Blue Skies by Catherine Anderson Page A

was to slam the door in his face and run to the bedroom. Instead, she stood there, clinging to the door for support. “Hello, Hank.”
    He shifted his weight, bending one knee and cocking a hip. Dressed in faded jeans and a blue shirt, he looked exactly as she remembered, the very epitome of rugged strength. When he grinned, flashing even, white teeth, her heart bumped against her ribs, and she couldn’t help but stare at his mouth, remembering how she’d felt when he kissed her. The memory infuriated her and filled her with shame. How could she have been so witless? Their encounter had meant nothing to him. She had meant nothing to him. He probably slept with a different woman every weekend.
    “Go away,” she managed to squeeze out.
    He braced a hand on the doorframe. “You know I can’t do that, Carly. I spoke to Bess on the phone last night. I know about the baby.”
    “Bess told you?” Carly’s sense of betrayal came hard and fast.
    “Someone had to. It is my child. I had a right to know.”
    Bess knew how Carly felt about seeing Hank again. “And she gave you our address as well?”
    “No, no.” He held up a hand. “She wouldn’t tell me where you lived. I had your phone number. A friend of mine ferreted out your address.”
    Carly pressed a protective hand over her stomach. She didn’t like the determined glint in his eyes. As an undergraduate, she’d known girls who accidentally got pregnant, and she remembered very well how most of their boyfriends had reacted. Get rid of it . If Hank had come here, hoping to convince her to do something like that, he had another think coming.
    “I’m sorry for not recognizing your name when you called last night. With all the noise at the bar, I thought you said your name was Charlie. It took me a second to make the connection, and by then, you’d hung up. It wasn’t that I didn’t remember you. I even went back to the bar and put out feelers, hoping to find you. If you don’t believe me, call Chaps and ask Gary, the bartender.”
    “At this point, I don’t really care if you remembered me or not.” Even as Carly said the words, her heart panged. “I just want you to go away.”
    He dragged a boot heel over the doormat. “You’re carrying my child.” His voice dipped to a husky timbre. “I can’t walk away from that.”
    “I’m not giving you an option.”
    He locked gazes with her, his blue eyes suddenly sharp and piercing. No smile softened his expression now. “I’d like to talk to you about how we should handle this.”
    Trembling, Carly said, “I’m having this baby. If you’re here to offer me money for an abortion, you can forget the idea as quickly as you forgot me. My baby isn’t a mistake to be rectified. Is that clear?”
    “Crystal clear. I’m not here to suggest anything of the sort. Will you ask me in and hear what I do have to say?”
    “You can say it on the porch.”
    Carly didn’t care if she sounded hateful. She’d behaved so foolishly that night. Every cliche she’d ever heard seemed to apply—acting like a besotted idiot at the top of the list.
    Frowning, he straightened and hooked his thumbs over his belt. “Do you really want everyone in this apartment complex to hear our business?”
    “ Our business? There is no we in this equation.”
    That glint crept into his eyes again. “Let me rephrase that. Do you want everybody to know your business, namely that you’re pregnant with my kid?”
    “It’s a baby, not a kid, and it’s mine, not yours.” Her stomach rolled, and the sauerkraut she’d so greedily gobbled for breakfast sent a rush of acid up the back of her throat. “I won’t contact you in five years with my hand out, if that’s your worry. You can walk away, never look back, and pretend this never happened.”
    “Is that what you think I want—to just walk away?”
    “I don’t really care what you want.”
    “No matter what your opinion of me, that doesn’t negate the fact that I’m the