A cold sweat broke over his body. This had been a stupid idea. He had no idea what kind of driver Erin was. She could be a speed freak for all he knew. A trickle of moisture ran down his spine.
Oblivious to what was going through his mind, Erin smiled beside him and held up a key ring, offering it to him. “Would you like to drive?”
“Hell no!” he erupted.
She looked taken aback by his short outburst but calmly palmed the keys and went around to the driver’s side of the vehicle. He forced himself to take the necessary final step that would get him to the car door. His hand shook as he reached for the handle, lifting it and pulling the door open. He shouldn’t have suggested he come with her. He should simply have stayed in his room and kept working. But he refused to back down now. He hadn’t gotten where he was today by backing down from challenges—even if the only one challenging him was himself.
Somehow he seated himself in the passenger seat. He scrabbled for the seat belt, yanking it so swiftly the mechanism locked and failed to let him pull the belt out far enough to clip it.
“If you just let it roll back a bit,” Erin suggested, giving him a strange look, “it’ll let you pull it out slowly.”
He gave it another tug, a hard one, and it locked again. To his surprise, Erin leaned across him, her brea**sts pressing against his arm as she reached around him and her hand settled over his.
“Here,” she said, “like this.”
He forced himself to relinquish his death grip on the seatbelt and allowed her to release the belt before pulling it smoothly across his chest and lap.
“There you go,” she said securing it into the buckle. “All safe.”
Safe? She was kidding right? You were only as safe as the skill set of the next idiot on the road. In his case, he’d been that idiot, and Laura had paid the ultimate price for his arrogance. Sam forced himself to breathe slowly—in through his nose, out through his mouth—and try to relax.
“Thanks,” he said abruptly, his eyes locked on the windshield in front of him.
Erin started the car and eased it into gear, rolling slowly down the driveway. So far, so good, Sam thought, but all sense of safety fled the moment she turned onto the road. He tried to relax his grip on the door’s hand rest, but he failed miserably.
“How long is the trip?” he asked, his voice sounding unnaturally strained, even to his ears.
“Twenty-five minutes or so,” Erin said, her eyes flicking from the rearview mirror and back to the road in front of them again.
Twenty-five minutes. It may as well be a lifetime, Sam thought as she guided the vehicle along the winding road. He had to admit she was a competent driver, not taking any unnecessary risks or taking any of the corners too wide. He could almost kid himself that he was starting to relax until he saw a car start to pull out of a driveway ahead of them. His foot stomped an imaginary brake, the action earning him another cautious sideways glance from Erin but, thankfully, she kept her thoughts to herself.
By the time they reached the office supply store he couldn’t get out of the car fast enough.
“Will you be okay if I leave you now?” Erin asked quietly as she got out of the car to stand beside him, one small hand resting on his forearm as if to offer him comfort.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine, thanks,” he said stoically.
“There’s a café right there,” she said, pointing to a bustling business not far from where she’d parked. “And I’ll be just down the road. Do you want my cell number, in case you need me?”
Need her? He hadn’t been able to stop wanting her since the moment he’d set foot on the soil of Connell Lodge, but need her? No, he didn’t want to need anybody.
“No, seriously, I’ll be fine. When you’re finished just come and get me at the café. I’ll buy you a coffee before we head back.”
“Sure, sounds like fun,” Erin said. “I won’t be far, anyway,” she continued, pointing to a two-story white building farther down the street.
Sam made out the signage at the front. Morin and Morin, Attorneys at Law. She was going to see a lawyer? What exactly did that mean? Was she going to try and fight his right to find out if he was Riley’s father? All sorts of irrational and angry thoughts peppered his mind as he watched her head down the road and enter the building she’d indicated.
He slipped his cellphone from his pocket and hit the speed dial for his lawyer’s direct line.
“Dave,” he said the moment he heard the man’s voice on the end of the phone. “I want you to get a court order to request the baby’s DNA, now.”