Disillusionment seeped through her veins like a chilly IV flooding through her system. Even though she’d assured herself she didn’t need him, she’d hoped for…something…anything more than this.
Their kiss a few minutes earlier meant nothing to him. She meant nothing to him. And she needed to numb herself so he meant nothing to her.
Lilah pulled in a steeling breath, a trick she’d learned early on to keep her cool when her insides threatened to bubble over with too much unruly emotion. “I’ve done my part by informing you. A paternity test after the baby is born will confirm I’m telling you the truth. And you’re going to feel like a royal jerk when you’re faced with the proof.”
Determined to leave with her pride, Lilah held her head high as she fought back the urge to cry over how terribly the confrontation had gone. While she hadn’t expected exuberant cheers by any stretch, she’d hoped for acceptance, followed by stalwart emotional support as they agreed to spell out the practical details of bringing a child into the world. Carlos was a private, reserved man, but he’d always been quietly honorable. Even after his cold shoulder recently, she’d expected better from him than this.
She closed the door with a quiet but firm click, wishing her aching heart was as easy to seal off.
The click of the closing door echoed in his ears, along with the first hints of doubt.
Carlos leaned back against his desk, staring at the space where Lilah had stood seconds before. She’d seemed so certain. In all the years they’d known each other, she’d been an honest woman—a boardroom shark in fighting for the hospital—but always frank and truthful. He admired that about her. For years, in fact, he’d used that admiration of her character to temper his more…primal response to her.
What if…
The possibility of actually being a father rocked his balance far more than the injuries that still caused him to limp to this day. He flattened his clammy palms against the legs of his green hospital scrubs.
While he’d engaged in a number of careful affairs over the years, never had he let a woman truly break through his laser focus on his work. But Lilah was different. He was damn impressed by the way she fought for the hospital, stood up to million-dollar donors and politicians when it came to patients’ rights—hell, the way she faced down even him when he dug in his heels too deeply and lost focus on the bigger picture. She had a sharp mind and she wielded it artfully in her profession.
Would she use those same skills against him even now if she thought it would benefit her child?
His father had taught all three of his sons not to trust anyone, anytime. Everybody had a price, including the cousin who had sold out their escape plan. The queen, his mother, Beatriz Medina had died as a result of the ambush that ensued on their way out of San Rinaldo. Carlos had spent his teenage years undergoing surgeries to recover from the gunshot wounds. That he could walk at all was considered a miracle. Doctors told him to be grateful for that much, even if he would never have biological children.
Could he trust Lilah?
As much as he trusted anyone, which wasn’t much. God forbid the press should get a hold of this tidbit before he settled the issue. He needed to provide Lilah with concrete proof while keeping matters quiet.
First step, arrange to have the lab run a sperm count test. As much as he balked at the invasion of his privacy, the current results would end this once and for all.
The pesky “what if” smoked through his mind again, the possibility that through some inexplicable miracle her kid turned out to be his after all. Then, he needed to keep Lilah close at hand until the baby could be tested.
Because if against all odds she carried a Medina, nothing would stop him from claiming his child.
Suddenly weary to her toes, Lilah sagged against the closed door. The reception area outside Carlos’s office echoed with emptiness, thank goodness. But there was no telling how much longer before his secretary, Wanda, returned to her desk. Her computer already scrolled a screen saver photo of her dozen grinning grandchildren at the Port Defiance Zoo.
Lilah squeezed her eyes closed. The memory of her argument with Carlos rang in her ears. Her belly churned with nausea, unusual for this late in the day. She still battled morning sickness and, no question, upset emotions made it worse. She curved a hand protectively over her stomach, the baby bump barely discernable so early in the pregnancy. Carlos hadn’t even noticed when he’d pulled her camisole from her waistband. But she could feel the changes in her body, the swollen tenderness of her br**sts, a heightened sense of smell and an insatiable nightly craving for marinated artichokes, a food she had previously hated. While circumstances were far from perfect, she loved her baby with a fierceness that still overwhelmed her at times.
A lock of hair slithered over her cheek and she realized her French twist must be wrecked from Carlos’s hands as they’d kissed in his office. Her ni**les tingled in lingering awareness of just how fast and high he could stoke desire inside her. She plucked pins from her hair and let the rest slide free around her shoulders, not as professional as she preferred at work, but no doubt better than the sexed-up mess she’d been seconds ago.
For her child’s sake, she needed to think rationally rather than with her emotions—or her welling hormones. Carlos obviously believed he was sterile and had only her word that the baby was his. While she wanted to think four years of friendship would have convinced him of her trustworthiness, that clearly wasn’t the case. He was a reserved and private man by nature. His aloofness—hell, his inaccessibility—the past months let her know their friendship wasn’t as deep as she’d believed. That she’d been forced to chase him down in the shower to tell him…
Releasing another trapped breath, she refused to get wound up again. She needed to take a step back from him and wait. Time would prove his paternity.
Content she’d regained even ground, Lilah straightened just as the door to the hall opened. She tucked the handful of bobby pins into her jacket pocket and smoothed a hand over her hair to clear any signs of her clench from Wanda’s perceptive eyes. There was a reason they called Lilah “The Iron Lady” around this place, and she intended to keep her reputation intact.
The door opened wider, revealing…not Wanda. Lilah tensed for a second, concerned about the press infiltrating the multiple layers of security she’d put in place. Then she recognized one of their newer radiologists, Nancy Wolcott. Her lab coat sported multiple decorative buttons on the lapel. Nancy had once relayed she wore the nonregulation “flair” to put her younger patients at ease. She must be working on the surgical case Carlos was so concerned about.