. “I’m no

t,” she said quickly. “His wife, I mean.”

“But she’s pregnant,” he said, and her blush deepened.

Hell, what was the matter with him? Stuff was just falling out of his mouth …

Stuff was just falling out of his mouth …

“Oh, hell,” he said softly.

Because all at once, he knew exactly why the woman he loved had left him.

“You heard that phone call,” he said.

“What phone call?”

She said it casually, with a lift of the shoulders, but he wasn’t buying it.

She’d heard him talking with Addison, and when he thought back on it, he understood that every terse, angry thing he’d said could easily have sounded like an indictment.

“Sage. Honey—”

“Napkins,” the waitress said, dumping a stack six inches high on the table.

Caleb nodded. “Thanks.”

“And your coffee. And that herbal tea … Here it is. Hope orange spice is okay.”

“It’s fine.”

“I thought we might have lemon verbena, but—”

“What you brought is perfect.”

The waitress eyed him narrowly. Then she went back to the counter, and Caleb leaned across the table.

“You know what phone call,” he said. “The one I made to Addison.”

“Your sister-in-law. Your law partner.” Sage’s voice shook. “The woman who’s drawing up the papers you think I’m going to sign that will give you custody of my baby.”

“Our baby. And no, I don’t want custody. Why would I, when he’ll be our child?”

“She. It might be a she.”

“I don’t give a damn about sex!”