The Tycoon's Charm: The Tycoon's Paternity Agenda / Honor-Bound Groom. Michelle CelmerЧитать онлайн книгу.
change his mind, but instead he said, “Have a safe trip back to Peckins,” then he was gone.
Adam had actually started acting like a human being today, which she couldn’t deny intrigued her. And now that she’d had a preview of the man hiding behind the icy exterior, she wanted to dig deeper. She wanted to know who he was.
But when had this ever been about getting to know Adam better? And why would she bother? When it was over, and the baby was born, they would just go back to being strangers. Seeing each other occasionally when he brought the baby around.
She laid a hand gently across her belly, wondering what was going on inside, if the procedure had worked and the embryo was attaching to her womb. Her tiny little niece or nephew, she thought with a smile. Even knowing that there was only an average 10 percent success rate, she had a good feeling about their chances.
She switched off the light and lay in the dark, thinking about everything that had happened since she left Peckins that morning. The ease of the procedure, and the way Adam had stayed with her all day. She thought that they had shared something special, that they were becoming friends, but it was clear he didn’t want that. And for some stupid reason the idea made her inexplicably sad.
* * *
It had only been seven days since the procedure, and would be three more days before she would even know if she was pregnant, and Katy had already determined that she agreed to have a child with the most demanding and obstinate man on the face of the earth.
Adam had called her about a million times.
Okay, so it was more like fifteen or twenty, but it sure felt like a million. She had only been back to Peckins an hour when he phoned to check on her, which, in light of his cool attitude the night before, she found sort of touching. He reminded her that the doctor said to take it easy for several days, meaning no heavy lifting or strenuous activity. Which she, of course, already knew. She assured him she was following the postprocedure instructions to the letter, and he had nothing to worry about.
Thinking that she’d made herself pretty clear, she was surprised when later that evening he’d called again.
Was she eating right? Drinking enough water? Staying off her feet?
She patiently assured him that she was still following the doctor’s orders, and when they hung up shortly after, assumed that would be the last she heard from him in a while. But he called again the next morning.
Had she gotten a full eight hours sleep? She wasn’t drinking coffee, was she? And since country breakfasts were often laden with saturated fats, she should consider fruit and an egg-white omelet as a substitute.
She assured him again, maybe not quite so patiently this time, that she knew what to do. And she was only a little surprised when he called later in the day to say he’d been doing research on the internet and needed her email address so he could send her links to several sites he thought contained necessary information about prenatal health. And had she ever considered becoming a vegetarian?
If he was this fanatical before there was even a confirmed pregnancy, what was he going to be like when she was actually pregnant? Two to three calls a day, every day, for nine months?
She would be giving birth from a padded room in the psychiatric ward.
It wouldn’t be so bad if the phone calls were even slightly conversational in tone. As in, “Hi, how are you? What have you been up to?” Instead he more or less barked orders, without even the most basic of pleasantries.
On day seven, he called to say that he’d been giving their situation considerable thought, and he’d come to the conclusion that he would feel more comfortable if she came to stay with him in El Paso for the duration of her pregnancy. So he could “keep a close eye on her.”
It was the final straw.
“I will not, under any circumstances, drop everything and move two hours from home. The ranch is my life. My parents need me here. And all the phone calls and emails…it has to stop. You’re smothering me and we don’t even know that I’m pregnant yet.”
“But you could be, so doesn’t it make sense to start taking care of yourself now? This is my child we’re talking about.”
“It’s also my life.”
“If you were here with me I wouldn’t have to call. And you wouldn’t have to do anything. Celia would take care of you.”
She liked Celia, but honestly, it sounded like hell on earth. She wasn’t an idle person. Most days she was up before dawn and didn’t stop moving until bedtime. “I love working, Adam.”
“But obviously you’ll have to quit.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you’ll be pregnant.”
Oh, he did not just say that. “What century are you living in? Pregnant women work all the time.”
“At a desk job maybe, or as a clerk in a store. I seriously doubt there are pregnant women out there roping cattle on horseback and mucking stables.”
“Is that what you think I do?”
“It’s not?”
“Not just that. And, of course, I wouldn’t do those things when I’m pregnant. Do you really think I would be that irresponsible? And for your information, I spend a lot of time behind a desk.”
“I didn’t mean to imply that you’re irresponsible. And I guess I just assumed your responsibilities were more physical in nature.”
“So you assumed I got a business degree just for the fun of it?” she snapped. “Next you’ll be telling me that I’m wasting my education staying on the ranch.” As if she hadn’t heard that enough from Becca over the years.
“I’m just worried about the health of my child.”
“We obviously need to get a few things straight here. One, I am not moving to El Paso. There is no reason why I can’t have a perfectly healthy pregnancy in Peckins. And two, I am definitely not quitting work. My parents depend on me, not to mention that I love what I do. I understand that you’re worried about the baby’s health, but you’re just going to have to trust me. And lastly, if you insist on calling to check up on me, could you have the decency to not treat me like a…a baby factory. Maybe we could even have a conversation. You do know what that is, right?”
“Yes,” he said curtly. He obviously didn’t like what he was hearing, but when she signed the contract to be his surrogate, nowhere did it say she had to comply to his every demand.
Move in with him? Was he nuts?
“Even though Becca is gone, we’re still family. Would it really be so terrible if we were friends?”
“I never said I didn’t want to be your friend.”
“You didn’t have to. I’m sure you’ve heard the phrase, actions speak louder than words. And maybe you haven’t considered this, but if you get to know me a little better, it will be easier for you to trust me.”
“I suppose you’re right,” he said grudgingly.
At least it was start. But she had the sinking feeling that it was going to a really long nine months.
Eight
Since their phone conversation three days ago, Adam had cut off all contact with Katy, and it had been surprisingly difficult. Since the procedure he’d been thinking about her almost twenty-four/seven. The more he read up on pregnancy, the deeper home it hit just how many things could go wrong with not just the baby, but Katy, as well.
He had accepted responsibility for Becca’s death, and learned to live with the guilt, but the idea that her sister’s life was now in his hands had him on constant edge. It was his responsibility to make sure she was healthy.
It