Free Claimed: The Pregnant Heiress by Day Leclaire Page B

driver’s side window lowered. “Call someone to come and rescue you. I’m sure you won’t have any trouble if you offer the right price.” And with that, she drove off.
    That went well, Chase congratulated himself. Maybe forhis next career he should consider diplomacy. Clearly, he was a natural. He reached in his trouser pocket for his BlackBerry. It wasn’t until he accessed it that he realized that at some point during their embrace in the car, they’d swapped phones again.
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    Damn it, damn it, damn it!
    Emma deliberately slowed her descent from the bluff, giving careful focus to the curves of the road. How could she have allowed herself to fall into Chase’s arms again? There wasn’t one thing, not one single item, that the two of them shared in common other than their baby.
    Well, and their sexual reaction to each other.
    No. She refused to consider that something they had in common. Not any longer. She didn’t care how gorgeous a body Chase possessed, or the fact that it rippled with lean, ropy muscles. Or how aesthetically appealing his hard, masculine features were. Or how attractive she found the sharp intelligence in those storm cloud-blue eyes. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel. Or how amazing that mouth of his felt against her lips. Against her skin. Against—
    Her BlackBerry warbled from the backseat and with an exclamation of annoyance, she pulled over to the side of the road and threw the car in Park. She turned to check the backseat and realized that at some point her purse had been upended and all the various sundries she felt obliged to carry around were scattered across the plush carpeting.
    She recovered the phone and took the call. “If this is you, Chase, you can just forget about it. I’m not coming back for you.” A long pause followed her outburst and she realized she really should have checked the caller ID before speaking. “Chase?”
    â€œActually, I’m trying to reach Chase.” The deep cool voice rumbled in her ear. “Who is this and why are you answering his phone?”
    â€œThis isn’t his phone, it’s—” She broke off. Oh, no. Please,please, please don’t let it have happened again. They couldn’t have mixed up their phones. Not again. She retreated into the sort of unruffled formality that had been drummed into her from birth. “Who is this, please?”
    â€œRafe Cameron.”
    It just figured. It truly did. “I don’t suppose you called the wrong number?” she asked hopefully.
    â€œDoubtful. I have Chase on both speed and voice dial. Mind telling me who this is?”
    She didn’t want to tell him. She really didn’t. It would raise far too many questions, questions she wasn’t prepared to answer at this point in time. “I’ll give Chase your message,” she said abruptly and disconnected the call.
    Then she lowered her head to the leather-padded steering wheel. It took every ounce of self-possession to keep from weeping. Hormones, no doubt. She’d heard about them affecting pregnant women. It would appear she was about to have firsthand experience.
    As soon as she recovered her composure, she executed a cautious U-turn and returned to Busted Bluff. Chase stood in the shade beneath a eucalyptus tree, his arms folded across his chest, simply waiting. She pulled up next to him, refusing to so much as glance his way when he opened the door and slid into the seat beside her. She tossed his BlackBerry in his direction.
    â€œYour brother called. I’m afraid you’ll have some explaining to do when you get up with him.”
    Chase winced. “He knows I was with you?”
    She fought to control her blush. “I didn’t give him my name.”
    â€œThat’ll only make him all the more determined to find out who you are and why you answered my phone.” Chase dismissed the problem with a careless shrug, then