*****

Lucas took a deep breath while walking to the bathroom. He could be civilized. Maybe they could even start some kind of relationship. He wasn’t good with being in a commitment, but he was willing to give it a try. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, so there had to be something there worth pursuing.

He may have jumped to conclusions about her anyway. She wasn’t anything like he’d originally thought her to be. He smiled sheepishly. He didn’t normally admit to being wrong about anything, not even to himself.

The two of them would have a nice, reasonable, adult conversation, and then he could take her to bed without feeling guilty about it.

Lucas was feeling good with his decision as he finished up and washed his hands. He turned around to leave, and that’s when his world suddenly stopped spinning.

He almost missed it.

In her wastebasket was a pregnancy kit box. What the hell? He’d never felt as scared as he did while reaching for that box. He looked inside and found the little stick. There were two lines on it. What did that mean?

He quickly read the back of the box. His entire world changed in an instant. She was pregnant. Holy hell, she was pregnant! Had she planned the pregnancy? How could she have? He couldn’t even think, as he stood staring at the pregnancy test. A few of his ex-girlfriends had tried to trap him into marriage by claiming they were pregnant by him, when he was already onto their game. He’d deftly avoided them. Somehow, though, his assistant had gotten pregnant the one and only time they’d had sex. He was angry with himself and even angrier with her. He knew it wasn’t logical, but his emotions ran higher than his logic at that moment.

Many women had tried to trap him into giving them his name, and all the money that came along with it, but none had succeeded until now.

Well, I’d better get out there to the future Mrs. Anderson, he thought bitterly. Lucas took a few extra moments to compose his face before walking back out to her.

Amy was sitting on the couch when he entered the living room. She didn’t look at him, which he was grateful for because he was having a heck of a time composing his features.

“I’ll be right back. There are a couple of phone calls I need to make,” was all he said as he walked past her and through the front door. He picked up the phone as soon as he sat down in his home office.

“I need to speak with my father,” Lucas stated without any preambles.

“One moment, Lucas.” He was put through a minute later.

“Hello, Son, how are you?”

“I’m getting married, and I want it done this week, next at the latest. I’m busy with work, so can you take care of the arrangements? Normally, I’d have my assistant do it, but since she’s the bride, I need someone else.”

“You’re getting married to Amy? I’m so happy for you, Son! She’s a real keeper. I’ll take care of all the arrangements. We’ll shoot for Friday then, either this week or next?” he said with no surprise in his voice. Lucas was taken aback a little by his father’s attitude. He was in too much shock to be suspicious, though.

“Friday will be fine. Amy’s pregnant, so I want to keep this discreet, please. Just you and Mom, and Amy and me,” he said cautiously. He knew his father’s love of throwing parties, and he didn’t want a mass of people there to witness the charade.

Lucas finished speaking with his father and then called his attorney to draw up a prenuptial agreement, making sure he was protected.

The phone calls took him an hour. He finished and then drank a shot of bourbon. “Okay, Amy, let’s get this over with,” he mumbled out loud. He knew he was in for a fight once he told her they were getting married.

He walked back down the hallway and used the key he hadn’t given back to let himself in. Amy was still sitting in the living room. At first it looked like she hadn’t even moved, and then he noticed the bowl sitting on the table.

Well, he guessed her pregnancy hadn’t ruined her appetite. He took a closer look and didn’t see any differences at first. She was only a few months along, after all. The more he allowed himself to really look at her, the more the subtle changes became apparent. After all, he had seen her naked and knew every curve of her body. Her breasts seemed to be fuller, although she hid them well in her loose clothing. Instead of looking like she’d gained any weight, though, she seemed a bit slimmer. He didn’t know how that was possible.

“Why haven’t you told me you’re pregnant?” he asked.

She hesitated a few moments as she looked at him, her face losing all color. It was obvious he’d shocked her. She broke eye contact and quickly looked to the floor.

“I didn’t see that it was any of your business. My job performance hasn’t been affected by it, and in this day and age it’s nobody’s business if you’re a single mother or not. You can’t fire me for being pregnant.”

He stared at her, open-mouthed. None of his business? How the hell could she say that carrying his child was none of his business?

“You won’t be a single mother, Amy, and you know that. I won’t allow my child to be raised as a bastard. He’ll have my name.” His voice told her his way was the only way they were handling the situation. If she didn’t like it, then too bad.

“This isn’t your child.” Amy looked directly at him as she spoke those words. There was no emotion in her voice. He stared at her, dumbfounded. Not his child? What was she talking about? He knew she’d been a virgin when he’d had sex with her. The timeline fit. Of course it was his child.

“If it’s not my child, then whose is it?” He decided to see what she’d say. He was watching every move she made. There was no way she’d be able to come up with a story out of the blue.

“I told you I was in a relationship. It progressed, but he didn’t want the baby, so we split up.”

He saw the tiny flicker in her eyes as she lied. He knew she wasn’t telling him the truth. He knew the baby was his, but he couldn’t figure out why she’d tell him otherwise. What if he allowed her to convince him the baby wasn’t his? He couldn’t figure out what she’d gain by that.

“What kind of game are you playing, Amy? I don’t get it. We both know the baby you carry is mine, so why would you lie to me about it?” In his confusion, he let down his guard and spoke softly to her, puzzled instead of angry.

“I’m not playing games with you, Lucas. This is my baby, and no one will take him, or her, from me,” she said almost pleadingly. “I’m telling you the truth. The child isn’t yours.”

Lucas finally understood why she was denying he was the father. She thought he’d actually take the child away. He was furious she thought so little of him, that he could rip a child from his mother. If she wanted to believe him a cold-hearted bastard, that’s what she’d get.

“Don’t worry, Amy. You’ll get to be a mother and wife. We’ll be married within two weeks, hopefully, one. I’ve already made the arrangements.”

Lucas suddenly leaned down, trapping her between the couch and his arms. “Don’t get me wrong, though, my dear fiancée. If you try to cross me or run away with my child, you’ll never see him again. Do I make myself clear?” he whispered in a deadly calm voice.

“Lucas, I’m sorry, but she isn’t yours. That night we had together was great, but … I moved on. I don’t know what else to tell you …”

“Fine, if you say the child isn’t mine, we’ll have a DNA test done tomorrow. The procedure will be somewhat painful for you but will cause no harm to our child,” he said, calling her bluff.

Amy turned stark white at his words. He could tell she had no idea such a test existed. She probably figured he’d have been glad not to be the father. She obviously didn’t know him.

She started to speak, and then just gave up.

Game.

Set.

Match.

He smiled without humor. He knew getting married wasn’t what either of them wanted, but there was no possible way he’d ever let another man raise his son or daughter, or even that he’d be a weekend parent. Amy was carrying his baby; therefore, the only solution was for them to wed. He’d never understood how a man could walk away from his family.

It wasn’t something he’d do.

Lucas had enough for one night. “We’ll finish this business tomorrow. Enjoy your last week as a single lady,” was all he said before walking out the front door.

He calmly walked to his apartment and let himself in, discarding his jacket on the back of his couch, then heading straight to his liquor cabinet.

The night had begun with such promise. He should’ve been in her bed right then, with her calling out his name, not by himself, downing a triple scotch.

He turned out his lights and walked into his bedroom, discarding his clothes wherever they fell, then climbed into his shower and stood beneath the hot spray.

What scared him the most about the entire situation was how calm he felt. He was getting married in a week, yet he wasn’t afraid. He was angry with her for not telling him, angry that he hadn’t followed through and made sure she hadn’t gotten pregnant.

What he wasn’t angry about was making her his wife. The thought of lying next to her every night should terrify him, but instead, it sent a strange euphoria through his body. He couldn’t get the image out of his head, of her body trembling, her head thrown back in ecstasy, as she shattered around him while he was buried deep inside her.

As the spray continued raining down on him, he became instantly hard, his body still in desperate need of release. He was tempted to march back down to her apartment and give them both what they really wanted.

A few more nights. You can wait a few more nights.

With a groan of frustration, he switched the water to cold, and then stood under the spray as a thousand tiny drops of water hitting his skin felt like razors. After a couple of minutes, the water did its job and he climbed from the shower, shaking, but with his body under control, at least for a few minutes.