She rolled her eyes. Okay, she knew what he was doing here. She just hadn’t expected him to actually follow her back to Shady Grove. Especially after he’d reacted the way she should have known he would, by blaming her, ditching his responsibility and going on his merry way, letting her and the baby go on theirs.

She turned left at the top of the stairs, went to the second room and unlocked the door for him, shoving it open. “Come on.”

“So gracious,” Clinton murmured, brushing past her, the scent of his cologne taking her back to their night together. And the day last week when she’d been at his apartment. “No wonder you’re the chef here and not hostess.”

“I’m the chef here because I’m good at what I do,” she said, shutting the door behind them. “Played Nancy Drew yourself, did you? Tracked me down and all that?”

“I didn’t actually do the tracking down myself.”

He turned, his big body looking out of place in the feminine room with its soft blue walls and floral quilt. He put his suitcase on the bed. He wore a suit, much like the ones she’d already seen him in, but this one was slate gray.

How many expensive suits did one man need?

“What do you mean, you didn’t do it yourself?” she asked, her eyes narrowed.

“I had someone else find you—though I’m sure I could have managed to do so myself. Shady Grove isn’t that big, after all.”

No, it wasn’t, and Ivy was easy enough to find. Plus, she wasn’t hiding. She had no reason to hide. Nothing to be ashamed of.

“Your coworker doesn’t know you’re pregnant?” he asked.

“Fay is my boss and yes, she knows. She just doesn’t know who the sperm donor is.” As Ivy had hoped, his mouth flattened at that. “And don’t think I’m going to thank you for not spitting it out about our night together.”

But she was grateful to him, and she didn’t want to be. If she owed him, he’d take advantage of that. Would use that against her in the future.

“Any reason you don’t want her to know I’m possibly the father?”

She strolled to the dresser. Picked up the antique hand mirror that was sitting there. “Such as this all being a big ruse meant to drain you of your piles and piles of gold?” She shook her head. “Nope.”

“Then why not let her know?”

“I hadn’t planned on telling anyone about our...connection. Why bother? I have your check, and you have my promise not to bother you again. Though why you’re here, I have no idea.” She set the mirror down. Linked her hands at her waist. “So...why are you here? Really?”

“I didn’t handle things well,” he said, his voice gruff, his gaze steady, “when you came to Houston.”

“You don’t say?” she asked so drily, she was surprised puffs of sand didn’t come out of her mouth.

“I was shocked. Upset. I don’t think that makes me a bad guy. We don’t know each other, and it seemed as if you may have planned all of this.”

“Well, I must be some freaking genius,” she said, sitting in the armchair next to the window and crossing her legs. “Imagine putting this plan together so flawlessly. Let’s see, first of all, I had to know you were going to be at that party and I had to know you’re not just some random, good-looking, smooth-talking cowboy but the heir apparent to some huge corporation. That you’re worth more money than God and you’d be alone that night and in the mood for company.”

Clinton sat on the corner of the bed, his lips pursed. “I guess that might be a bit far-fetched. But you did know who I was before we slept together.”

“I knew you were Charlotte’s future brother-in-law. Someone I found attractive. Someone I wanted to spend the night with. That was all it was supposed to be. And if I remember correctly, you were the one who came on to me first. You paid Gracie to come fetch me like some errant puppy.”

He had the grace to look abashed. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

She winked at him. “Well, you talked to me all right.”

“I just... It’s dangerous sleeping with someone you don’t know.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Really? A lecture on morals? Not knowing me didn’t seem to bother you when we were in your room. If I recall, you were all for it. Don’t play that double standard with me. I was attracted to you. I enjoy sex. So I slept with you. Thought that would be the end of it. Instead, it’s not. Now we both have to deal with it.”

He blew out a breath. “I’d like to talk to your doctor.”

She couldn’t blame him for wanting proof of the pregnancy and of his paternity. What she blamed him for was wanting to know so he could be a part of the baby’s life. She knew the score here. She had nothing. Well, except their baby growing inside of her. While he had everything. Money. Power. Enough to make her life a living hell.

Enough to take her child from her if he chose.

“I have an appointment next week,” Ivy said. “But I’m not sure how far along I have to be for her to do a paternity test.”

“You’d allow one?”

“I would. But not so I can lay claim to your fortune. If you want to be a part of the baby’s life, I can’t stop you. But I’m not about to change my life to make that happen. You’ll have to play by my rules.”

“If you don’t want money—”

“Hey now, who said I don’t want money? I have your check for fifty grand, remember? Don’t think you’re getting that back.”

He linked his hands between his knees. “Okay, if you’re not after more money, why did you tell me? We both know you could have easily kept this from me. As far as I know, no one knew we were together that night and the chances of us running into each other in the future were slim. You could have gone on your way, could have had the baby, and I never would have known.”

“Because it was the right thing to do,” she said. But maybe she owed him more of an explanation. She wasn’t sure. She was so used to being on her own. Of not having to explain her actions or choices to anyone.

She hadn’t wanted to seek him out. She would have preferred to raise the baby on her own—would still prefer that. But the thought of having the conversation she’d had with her own mother time after time made her sick. Of her child asking her who her father was, where he was and her not being able to answer.

Whether Melba withheld the truth for her own selfish reasons or just to hurt Ivy, to punish her for being born, Ivy wasn’t sure. But not knowing where she’d come from haunted her. She wouldn’t do that to her child.

“I never knew my dad,” she admitted slowly. “And I don’t think he ever knew about me. I always thought that was unfair. That maybe he wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with me, but he should have had the choice. So I’m giving you the choice.”

He nodded. “I appreciate it.”

Clinton seemed sincere, and she wondered if she’d been wrong about him. But then she remembered what he’d said about not doing the tracking down to find her. “How did you find me?” she asked. “How did you know I’m the chef here?”

“I hired a private investigator.”

She froze. Everything inside her seemed to still. “You hired someone to find me?”

“Yes.”

She wasn’t sure she wanted to ask the next question, let alone hear the answer. “What else did you hire this professional Nancy Drew to do?”

“Actually, he’s more like Magnum PI, from what I understand. Right down to the mustache. And he found out where you lived. Worked.”

She had a bad feeling about this. “You looked into my past.”

He lifted a shoulder as if it was nothing, instead of a huge invasion of privacy. “He ran a background check on you, yes.”

She slowly got to her feet. “I see. And what did you discover?”

Now he shifted. He damn well should shift. He had no right—no freaking right—to investigate her that way. “He found out you’ve lived in Shady Grove your entire life—”

“I believe I already told you that.”

“You wouldn’t even tell me your last name that night,” he said, climbing to his feet, also. “You weren’t exactly forthcoming then or when you were in Houston. You drop a bombshell on me—oh, by the way, I’m pregnant with your child so just believe every word I say because I say it—then walk away. You didn’t leave me much of a choice.”