Prognosis Baby Daddy - Amy Andrews Page 0,29

disbelief in his voice. It sounded like such a paltry excuse when he said it like that. But he hadn’t lived her life. If he could have just walked a mile in her shoes, he’d understand. But if you’re born with a silver spoon in your mouth, how could you possibly understand a life of poverty?

‘Da.’ Let him think what he liked.

‘I don’t believe you,’ he said. ‘You may not be the softest person I know but underneath your hard exterior, there is a deeply compassionate woman, Katya. I know that because you showed me that woman the night I heard about Mario. The one night I needed comfort you gave it to me. Unquestioningly. I know that woman could never walk away from a child. Especially her own child.’

Katya just stopped herself from gaping. One night of passion and Ben had seen the person beneath the surface. The Katya she was deep down, beneath the blunt, unemotional façade. The Katya she’d been before her mother had decided to give her responsibilities beyond her years. ‘You wouldn’t understand,’ she said dismissively

‘Try me,’ he countered.

Katya sighed. ‘It doesn’t matter, Ben.’

Ben snorted. ‘I’m sorry, Katya, it does. You want me to take on a child that you’re not prepared to. Give years of my life that you’re not prepared to. Convince me.’

Katya looked at him helplessly. How could a man of Ben’s background understand? Her hands shook. Baring her soul, telling him everything was too exposing. ‘I’d be bad at it.’

‘Rubbish.’

Katya’s head shot up at his tone. She shook her head. ‘You don’t know me,’ she said. ‘I spend one night in your arms and you think you know me?’

He ignored her. If he kept at it, he was sure she’d tell him the real reason. ‘I know you’re strong. I know you’re tough. I know you’re capable enough, stubborn enough, fierce enough to do this by yourself.’

Katya shook her head emphatically. ‘I’ve seen how hard it is for a single mother. What a struggle it is to raise a child and juggle work and home commitments. I know how hard it is financially and emotionally. I don’t want to be that kind of mother.’

He noted her look of grim determination. Katya’s life had obviously been very hard. But despite that she obviously cared about the quality of her mothering. That didn’t strike Ben as someone who didn’t care. He sensed he was getting closer and closer to the real reason. ‘What kind of mother do you want to be?’

Katya glared at him. She was not going to fall for that. ‘I don’t want to be any kind of mother.’

‘Why?’ he persisted.

Why? Why didn’t he just leave it alone, damn it? ‘Because,’ Katya said exasperated, ‘I’d be really bad at it.’

‘Why?’ Ben asked again. ‘You said yourself you’ve already raised four babies, one would have thought you’d be highly experienced at it.’

Yeah, right. Katya was sure Sophia wouldn’t agree. ‘I did what I had to do,’ she said. ‘Doesn’t mean I was good at it.’

Ben watched Katya pluck at the leather beading on the arm of the lounge. Her gaze was downcast, her movements seemed agitated and he suddenly wondered if something bad had happened.

‘Katya,’ he said, ‘talk to me.’

Katya was lured into looking at him by the raw request. His gaze was soft and compassionate and she wanted to crawl into his lap and tell him everything. About all the hard years and the guilt.

The terrible, terrible guilt she still felt today over her sister’s injuries. Even though Sophia was leading a happy and productive life.

She shook her head. ‘It’s OK for you, Ben. You had a great role model. Lucia is loving and supportive. You probably even had a father at some stage.’

‘Not really,’ he said. ‘My father died when I was one. I never really knew him.’

‘I bet your mother adored him, though, right?’

Ben smiled and nodded, remembering the many happy memories his mother had recounted over the years. ‘They were very happy. My mother misses him very much.’

Katya nodded. ‘I can tell.’ The Contessa looked like a woman who had been well loved. ‘My mother’s not like that. She’s...different. Life hasn’t been so good to her and, as role models go, she was lousy. So I don’t know how to be a mother. Not a good one, anyway.’

Ben was getting a clearer and clearer picture. Katya was the product of her upbringing. But he couldn’t get past her hand still guarding her abdomen. She may have talked herself