Reclaiming His Pregnant Widow by Tessa Radley

“Never.”
    â€œJust wait,” she said darkly. “I promise I’ll change your mind.”
    â€œWhy? What did you do this time?”
    â€œThis time?” objected Clea. Her order decided, she set the menu down. “That makes it sound like I regularly get into scrapes, and I’d like to remind you that when we were younger it was you who were always in trouble!”
    â€œI’ve reformed,” Harry said piously.
    Clea snorted in disbelief. “Just gotten better at concealing it.”
    â€œUnfair! Remember who had to break the news of your marriage to your father?”
    â€œI remember,” she said with feeling.
    How could she ever forget? Her father had been furious, even though Harry tried his best to run interference on behalf of her and Brand. His help had only exacerbated her father’s rage. Clea ended up wishing she hadn’t given in to Harry’s suggestion to do her dirty work, and broken the news herself. She’d been so feeble in those days. But then she’d been young…and naive.
    â€œSo what have you done now?”
    She groaned and dropped her chin into cupped hands. “Brand thinks the baby is yours.”
    Harry did a double take. “He thinks what? ”
    Clea bit her lip. “He thinks I’m pregnant with your child.”
    â€œThat’s what you told him?”
    It was difficult to gauge Harry’s reaction. For the first time in her life, Clea couldn’t read him. He certainly wasn’t as irritated as she’d expected. But neither was he laughing. “Not quite.”
    â€œSo how did he get it so wrong?”
    She started to feel awkward. “It’s hard to explain.”
    â€œTry.”
    â€œBrand was being…difficult.” How best to make Harry understand why she’d done it? “He assumed—”
    â€œThat I was your boyfriend?” Harry closed his menu and put it down. “And you didn’t correct him?”
    Clea wriggled uncomfortably in her seat. “I…he was behaving like a jerk.”
    â€œClea! This is almost as crazy as your mad idea to have a baby in the first place.”
    â€œHarry, please.” Clea reached for a linen napkin,unfolded it and laid it on her lap. “I’ve had enough recriminations about that from Dad. Can we not go there?”
    Leaning back in his chair, Harry assessed her. “So how did Brand react?”
    â€œHow do you imagine he reacted?”
    â€œBadly,” said Harry, waving away the waiter approaching to take their order.
    She nodded. “That’s an understatement.”
    â€œPoor Clea.”
    That made her feel even more wretched. “Of course, I’m going to have to tell him that it’s not true. It’s not fair to embroil you in…” Clea couldn’t think of the right word to describe the bitter divide that separated her and Brand so she finally settled for “…our problems.” What should’ve been a time of happiness with Brand back, had become riddled with bitterness and turmoil.
    â€œClea…” Harry pulled his chair around the table and draped an arm across her shoulders. “I hate to see you like this. We’ve been friends for a long time, right?”
    She nodded, afraid to speak in case the tears that thickened the back of her throat spilled out.
    â€œRemember that time I drank too much at William Hartwell’s wedding reception and got pounced on by his beaky-nosed cousin? The one everyone except drunk ol’ me knew was looking for a meal ticket to keep her in Moët and truffles for the rest of her life?”
    She choked back a sound that was half laugh, half sob. “That was different. You were incapacitated—I had to rescue you from a fate worse than death.”
    â€œYou told me I owed you.”
    â€œYou do!”
    The memory caused Clea to smile wanly. If looks could have fried, William’s cousin would’ve