Page 8 of Perfect Persuasion (Love’s Second Chance #2)

“Five months. Are you sure, Claire?”

“Yes.” Claire looked away, her gaze catching on a nearby potted plant. “I was already pregnant when we… I didn’t know it at the time. Garrett’s the father.”

Liar , her conscience accused.

God, but she felt like a worm for lying straight to his face about this, but she told herself it was for the best. Logan Monroe was not, nor would he ever be, father material.

“Claire.” She felt his fingertips, warm and insistent on her jaw. Forcing her to meet his gaze again. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you’re not carrying my baby.”

A terrible sense of dread crashed over her. How had her meticulously constructed plans come to this moment? To this moment, that was never supposed to happen?

She tried to backtrack, to regain her conversational footing. “Logan, please. I already told you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I was in the middle of lunch.”

Predictably, he caught her arm when she turned to leave. As she turned back to him, his face appeared stark, as though an artist had rendered him in grim, unrelenting lines. Oddly enough, Logan seemed somehow vulnerable in that second’s span, more like a man and less like a cold, hard statue.

“You told the plant, Claire,” he said, “not me. Damn you, look at me when you say it. Look at me when you say that baby’s not mine.”

The outside world suddenly seemed to slow and blur, as though nothing and no one existed but the two of them and the decision she would have to make.

Finality loomed. Whatever she said now, there would be no going back and changing her mind.

Life didn’t come with a rewind button, no matter how useful it would be.

Claire was hopelessly ensnared in Logan’s gaze, aware of a keen sense of empathy for the proverbial deer frozen in the headlights of an oncoming car.

The gravity of the decision weighed upon her.

Beneath his probing gaze, she felt suddenly weak.

She wanted to confess all to him, but a part of her couldn’t.

She had no doubt that he would react to a child the same way he reacted to everything else in his life, as the dominant force. He expected his will to prevail in all things. Logan owned his company and his employees. He commanded and they obeyed without question or hesitation.

The child wouldn’t be a person to him, but another possession, something else to control.

Claire couldn’t allow that to happen. This was the same ruthless man who had made passionate love to her and then thanked her coolly, walking out the door as though they had been engaged in a business transaction.

Then again, to Logan Monroe, life was a business transaction.

Claire simply had no choice. Her hand settled over the gradual rounding of her stomach as though she could protect the baby from Logan, from the world.

“This baby isn’t yours.” She cast a nervous glance over her shoulder to see if anyone was within hearing distance of their conversation. “Now can I get back to the table?”

“No.” He gripped her elbow again, pulling her closer to him. Uncomfortably close. Her breasts nearly brushed his chest and the proximity coupled with the contact of his hand on her arm made Claire feel flushed and aroused.

As though sensing Claire’s abrupt discomfiture and wanting to heighten it, Logan leaned down, his expression intense. If she rose on her tiptoes, she could brush her lips over that sulky mouth, slide her arms around his neck, press her body against his well-honed, muscled frame.

“I don’t believe you.”

She blinked, trying to expel the suddenly lurid fantasies from her mind and focus on what Logan was saying.

“What do you mean?” she asked, somewhat stupidly even to her own ears. It hadn’t occurred to her that he would question her. She’d expected relief from him, not disbelief coupled with barely suppressed rage.

“You’re lying to me.” His voice was harsh even though it remained quiet. “And you’re a terrible liar. If I find out—when—I find out the truth, you won’t like the consequences. That much I promise you.”

Logan was utterly, deadly serious. She stiffened, alarmed despite herself. Having worked at LM for several years, Claire knew firsthand how callous he could be. Still, she had no choice in this, not really.

“Logan, we had sex.” She was determined to keep him at bay. “That doesn’t give you the right to threaten me. I’m still technically married, and this is my husband’s baby. Let’s leave it at that.”

He grinned wolfishly. “Yet I notice you aren’t wearing your ring.” Logan took her left hand in his, holding it up between them.

Claire pulled her hand from his grasp. “My fingers are swelling,” she lied, adding, “not that it’s any of your business.”

He tipped her chin up with a long finger. “I have lawyers. Damn fine ones. The minute you have the baby I’ll sue for a paternity test. Do you really want that?”

She raised a brow, hoping her face reflected calm and not the panic swirling inside her. “Do you really want that kind of negative PR for LM? The president and CEO flouting the no-intra-office romance clause so publicly? If you don’t take it seriously, how do you expect anyone else to, Logan?”

She had him there and they both knew it. Logan lived LM and his position at its head. He would never willingly do anything to jeopardize that.

Logan’s jaw clenched and he released his hold on her arm. “You haven’t heard the last of this. I’ll do what I have to.”

She met his gaze, unflinching. “And so will I.” Then, she turned and walked back to the table as quickly as she could.

Claire was officially in hiding.

Ever since the confrontation with Logan, she’d been in panic mode, unable to think or function normally.

At lunch, she’d been an automaton, opening gifts without seeing their contents, smiling and speaking without knowing what she’d said.

Jamie had been upset by Logan’s unexpected crashing of the party and had apologized profusely.

Claire didn’t recall her own response, but it had probably been mild, noncommittal.

No one could really stay angry with Jamie.

She was just too cute and well-intentioned for her own good.

And it was Jamie’s good, if misplaced, intentions that had Claire snuggled beneath a quilt, wearing her pajamas, eating raspberry yogurt and watching her old favorite Hope Floats .

Not to mention ignoring the incessant ringing of the telephone.

She didn’t want to talk to Logan. Or look at him, or argue with him, or lie to him.

She just wanted to watch a feel-good chick flick with a happy ending, eat her yogurt, go to sleep, and wake up tomorrow pretending as if today had never happened.

Was that too much to ask?

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Apparently so. Claire picked up the remote and hit the volume button, turning it up a few notches to drown out the sound echoing through the house. Why did Sophie have so damn many phones, anyway? Nobody needs a phone in every room.

Ring. Ring.

“Stop calling me,” Claire grumbled, desperately trying to focus on Harry Connick Jr.’s face.

Ring.

Determined, she punched the volume button several more times.

Blessedly, the ringing stopped. She knew it was Logan calling her, even though she couldn’t see the caller ID screen from the bed.

If the phone weren’t on the other side of the room and if Claire weren’t so lazy, she’d get up and turn off the ringer.

Or better yet, pick up the phone, tell Logan to go to hell, then hang up on him.

But Claire was lazy, and perhaps a bit of a coward to boot, so she turned her attention back to the movie, trying to allow herself to become engrossed in it.

Suddenly, she heard what sounded like thunder. If it was going to storm, she’d have to go close the windows she’d left open for the cool night breeze. Claire reached again for the remote and hit the mute button. The noise sounded again, but this time, it seemed more like a…

Like someone pounding on the front door.

Her heart flip-flopped to the pit of her stomach. Logan wouldn’t confront her about the baby, not like this, not now. It couldn’t be him. Hadn’t he just called her?

She heard a muffled voice. Logan’s. She’d recognize it anywhere. Damn, this day just wouldn’t end. And why did Logan suddenly refuse to play his customary role of detached CEO? Why in God’s name did the man have to pick now to suddenly sprout a conscience?

The knocking continued, growing in insistence and volume until it became more like banging. Claire squeezed her eyes closed, willing Logan to go away, to leave her in peace and go back to being apathetic about anything other than business.

Suddenly, the pounding stopped. Claire opened her eyes, hoping he’d finally left…

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Incredible. The man was calling her now, she just knew it. The same way that she knew he wouldn’t leave until he had his say. Realizing it made her heart plummet, brick-like, to her toes. There was no way around it. She had to face down Logan Monroe.

Either that or go hide in Sophie’s attic until he went away, which wasn’t really an option. Was it? No, of course not. She couldn’t cower around in the pitch-blackness, surrounded by spiders and cobwebs.

Claire tossed back her quilt and swung her legs to the side of the bed. Hiding had seemed like a good plan, but with a man like Logan, it just wasn’t feasible.

Dreading the coming confrontation, she padded downstairs in her bare feet to the once again vibrating front door. Without bothering to look out the window, she pulled open the door to reveal an angry, but somehow still sexy, Logan.

“Claire.” He scowled then swept past her into the house, slamming the door in his wake. “What were you thinking, just opening the door? I could have been anyone.”

Claire would have rolled her eyes had the situation been less serious. But it wasn’t, so she just shrugged. “I knew it was you.”