Heiress by Janet Dailey

spinning to circulate the air. But Dean hardly noticed its refreshing draft as he sat slumped on the living-room couch with his head resting on the seat back, his legs stretched out in front of him, and Caroline's dark head pillowed on his stomach. He was glad of the silence. A half a dozen times in the last hour, he had tried to get the words out that would tell her it was better if they didn't see each other again, but every time they'd become lodged in his throat. Regardless of what R.D. said, no matter how he tried, he just couldn't imagine life without her.
    "I like your nose. It has a very noble line."
    Dean glanced down to find Caroline watching him with her dissecting artist's eye. "It does, eh?"
    "Yes." She shifted her position slightly, changing the angle of her head on his stomach to give herself a better view of his face. "Have you ever wondered what a child of ours would look like?"
    "No, I haven't." Such talk was painful to him. It spoke of the future, and Dean wasn't sure they had one. "I think I'll get another beer." He slid a hand under her shoulders and gave her a little push off of him. Obligingly she swung her feet off the couch and sat up. "Want anything?" Dean asked as he walked over to the refrigerator.
    "No."
    He took a long-neck out of the refrigerator and pried the top off with the opener that was lying on the counter beside the cap of his last bottle. Turning, he took a swig of beer and saw Caroline standing by the counter island, her hands stuffed in the side pockets of her shorts.
    "I'm going to have a baby, Dean."
    "You're. . . you're what?" After the first shock of disbelief passed, Dean started to laugh—happily, uproariously. This changed everything. Even R.D. would have to agree to that. There was no other choice now except for him to divorce Babs and marry Caroline. He couldn't allow a child of his to be born illegitimately. The bottle of beer sat forgotten on the countertop as Dean lifted her off the floor, holding her high in the air, and spun around the room.
    "Dean, stop. This is crazy," Caroline protested, but she was smiling, too.
    "Crazy. Wonderful. It's all that and more." He kissed her shoulder, her neck, and her lips before he let her feet touch the floor again.
    "I'm glad you're happy about it."
    "Happy? I'm delirious!" He gazed at her, certain she had taken on a new radiance. "How long have you known?"
    "A couple of weeks."
    "A couple of weeks? Why didn't you tell me before?"
    "I wanted to be sure this was what I wanted. I've always liked children, but I've never seriously thought about having one of my own before. My paintings were always my children. But I had to face the fact that I'm twenty-nine years old. In a few more years, I'll be too old. It's a case of now or maybe never." When she paused to look at him, she lost her serious expression and smiled. Dean was relieved. She had sounded so coldly logical that it had scared him a little. "And besides, I happen to love the father of this baby very much."
    "And I love you, Caroline." He drew her into the circle of his arms and held her close, shutting his eyes tightly as he rubbed his cheek against her hair. "We'll get married as soon as I can arrange the divorce, but I promise you, it will be before the baby is born."
    She seemed very still in his arms. "And then what, Dean?"
    "What do you mean?" He nuzzled her hair, wondering whether it would be a boy or a girl. He still felt a little dazed at the prospect of becoming a father. A father.
    "I mean"—gently but firmly she pushed away from him, creating some space between them—"what will we do? Where will we live?"
    "At River Bend, where else? I'll breed my Arabians and you'll raise our baby—and maybe one or two more—and paint. Maybe we can talk R.D. into turning his billiard room on the third floor into a studio for you."
    "I don't think so." She turned out of his arms and walked a few feet away.
    "It's worth a try. Give him a grandson and R.D. will