Page 6

I’d thought Cara was different. The night I met her at Dan’s wedding rehearsal she’d been flustered in that cute, innocent way that was a fuckuva turn-on. Yeah, we’d probably had way too much to drink and ended up in my hotel room the next night when we shouldn’t have, but she’d lit up for me in a way no other woman had. Tight and wet, she’d pulled me in over and over again. I worked out hours every day, no excuses, but after the night with her, my abs had hurt from the workout we’d had.

So when she woke up, rolled my way, and threw the pillow over her head, groaning, “Fuck. What a fucking disaster I am,” well, yeah…she doesn’t deserve shit from me.

Except she just spun my world into a tailspin.

“Excuse me?”

She has to be kidding. Or I have a contact high from Javier’s joint he keeps sneaking into the alley and smoking between customers. That has to be it.

This spicy but innocent little spitfire hasn’t just shown up in my place of business to tell me the wrapping I always use on my dick malfunctioned.

But hell if she doesn’t look like she’s going to puke all over my feet, either.

“Sit down,” I say, and guide her to a chair before she can argue.

Her head falls into her hands, her dark brown hair making a curtain so I can’t see her. But I can hear her, and her shoulders are trembling.

“I’m so sorry. This is just so humiliating, and I don’t mean to just blurt that out, but I figured you should know. But how embarrassing. I mean, you don’t even remember me.” She throws her head back, chocolate-colored hair whipping wildly, fingers swiping under eyes so blue they’d reminded me of the Caribbean Sea.

Damn it. A girl who cries is my kryptonite. Plus, if she’s pregnant…

“I know who you are, Cara,” I say. She jolts in her chair, head snapping up giving me a clear view of her face. She looks sick. Truly sick. If she’s pregnant, she’s getting the short end of the stick with that pregnancy glow woman rave about. Hell, even Stella had it with both of hers and she was always looking in the mirror, constantly gushing over how good her skin looked.

Her brows furrow. “Why? Why would you—?”

I’ll apologize later. “Perhaps we have bigger things to talk about. You want to repeat what you said?”

Her hands tangle in her lap. She’s just as beautiful as I remembered. The first time I saw her, my dick noticed first, but for the rest of the weekend, the rest of me was trying harder than I could remember trying to get a girl to notice me.

The fact she regretted it so much and had no problem sharing that with me still stings.

Her voice is small, shaky when she says, “Well, I’m pregnant. And it’s yours.”

Yep…just as terrifying and dizzying as it’d been the first time. “You sure it’s mine?”

“Of course it is. I wouldn’t have come all the way here unless I was sure.”

Of course she wouldn’t. Princesses don’t cross the Willamette River to the slums unless necessary.

Fucking hell. This is a disaster.

“So, what?” I cross my arms over my chest. Mostly to stop from reaching for her, shaking some damn sense into her. I’d been under the impression we’d had a good weekend, no, a great one. We’d laughed and drunk and the next day at the wedding, she’d leaned into me, rested her hand on my chest, acted like she’d known me as long as she’d known Jenna. A few more drinks at the reception, she didn’t hesitate at all to take my hand in her much smaller one and lick her lips, saying, “I’m not ready for the night to end, are you?”

It was the sweetest pickup line anyone had ever used on me. It’d worked like a charm.

If it was possible for her skin to pale further, it does. She turns a slight shade of green. I lean forward, closer to her. And mistake. Jesus. Her eyes are so blue they’d reminded me of the ocean, not up north on the West Coast where it’s always dark and cloudy, but in the photos of the Caribbean, where the water is so clear it sparkles. I’d spilled my secrets thinking she gave a damn about me. Lesson learned.

“What do you want from me?”

“I just thought you should know, of course.”

She pushes back in her chair and stands, wiping her hands down the sides of her hips. Beautiful narrow hips I’ve had my hands wrapped all around in several different positions. Like hell she’s leaving now.

I reach for her hand and step closer. “Cara, did you come here to tell me and walk away, or do you want something from me? You need money or something?”

The fact I have to ask pisses me off, but she’s being elusive.

She pushes back and covers her mouth with her hands. Her eyes dart around, scanning the floor. “Can you, um, step back?”