Chapter 5

"Mr. Resling, you claim that you were away when the murder took place; is that correct?"

"Yes, it is correct."

She pretended to consult her files, knowing the silence would unnerve him. "I must apologize to the court, but I have an image that puts you in the vicinity about ten minutes away from home. This is you, right? And if there is any doubt, the license plate number is registered to a vehicle you own. Is that you?"

The man looked frightened and hunted, as if he had no idea where to look.

"Mr. Resling?"

"I-I-" He stared at the picture again as if trying to find a way out. "I cannot identify the person." He looked up in triumph as if that settled the matter.

"This clearly-" Ryleigh stepped back as she felt her head spinning and her stomach churning. She was heading into the end of her first trimester, and things were picking up.

"Counselor?" The judge peered at her over his spectacles, a curious look on his weathered face. "Are you all right?"

"I just need a glass of water. Thanks." She told him weakly.

"Go ahead," he waved a hand at her, and they waited while she went to drink the glass of water her second chair poured for her.

"Better?" Judge Henderson asked her mildly as she returned to the witness.

"Yes, your honor." She took a deep breath and directed her gaze to the man, now sweating.

"Mr. Resling, are you trying to tell this court that this is not you driving the vehicle?" She gave him a stern look. "Are you aware of what the penalty is for perjury? Do you know the meaning of the word?"

"I am not a moron." He growled, glaring at his representative. "Why are you not objecting?"

He shouted, eyes glittering. "What the hell am I paying you for?"

"Mr. Resling!" The judge snapped, eyes frosty. "Counselors, please control your client."

"I will not be controlled!" He shouted, erupting from his seat. "Yes, I killed the bitch. She was cheating on me with my cousin and several other men who were not fit to-"

"Your honor-" his lawyers jumped to try and stop him, but it was too late. "May we approach the bench, please?"

"I think that's an excellent idea." Turning to look at the man who was practically foaming at the mouth, the judge added. "Mr. Resling, I would advise you not to say another word-"

"I don't care!" He screeched. "I am glad the bitch is dead. If given the chance, I would kill her again. Worthless bitch!"

"Guards! Restrain this man." The judge ordered.

*****

Ryleigh descended the never-ending steps to lean against the towering pillar, her hand reaching her stomach. She had escaped during the confusion and was cursing that she had chosen to take a cab instead of driving her car. But parking at the courthouse was always impossible.

And she was going to be sick. Right here at the busy courthouse, where tons of people were constantly coming and going, and more than likely a reporter or two lurked around to get a scoop on her, she was swallowing nausea and easing off the cold stone when a car slid to a stop right at her feet.

"Get in." A familiar deep voice ordered just as the passenger door was pushed open.

Straightening up, she did not take the time to wonder what quirk of luck had brought him here at the right moment. Hurrying towards the vehicle, she slid in, unconsciously appreciating the butter-soft leather as it molded to her butt.

Leaning back, she closed her eyes and took several breaths.

"Where to?"

She had almost forgotten the man seated in the driver's seat. Flynn Zimmermann looked larger than life, his thick dark hair windblown, amber eyes alert and sharp. And she had never been so pleased to see anyone in her life.

He seemed solid and knew exactly what was going on with her. What was he doing here in the vicinity when she needed him the most?

"I-" Pressing a hand to her stomach, she doubled over.

"What the hell is it?"

"Pull over." She whispered. "Now."

He did not bother asking any questions. Seeing a break in the busy downtown traffic, he swung right and settled for an empty wooded area near the park due to the icy weather. Before shoving the lever into the park, Ryleigh pushed the door open and raced to the nearby thick oak tree.

Flinging his door open, he raced towards her just in time to see her puking as if she would not stop. He stood helplessly behind her before holding her shoulders and brushing back her hair, which had gotten loose from the tidy chignon.

When she was finished, she leaned back against him weakly, her fingers clutching his as he wrapped his hands around her waist.

"Better?" he murmured.

"Kind of."

"Ready to go back to the car?"

She nodded, and he guided her back and secured the seatbelt. Going to his side, he reached into the back and touched a button. A cabinet slid forward, and he handed her a bottle of water.

Unscrewing the cap, she swished some in her mouth and spat it out the window before drinking the rest. "Thanks. I am ready to go back to work-"

"No." Shoving at the lever, he edged into traffic. "You are going home. Call work and tell them you are through for the day."

His arrogance took her breath away, and she was about to blast him with her ire when she realized he was right. She was not in a position to go back to the office.

Taking the phone out, she called her assistant and briefly told her that she was not feeling well and would be out for the rest of the day. Then she issued some instructions and hung up.

"You need my address."

"I already have it."

"Of course you do." Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes and rubbed her stomach.

"Were you in the neighborhood?"

He sent her an amused look before concentrating on the road. "You might say that."

"You just happened to be there at that precise time?"

"I was in the courtroom," he explained.

She frowned at him. "You were?"

"I was at the bank a few blocks away. And I had an appointment with Judge Grayson. He happened to mention that you were trying a case."

"Does he know our connection?"

"No. He just happened to mention you about another case that you have been struggling with."

"Struggling!" She spluttered. "What the hell does that mean?"

"You are going to have to ask him." He turned into the open gate and stopped the car, his gaze swinging to take in the piles of snow in the yard.

"You need to get someone to do some shoveling. I could get someone-"

"I already have a person."

"Then where the hell is this person?" He demanded as he came out and opened her door.

"He is sick." She gripped his hand and felt the dizziness assailing her again. "Give me a minute."

He did, holding her around the waist and allowing her to lean against him for support.

"Does this happen often?"

"Just a couple of days ago." She said briefly.

"Is this something you must deal with for the next six months?" The thought of that was turning his stomach into knots. He had seen her in the courtroom and guessed what was happening.

"Possibly." She held onto him as they approached the front porch and door. "Hopefully, it will pass in the second trimester."

He helped her inside and into the living room, where the central heating had chipped in.

"Tea?" He asked.

"That would be lovely, and I have some saltines on the left side of the cupboard. You don't have to babysit me. I am sure you have some meetings or appointments-"

"Don't worry about it." His voice was brusque, his face inscrutable as he made his way out of the room.

Shrugging, Ryleigh removed her boots to make herself more comfortable and stretched her legs out on the ottoman.

She had gotten a guilty verdict, that much she was happy for. She had expected the case to be complex, considering that she was still trying to find new evidence to overturn the not-guilty verdict the judge had been forced to hand down where Daley was concerned.

He was her most considerable pain in the ass, and it did not sit well with her that he was evading her clutches and getting off from what he did. She was not going to give up, but since her pregnancy started asserting itself, she was feeling tired, lethargic, and sick most of the time. And quite unable to concentrate on work.

Flynn stopped just inside the doorway, the tray in his hands, a frown on his forehead as he stared at her.

She looked so damned vulnerable and in need of his protection. And she looked thin as if a mighty wind would blow her away. He felt the quick clutch inside his stomach as he stared at her. Sucking in a breath, he cleared his throat as he ventured into the room.

Her eyes flew open, and she watched as he approached her and dragged the table to put the tray next to her. "I added honey."

"Thanks."

"Go ahead."

Without a word, she obeyed and picked up the cup of steaming tea.

"It's hot," he said unnecessarily as she sipped. He was not prepared for the white smile she flashed at him.

"You don't have to stay." she pointed out, staring at him intently.

"I know."

"I know you are a very busy man-"

"Are you trying to get rid of me?" He asked, eyebrows lifting.

"No. It's just that I don't want you to feel obligated to be here."

"I don't," he said briskly. Moving over to the window, he stared at the piles of snow bothering him. Dragging out his phone, he dialed a number.

"Bill, I need you to get your snow plow-" He glanced at her before resuming. "I will text you the address. Drop whatever you are doing and come right away."

"What-"

Shaking his head, he started typing something on the keypad. "I just texted him the address; he should be over in a few minutes." He stood at the window, his back turned toward the glass.

"I told you I had someone."

"Who is ill?"

"He has a cold," she muttered, a frown touching her brow at how easily he had taken over.

"And that cold in this weather could last for weeks."

"You don't have to."

"You could fall and break your neck."

"I am not a moron, and I have lived here for five years."

"Saying what?"

"I know my way around."

"Still.." He nodded to the cup she was holding in her hands. "Drink up."

She bristled at his authoritative tone. "I am not a child."

"You are carrying one, and I had to witness you puking your guts out." Taking his phone out again, he started to dial.

"What now?" She asked in exasperation. "Are you calling your plumber to come and fix the leak in my guest bathroom?"

"Is there a leak in the bathroom?" His expression was bland, his deep voice expressionless. Before she could respond, he started issuing orders to what appeared to be a restaurant, asking them about the soup menu.

"They have chicken, vegetables, bouillabaisse, turtle and Pho. Any specialty?"

When she continued to stare at him, he chose all of them and some sort of flavored rolls before hanging up.

"They should be here in half an hour."

"Are you going to feed me too?" She asked sarcastically, feeling her head spinning at the rapid way he just took over.

"Would you like me to?" His expression was bland, but amusement lurked in his amber eyes.

"No, I don't appreciate you coming in and assuming you could take charge of me. I can damn well take care of myself."

"I am sure you can," he countered smoothly as if trying to appease her anger. "But I am here, and my baby is causing all the worries."

"I am not complaining." She grumbled, taking several more sips of the tea and feeling somewhat mollified. Besides, she had to admit that it felt beautiful for once, just having someone care for her.

She had grown accustomed to doing things for herself. She was independent, and nothing was wrong with that. Glen had made subtle references to the fact that she had such a heavy workload and hinted that it would have to change when she was his wife.

"Good." Moving away from the window, he came and pulled up a chair in front of her. "I am here," he told her soberly. "Because I want to be."

Ryleigh felt as if she were drowning in his eyes' liquid gold. Sliding her gaze away, she stared down into the swirling warmth of the herbal tea.

"Why are you doing this?"

His deep voice had her looking at him.

"Doing what?"

"Being a surrogate?"

Her tapered brows lifted. "Isn't that a little too late to wonder about that?"

"It is, but I never had the chance to inquire about the reason. Why?"

She shrugged and took several more sips of the tea, and he waited expectantly.

"I wanted to help Julia." She rolled her eyes at the skeptical look on his face, and he had to bite back a laugh.

"Try again, and this time, do your best to be more convincing."

She tried to stare him out of countenance, but when that did not work, she seized on a topic engineered to distract him: "You know Judge Grayson."

His thick eyebrows lifted, letting her know he realized what she was trying to do.

"Okay, fine." She grumbled. "I needed something to take my mind off - off things."

"By things, you mean the fact that the asshole you were engaged to prefer men?" he asked bluntly.

Ryleigh felt like she was drowning in humiliation and wishing she was elsewhere. Lifting her chin, she eyed him squarely. "Yes, that's it in a nutshell."

"So, how do you think this is going to work?" he persisted, making her want to pour the rest of the tea over his expensive silk sweater. "You are hoping that carrying a baby who, at the end of nine months or thereabouts, will be handed over to someone else, which is me, then what? You go ahead and become a surrogate for someone else?

Are you going to make this your thing now?" He was ruthless, but the thought of her carrying someone else's seed inside her was making him ill for some reason and very upset.

"Why are you doing this?" she whispered.

Feeling disgusted with himself, he pushed away and stood up. He was about to say something, make some sort of apology, when the doorbell sounded.

"That should be the food." He turned and strode from the room, leaving her shaken and upset. How dare he question her like that? Who the hell did he think he was? She had decided on this and was doing him a favor.

Where the hell did he get off, passing judgments? She was going to tell him to go away. She certainly did not need his help and was perfectly capable of caring for herself. And besides, she wanted to be alone to think, ponder, and perhaps sleep.

She heard his footsteps on the hardwood floor and realized he was approaching the kitchen. She did not want him to help her anymore; he could just leave her house and go on his business. With that in mind, she put the tea away and struggled to get up when she felt the room spinning.

"Oh crap." She whispered, grabbing for the top of the chair. He chose that moment to walk into the room with a bowl of the most delicious-smelling soup.

"What is it?" Finding a place to put the soup down, he rushed over and quickly avoided the hands she was using to push him away, scooping her into his arms. "Dizzy?"

"Yes." She was so tired; she welcomed his strong arms around her and the feel of his solid chest. Snuggling against the man she had every intention of booting out, Ryleigh closed her eyes as he strode from the room and bounded up the stairs.

"Where?"

"The door is open."

Flynn made his way into the surprisingly ultra-feminine room, which had a thick valance and colorful quilt on the bed, and laid her against the pillows.

"What should I get you?"

"The soup."

He frowned at her. "Are you certain you can stomach it?"

She nodded, a smile tugging at her lips. "If I cannot hold the spoon, you can always volunteer to feed me."

The idea was so appealing to him that he felt himself staring at her before turning and leaving the room.

Bounding down the stairs, he went into the living room to put the soup onto the tray and found himself standing there and staring at the faux fireplace with the pretty picture above it. He was very protective of her, so much he could admit even to himself. And seeing her leaning against that column had tugged at something in his heart.

Now that he was here with her, he did not want to leave, which was bothering him. And he tried to slide into bed next to her. He had carried her in his arms up the stairs, and the feel of her slender curves against him had sent a rush of lust straight to his loins. He would have to get out of here as soon as possible.

He had work to do. He was busy, and the office complex had some problems attached to it, so he needed to sort it out. He had meetings with his lawyers, something he had been avoiding and should no longer put off. While he was here playing babysitter, he was falling behind. But damn, if he did not want to stay.

Letting out a breath, he left the room and went back upstairs.

"I thought you were making the soup all over." Her dark brown eyes were too direct, and she felt like they were staring into his soul.

"I had to make a call." He lied as he placed the tray over her lap. "Are you going to puke again?"

She smiled wryly at his bluntness. "I won't know until I have eaten. I suggest you stay clear just in case,"

Instead of doing so, he sat on the edge of the bed and watched as she lifted the spoon to her lips. A smile tugged at his lips as her eyes widened. "This is damn good. It's the bouillabaisse?"

He nodded. "You never had it before?" He nodded in approval as she scooped up another spoonful and ate.

"No. I am not much of a soup person."

His phone rang just then, and he excused himself to go over to the sofa to take the call. She had the opportunity to watch him discreetly as he spoke on the phone, his deep voice lowered. She found herself wondering if he was involved with someone.

She knew he had been involved in a scandal involving the woman he had been seeing and his uncle some time ago. But aside from that, she knew nothing about his personal life. He was tall, she realized, possibly topping six foot three inches, and his muscles were well-defined.

His shoulders were broad, the silk of his sweater stretched across the width, and his legs were long and powerful. She had felt his strength when he carried her up the stairs, and the scent of his cologne was still in her nostrils.

Dragging her eyes away from the raw masculinity he was exuding, she concentrated on the soup.