Caroselli's Baby Chase (20 page)

A half hour or so after Nick left, Rob got a call from Alice of all people. And for some reason she was whispering.

“What the hell happened? Did you and Carrie have a fight?”

A fight? “No, why would you think that?”

“Because she’s packing.”

“Packing what?”

“Her
stuff
. She’s shoving it all into suitcases. She’s
furious
. If she knew I was talking to you right now she would kill me.”

“I haven’t talked to her since this morning and everything was fine then.” Could it just be cold feet? “Did she say anything?”

“I tried to talk to her, but she wouldn’t say what was wrong. All she said was that she was going back to L.A.
Alone
. She said I could stay at the condo until the lease ran out.”

This sounded like something a bit more serious than cold feet. “Don’t let her go anywhere,” he told Alice. “I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

Seventeen

R
ob made it to Carrie’s condo just as she was shoving her bags into the back of her SUV. He parked in the driveway behind her, so she couldn’t make a run for it.

He climbed out of his car and said, “Going somewhere?”

“Home,” she said, shoving the last bag in, not even looking at him.

“You are home.”

“Home to L.A.”

“Can I ask why?”

“If you can’t figure that out for yourself, you’re an even bigger ass than I thought.”

“What the hell happened?” She started to walk away and he reached for her arm.

She spun to face him, yanking it free. “Don’t touch me. You don’t ever get to touch me again.”

She wasn’t just a little upset or even scared. She was seething mad. She stomped into the house and he followed her.

“Carrie, I honestly have no idea what’s going on.”

She spun around to face him. “Fifteen million dollars, Rob. Fifteen million to get married and have a male heir. Is this ringing a bell?”

Oh, crap.
“You heard me and Nick talking.”

“Did you knock me up on purpose, or was it just a happy coincidence? And is this the real reason why you were disappointed when I said it was negative? Why you didn’t ask me to marry you until after I saw the doctor?”

“It wasn’t like that. If you had heard our entire conversation you would know that.”

“Did your grandfather offer you fifteen million dollars to get married and have a male heir?”

“No one is supposed to know about that, but yes, he did. What you heard was me screwing with Nick. I wasn’t planning to take the money. I had already called
Nonno
and said I didn’t want it. If you had stayed and listened you would have heard me say that I can live without the money, but I couldn’t live without you.”

“Sure you did.”

“You don’t trust me.”

“After what you did? How could I possibly?”

“I don’t mean now. You never did. If you trusted me you would have come to me first. You would have stuck to the plan. We would have talked about this, figured it out together. Like you promised. But it’s so much easier to bail, isn’t it?”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” she said, but she didn’t sound quite as confident anymore.

“No, that’s exactly what you’re doing. It’s all you know how to do. I thought that because I really love you, it would be different for us. But it’s not, is it? It never will be. No matter what I do to prove how much I love you, it will never be enough. I’m going to spend the rest of my life chasing you, because running is all you know how to do.”

“Haven’t I told you a million times that you deserve better than me?” she said.

“You did. And shame on me for not listening. Have your lawyer call my lawyer and we’ll work out some sort of custody arrangement,” Rob said, then turned and walked out the door.

* * *

Carrie wasn’t surprised, and still, she felt sick. Sick all the way through to her soul. He’d given her all sorts of chances, put up with more crap from her than the average guy ever would, and once again she’d gone and screwed it up. She had driven him away, when what she should have done was tell him that she loved him, too, and that she was just scared. The sad part was that she really did believe that he wasn’t going to take the money, but it had been the perfect excuse to drive him away. Because he was right. That was all she knew how to do. If she had stuck to the plan and had just talked to him, they could have worked it out. Everything would be fine now. They would be making wedding plans, and looking for a place to live.

And as much as she wanted to race after him and beg him for another chance, tell him she would do anything to make this right, she didn’t deserve another chance.

She’d hurt him enough.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, but it did nothing to quell the feeling of panic swirling inside her. The realization that she loved him. Really truly loved him. And maybe she didn’t deserve another chance, but she wanted one. If she could just convince him that this time it would be different, that she would never doubt him again. If she could catch him before he drove away…

She opened her eyes and nearly jumped out of her skin when she realized that he was standing right in front of her. For a second she thought that she had conjured him up out of her imagination. Until he shook a finger at her and said, “You almost had me.”

“I did?”

“I made it all the way to my car before realizing what an idiot I am. I accused you of not sticking to the plan, but I did the same damn thing.”

“You did?”

“I told you that if you tried to bail on me, I wouldn’t let you get far. You needed me to prove that I’ll be there, that I’ll fight for us. Instead, I bailed on you. So this is where I draw the line. This is as far as I let you go.”

“Okay.”

He blinked. “Okay?”

“Yes, because you’re absolutely right. I was looking for a reason to push you away, but only because I am absolutely terrified by the idea that you might actually love me. But you know what? I love you, and being afraid and in love sure beats being all alone.”

“From this day forward, for better or worse, like it or not, you are stuck with me.”

Even after all that, as he held his arms out to her, it took every bit of courage she possessed to walk into them. To take that final step, that last leap of faith. But she did it, and she knew without a doubt, as they wrapped their arms around one another, neither would ever let go again.

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from
A Conflict of Interest
by Barbara Dunlop

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One

I
t was inauguration night in Washington, D.C., and Cara Cranshaw had to choose between her president and her lover. One strode triumphantly though the arches of the Worthington Hotel ballroom to the uplifting strains of “Hail to the Chief” and the cheers of eight hundred well-wishers. The other stared boldly at her from across the ballroom, a shock of unruly, dark hair curling across his forehead, his bow tie slightly askew and his eyes telegraphing the message that he wanted her naked.

For the moment, it was investigative reporter Max Gray who held her attention. Despite her resolve to turn the page on their relationship, she couldn’t tear her gaze from his, nor could she stop her hand from reflexively moving to her abdomen. But Max was off-limits now that Ted Morrow had been sworn in as president.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” cried the master of ceremonies above the music and enthusiastic clapping that was spreading like a wave across the hall. “The President of the United States.” His voice rang out from the microphone onstage at the opposite end of the massive, high-ceilinged room.

The cheers grew to a roar. The band’s volume increased. And the crowd shifted, separating to form a pathway in front of President Morrow. Cara automatically moved with them, but she still couldn’t tear her gaze from Max as he took a few steps backward on the other side of the divide.

She schooled her features, struggling to transmit her resolve. She couldn’t let him see the confusion and alarm she’d been feeling since her doctor’s visit that afternoon.
Resolve,
she ruthlessly reminded herself,
not hesitation and definitely not fear.

“He’s running late.” Sandy Haniford’s shout sounded shrill in Cara’s ear.

Sandy was a junior staffer in the White House press office, where Cara worked as a public relations specialist. While Cara was moving from ball to ball tonight with the president’s entourage, Sandy was stationed here as liaison to the American News Service event.

“Only by a few minutes,” Cara shouted back, her eyes still on Max.

Resolve,
she repeated to herself. The unexpected pregnancy might have tipped her world on its axis, but it didn’t change her job tonight. And it didn’t alter her responsibility to the president.

“I was hoping the president would get here a little early,” Sandy continued, her voice still raised. “We have a last-minute addition to the speaker lineup.”

Cara twisted her head; Sandy’s words had instantly broken Max’s psychological hold on her. “Come again?”

“Another speaker.”

“You can’t do that.”

“It’s done,” said Sandy.

“Well,
un
do it.”

The speakers, especially those at the events hosted by organizations less than friendly to the president, had been vetted weeks in advance. American News Service was no friend of President Morrow, but the cable network’s ball was a tradition, so he’d had no choice but to show up.

It was a tightly scripted appearance, with only thirty minutes in the Worthington ballroom. He would arrive at ten forty-five—well, ten fifty-two as it turned out—then he was to leave at eleven-fifteen. The Military Inaugural Ball was next on the schedule, and the president had made it clear he wanted to be on time to greet the troops.

“What do you want me to do?” asked Sandy. “Should I tackle the guy when he steps up to the microphone?” Sarcasm came through her raised voice.

“You should have solved the problem before it came to that.” Cara lifted her phone to contact her boss, White House Press Secretary Lynn Larson.

“Don’t you think I tried?”

“Obviously not hard enough. How could you give them permission to add a new speaker?”

“They didn’t
ask,
” Sandy pointed out with a frown. “Graham Boyle himself put Mitch Davis on the agenda for a toast. Two minutes, they say, tops.”

Mitch Davis was a star reporter for ANS. Graham Boyle might be the billionaire owner of the network, and the sponsor of this ball, but even he didn’t get to dictate to the president.

Cara couldn’t help an errant glance at Max. As the most popular investigative reporter at ANS’s rival, National Cable News, he was a mover and shaker himself. He might have some insight into what was up. But Cara couldn’t ask him about this or anything else to do with her job, not now and not ever again.

Cara pressed a speed-dial button for her boss.

It rang but then went to voice mail.

She hung up and tried again.

She could see that the president had arrived at the head table, in front of and below the stage. He was accepting the congratulations of the smartly dressed guests. The men wore Savile Row tuxedos, while the woman were draped in designer fabrics that shimmered under the refracted light of several dozen crystal chandeliers.

The MC, popular ANS talk show host David Batten, returned to the microphone. He offered a brief but hearty welcome and congratulations to the president before handing the microphone over to Graham Boyle. According to the schedule, Graham had three minutes to speak. Then the president would have one dance with the female chair of a local hospital charity and a second with Shelley Michaels, another popular ANS celebrity. That was to be followed by seven minutes at his table with ANS board members before taking his leave.

Cara gave up on her cell phone and started making her way toward the stage. There was a staircase at either end, nothing up the middle. So she knew she had a fifty-fifty chance of stopping Mitch Davis before he made it to the microphone. Too bad she wasn’t a little larger, a little brawnier, maybe a little more male.