Reunited...and Pregnant Page 2

  Because if he didn’t walk away today, he knew that he never would.

  His decision made, Beck walked over to her and picked up his backpack with one hand and grabbed hers with another.

  Cady pulled out the earbuds and slung her smaller backpack over her shoulder as she stood up. “What’s up?”

  When Beck gestured to the familiar logo of an American carrier at the neighboring gate, her eyes flashed with joy. “Oh, my God, we’re going home?” she squealed, dancing on the spot.

  He just looked at her, wanting her to understand without having to say the words. After a little confused silence, the light faded from her eyes and color leached from her face. “You’re not coming with me?”

  Beck shook his head.

  He dropped the backpacks at his feet and slapped his hands on his hips. It took him a while to find the words he needed. “Jaeger wants me to meet him in Vietnam to look for rubies with him, and you can’t come with, and I can’t leave you on your own.”

  Cady’s bottom lip trembled and she rocked on her heels, looking like he’d sideswiped her with a stick, but he continued. “It’s only two weeks early, Cady, and it’s not like you were enjoying yourself.”

  “I love spending time with you! In fact, I had just decided that I want to stay, to ignore my folks’ disapproval, to get into the hang of this. I want to be with—”

  Beck jumped in before she could finish that sentence. “You’re going back to school, Cady. That was always the plan. I’m just sending you home two weeks early.”

  Cady took a step back and her eyes filled with tears. “You’re sending me home?”

  Oh, damn, bad choice of words. “I’ll be home for Christmas. We can reevaluate then.”

  “You’re sending me home?” Cady repeated his words, emphasizing each one.

  “Christmas is in three months—”

  Cady’s lips firmed and she folded her arms across her torso. “Do you love me, Beck?” she demanded.

  Ah, no. Not this question. He could love her, he silently admitted, and that was why she needed to go back to the States. Falling in love with Cady, with anyone, wasn’t something he was prepared to do.

  When he didn’t answer, Cady grabbed his arm, her nails digging into his skin.

  Beck jerked his arm away and forced himself to meet her eyes. Oh, damn, he wished he hadn’t because, as long as he lived, he’d remember the betrayal he saw within them, the pain he’d caused. Cady lifted her hand to grab the fabric of his shirt just above his heart, twisting it in her fist. “Don’t do this, Beck. Don’t throw us away, don’t toss me aside. We can fix this.”

  “That’s the thing, Cades, I can’t be fixed.”

  It was a special type of hell, Beck thought, to watch a heart break. It was even worse when you were responsible for it breaking.

  One

  Almost a decade later

  Sitting at one of the many high tables in Bonnets, a swish cocktail bar just off Fifth Avenue, Cady Collins had to physically stop herself from appropriating the massive salt-rimmed margarita delivered to the table next to her. The taste buds on the back of her tongue tingled as she imagined the perfect combination of salt and the sugar-tinged tang of tequila.

  It had been a tequila type of day and week. Year.

  The waiter turned to her, lifted an eyebrow at her empty glass. “Another virgin Bloody Mary?”

  God, Friday night and she was in the most reviewed cocktail bar in the city—the joke was that Bonnets had the license to serve cocktails to the angels—and she was drinking tomato juice.

  How sad.

  Cady saw the screen of her phone light up, saw the display say The Boss and sighed as she lifted the device to her ear. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Cady, where are you?” Edna Collins asked in her best I’m-the-preacher’s-wife voice.

  Cady resisted the urge to tell her that she was in a bar tucking dollar bills into the tiny thong of a muscled, oiled male stripper. You’re an adult. You don’t need to try to shock your parents anymore.

  “What’s the matter, Mom?”

  Edna called her at precisely 8:00 p.m. every second Sunday. A call outside that time meant that something had rattled The Force.

  “You might have heard that the preacher at our sister church in Wilton is retiring and the church has been looking for a suitable replacement.”

  Not really. She didn’t keep up with what was happening in the exciting world of church politics in upstate New York.

  Cady sent another look at the icy margarita and felt her mouth tingle. One little sip... How much damage could one sip do?

  “Your father is being considered.”

  “Good for him,” Cady replied because she was expected to say something.

  “We need you to come home in two weeks,” Edna stated, her voice suggesting that an argument would not be tolerated.

  “Me? Why?”

  “Your father is undergoing a process of rigorous interviews. I will be interviewed, as well. As you are our only child, they want to meet you, too.”

  Cady wanted to tell her mother that she wasn’t an only child, that she’d had a brother, that his life mattered, but as always she refrained. Will wasn’t someone they regularly discussed. Or at all.

  “Mother, what possible bearing could I have on the proceedings? I live in New York City, and I rarely come home.”

  “You never come home,” Edna corrected.

  That might be because home was the place where she had no wiggle room, where there was no room for error. Home was a place of pressure, with a lot of interest shown but little love. After Will was sent away, she’d lived in constant fear that she would be, too.

  Home was hymnal music and stockings, religious books and piety.

  Cady shuddered. “Well, sorry. That’s not going to happen.”

  Cady heard her mother’s shocked gasp. “But you have to! Not meeting with the interview committee would reflect very badly on your father and his chance to secure this position. It’s a big church, Cady, with a lot of resources. Since you put that traveling nonsense behind you, you’ve been a model daughter, a credit to us. Highly educated, with your own business. I have no doubt you are an example to others in that sin-filled city.”

  Yeah, Cady Collins, the beacon for clean living. Oh, God, her mother was going to die when she heard her latest news. As for that traveling nonsense, her time in Thailand with Beck was the only time she felt completely herself. Free.

  Loved. For a brief moment in time, she’d felt so loved.

  “It would be a huge step up for him,” her mother droned on. “And when they meet you, they’ll have the proof that we have raised a God-fearing, smart young woman who has her feet firmly on the ground.”

  If the statement wasn’t so sad, she’d roll on the floor and wet herself laughing. “Mom, trust me, you really don’t want me there. Find an excuse and we’ll save a lot of trouble.”

  “I have no idea what you’re rambling about and I don’t have the time to argue with you. We have guests for dinner. Do not disappoint us, Cady,” Edna snapped before she disconnected.

  Cady gently tapped the corner of her phone against the tabletop. She’d left home more than a decade ago, but the urge to please her parents was still strong. In their small rural town in upstate New York, she’d been the popular pastor’s kid. Honor student, cheerleader, student council president, homecoming queen. Pretty, popular, nice. As perfect as she could possibly be.

  She said “please” and “thank you” and “excuse me” and ran errands and never missed church. She didn’t smoke or drink or party or date because she was an “example.” She’d never had the chance to be a regular kid, to mess up, to fail.

  The pressure to be perfect was immense and it was generally accepted that she became an overach
iever because that was what her parents expected. Sure, that was part of the reason, but no one knew that she was terrified of messing up, of doing or saying the wrong thing.

  Of being banished like Will, her older brother.

  As a result, her desire to please her parents still lingered. They wouldn’t be very impressed with her now, she thought, reflecting on the trouble she’d landed herself in. Then again, she was fairly sure that Edna and Bill Collins had been expecting her to mess up again since she’d run off to Southeast Asia with Beck Ballantyne nine years before. She’d wanted to be with Beck more than she’d wanted to please her mom and dad and...boom! Fireworks.

  This latest bombshell would rock their world again. Cady pushed the tips of her fingers into her forehead and held back a whimper. And that was without telling them that her business was rocky and she was running out of options to keep it on the rails.

  “Cady?”

  Cady jerked her head up to see a small blonde and a tall brunette standing next to her table. The blonde looked familiar, but she instantly recognized the classic good looks of Julia Parker, a Fortune 500 business consultant who socialized with the great and good of New York society. Cady would never forget Julia, especially since the woman had recently convinced Trott’s Sports—a corporate sports store that was one of two clients that paid Cady a hefty monthly retainer—to not renew their contract with Collins Consulting.

  Thank God she was still contracted to Natural Fuel, Tom’s company, a chain of health food outlets, to handle their media releases and promotions. Without that contract, she’d be sunk.

  Losing Trott’s had left her with a sizable hole in her business bank account. And without her biggest client. Cady resisted the urge to toss her tomato juice over Julia’s pristine white dress and instead held out her hand to shake. God, sometimes being an adult sucked.

  “Cady Collins, Collins Consulting.”

  Julia immediately made the connection.

  “Trott’s... They couldn’t afford to renew,” Julia murmured, and wrinkled her nose. “Sorry.”

  Cady shrugged.

  “Are you doing okay?”

  Julia’s question surprised her; she didn’t expect her to ask or to sound like she cared. Cady lifted her hands up in a “what can I do” gesture. “It’s tough.”

  “For what it’s worth, I like your work,” Julia stated, and Cady heard and appreciated the sincerity in her statement.

  “Thank you.”

  “You don’t recognize me, do you?” the blonde demanded, pulling their attention back to her, her smile bright and big.

  Cady shook her head.

  “I’m Amy Cook. We met on Phi Phi island when you were traveling with Beck years ago.”

  Beck. Funny, she’d just been thinking about him. Like that’s a coincidence, Cady mocked herself. You’ve been thinking about the man, pretty much constantly, for the best part of the last decade.

  Cady cocked her head and peered at the woman. The image of her with waist-length blond hair and a thong bikini popped into her head. “I remember you. You flirted shamelessly with Beck.”

  “She flirts with everyone. Don’t take it personally,” Julia said, a rich chuckle following her words.

  “Do you live in Manhattan?” Amy demanded. “What do you do? Are you married? Do you have children?”

  Cady didn’t know which question to answer first. Work was easy, the other questions were a tad more complicated. “Um... I live in Brooklyn and I have my own PR company.”

  Amy’s eyes widened. “Really? Seriously?”

  Millions of women worked in PR and many owned their own companies. Why was this such a surprise? Speaking of business, she desperately needed to drum up some, and it wasn’t every day that she bumped into one of the best business consultants in the city, so Cady reached into her tote bag and pulled out a business card.

  She handed Julia the card with a small shrug. “I’d be grateful if you kept me in mind if any of your clients need PR or any marketing help. I’m good, efficient and reasonable.”

  Julia took the card from her and nodded. “I’ll do that.”

  Amy cocked her head, and her dark brown eyes connected with Cady’s. “You didn’t tell me if you’re married or if you have children.”

  Yeah, right. She was not discussing any of those thorny subjects with a woman she’d exchanged ten words with nearly ten years ago.

  Cady looked at the entrance of Bonnets and faked a smile. “Ah, the person I’m waiting for has arrived. It was interesting running into you again, Amy. Nice to meet you, Julia.”

  “But—” Amy protested.

  “Come on.” Julia placed a hand on Amy’s back and pushed her away. “Let’s find someone else you can practice your CIA interrogation skills on.”

  Cady rolled her eyes. Of all the people in the world she’d thought she’d never see again, and whom she never wanted to see again, Amy was at the top of her list. Nearly a decade ago, Beck had tired of Cady and he’d sent her home so that he could sow his wild oats all over the Asian subcontinent. Once Cady left, she was sure Amy had stepped right on into the space, in bed and out, that Cady had occupied in Beck’s life.

  Beck had been and still was the honey that female bees flocked to. She watched his subtle flirting, heard him laughing with Amy, and she’d felt like she couldn’t compete with the blonde bombshell.

  Cady was long, lanky and not overly blessed, as her boyfriend, Tom, told her often enough, in the “boobage” department. But it was more than that. Beck, Amy and the other backpackers they’d met had been just so together, so effortlessly confident. Of course, there were the stoners and weirdos and the lost, but many of the travelers had their lives sorted. They were street-smart and confident and knew where they were going and what to do when they got there.

  Thanks to her protected, insulated childhood, she would’ve been utterly lost without Beck making the decisions for her. Was that why he’d ditched her, because she’d been lacking in self-confidence and because she’d become more of a responsibility than a girlfriend?

  Who knew? He’d been long on termination and short on explanations. He’d just handed her a ticket and stood in line with her at Passport Control. When she’d cleared that, she’d turned back to look at him through the glass walls and saw him walking away, taking a fair share of her shattered heart with him.

  “Cady.”

  Cady looked up and accepted Tom’s quick brush of his lips against her cheek. He sat down opposite her and immediately glanced at his watch. “I have about a half hour before I need to be back in the office. Can we make this quick?”

  Wow, nice to see you, too, Tom. “I thought we were having dinner together?”

  “Can’t. I have some problems at work, so I need to get back to my desk.”

  She was sleeping with her client, and the fact that she was still embarrassed her. Tom dismissed her concerns of their lack of professionalism, saying they were both single and it wasn’t a hanging offense. She’d tried to be okay with it but she’d finally made the decision to call it quits. Fate, however, had other ideas.

  “You look like hell, Cady. What’s up with that?”

  Tom’s jerk quotient always went up when he was stressed, Cady thought. It wasn’t personal, she reminded herself.

  But it sure felt pretty personal. Beck had hurt her when he tossed her away, but he’d never talked to her like this. Then again, Tom Steel wasn’t Beck Ballantyne. Nobody could be.

  Gorgeous, super-smart and highly successful, he’d set the bar pretty high and no man could reach it.

  Let’s get some perspective here, Collins. Beck kicked you out of his life; he sent you away. You expected it from your parents, but not from the man you loved to distraction. Who you thought might love you.

  That had been a very erroneous assumption.
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  Tom’s flat hand hitting the table jolted her back into the present. “Cady! Just say what you have to say, will you?”

  Sure.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  Tom’s low, vicious curse hung in the air between them. “Get rid of it.”

  She’d somehow expected him to say that. “Not an option.”

  Her parents had rid themselves of Will by sending him to live at a residential home when he was thirteen, and Beck had sent her away, too, but she was not prepared to do the same to her child. Sure, a pregnancy wasn’t convenient, but neither had Will’s autism or her falling in love with Beck been convenient.

  You didn’t just erase the problem because you didn’t like the outcome.

  Tom’s face turned paper-white. “I need a drink.”

  Cady watched Tom walk to the bar and hoped that her baby didn’t inherit his knock-kneed walk. Or his lack of height. Or the cowlick just above his right ear.

  He isn’t Beck...

  Damn him for being the entire package, both smart and sexy. A blue-eyed wavy haired blond, Beck looked like he belonged on the cover of a surfing magazine. Long-limbed and muscular, he looked as good in a tuxedo as he did in a pair of swimming shorts. Unlike Beckett, Tom didn’t make her head swim or her heart race and she liked it that way. It was an adult relationship with no teenage hormones and irrationality to cloud her thinking. She certainly never felt short of breath or felt the need to rip Tom’s clothes off.

  She’d been careful with Tom; she hadn’t given him any of her heart. She’d given Beckett everything—including her virginity—only to be dismissed when he’d had enough of her.

  So, yeah, Tom never set her panties, or her heart, on fire and walking away from him was going to be easy. She’d just prefer not to be pregnant while she did it.

  Single and pregnant. Her parents were going to be so proud.