His Brand of Passion

Zoe.

Pregnant?

Impossible. He’d used protection every time. Aaron stared at the text message, his eyes narrowing. He hadn’t thought Zoe Parker a grasping gold-digger, but he supposed anything was possible. He’d certainly known women to reach for flimsy pretexts in an attempt to ensnare him.

In any case, this was something he could nip in the bud very easily. Frowning, he tossed his phone aside and turned to his laptop. It shouldn’t be too difficult to find out where Zoe worked and lived.

Late that morning Aaron was standing in front of The Daisy Café, patrons spilling out into the September sunshine, holding their vente lattes and chai teas. Aaron could see Zoe behind the curved counter, working the espresso machine. Her hair was back in a neat ponytail, and she wore a tight black T-shirt that reminded him rather uncomfortably of what she’d looked and felt like underneath.

Pushing that unhelpful thought away with an impatient sigh, he headed inside. Heads turned as soon as he entered. At six feet four with the shoulders of a linebacker, Aaron often caught stares. Some people recognised him, and a woman he didn’t know started to shimmy towards him, a calculating hope in her eyes. Aaron headed for the counter.

‘Zoe.’

She looked up, her grey eyes widening as she took in his presence in the little café. Then her mouth twisted in a sardonic smile and she put her hands on her hips.

‘Well, well, you finally got my message.’

‘Finally?’

‘I’ve only been trying to call you for a week.’

Aaron just shrugged. As far as he was concerned their one night had ended at dawn, when she’d snuck out of bed before he could show her the door. He didn’t do repeats.

‘Is there somewhere private where we can talk?’ he asked and she lifted her chin.

‘I’m working.’

Aaron folded his arms. ‘You’ve been trying to get in touch with me, and now I’m here. What more do you want?’

She glared at him, clearly unwilling to relinquish her anger at his ignoring her messages for the last week. Then she nodded, her jaw set stubbornly. The woman was impossible, yet some contrary part of him admired her spirit. ‘Fine.’

She turned to the other woman behind the counter, a twenty-something woman with purple hair and too many piercings, and said a few words. Then she stalked out of the shop, leaving Aaron, irritatingly, with no choice but to follow her.

‘Well?’ she said once they were out in the street, hands on her hips, pedestrians streaming by in an indifferent blur.

‘I’m not about to conduct this conversation in the middle of a city street,’ Aaron answered tautly. ‘And I’d imagine you don’t want to either.’

The fight seemed to leave her then and she sagged a little bit, looking, Aaron thought, suddenly very tired. ‘No, I don’t. But I have to get back to work.’

‘As do I.’ Every minute spent arguing with this woman was costing him in far too many ways. He simply wanted it dealt with and done. ‘My limo is waiting. Let’s at least conduct this conversation in the privacy of my car.’

With a shrug Zoe followed him to the sleek car idling by the kerb. Aaron jerked open the door and ushered her in, sliding in across from her. He pressed the intercom for the driver.

‘Drive around the block a couple of times, please, Brian.’

‘Very good, sir.’

He took a deep breath and stared hard at Zoe. ‘Look, let’s cut to the chase, Zoe. The baby isn’t mine.’

She stared at him for at least thirty seconds, her gaze sweeping over him slowly, as if taking the measure of him—and finding it decidedly lacking. Not that he cared one iota about her opinion of him. Then she let out one short huff of laughter and looked away. ‘You know, I had a feeling you’d go that route.’

‘Of course I would,’ Aaron snapped. ‘I used protection.’

‘Well, Super Stud, we’re in the lucky two percent when that protection fails.’

‘That’s impossible.’

‘Statistically, no. Two percent does not equal impossible, genius.’

He closed his eyes for a second, willing himself not to lose his temper. He needed to stay in control of this conversation. ‘Very unlikely, then.’

‘I agree with you there.’ She gave a rather grim smile. She didn’t seem very pleased about this turn of events, Aaron realised. And she looked pale and drawn.

‘So what do you want?’ he asked, gazing at her levelly.

‘From you? Nothing. If you want to deny being this baby’s father, that’s fine with me. I was only telling you as a courtesy anyway.’ She met his gaze, grey eyes blazing, arms folded. Aaron felt a surge of alarm—as well as another tiny dart of admiration at her strength and courage.

‘So you intend to keep this baby.’

Her gaze never wavered from his but he saw shadows in her eyes, like ripples in water. ‘Yes.’

‘I could demand a paternity test, you know.’

‘Go right ahead. I looked into it, anyway. I can have one done at nine weeks.’ Her mouth curved in a humourless smile. ‘Then you’ll finally be able to put your mind at ease.’

Her utter certainty shook him. Was she bluffing, or did she really believe this baby was his? Could it be his? The thought was terrifying. And surely—surely—impossible? ‘How do you even know this baby is mine?’ he asked in a low voice.

She pressed her lips together and glanced away. ‘Contrary to the impression you’ve obviously formed of me, I don’t sleep around. You’re the only candidate, hot shot.’

He felt shock bolt through him as he acknowledged for the first time that she was actually pregnant with his baby. His child. He let out a long, slow breath, then lifted his grim gaze to hers. ‘All right, then. How much do I have to pay you to have an abortion?’

Zoe blinked and sat back as if he’d struck her. She felt literally winded by his callous cruelty. The sweet passion she’d felt in his arms felt like a distant memory, absurd in light of their relationship—or lack of it—now.

‘You really are a first-class jerk,’ she said slowly. ‘You couldn’t pay me anything. I want to have this baby.’

His mouth tightened. ‘Your life is hardly set up for a baby, Zoe.’

She bristled even as she recognised the stinging truth of his words. ‘What do you know about my life?’

‘You work in a coffee shop.’

‘So?’

‘You live in a fifth-floor walk-up in a bad neighbourhood.’

‘It’s a fine neighbourhood,’ she snapped. ‘And plenty of people who aren’t millionaires living in mansions have babies.’

Aaron folded his arms. ‘Why do you even want this baby?’

‘Why don’t you?’ Zoe flung back. Aaron didn’t answer, although she saw how he glanced away, as if he didn’t want to answer the question.

‘Well?’ she demanded. ‘I’m not asking you for anything, you know. I’ll sign whatever piece of paper you want promising never to ask you for money or help, or even acknowledge you as the father. You don’t have to be on the birth certificate. You’re free, Aaron.’ She flung her arms wide, the gesture mocking. ‘Breathe a sigh of relief, because you don’t have to have a single thing to do with this baby. I’d rather you didn’t. But I’m keeping it.’

Aaron turned to gaze at her once more, his face utterly without expression. ‘Twenty thousand dollars,’ he said in a low voice.

Zoe’s lips parted but no sound came out. ‘Twenty thousand dollars,’ she repeated tonelessly.

‘Fifty thousand,’ Aaron answered. ‘More money than you’ve ever had in your life, I’m sure.’

‘To have an abortion?’ she clarified. He blinked, set his jaw even as his gaze flicked away once more. Even he wasn’t willing to put it into such stark words. She stared at him for a long moment, wondering if he actually thought she might consider his offer for so much as a single second. ‘You’re serious,’ she said, and with obvious effort he glanced at her again.

‘I’m just trying to be reasonable.’

‘You call this reasonable?’

Aaron’s jaw tightened and for a second, no more, he looked almost panicked. ‘I—I can’t be a father.’

She let out a harsh, ragged laugh. ‘Guess what? I’m not asking you to.’

‘Zoe, think about it.’

She shook her head, nausea roiling inside her. It would serve him right if she were sick all over his precious car. ‘Go to hell,’ she finally said, her voice raw and, with the limo stopped at a traffic light, she got out.

Zoe walked down Christopher Street with her legs shaking. She felt physically ill, worse than any morning sickness she’d experienced so far. She thought of Aaron’s unyielding expression as he’d offered her more money than she’d ever had before to get rid of their child.

Helplessly she turned aside and retched onto the sidewalk pavement. People hurried by, oblivious. Zoe didn’t think she’d ever felt more wretched and alone. She’d dated plenty of commitment-phobic jerks in her time, but never someone as deliberately cold and cruel as Aaron Bryant. And he was her baby’s father.