Having His Baby
Author
Karen Young
Reads
15,9K
Chapters
15
CHAPTER ONE
Congratulations! Pregnancy is a joyous event. Expect tumultuous changes in both your life and your body. Ideally, your baby is planned for and loved already. The next nine months can be a time of intense spiritual as well as physical bonding between you, your baby and the father of your child.
—Ask Dr. Meredith
DR. STEPHANIE SHELDON stared in dismay at the small strip of paper turning bright pink before her eyes. Positive! My God, it was positive. She was pregnant. As impossible and crazy as that sounded, modern technology did not lie. No, not impossible. She had spent an evening with a man who was a stranger in nearly every sense of the word and then had gone to bed with him. That was the crazy part.
With shaking hands, she threw the pregnancy-test kit into the trash basket and turned the water on at the sink. A jumble of conflicting thoughts whirled in her mind as she scrubbed her fingers and palms, continuing up her arms as though preparing for major surgery. Halfway through the ritual, she stopped suddenly, her shoulders drooping. The tiny speck of life deep inside her womb wasn’t a germ. It wasn’t something unclean that she could wash away and disinfect herself.
It was a baby!
A dizzying wave washed over her, forcing her to sit down abruptly. What about her career? Her reputation? She’d worked so hard, overcome so much to reach the position she now held—staff physician at Women’s Hospital in the field of obstetrics and gynecology. With her fingers pressing her temples, she gave in to a moment of sheer panic. Dear God in heaven, what was she going to do?
With a groan, she remembered the class she taught. Three times a week, she preached birth control to a group of pregnant teenagers. She stressed abstinence and the importance of taking personal responsibility. When her own stomach began to swell, how was she going to explain that apparently she didn’t practice what she preached? She wrapped both arms around herself and rocked back and forth. Because there was no question that there would be a baby. Abortion was not an option. She had lost one child in miscarriage before her divorce. Inconvenient as a pregnancy might be, she was going to have this baby.
And underlying her anxiety was a problem bigger than her students’ and everyone else’s reaction to her pregnancy. What was she going to do about Talbot Robichaux?
Closing her eyes, she experienced a feeling of unreality. She still couldn’t believe what had happened that night in Boston. It had been the last day of a medical conference. Her flight home to New Orleans was the next morning. Passing the hotel bar, she had heard music, a lone musician singing the blues. An empty evening stretched in front of her, so she had stopped in to listen. Talbot Robichaux had been inside.
Dr. Robichaux had been a featured speaker at the conference. He was also chief of surgery at Women’s Hospital in New Orleans, where Stephanie practiced. She saw him occasionally and admired him for his brilliance, but they had never come close to anything approaching intimacy.
Until they spent the night together in Boston.
It was the wine. It had to be the wine. Staring morosely at her bare feet, Stephanie shook her head slowly. It hadn’t been the wine, not really. It had been the date. July 31 marked five years exactly since Stephanie’s divorce, and incredibly it had been precisely three years since Dr. Robichaux’s wife had been gunned down in a drive-by shooting near the hospital’s free clinic on Esplanade Avenue. She and Tal had discovered the mutual significance of the date as they’d shared drinks and dinner and then sex that night in Boston.
Loneliness made people do foolish things.
And now Talbot Robichaux was going to be the father of her child.
SHE STILL hadn’t regained her equilibrium when she arrived at the hospital an hour later. Hoping to avoid anyone who knew her, she chose the public elevator over the private service elevator and stared at nothing while waiting for it. Aside from anxiety, she felt fine. If morning sickness was going to be a problem, it hadn’t happened yet. She should be thankful for small mercies. As the door slid open, she waited while a lab technician rolled out a cart laden with blood samples. She stepped inside, sensed someone behind her, but kept her eyes on the panel of buttons. She pressed the one for the fourth floor, stepped back and collided with a wall of male muscle and bone.
Hands went to her waist, steadying her. “Whoa!”
She knew that voice. She made herself turn and look at him. “I’m sorry, Tal,” she said shakily. “I didn’t see you.”
“You didn’t see anybody,” he said, letting go while his gaze roamed over her face.
“I guess I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Or paying too much attention.”
She thought how different his expression would be if he knew exactly where her thoughts had been at that moment. The door closed with a firm sound, and Stephanie suddenly felt crowded. She turned back to the control panel. With her finger poised over the buttons, she asked, “Where are you going?”
“Wherever you’re headed.”
She looked at him speechlessly.
“You’ve been avoiding me, Stephanie.”
“Tal—”
“It’s been two weeks since we spent the night together in Boston. I thought we were flying home together, but you weren’t on the plane.”
“I had some shopping to do.”
“Right.” He sounded unconvinced. “And since then, I’ve hardly caught a glimpse of you. Mostly I see just your coattails as you disappear on the run.”
“That’s ridiculous. I—”
“Is this some kind of game you’re playing?”
“No! I—”
“We’re two adults, Stephanie. We were lonely and stuck in a strange city. We enjoyed a meal together and then we—”
“Don’t…” She put up a hand. “Don’t say any more. I know exactly what happened and I still can’t believe I did that.”
“We did that.”
“You know what I mean.”
He studied her in silence for a long moment. “Was it so bad?”
“That’s not what I meant, Tal. Whatever you may think, I don’t make a habit of sleeping around, especially with a complete stranger.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “We’re hardly strangers, Stephanie. We’ve known each other since you arrived at Women’s over three years ago.”
She closed her eyes. “That’s just what I’m saying. We’ve never dated, we’ve never spent an hour together that wasn’t strictly business. I don’t know how we…” She cleared her throat. “How we managed to…”
She cast him a helpless look and found he seemed to be enjoying her embarrassment. His amusement was just the thing she needed to get control of herself. “It was very irresponsible behavior,” she said firmly, “and I hope you know that ordinarily I’m not that kind of person.”
Tal chuckled softly. “There’s nothing ordinary about you, Stephanie,” he said in a tone that threatened to fluster her all over again. “Besides, the decision was hardly yours alone. There were two of us that night, remember?”
God, she did remember. All too well. Oh, what a mess! She took a deep breath. “Actually, Tal, there is something—”
The elevator pinged.
When the door slid open, Stephanie walked out, and Tal, true to his word, followed her. People bound for morning appointments jostled them in the hall. Her own schedule was a killer today. In just six minutes, she had to meet with the pregnant teens.
“You were saying?”
She gave Tal a distracted look. “Oh, yes.” He waited, studying her with the same intensity she’d noticed in the elevator. What was he thinking? “I was wondering…I need to…that is…”
His smile faded into a look of concern. “What’s wrong, Stephanie?”
She drew in another deep breath. “I wonder if you could meet me for a drink this evening. Early or late, whatever’s convenient for you.” She could see that she’d surprised him. “Of course, if you’ve already made plans for this evening, then maybe—”
“I don’t have any plans that can’t be broken.” He smiled wryly. “Forgive me, but after Boston I had the impression that you weren’t much of a drinker.”
She wasn’t. She had broken one of her cardinal rules by having more than two glasses of wine that night, but hadn’t drunk enough to undo years of sexual abstinence. No, there must have been something else at work that night. She studied Tal. With his mouth hiked up in that sexy smile, he proclaimed the genes of his French ancestors handsomely. His hair and eyes were almost black, his skin smooth and dark. He was lean and muscular, as though he spent a lot of time outdoors. When? she wondered. He worked long hours in the hospital and devoted hours each week to the free clinic. She knew next to nothing about the man, outside of his professional life, she realized with a tremor of dismay. And she was about to tell him she was carrying his child.
“Hello,” he said, waving a finger in front of her nose, still smiling.
She blinked back to the moment. “I’m sorry. I was just—”
“Inviting me out for the evening. How about dinner? I know a place—”
“No! I mean, we don’t need to have dinner together. If you don’t want a drink, maybe we could—”
“After trying to get your attention for two weeks, I’m up for anything you suggest. So to speak.” His smile flashed. “What time shall I pick you up?”
“You don’t have to pick me up at all,” she said, ignoring the innuendo. “No, I mean it, Tal. I’ll take a taxi. I guess dinner will be okay. We’ll meet wherever you say, provided it isn’t one of your family’s restaurants.”
Seeing his expression, she sighed inwardly, guessing that he was more intrigued than ever that she apparently wanted to keep their meeting private. He was certain to be recognized at any of the Robichaux restaurants. But whatever Tal thought, he must have decided his questions could wait until that night. He nodded. “Okay, the Garden Room at Commander’s. Eight o’clock. How’s that?”
She relaxed. The worst was over, at least for the moment. “Eight at Commander’s,” she said huskily. “That’s fine.”
“I’ll make the reservations.”
“Yes, okay. Thanks. I’ll see you there.” Before he could say anything else, she hurried away.
THE PROGRAM to teach parenting to pregnant teenage girls was a stepchild at New Orleans Women’s Hospital. Finding space had been a problem. Stephanie had finally wheedled permission to use a small stockroom, but every time she entered it, she felt frustrated. From the outset, Benedict Galloway, the hospital administrator, had not been enthusiastic about a program geared to patients who were mostly poor, underage and uninsured. Stephanie walked a tightrope to appease him, trying to keep the classes alive. She might have taken Galloway’s attitude as a personal affront, but the man was equally hostile to Talbot Robichaux who was single-handedly responsible for the hospital’s inner-city free clinic.
On her way there now, Stephanie worried about the need for more room to practice bathing and feeding infants, as well as space to learn Lamaze techniques to ease the teens’ fears of labor and delivery. But her first priority was to teach them how to be good parents, and for that they didn’t need much space.
As usual, there was little order in the group when Stephanie finally made it to the meeting room. None of the seven regulars was sitting down, but a tall, jeans-clad girl with long hair the color of cornsilk was on the floor, her body arranged in a classic lotus position. Stephanie’s gaze went automatically to the girl’s middle, but if she was pregnant, she wasn’t showing yet.
“Hello,” Stephanie said with a smile. “I’m Dr. Sheldon.”
“Hi. I’m Keely,” the girl said without bothering to stand up. “I never tell people my last name because I don’t happen to think last names are relevant.”
Relevant. Stephanie certainly didn’t hear that word from her charges very often. Most of the girls in the class had very little opportunity to expand their vocabularies. Sadly, some couldn’t even read. Since the girl didn’t want to reveal her last name, Stephanie guessed wearily that she was a runaway.
“Hey, I know that look,” said Jolene Johnson, the acknowledged leader of the group. “Don’t get your pants in a wad, Dr. Steph. Keely’s just visiting.”
“That’s right,” Keely said. “I’m not pregnant myself, personally, you know, but I know someone who is and I’m checking this out on her behalf.”
“How far along is your friend?” Stephanie asked. “Has she seen a doctor yet?”
“She’s just barely pregnant,” the girl said, dismissing Stephanie’s concern. “Don’t worry. It’s no big deal.”
“Pregnancy is a big deal,” Stephanie said firmly, “and especially early on. I’ll get you a form and you can take it to her. Even if she doesn’t join the parenting class, she should see a doctor right away. Do you know about the free clinic on Esplanade?”
“Nah, I only got into town a couple of nights ago.”
Stephanie frowned. “Where are you staying?”
Keely stood up. “Jolene, I thought you said I wouldn’t be hassled here.”
“Keely ain’t homeless, Dr. Steph,” Jolene said, coming to stand beside the visitor. “She’s staying with me.”
Stephanie knew when to back off. It was unlikely that Keely was staying with Jolene. The oldest of four daughters, Jolene lived with her mother and sisters in a small frame house in a neighborhood where Keely’s blond hair and light-colored eyes would stand out. Still, the group of teenagers was wonderfully resourceful, and since they’d obviously accepted Keely into their tight circle, they had probably managed to find a safe place for her to live.
If any place could be deemed safe in their world.
Stephanie finally got everyone settled into something that resembled a group discussion. One of the first things she had learned when the group was newly formed was that discipline was an unknown concept to most of the girls. The first couple of sessions had produced nothing more than the opportunity to air their views to someone who was light-years apart from them in a social sense. It had taken months before they had trusted her enough to allow her rare glimpses of their true feelings.
The group was racially mixed. There were three African-Americans, Jolene, Chantal and Melissa: two Caucasian girls, Chrissy and Leanne; and two Hispanics, Teresa and Angela. When Stephanie had begun the class, there were an even dozen girls, but almost half had dropped out. Those who had chosen to remain were for the most part conscientious, determined and responsible.
Today, Chantal Watson, the quiet one, wanted to begin the discussion.
“What’s on your mind, Chantal?”
“You talk all the time about being responsible. Well, what about guys being responsible? Why does it always have to be the woman?”
The oldest of four children, Chantal came from a single-parent family where her childhood had been all too brief. She was determined to have a life where she was in control. With beautiful smooth skin and striking dark eyes, she had the looks of a model. Instead, at fourteen, she was six months pregnant.
“Ideally, all people should act responsibly, Chantal,” Stephanie said gently. “Unfortunately, not everyone does. How people behave is based on a lot of things.”
“Yeah, like if a guy sees everybody else actin’ stupid, he can act stupid, too,” said Jolene.
Quick and cynical, Jolene was almost too wise in the ways of the world. Stephanie looked around at the group. Without exception their sex partners had proved to have other priorities when faced with the daunting responsibility of fatherhood.
“Peer pressure has something to do with it,” Stephanie agreed. “Any other ideas?”
“It’s not only the guys actin’ stupid,” Melissa said, stroking her large belly. She was sixteen and close to term. “If you ask me, we’re lookin’ pretty dumb ourselves sittin’ around here big as hippos.”
“The night I got pregnant, I wasn’t thinkin’ about responsibility or anything else past that exact minute,” Leanne said, studying her swollen ankles. “I’ve had almost nine months to learn that stuff. Forget about what Michael’s responsibility is in all this, I’m gettin’ my life together. You can’t make a guy act like a grown-up unless he is one. That’s what responsibility is all about.”
“We all gotta make our own way, quit worryin’ about the guys,” Jolene stated, cutting to the chase, as usual. She looked at Stephanie. “Dr. Steph here wouldn’t look to a man if she got herself into a fix like we did, would you, Dr. Steph?” Without waiting for an answer, she went on. “’Course she would never be stupid enough to have sex without protection. So that’s what we gotta take away from this class, I’m tellin’ y’all. No more actin’ without thinkin’. No more gettin’ carried away by a guy’s sweet talk.”
“Yes!” As one, the group responded.
Stephanie had never felt like such a fraud.
“DADDY, you’re not going out again tonight!”
Tal shrugged into his jacket and turned from the mirrored closet doors. “Hey, baby.” He caught his thirteen-year-old daughter by the shoulders and kissed her cheek. “Mmm, you smell good. What is that, essence of chocolate chip?”
She ignored that, the way she always ignored his efforts to keep her a baby forever. “You are going out!”
He chucked her beneath her small chin. “I confess, I’m going out.”
“You’re always going out, Daddy. I get really lonely all by myself.”
He slipped a clean handkerchief into his back pocket and caught up his keys. “You’re not alone, baby. Mimi is here.”
Alison made a face. “You know that’s not the same. Mimi’s a housekeeper. Nobody else has to stay with a housekeeper like I do.”
Checking his appearance one last time, he met her eyes in the mirror. “You mean nobody else’s parents ever go out? You’re the only one?”
“They go out,” she admitted grudgingly, “but they go with each other, you know, like husband and wife.”
With an arm around her shoulders, he took her with him as they left his bedroom. “And what do they do with their offspring, leave them home alone?” There was a smile in his voice as he looked down at the top of her dark head. She was nothing like Diana, who’d been blond and blue-eyed. Her looks and coloring were straight from the Robichaux—black hair, dark, dark eyes, olive skin. What other tendencies had she inherited? he wondered.
“You have a date, don’t you?” Alison asked suddenly. “This isn’t business, is it?”
He hesitated. “In a way, it is. I’m having dinner with Dr. Stephanie Sheldon, a colleague of mine from the hospital.”
“What do you mean, ‘in a way’?”
He stopped and tweaked her nose. “So many questions, Miss Nosy-kins.”
“I don’t like her.”
“You don’t know her, Alison.”
“I know she works with you, so she must be in love with you.”
He stared, then laughed shortly. “Dr. Sheldon would be the first to tell you how off base that is, Alison. Now, I’ve got about fifteen minutes to get to Commander’s, otherwise I’m going to be late.”
“All those silly women at the hospital fall in love with you,” Alison insisted stubbornly.
He fixed her with a stern gaze. “That’s enough, young lady.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in mixing business with pleasure.”
“Alison Robichaux…”
She turned away abruptly. “Oh, okay, go ahead. Leave me and spend the night with her. I don’t care anymore.”
He stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “I’m having dinner with Dr. Sheldon and then I’ll be coming straight home. If it’s not past your bedtime—and that’s ten-thirty sharp, since it’s a school night—then we’ll talk. Work on your disposition as well as your homework while I’m gone.”
HE WAS STILL unsettled when he pulled up at the restaurant ten minutes late. He couldn’t believe Alison’s behavior lately. She used to be such a sweet little girl. Now, nothing pleased her, especially nothing he suggested. It didn’t take a qualified physician to guess that puberty was the problem. But was any parent prepared? He’d always considered adolescence a simple medical fact until his own daughter had entered it. He was quickly learning there was nothing simple about it.
He got out of his car and handed over his keys to a valet for parking. He wouldn’t blame Stephanie if she was irritated. He was seldom late for an appointment, and this one was as important as anything on his calendar. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Stephanie Sheldon since the night they’d spent together.
“Good evening, Dr. Robichaux. A pleasure having you.” The smiling maître d’ was well known to Tal. “Your guest—”
“I’m here.” Both men looked up. Stephanie came forward, extending her hand as though they were meeting for business reasons. She might want to pretend they had no connection other than a professional one, but for Tal those hours in Boston had changed that. He wanted to know more about Dr. Stephanie Sheldon. A lot more.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” he said after they were seated and the waiter had taken their order. “A little problem at home.”
She looked concerned. “Was it something serious? If you needed to cancel, you should have. I realize I sprang this on you at the last minute. In fact, I should have given you my car-phone number. I didn’t think about it until—”
“Stephanie.”
She looked at him. In the candlelight, she was beautiful. The thought came to him out of nowhere. What made her skin seem so soft and dewy? He remembered the feel of it. And her eyes. He had noticed that night that they weren’t quite gray or green, but something in between, the color of a stormy sea.
“I didn’t want to cancel,” he said, then smiled ruefully. “It was my daughter, Alison. She’s thirteen, you know. Doesn’t that say it all?”
Stephanie looked sympathetic.
“I say she’s thirteen, but in reality sometimes she seems three again, sometimes twenty-three. Tonight was one of those times.”
Stephanie smiled. “Three or twenty-three?”
“Both.”
“Adolescence is very difficult.” She waited a moment, then grinned. “On parents, that is.”
“You should do that a lot more.”
“What?”
“Smile that way. It’s dynamite.”
“Be serious.” She rolled her eyes.
His own humor faded. “Back to Alison. Since you deal with troubled teens regularly this probably won’t come as a surprise to you, but I often feel completely out of my depth in dealing with her. I think this is a time when a young girl needs a mother.”
“I’m sure you do a wonderful job.”
“Not really. I do a wonderful job handling a six-hour surgery or delivering a paper at a conference. I routinely make life-and-death decisions about other people, but when it comes to dealing with my own adolescent daughter, I feel…inadequate.”
“Parenting is a complicated business,” Stephanie said with sympathy. “Just try teaching it to pregnant teenagers.”
He shook his head. “No, thanks. Alison may be trying my patience right now, but at least our problems are relatively uncomplicated.”
Stephanie nodded.
“Maybe it’s good for me to be reminded of that, to put things in proper perspective. I could be dealing with an unwanted pregnancy.”
Oh, Lord, it was now or never. Stephanie placed her hands flat on the table beside her plate and looked at him. “Tal, there’s something we need to talk about.”
His fork stopped halfway to his mouth. “What is it?”
She dropped her eyes, studied the untouched turtle soup in front of her. How on earth was she going to tell him? “You were right today when you accused me of avoiding you,” she said, glancing up. He had a tiny scar beside his eyebrow. She wondered how it got there. An accident? A childhood mishap? She should know little tidbits like that about the father of her child, but she probably never would. She couldn’t imagine an intimate relationship with Talbot Robichaux. After what she had to say tonight, she might never even have another conversation with him. At least, not another civil conversation.
“Stephanie, what is it? What’s wrong?”
She swallowed and touched her forehead with her fingers. “This is so hard, Tal.”
“You’re beginning to worry me, Steph. Does it have anything to do with your job? Is it Galloway? Has he been hassling you again?”
Initially, the hospital administrator had nixed Stephanie’s idea for the teen program from the start. Then Tal had stepped in, and Galloway had reluctantly backed off, but he was waiting for the first opportunity to ax the program.
She shook her head. “No, it’s nothing to do with that. It’s…personal. I…I think you should finish your wine.”
“My wine?” Tal frowned but picked it up, his eyes on her face.
“That night we spent in Boston…” She forced herself to hold his gaze. “It must have been the wine. I don’t usually drink like that.” Unconsciously, her eyes went to the mineral water she was drinking tonight. “And the occasion. You know, my divorce, thinking about the miscarriage.”
“It was an odd coincidence,” Tal said. “The death of my wife and the death of your marriage, both on the same day. If I believed in fate—”
“I don’t know whether you’ll call it fate or not—maybe a stroke of really bad luck—but we’re not going to be able to just forget that night ever happened.”
“Forgetting it ever happened was your idea, not mine,” Tal said quietly.
“Yes, well…” Stephanie cleared her throat. “You may feel differently when you hear what’s happened.”
“Stephanie, tell me what’s on your mind. What are you getting at?”
She sat up a little straighter. “How old was that condom you used that night, Tal?”
He went very still. “Why do you ask?”
“I’m pregnant.”
Shock rippled across his features. As Stephanie watched, she wished with every atom of her being that she could turn back the clock. How could this be happening?
“Are you sure?” His tone was decidedly cooler.
“Yes. I took a pregnancy test this morning. It’s still very early, of course, only two weeks, but I felt I should tell you right away. I don’t know what your feelings are about abortion, but for me it’s just not an option. I lost a baby once through no fault of my own. Although this pregnancy is v-very inconvenient…I don’t want to do anything to…to terminate it. I realize that—”
He put up a hand. “Stop. Give me a minute, will you?”
“I’m sorry.” She closed her eyes, wishing she could leave the table. Or the restaurant. Or better yet, leave town. That way she wouldn’t have to deal with the whispers, the scandal, the sheer calamity that would soon befall her.
“The condom was new. I bought it in the men’s room at the restaurant where we had dinner.”
The slim rein with which she’d managed to hold her temper snapped. “Then it was defective! Because I’m pregnant.”
“So you say.”
She looked at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means, Stephanie, that we spent a single night together using an accepted method of birth control. Now you say you’re pregnant, and I’m assuming that you want me to accept that I’m the father. That’s a lot to expect of a man.”
She tossed her napkin onto the table and fumbled for her purse and silk shawl.
He frowned. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m leaving.” She snatched up her purse, but the catch gave and several items tumbled out. She began stuffing them back inside, a pen, a small compact, a money clip holding a few bills. “Apparently, this was a bad idea in the first place. I never intended you to take any responsibility for this baby, Dr. Robichaux. I simply felt morally obligated to let you know that you’d fathered my child. But since you don’t accept that, then there’s absolutely no reason for me to linger.”
“Damn it, Stephanie! Will you settle down?”
She snapped the catch on her purse and stood up. “See you around, Dr. Robichaux.”
Tal got to his feet. “Stephanie—”
Without a backward look, Stephanie threaded her way through tables of diners. At the entrance, she missed the startled look given her by the maître d’. Blinded by tears, she could hardly see where she was going. She felt an absolute fool. How had she so misjudged Talbot Robichaux? Could he really have thought that she planned to extort child support from him for the next eighteen years? Maybe he was afraid she was going to make their indiscretion public? What a jerk!
Once outside, she stood in the muggy August evening for a few seconds. The valet approached, but she turned abruptly and began walking in the direction of her house. She lived nearby and hadn’t driven, which, as it turned out, was a good thing. She was in no state to drive.
She gave a yelp as a hand clamped onto her arm. “You can’t walk home in your condition,” Tal said, his tone a near growl.
“I’m pregnant,” she snapped, “not sick.”
“I meant this.” Without breaking stride, he brushed her cheek where tears were falling like rain. “I’m sorry, Stephanie. I guess I overreacted. Call it shock or temporary insanity or something. It’s not every day I learn I’ve fathered a child after being with a woman just once.”
“Oh? How often does it usually take?” she asked sarcastically.
He laughed. “You want the truth?” His tone was lighter, almost mellow. “This is a first.”
“Well, don’t expect sympathy from me.”
“No, I won’t,” he said ruefully. “I wish we could recall the past fifteen minutes, Stephanie. I was taken by surprise and reacted without thinking. This is the last thing I expected when you set up this date.” He shook his head. “I’m still reeling. You need to give me some time.”
“You can have all the time in the world,” she said stiffly. “I explained why I felt I must tell you, and that’s the end of it.”
He stopped her with a hand on her arm. Forcing her chin up with his fingers, he said, “Listen to me, Stephanie. We need to go someplace quiet to discuss this. Not a bar, not a restaurant. How about your place? You live alone, right?”
“No, my foster mother lives with me.”
He frowned. “Foster mother?”
“Yes, Camille Landry.”
“I didn’t know. You don’t have any family?”
She moved, freeing herself. “Does that matter? I have a house and it’s nearby. We can talk in my study. Camille will give us all the privacy we need.”
