Claimed: The Pregnant Heiress by Day Leclaire Read Free Book Online

information? What was he, a Borg? He’d already assimilated all he needed to know. Emma was pregnant and she’d pasted a big, fat red arrow over his head, labeled Daddy. Still, it wasn’t worth arguing with her, not when she didn’t feel well. Since she couldn’t go home without his driving her there, she couldn’t very well control what he chose to say or discuss between now and then. Nor would he allow her to leave without feeding her first. Feeding their child. He shot a hand through his hair. Aw, hell.
    â€œGet dressed, sweetheart. I’ll freshen up your tea and crackers.”
    â€œThanks. I’m actually starting to feel a little hungry.”
    She joined him a short time later and he smiled at the droop of his running shorts on her daintier frame, while something visceral swept through him at the sight of her breasts outlined by the thin cotton of his T-shirt. Were they larger due to the pregnancy, or was it his imagination?
    â€œSince you said you were hungry, I opened up a very mild bean dip to go with the crackers, if you want. Or, if you’re in the mood for eggs, I can scramble up some more.”
    â€œMore?”
    He shrugged. “I made some earlier. The trashcan says thank you.”
    She smiled at that. “Believe it or not, the bean dip sounds great. Do you have any fruit?”
    Good thing he’d decided to pick up a few of the basic necessities from each food group. Even better, he actually considered fruit a food group. “In the fridge.”
    She pulled out an orange and proceeded to strip away the rind and section it, then went back for a kiwi and some black grapes. Satisfied with her selection, she arranged the dip, crackers and fruit onto plates, her artistry impressing the hell out of him. Then, with uncanny accuracy she crossed to the cupboard that contained place mats and linen napkins and proceeded to set the table with the same style and eye appeal.
    â€œOkay, how do you do that?” he demanded.
    Her smile grew. “Years of practice entertaining my father’s clients. My mother—” She faltered for a split second before continuing. “My mother was an artist. I guess I inherited her eye for color and space.”
    â€œDo you paint?”
    Emma took a seat at one of the chairs surrounding the glass breakfast table and waved him to the one opposite her. “Not so much as a brush stroke.” She unfolded the napkin and placed it in her lap. Even when enjoying a casual breakfast dressed in his running clothes, she exuded a natural elegance in the way she sat and moved. “I’m lucky if I can draw a straight line.”
    â€œBut you wish you could draw,” he guessed shrewdly.
    She nibbled on a cracker smeared with bean dip. “You’re right. I do.”
    â€œMaybe our baby will inherit her abilities,” he said, deliberately introducing the subject of Emma’s pregnancy.
    â€œLet’s hope that’s all he or she inherits,” Emma murmured.
    His gaze sharpened and he made a mental note to research Ronald’s late wife. Chase vaguely remembered some sort of scandal from his youth, but couldn’t quite recall the details. It must have been after he’d moved to New York to live with his father. He didn’t think his mother had ever mentioned it, though she hadn’t moved in the same circles as the Worths then—or now.
    â€œFair enough. You don’t want certain characteristics of your mother to show up, and I have to admit there are a few anomalies I’d just as soon any son or daughter of mine didn’t chip off the old genetic block.” He paused, then asked, “Should I assume you plan to keep the baby?”
    â€œThat’s the only part of this you can assume. I will have the baby and I’m not considering adoption. I…” She caught her lower lip between her teeth. “I couldn’t. I couldn’t give my baby