The Pregnancy Project
His eyes narrowed behind his glasses. She knew that look. He was about to argue with her and she could not do this right now.
With a strained smile, she touched his arm, like she’d done for years and years, before thinking better of it. “Let’s just forget about it for now. Would you mind getting my bags?”
Ever the gentleman despite the tense circumstances, Dante firmed his mouth and did as she asked, then ushered her into a sleek, red Ferrari. The silence laced with weirdness settled heavily in the car, nearly choking her, as they hurtled down the freeway toward his home in the Hollywood Hills. She scarcely enjoyed the unfolding LA scenery, but what could she say to get everything back to where it was supposed to be?
Dante rolled the Ferrari to a stop at a gated drive, then pointed a clicker at the black wrought-iron gate. It opened, allowing him to drive onto his lush, expansive property, where he parked on the circular drive in front of the sprawling Spanish villa. All without uttering a word.
Which lasted only until they cleared the doorstep. He dropped her bags on the Mexican tile under their feet in the spacious foyer and faced her, brows lowered. “We’ve been friends a long time. Why would that change just because we’re exploring what else might work between us?”
“Because I don’t want to do anything more,” she burst out. “All of this scares me.”
How could she get through the problems at Fyra, pregnancy, birth—good grief, the next eighteen years with a kid—if she didn’t have the friendship that had carried her through the last ten years?
“Come here.”
Before she could blink, he whirled her into a deep hug, the kind she’d welcomed so many times in the past, but it was different now as his strong body aligned with hers.
So different. The tease of his torso against hers set off tingles in places that shouldn’t be tingling over Dante. She tore away, devastated that she couldn’t stay in the circle of his embrace, devastated that things had already changed without her consent.
Hurt sprang into his big brown eyes but he banked it and crossed his arms. “So now I can’t hug you?”
“Sure you can, if you drop twenty pounds of muscle,” she shot back before realizing how that sounded. Quickly, she amended, “I want things like they were before you turned into Dr. Sexy.”
And that wasn’t much better as explanations went. He’d been Dr. Sexy for a long time—what she really meant was before she’d become aware of it. But he had her all flustered.
A brief smile lifted his lips. “I thought you liked that side of me.”
She did. That was the problem.
Dante was one of the few friends she had left who was still the same as he’d always been—she’d thought. She didn’t make friends easily. Cass and Alex, two of the three women she’d built Fyra Cosmetics with, had moved on to new phases in their lives, marrying great men and starting families. Which was amazing, and she didn’t begrudge them their happiness. But Harper felt...left behind.
Which was why she’d decided to have a baby of her own. But minus the husband, who would expect things of Harper she couldn’t fathom giving. Intimacy. Control. A promise of everlasting romantic love that no one could guarantee because it was nothing more than a series of confusing chemical signals in the brain.
Men complicated everything.
“How many friends do I have, Dante? Should be easy for you to count them. No advanced degree required to get to four.” She ticked them off on her fingers. “Cass. Alex. Trinity. You. Now imagine that two of those friends have recently gotten married and started families. Everything’s changing around me and I can’t stop it. I need you to stay the same.”
Because she was the one who had already changed things, the one who had gone off and gotten pregnant, and by default, Dante had to be the constant in this equation.
Understanding dawned in his eyes. “You’re scared of things changing.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s what I just said.”
Instead of backing off, he leaned in and captured her arms, holding her in place. “You did. I’m just catching up. So it’s not that you mind the idea of me kissing you. You’re just scared of losing our relationship. But I don’t want to lose it, either.”
Those melty chocolate eyes speared hers, and all at once, she didn’t like the way he was looking at her, as if she held the secrets to his universe. Except he’d always looked at her like that and she’d explained it away as affection between friends. But now that he’d veered completely off the friendship track, it made her uncomfortably aware that he’d just had his mouth on her in a very non-friendly way.
“You’re practicing selective hearing.” She shook her head and tried to back up a step so she could breathe. And pick up her luggage, so she could...do something with it. “I do mind the idea of kissing. And everything that goes along with it. Or comes after it.”
“Everything?” he murmured and somehow she was still in his arms. “You mean sex?”
Heat leaped into his expression and that was so much worse than the melty eyes because her body flared to life at the promise of feeling the way it had when he’d kissed her. More. Now.
“Yes.” She squeezed her eyes shut, groaning. “I mean, no. No sex. Geez, what is this conversation we’re having? I came here to visit my friend. How did we start talking about sex?”
“You brought it up,” he reminded her needlessly. “I was just trying to clarify.”
“Sex is not a part of this conversation.”
“What if I want it to be?” he countered softly and his fingers slid up her arms to grasp her shoulders. “Your hearing is bordering on selective too if you can so easily ignore what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
Caught, she stared at him, taking in his familiar horn-rimmed glasses and spiky hair, desperate to get back to a place where she could be secure in her relationship with him. “What are you trying to tell me?”
“Our friendship is the most important thing in my life. That’s why I’m trying to save it. I can’t unkiss you. There’s something here that isn’t going away until we explore it. Harper...” He drew out her name reverently and the sound sang through her suddenly taut body. “Kiss me again. Think of it as an experiment. Let’s see how far this thing goes, so we can deal with it, once and for all.”
Her eyelids slammed shut because holy mother of God. “That’s a hell of gauntlet to throw down.”
“Tell me no and I’ll step away.”
“No.” Instantly, his hands moved from her arms and his heat vanished. She opened her eyes to see him standing a few feet away, his expression hooded and implacable.
“Can I at least know what your major objections are? In case there’s something—”
“I’m pregnant, Dante.” She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “And that’s only the first in a long line of objections.”
Two
All of the blood in Dante’s brain drained out. “You’re...what?” he whispered.
“Pregnant,” she repeated and the word still sounded like pregnant.
“With a baby?”
“Science has not yet successfully crossed human DNA with any other species, so yeah,” she confirmed darkly. “I didn’t want to tell you this way but you gave me no choice.”
Blindly, he stuck out a hand and sought the nearest hard surface to sink onto. Happened to be an end table in the adjacent living area but so what? His knees wouldn’t have held up much longer.
“I don’t understand how this happened. Are you seeing someone?”
There was no way. Not as eagerly as she’d responded to his touch. Not as close as he’d have sworn they were. She’d have said something about a man in her life. Wouldn’t she? He thought back to the last time she’d mentioned a guy—all the way back in college.
She shook her head. “No. Artificial insemination.”
“Why in the world would you do something like that?” He bit off the syllables, not bothering to temper the harshness.
Babies needed a family. A father. She’d deliberately set herself up to be a single parent. It was inexcusable.
Her face froze as she took in his expression. “I wasn’t interested in sharing parenting duties with anyone long-term. So a donor who was willing to sign away his rights seemed ideal.”
This got better and better. Or worse and worse, more likely. He laughed without humor. “Most people have a life partner they decide to have kids with. Because they’re in love and want to raise a family together. Did that ever enter your thought process?”
“Not once.” She tossed her red hair. “A romantic relationship would only complicate everything.”
“A baby needs a male influence,” he insisted. “That’s not an opinion. Study after study shows—”
“I know that, Dante!” Hands on her hips, she towered over him as he perched on the end table. “Why do you think I said I needed you, you big moron? That’s why I’m here. I want you to be the male influence. Dummy me, I thought our friendship was strong enough to add a baby and then you had to go and kiss me.”
Dumbfounded, he blinked. “Did you think to ask me about this before you got pregnant?”
Because he would have talked her out of it if she had. This was the most ridiculous idea she’d ever heard.
“It’s my life and my body,” she announced as guilt flashed through her expression.
She must have guessed he might react like this, because she knew his history, knew how he felt about kids. And had done it anyway. “You know anonymous donors don’t always tell the truth about their medical history on those questionnaires. There’s no telling what kind of genetic mess you’ve created in there.”
He jerked his head toward her abdomen. She had a baby in her womb and it was suddenly a sacred place, not available for desecrating with the kind of activities he’d had in mind mere minutes ago.
He’d actually been strategizing on how to get her back into his arms so they could finish that kiss. How else would he exorcise his attraction to her? What small taste of her he’d been granted had thus far only whetted his appetite for the main course. Hers, too, obviously, despite her denial.
Dante was an expert after all. She wanted him as much as the reverse was true.
But she was already shaking her head. “That’s why the donor wasn’t anonymous. I did a lot of research into this before I made my decision and I carefully selected my baby’s father. Dr. Cardoza is the perfect—”
“Dr. Cardoza? Dr. Tomas Cardoza is your baby’s father?” Red stained Dante’s vision, his hands curling and uncurling as he fought to keep from unleashing his frustration on the drywall.
“He’s a renowned chemist,” she explained as if he might be confused about Cardoza’s contribution to the planet.
“I know,” Dante somehow got out through clenched teeth. “If you recall, he’s the reason I didn’t win the Nobel.”
Harper’s eyes widened. “Well, yeah. But that was ages ago. Surely you’re over that, especially given that you’ve moved into another field.”
He couldn’t help it. The laugh bubbled out and he pinched off his glasses to wipe his eyes. Of all the people she could have fathered a baby with, she’d picked Cardoza, the sorriest excuse for a human being that ever walked the earth, and that included Dante’s parents, whoever they were.
No. He wasn’t over it. Cardoza was the reason Dante had been forced into TV. If Cardoza hadn’t cheated on his methodology, he’d never have won the Nobel and Dante would have at least had a fair shot. After Cardoza had won, all the interest in Dante’s research had dried up, leaving him lab-less, fundless and desperate for someone to give him a new opportunity.
The Science of Seduction had been born.
Of course, it had been lucrative beyond his wildest fantasies. But a nine-figure bank account didn’t make up for having his long-held scientific goals stolen out from under him.
“Just out of curiosity,” he said once he thought he could talk without betraying the wash of emotion beating at his breastbone. “How did you manage to pick Cardoza?”
Of all freaking people.
“Oh. I ran into Tomas at a convention recently. The thing I told you about in St. Louis? He was presenting a paper and I loved his conclusions. When I saw him later in the hotel lobby, I introduced myself and we got to talking.”
“Got chummy, did you?” Dante practically sneered. Tomas. Like they were all friends here.
“Sure, he’s a brilliant man. Great cheekbones. His genetics were the main reason I became interested in him.”
Something black bloomed in Dante’s chest. “He hit on you.”
“What? No. Well, okay, yeah, I guess if you count the fact that he asked if I’d consider getting pregnant the old-fashioned way ‘hitting on me.’” she accompanied her words with air quotes, oblivious to the way Dante’s stomach had lost its lining. “Then I guess he did.”
Dante massaged the ice pick that had formed between his eyes. “Please, for the love of God, tell me you said no.”
She scowled. “Of course I said no. I have no interest in that kind of relationship with any man.”
Relief flooded his chest so fast, he almost saw stars. The thought of Cardoza putting his filthy paws on Harper—he swallowed the bile. Thankfully, she’d handed the horrible man his hat.
With anyone else, this would be the point when he’d ask if she meant that she preferred women. But he’d felt her reaction when he’d held her in his arms.
She was straight, 100 percent. “No interest in any man except me, you mean.”
“Uh, no. Not with you, either,” she corrected. “Haven’t you been listening?”
Oh, he’d heard every word, much to his chagrin. “You’re interested, Harper. You’re so interested you can’t stand it.”
The way she’d curled into him when he’d kissed her, the thrill of her eagerly offered tongue against his—he’d be reliving that in need-soaked dreams tonight. She was interested. And not happy about it, clearly, as her reaction to the kiss had prompted this little game of true confessions.
Pregnant. As mood killers went, that one took the cake.
“I don’t know when you developed that industrial-sized ego,” she said primly. “But it can go anytime.”
“Please.” He snorted. “Lie to yourself, but you can’t lie to me. Not when my mouth was on yours. I could feel your interest clear to my bones.”
Not ego talking. Okay, maybe a little, because it did warm him up plenty, even now, to recall how fervently she’d responded. She’d thrown herself into the kiss, no holds barred, like she did everything, practically climbing into his pants while he kissed her, and he’d have let her.
The attraction between them was mutual. Whether she liked it or not.
A blush worked its way across her cheeks. “That’s just hormones.”
That got a chuckle out of him. “Yeah. That is generally the way it works, or have you forgotten everything you learned in college?”
To his surprise, she sank onto the couch and buried her head in her hands. Her shoulders started shaking and that’s when his bad mood vanished in favor of the mood he should have had all along—concern for the woman he cared about.
He wedged in next to her on the couch and gathered her into his arms, holding her without a word because what would he say? He’d already ruined her big announcement, one she’d only made under duress because he’d been pushing her past her comfort zone.
In another shocker, she relaxed into his embrace and it almost felt like normal. Sure, the smell of her hair crossed his eyes like it always did, but he’d been ignoring the physical pull of Harper for a long time. He could buck up for his friend, who’d spelled out her need for him in no uncertain terms.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured into her hair and she nodded. “I just don’t understand. Why a baby? And via artificial insemination to boot?”
“I told you,” she mumbled against his shirt. “Romance is not my thing. It’s all a bunch of chemical reactions that people mistake as an emotion greeting card companies tell you is love. Then those reactions stop and what are you left with? My way is so much easier.”
The arguments against all the mistakes in her theory bubbled to the surface and he almost started firing back facts from the hours and hours of research he’d done into the chemistry between people, but he cut it off at the last second. She didn’t need his opinion, professional or personal. Not right this moment. Not when she’d already made the decision.
“Congrats, regardless.” He bit back the rest of that, too. Foster care had colored his view of people who had children and the various ways they ended up making the kid’s life hell. Until he could be objective about Harper’s baby, he’d shut up. “For the record, those chemical reactions come with a hell of a kick.”
“I wouldn’t know,” she said, her voice so muffled he almost didn’t hear her.
All at once, the subtext whacked him over the head and he realized she wasn’t talking solely about love. “You’re still a virgin?”
Pieces of this puzzle started falling into place at a rapid clip. She’d confessed as much one night back in college, but he’d assumed that somewhere along the way she’d—but then, she’d probably have told him if she had. Idiot.
She froze. “I’ve been busy getting a doctorate and then building Fyra’s product line from the ground up. Who had time?”
His head fell back against the couch and he stared at the ceiling. Some doctor of seduction he was. He’d totally missed the most important aspect of the dynamic at work here.
Harper was scared of what he’d made her feel. He’d tied up a normally fearless woman in knots because she’d never been properly introduced to the pleasures between a man and a woman. That was a travesty of the highest order.
And a blessing. His resolve solidified. Dante had been gifted an amazing opportunity to be her first. Then he’d finally have one up on Cardoza, that was for sure, and he wasn’t going to apologize for being smug over it. He and Harper could burn off their attraction, get back to being friends, and go on. Win-win in his book.
“It doesn’t change anything,” she said defensively. “I’m still pregnant and I still need your support, regardless of your opinions about my choice of donor or methods of impregnation. I can’t do this alone. Can I count on you to be my friend? To be there for me?”
The realities of the situation crashed down on him. His best friend was pregnant with the offspring of his most hated rival and all he could think about was claiming Harper in some kind of testosterone-filled territory grab.
She knew him well enough to hone in on his biggest conflicts, but naming it and claiming it didn’t change his views on babies. If he said he supported her, he had to do it. Keeping his word meant something to him. This friendship meant something to him. He had to put his money where his mouth was.
“Of course you can count on me.”
And she could. But he wasn’t going to back away from the attraction between them. Instead of scaring him off, she’d inexplicably created a challenge he couldn’t ignore. He wanted her. Perhaps even more now than he had before, thanks to her confessions.
New plan. Nothing but a full-bore seduction would do, and he had an undeniable urge to put every ounce of his energy into verifying the strategies he promoted on his TV show actually worked. Even on a woman who’d never had a lover before. Even on a friend. A pregnant friend. Was he an expert or not?
Dante had the next two weeks to find out.
* * *
Dante’s sprawling home in the Hollywood Hills had enormous charm and Harper loved it. A housekeeper showed her to the guest suite, pointing out the kitchen, the dining room, the back terrace with the multilevel swimming pool on the way.
Wow. Harper craned her neck as the housekeeper breezed past the triple set of French doors overlooking the pool. Cerulean water rippled in the sunlight, and beyond the bougainvillea and palmetto palms camouflaging the wrought-iron fence around Dante’s property, Los Angeles unfurled at the base of the hills, urban and busy, but stunning despite the layer of smog.
Dr. Gates had done very well for himself.
Heavy exposed beams stained the color of triple-strength espresso held up the high ceiling in the breezeway to the back of the house. The housekeeper opened one of the doors and stepped back. Harper blinked at the lavish sitting area off to one side, complete with a flat-screen TV. A large mission-style bed had been placed opposite the sitting area. What a beautiful room.
“The bathroom is through those doors,” the housekeeper pointed with a polite smile. “You need anything, you let me know. I’m Mrs. Ortiz, and my daughter, Ana Sophia, cooks for Mr. Dante. No request too small or too big. We live in the old coach house near the gate, and Juan, my husband, keeps the grounds.”
“Oh, okay.” Dante had servants. More than one. Had any of them overheard the conversation in the foyer earlier? Harper shut her eyes for a beat. Too late now. Would have been nice for Dante to warn her that they weren’t necessarily alone as she went around blabbing about personal stuff.
But then, he’d apparently decided to make blindsiding her a habit. She didn’t especially care for it.
“Thanks, Mrs. Ortiz,” Harper said as graciously as she could. It wasn’t this nice lady’s fault her boss had gone slightly off the deep end.
The housekeeper nodded and closed the door behind her as she left. Harper spent a few minutes unpacking but it didn’t take nearly long enough to settle her trembling insides.
After that fiasco of a kiss had forced her to drop the pregnancy bomb, Dante had melted away, presumably to give her time to settle in, but probably more to give them both breathing room. Or was she the only who’d needed it?
Before she’d gotten on a plane to LA, her relationship with Dante had made sense. Her feelings for him were uncomplicated, easy and eternal, unlike what would inevitably happen in a romantic relationship. That was why she’d never entertained the slightest notion of having one with any man, let alone one she liked as much as Dante. Friendship had so much to recommend itself.
Until Dante had flipped everything upside down by kissing her.
What could she do to get back to the place where she had her friend by her side, holding her hand through this new adventure?
Because she needed him. Badly.
Pregnancy was freaking her out.
She was scared she’d made the wrong decision. Scared that she’d picked the wrong time, given that her career might be in the toilet. Scared that she’d failed to cross some T when dealing with the legal aspects of using a donor. She’d never second-guessed a decision like this and the only thing she wanted to do was crawl under a blanket, let Dante stroke her hair and tell her everything was going to be okay.
That was all wrong. She’d wanted pregnancy to be a happy experience. One that would create a new bond with Alex and Cass, who were also new mothers or soon-to-be, and strengthen the bond she had with Dante because of course he would be her baby’s favorite...uncle-like person.
She hoped.
The look on his face when she’d said, I’m pregnant...she never wanted to see that again. But the shock coloring his expression replayed in her mind on an endless loop. Apparently she’d miscalculated how he’d feel about it, but she couldn’t figure out if he was upset because she hadn’t consulted him or because he still had residual bitterness over losing the Nobel Prize. Or both.
There was every possibility that despite claiming he’d be there for her, Dante might change his mind. He might end up not wanting anything to do with her baby. That would be devastating.
Angst was killing her. What had happened to her usual logic and reason? Poof. Add a baby and suddenly she was a mess.
She changed out of her plane suit and slipped on an unstructured sundress with spaghetti straps that she’d bought in anticipation of an expanding waistline. Wishful thinking, since she hadn’t confirmed her pregnancy until this morning.
None of this heated introspection would resolve the open issue—how to get back to normal. Harper worked best with absolutes and only Dante could give her those.