felt brokenhearted, betrayed and mortified at the same time. But most of all she hurt for Zach. This was no way for him to discover the truth.
Until now, she’d held on to a fragile hope that Zach might be missing her as much as she missed him, and that given time, he would change his mind and come back to her.
Thurman’s story extinguished all such hope.
She felt like weeping, not just for herself, but for the baby she was carrying.
Then a reporter sprang out of nowhere and called her name. When she turned, he took her picture.
“Gram, I’ve got to talk to Zach.”
A week had passed since Thurman’s story had hit the stands. Zach was still refusing to take her calls. His secretary was impatient whenever Summer called his office and left a message. So she’d called Gram, hoping for her help.
“But I thought that he and you…that it was…over,” Gram said.
“It is,” Summer said softly. “I’ve called him so many times, and he won’t talk to me. But that’s not the worst. Gram, I’m pregnant. I don’t know how it happened…because we were always careful.”
“It was meant to be,” Gram said in her know-it-all way.
“No,” Summer replied, knowing Gram couldn’t be right. “What this means is that in spite of everything that’s wrong between us, I’ve got to talk to him.”
“Nick told Moxie Brown, who told Sammy, who told me that Zach has fired the contractor he’d hired to remodel that old Thibodeaux place and has put it up for sale. Nick said that big gambling boat of his is arriving at the end of the week. So, Zach’s coming to town to inspect it.”
Summer let out a breath. Finally, she’d caught a break. Once the play opened, she’d be doing eight shows a week. It would be very difficult for her to take time off. Paolo would pitch a fit, but maybe she could sneak in an overnight trip home.
She couldn’t make the same mistake she’d made the first time they’d broken up, when he’d put up roadblocks and she’d given up on telling Zach the truth about their little girl.
She had to see him one last time-to tell him face-to-face about the baby they’d lost and this precious baby that she was carrying.
Their baby.
Summer barely glanced at the chain-link fence covered with No Trespassing notices meant to keep out the press. And her. Nor did she take note of the large sign over the gate that blared in big red letters, No Admittance. Employees Only.
Hunched over, with a pink pashmina covering her hair, Summer rushed past a uniformed man.
“Ma’am, you can’t go in there. Ma’am…”
Running now on her ice-pick heels, Summer ignored the burly individual in the hard hat and brown uniform as she sped toward the dock where Zach’s magnificent floating gambling palace was now secured.
“Ma’am!”
What luck! There he was.
Every muscle in her body tensed. Then she forced herself to let out a breath.
Holding a clipboard and pen, Zach stood in the middle of a dozen men. His stance, with long legs spread slightly apart, reminded her of a large cat who looked relaxed but was coiled to spring. His face was hard, and he was talking fast. The other men, their heads cocked toward him, held clipboards and pens, too. Those standing beside him were frowning in frustration as they wrote furiously in an effort to keep up.
“Zach,” she cried, pink heels clattering as she ran farther out onto the dock.
She wore a soft pink dress. The bodice clung and its skirt swirled around her hips. Once he’d accused her of dressing to be desirable. Well, today she’d given it her best shot. She’d gone shopping and had deliberately picked a sexy dress for this confrontation.
All the men stopped talking at once. She let her pashmina slide to her shoulders.
Jaws fell. Zach spun, then hissed in a breath at the sight of her. Even though his eyes went icy and hard, she’d seen the split-second spark of attraction her appearance had caused. She’d caught him off guard in front of his men, exposed his vulnerability, and she knew he hated that.
Grief that he was hers no longer, that she couldn’t run into his arms, slashed through her like a knife.
He didn’t look as sure or confident as he had the last time she’d seen him. His face was thinner; his eyes shadowed.
“Get her out of here,” he ordered, his frigid voice radiating antagonism.
“Sorry, Mr. Torr. Ma’am, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave,” the burly man said behind her.
She had only seconds before she’d be forced to go.
“Zach,” she cried. “I’ve got to talk to you.”
“Too bad. I’m in a meeting.” Slamming on a pair of dark glasses, he turned away.
The burly man grabbed her arm and began to tug her gently in the direction of the exit. “Please, ma’am…”
Frantic, she struggled to free herself. “Zach… You’ve got to listen to me.”
The man’s grip hardened. “Come on, ma’am.”
“Zach! Please!”
His face tight and determined, Zach tapped his pen against his clipboard and continued to ignore her.
She didn’t want to tell him like this-not when he was surrounded by other people. She didn’t. But what were her choices?
“Zach, I’m pregnant!”
Zach had selected the elegant office onboard his ship as a place where they could be alone, but the space felt cramped and airless to Summer as Zach subjected her to a thorough, intimate appraisal. Never had she found his arresting face more handsome, but when she searched its hard, angular planes for a trace of sympathy, she found none.
His eyes were so intense and cold, they made her feel almost faint with grief.
“Zach…” For a second, everything in her vision darkened except his face, which blurred in swirling pinpricks of light.
His hard arms reached for her, steadied her, led her to a chair, where she gulped in a sweet breath of air.
“Are you okay?” he demanded.
“I-I’m fine.”
He stood over her, watching her carefully to make sure.
“Zach, I didn’t want to tell you the news like that…in front of your men…when you were so furious. But I had to tell you face-to-face. I didn’t want to leave a message with your secretary, or for some reporter to accost you with questions because I was having our child.”
“Oh, really? You didn’t bother to tell me the last time you were pregnant. Are you eager to share this child with me since I’ve got money now? And when do you intend to tell the press, so as to heighten your box-office draw? Frankly, I’m surprised you didn’t bring the hounds with you today.”
Again Zach’s eyes had become emotionless. She felt as if her heart were freezing and dying. It was as if, instead of her, he saw some cruel, cunning stranger.
She took a deep breath. “No… Why would I… You can’t, you can’t believe I’m that low.”
“You’re wrong.”
“I want to protect our baby. And I have my own income, I’ll have you know. So, money is the last thing I need from you.”
“I’ll set up an account and do what’s necessary. But the less I see or hear from you, the better. In the future,
