The Best Man's Baby
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“I’m not getting married to you. That’s not happening.”
“Yes. You are. Unlike this other guy you were with, I’m a man and I accept my responsibilities. We have to get married if the baby is mine.” He wasn’t even sure what was coming out of his mouth anymore. It seemed perfectly sensible in his head a few seconds earlier.
“And none of that matters, Logan. You don’t love me. You want nothing to do with me romantically. Remember? You were very clear with your message after the reunion. Painfully clear. I can recite it if you want. It wasn’t hard to commit it to memory.”
He’d ended it definitively, there was no question about that. Clarity had been for the sake of them both. Of course, he’d never imagined she’d memorize his message. Had he been too cold? “What was I supposed to do? I get to the airport and you’re on the cover of a magazine that says sparks were flying when you were auditioning with Derek. That was a week before the reunion and you’d just come off a breakup. That told me everything I needed to know about any future between us.”
“There were no sparks with Derek. Why doesn’t anyone believe me?”
“There’s always some other guy around the corner, isn’t there? Some mess of a guy who you can try to fix.”
She shot him a final look of disgust before she bolted from the couch and stalked to the front door. “You can be such a jerk. Really. You have an uncanny ability to say the most hurtful things.”
He rushed to follow her. “Wait a minute. We’re still talking.”
She squared her body to his and poked the center of his chest, hard, even though he had a good fifty pounds on her. Maybe more. “If you think the next six months are going to be difficult for you, how do you think the pregnant woman feels? How about the woman who got dumped by both of the men who might’ve knocked her up? Did you even take two seconds to think about that?”
“I asked you to marry me. I’m willing to play my part.”
“You did not ask me to marry you. You were issuing a mandate. And that’s not happening, anyway. I’m not marrying someone out of obligation, and certainly not a man who broke up with me. I’m done making mistakes when it comes to you.” She opened the door and stormed out. It closed with a thud behind her.
Logan turned, his eyes wide open. No way he was getting any sleep tonight. Julia had given him more than enough to chew on.
His phone beeped with a text. What now? He wandered across the room and picked it up from the coffee table. It was from Julia.
We have to leave for the florist by ten.
Great. A whole day of wedding errands with the pregnant woman who drove him crazy, refused to marry him and might be carrying his baby.
Logan had been a royal jerk last night—selfishly worrying how he’d survive the next six months of uncertainty, informing Julia that he expected her to marry him. That was not happening. She could do this all on her own. She didn’t need help from Logan.
Although she didn’t mind the view.
“Oh. Hey. Good morning.” He flashed a sheepish smile, standing in the doorway of his room, nothing more than a towel wrapped around his waist, beads of water dotting his shoulder. “I was just getting the paper.” Bending over to pick it up, he showed off his perfectly defined back.
Julia stood stuck. His velvety voice delivered a too-sexy memory of their last morning in this hotel—Logan’s long, warm naked body pressed against her back in the wee hours, his giving lips on her neck as he slid his hand between her knees, lifted her leg and rocked her world with the most memorable wake-up call, well, ever.
“Jules? You okay?”
“Morning,” she sputtered, pushing a room service cart out of her room and into the hall. “I ordered bacon with breakfast, but the smell was making me queasy. If you want the leftovers.” Sexy, Jules. Real sexy.
He looked both ways, flipped the latch on his door and crossed the hall. He raised the stainless cloche from the plate, grabbing some bacon. “Just two. The camera adds ten pounds.”
“You’re fine.” She stole a glimpse of his stomach, just as hard and muscled as ever. He might not be paid to be an elite athlete anymore, but he maintained his body like one. And to think she’d reaped the benefits—those strapping arms wrapped around her, keeping her close, making her feel for two whole days that she belonged nowhere else. The price of admission had been far more than she’d been willing to pay—every shred of her heart. A big chunk of her pride, too.
“Ready in fifteen?” She braced herself against her door. Being around nearly-naked Logan was making it impossible to stand up straight.
“Definitely. I called down to the valet. We can go out the side entrance. They’ll have the car waiting for us.”
“You don’t think the press will be tipped off by the eighty-thousand-dollar gleaming black sports car you just had to rent?”
He shrugged. “I’m not about to drive anything less. You’ll have to suffer through it, babe.”
Babe. As if.
Julia retreated to her room and tried not to obsess over her makeup or hair, but it was hard not to, knowing she’d be spending her day with Logan. He deserved to be tortured by what he’d so solidly rejected. It would likely be her only measure of revenge. She dressed in a swishy navy blue skirt that showed off her legs, black ballet flats and a white sleeveless top with a cut that left her expanding bustline on full display. Boobs. At least she was getting something out of this whole single-and-pregnant thing, other than a baby, of course.
She met Logan in the hall, and he just had to be stunning. So effortlessly hot in jeans and a white button-down, sleeves rolled up just far enough to again mesmerize her with his inexplicably alluring forearms. He led her out through the side exit and to his rental car. His plan to remain incognito was working perfectly until he peeled out of the parking lot.
“Why did you do that?” Her vision darted back to the hotel entrance. Sure enough, reporters were racing to their cars. “They’re following us now.” She shook her head. He always had to have his manly moment.
“Don’t worry. I’ll lose them.”
He tried to shake the media as he had the day before, but they got stuck at a red light and he was left to lead a dysfunctional caravan to the florist, with his fancy car front and center. They found their destination a few minutes later, and Julia dashed for the door while Logan took his chance to reprimand the reporters yet again and tell them to stay outside.
Julia swept her hair from her face as a red-haired woman came out of the back with an enormous bucket of flowers blocking her view. “Can I help you?” she asked in a lovely singsong British accent. She plopped her armful onto the checkout counter. “Blimey. You’re...her.”