A Clandestine Corporate Affair - By Michelle Celmer Page 0,6
it could be to keep him contained.
He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on the coat tree by the door. “Where’s the baby?”
“He’s in bed.”
“I want to see him.” He started for the hall that led to the bedrooms, but she stepped in his way.
“Maybe later.”
Anger sparked, then ignited, hot and intense, and had his blood pumping through his veins. “Are you saying you refuse to let me see my own son?”
“He’s asleep. Besides, I think it’s best if we talk first.”
He had half a mind to demand to see him, to push his way past her. Hadn’t she kept him from the kid long enough? But she was standing there, arms crossed, wearing a mama-bear look that said it would be in his best interest not to screw with her or her child. When it came to their son, she clearly didn’t mess around.
He clamped a vice down on his anger and said, “Okay, let’s talk.”
She gestured across the spacious living room to the couch. “Have a seat.”
Her home had always had a relaxed feel, and despite the service that cleaned weekly there had always been clutter. But now, with toys strewn everywhere, it was like walking through a minefield to get to the couch. As he sat he had a vivid memory of the two of them sitting there together naked, her straddling him, head thrown back, eyes closed, riding him until they were both blind with ecstasy. The memory had his blood pumping through his veins again.
“Something to drink?” she asked.
How about a cold shower instead? “No thanks.”
She sat cross-legged in the overstuffed chair across from him.
Since he saw no reason not to get right to the point, he asked, “So you thought it was okay to have my child and not tell me?”
“When you heard that I was pregnant, you could have asked,” she said.
“I shouldn’t have had to.”
She shrugged, as if she saw nothing wrong with her actions. “Like I said, I didn’t think you would care. In fact, I thought you would probably be happier not knowing. You made it pretty clear that you didn’t want a family. If I had told you, what would you have done? Would you have risked your career to claim him?”
He honestly didn’t know, which he couldn’t argue legitimized her point. But this wasn’t just about how it would affect his career. There were other factors to consider, things she didn’t know about him. Still, he would have liked the opportunity to make that decision himself. “Either way it was my choice to make, not yours.”
“If you didn’t have time for me, how could you have time for a child?”
It wasn’t just about not having time. She might not have understood it, she probably never would, but he did her a favor when he ended their affair. She made him drop his guard, lose control, and with a man like him that could only spell trouble. He just wasn’t relationship material. Not the kind of relationship she needed anyway. The kind she deserved. She was too passionate and full of life. Too…sweet. She didn’t need him dragging her down.
“What you really mean is,” he said, “I hurt you, and this was your way to hurt me back?”
“That isn’t what I said.”
No, but he could see that he’d hit a nerve.
“This is getting us nowhere,” she said. “If you want to talk about Max, fine. But if you came here to point fingers, you might as well leave.”
He leaned forward. “You could at least have the decency, the courage, to admit you may have made a mistake.”
“I did what I thought was best for my baby. For everyone.” She paused, then added grudgingly, “But I won’t deny that I was hurt and confused and maybe not considering everyone’s feelings.”
Nathan figured that was about as close to an admission of guilt, or an apology, as he was going to get. And she was right: pointing fingers would get them nowhere. Neither would flying off the handle. The only way to discuss this was calmly and rationally. And considering her tendency to leap to the defensive, he was going to have to be the sensible one. In short, he considered how his father would handle the situation, then did the exact opposite.
He swallowed his bitterness, and a fairly large chunk of his pride, and said, “Let’s forget about placing blame, or who wronged who, and why don’t you tell me about my son.”
“First, why don’t you tell me what