LITMIR.BIZ

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is born, you have no rights.”

      “I have the same as any father.”

      “Then go off and be anybody’s father. We don’t want you.”

      Dia rose and settled Tessa back into the chair, glaring at Chase. “It isn’t wise to upset her,” she remarked.

      “Oh Dia, be serious,” Tessa murmured under her breath. “I’m pregnant, not an invalid.”

      “Use any weapon you can,” her sister whispered, and Tessa scowled.

      “I think the court should decide this,” Tigh suggested.

      “No!” came from both parents, nearly bringing them out of their chairs.

      Dia and Tigh glanced at each other, then their clients. The lawyers leaned their heads together, speaking softly, and Chase gazed at Tessa. She was fuming mad and he liked it. Even though she was going to fight him in every way she could, he liked it. She was protecting her baby, their baby. But he was just as determined to get what he wanted. His gaze lowered to her fingers drawing slow circles over her tummy, and Chase suddenly wondered what those fingers would feel like on his skin.

      Damn.

      Where did that come from?

      Yet he watched her, the slight tremble in her breath, the way the force of the air conditioning fluttered the delicate fabric of her dress against her breast. She was truly a radiant woman, and he wondered, as any normal man would, what she looked like without his child growing so beautifully inside her.

      “Have lunch with me, Miss Lightfoot?”

      She blinked, stunned, then her green eyes narrowed. “Why?”

      “Don’t you think it would be better for all three of us—” he nodded to her stomach,“—if we came to at least a cease of friendly fire?”

      Caught in indecision, Tessa let her gaze linger over him, his rugged features, his dark brown hair, short and cleanly cut, his eyes, blue as a kid’s crayon and penetrating. But mostly, aside from the body in the dark suit, she noticed the lines around those incredible eyes, tanned and crimped and showing Tessa that this man, gruff and angry, smiled. A lot.

      “All right.” She nodded almost regally. “Cease-fire agreement. I promise not to throw food at you, at least.”

      Chase’s lips tugged at the corners and he folded his arms over his chest, briefly glancing at the floor to hide a smile, but all Tessa noticed was the straining fabric, the muscles hiding beneath the tailored coat. Too sexy for his own good, and she imagined he knew it.

      “I’ll meet you at noon at—” she paused, looking thoughtful. “Golden—”

      “Arches?” he teased.

      “No, Dragon. I want dim sum.”

      Chase eyed her, her wonderful belly, then her face. “Cravings, Miss Lightfoot?”

      “No. Hunger. Humor me, I’m pregnant,” she said, then stood, kissed her sister’s cheek, and nodded to Tigh before she left. Chase looked from Dia, who was smiling royally, to Tigh, who smiled consistently, then to the empty chair. He bolted for the door and the lawyers dropped back into their chairs.

      “I feel as if I’ve cheated my client,” Tigh said.

      “Me, too.”

      “We didn’t do anything.”

      Dia sent him a sly glance. “Oh, I think we did.”

      At the elevator Chase caught her, pressed the down button and grinned.

      “I said noon.”

      “Where are you going?”

      “If it’s any of your business, back to work.”

      “Work?”

      “What? Did you think I was independently wealthy? That I could have a baby when I felt like it?”

      He shook his head, jamming his hands in his trouser pockets and ruining the fine lines of the suit. “I don’t know what to think.”

      “Good.”

      His lips thinned. “Try not to fire on a white Hag,” he said through gritted teeth.

      Tessa sighed heavily. “Look, Mr. Madison—”

      “Chase.”

      “Mr. Madison,” she stressed. “You may have contributed to the gene pool, but that’s it.”

      “Are you going to hold the fact that I can’t give birth against me?”

      She reared back. “Of course not. But we don’t have anything to say to each other, and I’d like to keep it that way. Lunch is a compromise.”

      “You mean a concession to the lowly father, huh?”

      God, it sounded so insensitive and spiteful when he put it like that.

      “I’m meaningless to you, aren’t I?” he continued. “You couldn’t care less if I spend the next ten years trying to gain my rights.”

      The elevator chimed and the door sprang open. She stepped inside and Chase stood still as she faced him and punched the lobby button. The moments between gave her a chance to forget his hurt look and retrieve her determination. He didn’t want to simply help financially as Dia suspected. Chase Madison wanted her baby and he was planning to make her life miserable.

      “Forget about me, Mr. Madison. The last thing I want is you in my baby’s life.”

      The door closed and Chase jerked his tie loose, then shoved his fingers through his hair. Not the baby’s life, he thought angrily, or yours?

      

      Tessa watched him from a distance, gathering her nerve. He’d changed into more casual clothes, and she remembered how he’d kept tugging at his tie earlier that morning. He either didn’t wear suits often or just didn’t like them, she decided. She watched him as he stared off into the street. The sidewalk café was a good spot, open, crowded. They couldn’t argue here. Yet it struck her that he looked lonely, forgotten, relaxed in the chair, one arm slung over the back. Women paraded past him, hoping, she didn’t doubt, to catch his attention. But he didn’t spare them a glance, his gaze so distant she felt a pang of sympathy. He was divorced, his wife dead, and he lived alone. That’s all Dia had been able to find out in such a short time, other than that he owned a construction company.

      And you want to take his child away from him. a voice pestered. She moved her shoulder as if to nudge it away. He wants to take my baby. Mine. This child had been all hers, until last week, until his lawyer called, until computer glitches and the damn clinic made it his, too.

      Liar, the voice cried. Liar. He is the biological father.

      Tessa rubbed the space between her eyes, willing back the threat of a headache, and straightened her shoulders. Nodding to the mître d’, she followed him to the table. As if sensing her presence, Chase turned his head, then leapt to his feet, pulling out a chair. She sank into it gratefully, working off her shoes. Pregnancy and happy feet did not coexist.

      She smelled like cinnamon, Chase decided as he tucked her chair and took his seat. They ordered, and when the waiter left, Chase turned his attention to the woman across from him. He’d positioned her chair at a safe distance, sensing she didn’t want to be too close, and he didn’t want to scare her off. The stakes were too high. She could vanish, taking his unborn child with her, and Chase would be left alone. Again.

      “Are you just going to stare at me or what?”

      His gaze lingered over her dress. It was the same one she’d worn earlier that morning, and he was glad she hadn’t changed. He liked the antique look. It suited her.

      “Where do you work, Tessa?” he asked

      She thought about saying nothing, but with Tigh

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