The uncomfortable thing about her was that she made him question himself, and challenge his own conscience. Did he love her? Or was she just a very rich girl who could solve all his problems forever if he married her? If her father even let her. He didn't completely buy her theory that she didn't give a damn what her father said, and his opinion meant nothing to her. She was after all a Madison, which implied a certain responsibility as to who she married, whose children she had, and what she did with her money.
And that was another thing… children… he still hated the thought of having children, even rich ones. He thought they were a pain in the neck and he had no desire to have any. Ever. But she was far too young to give up the idea of having children. They hadn't talked about it seriously, but it was clear even to him that she expected to have some one day. It was all very complicated, and convoluted, in his mind, if not Alex's. And worst of all, he didn't want to hurt her. He had never worried about that before, with any of the women he dated. Alex brought the best out in him, and he wasn't at all sure he liked it. Being responsible and respectable was an enormous burden.
The phone rang while he was shaving, and he didn't answer it. He knew Paloma was there somewhere, but wherever she was, she didn't pick it up, and it went on ringing. He thought it might be Alex. She was working for the next several days to make up for the weekend. He ran to answer the phone with shaving cream still on his face, and was irritated the instant he heard her. It was Charlene, and she sounded breathless.
“I called you last week, and you didn't return my call,” she began by sounding angry, and went straight to accusation.
“I didn't get the message,” he said honestly. “Did you leave me a voice mail?” he asked, wiping off the rest of the foam on a towel.
“I talked to Paloma,” she said, sounding righteous. Just hearing her irritated him. His brief fling with her seemed light-years from where he was at the moment, with Alex. He was having a respectable romance with an honorable woman, not a sexual circus with a girl he scarcely knew. The two women, and his feelings for them, were worlds apart, and entirely different.
“That explains it,” Coop said pleasantly. He wanted to get her off the phone as soon as possible. He never wanted to see her again, and didn't plan to. He was very pleased the tabloids had never gotten wind of her, but they had hardly ever gone out. He had spent most of his time with her in his bedroom. “She never gives me messages except when she feels like it, and that's not often.”
“I have to see you.”
“I don't think that's a good idea,” he said bluntly. “And I'm leaving town this afternoon.” That was a lie, but it usually discouraged women when he said it. “I don't think we have anything more to say to each other, Charlene. It was fun, but that's all it was, for both of us.” He had only seen her for a few weeks, between Pamela and Alex. It was hardly grounds for histrionics and drama.
“I'm pregnant.” She had believed him when he said he was going out of town, and figured she'd better tell him while she had the chance to. There was a long, thoughtful silence on Coop's end. He'd been there before, and it had always been relatively easy to take care of. A few tears, a little emotional support, and money to pay for the abortion. And it was over. He assumed this would be no different.
“I'm sorry to hear that. I don't mean to be rude, but are you sure it's mine?” Women always hated it when he asked that, but some weren't sure, in which case, he was usually less sympathetic. And in Charlene's case, it seemed a fair question. He knew she had had quite an active romantic career before him, possibly during, and surely after. Sex was the mainstay of Charlene's life, and her primary means of communication. The way some women used food, or shopping. She was a very active young woman.
She was outraged. Incensed virtue itself when she answered. “Of course I'm sure it's yours. Would I call you if it weren't?”
“That's an interesting question. But in that case, I'm very sorry. Do you have a good doctor?” Her announcement had instantly caused him to feel distant, and sound guarded. He was feeling threatened.
“No. And I don't have any money.”
“I'll have my accountant send you a check to cover everything.” These days it wasn't a big deal. In the old days, it had meant driving across the Mexican border, or flying to Europe. Now, it was as routine as having your teeth cleaned, as far as Coop was concerned at least. And it was neither dangerous nor expensive. “I'll send you the names of some doctors.” It was a ripple on the ocean of his life, but hardly a tidal wave. Worse things could have happened. Like a public scandal, which he did not want at the moment, because of Alex.
