Found: One Secret Baby (9 page)

He swallowed. “Would you like a drink?”

“No.” She lifted her hands to his shoulders and raised her lips to his.

He hesitated a moment before he wrapped his arms around her and turned her simple kiss into a lesson in sensual expertise.

Her whole body shivered with need the moment he plunged his tongue into her already-sensitized mouth. Ruthlessly he plundered, tasted, possessed, but the need only grew deeper.

He withdrew part way and she followed, half to quiet the alarm bells in her mind, half to ignite the same fires inside him that threatened to consume her as she stood there, fully dressed.

But not for long. He ended the kiss gently, his hands still on the nape of her neck to caress and tease them both as he stepped away.

“Are you sure?” His voice was rough, his jaw tight.

She dropped her gaze from the intensity in his. “Yes.”

His posture softened and he grinned

“Good, because those buttons have driven me crazy all night.”

He drew his hands from her neck to trail fire down her shoulders and along the top of her dress until his fingers reached the first button.

When he bent his head to lick the rounded flesh above the cloth, she stifled a gasp that shivered through her body in little bursts of delight.

Morgan took another deep breath to calm the almost unbearable need to rip those buttons apart and fill himself with the sight, the feel, the taste of the breasts he’d daydreamed about since the first day he walked into Rosalie’s office. But a quick roll on the couch wasn’t her style any more than rough sex in the garage. She needed, she deserved, tenderness.

He undid the first button and spread the fabric it released. He lifted his hands away, and she let out a long, slow breath, then gasped in more air when he repeated the process with the second button.

He’d expected to find white, boring cotton under the blue of her dress. A bra Joey’s mother would wear. The silky blue lace he’d revealed brought a new burst of lust that made him grit his teeth against the increased pressure down below.

She hadn’t dressed like Joey’s mother. She’d dressed like a woman who wanted to have sex with him.

He smiled and rewarded her with a kiss just below her ear. She sighed and pressed her body toward him in encouragement.

He didn’t need to be reminded twice. The next two buttons went quickly, despite the tremor in his hands.

He spread the fabric open again to reveal two hard, pink nipples behind the blue lace, their eagerness so obvious he couldn’t resist the urge to catch each one between a thumb and finger.

Rosalie stopped breathing again while he decided between a tweak and a tug. In the end, he did both. The air swooshed out of her in the tiniest of moans. His body tightened another uncomfortable notch, but he turned his attention back to the buttons and the remaining treasure they concealed.

Three more and he’d be able to slide the straps of the dress off her shoulders.

A faint flush rose on the creamy skin. Reverently he raised his hands to her breasts, the way she leaned into his touch as much an enticement as the soft flesh itself. He caressed, weighed, tweaked and tugged again at her engorged nipples until she trembled and pulled away.

He made short work of undoing the remaining buttons. When he dropped his hands, she stepped away to let the dress billow to the floor around her feet. Her eyes were green pools of wonder and desire. Along with a tinge of the wariness that made her the woman she was.

But, to his surprise and delight, she blinked the wariness away, slid out of her slip, reached behind her and dropped her bra to the floor beside it.

“Maybe we should take this to the bedroom.” His voice was rough with desire.

She hesitate a moment before she nodded and held out her hand.

To touch only her quivering fingers with all of her lush body within his reach was exquisite torture, but he led her down the short hall to the bedroom, kissed her palm before he released her hand, and pulled down the duvet.

She stared a moment at the bed, then turned to him.

“You’re overdressed.” Her voice was a thin thread of sound, as if she hadn’t taken a full breath since they stepped off the elevator.

“So I am,” he said in mock surprise. “Do you want to do the honors?”

She pursed her lips. “I’d rather watch.”

This woman with her unique blend of shy and brazen would be the death of him.

Self-consciously he took off his shirt, shoes and socks, but faltered with his hands at the buckle of his belt.

She’d sat on the edge of the bed, her legs tucked together and her hands at her sides to hold her up.

She looked up at his eyes when he stopped and licked her lips.

The rest of his clothes fell away as if of their own accord and he walked to the bed, his swollen flesh inches from her sweet mouth.

She touched his hardness with one hesitant finger. “I never …”

His control snapped. He tumbled her on the bed and feasted on those creamy breasts, those sweet-as-berries lips, and the nectar of her mouth. Her little sighs, the way her hands stroked his shoulders, his back, his butt, fed his hunger for her.

He returned to the rose-bud nipples to lick and suck until she moaned and gave a tiny shudder of delight. Damn but this woman was hot. All he’d ever dreamed of—and more.

He eased back to take his time, despite the urgency gnawing at him. He let his hands explore the secrets of her body, find where his touch made her tremble, where it made her gasp, where it made her moan again.

He marked her with every kiss, every nibble, until she was his completely.

Which should have frightened him to death.

A cloud of fear hovered beyond the dizzying pleasure that had taken possession of Rosalie’s body. Not physical fear. She’d trust Morgan with her life. But she’d never trust any man with her heart.

Still, she let him take control of her every sensation without a second thought. She owed herself the pleasure he could give her, just this once.

She squirmed with erotic eagerness as his kisses and caresses made her senses dance. Her body became pure need under his gentle fingers, his hot mouth, those perfect teeth that knew exactly how to use a gentle nip to send her into new spirals of ecstasy.

His hand found the center of her need and slowed the caresses to pay minute attention to her every breath of desire. The effort it must have cost him made her smile until all reason slipped away.

She was already on the verge of ecstasy when he slid down her body and used his clever tongue to tease and sample and drive her wild, every muscle tight.

He suckled the exquisitely tender flesh until she gave a low wail, then she crashed over the edge with a single word. “Now!”

He moved away, but before she could protest she heard the tear of foil, and her heart filled with warmth.

He’d remembered to protect her from her own mindless need for him.

Then he was on her, in her, and time stopped, circled, spun with the ancient dance. The frenzy of pleasure grew hotter, sweeter until he made a low, questioning sound and she lifted her hips in eager response.

He raised up on his knees, grasped her hips and plunged home one last time. Her pleasure echoed his as they soared high into the midnight-blue sky and sank together back into the silken darkness.

A quiver of delight brought Rosalie back to reality some time later, with the dim awareness it was not the first aftershock to what had been the best sex of her life. She let the words echo through her brain, surprised to find they seemed to belong there, as if good sex was part of her, not something she might find time for someday.

Sensations drifted through her muddled mind. The sleekness of silk sheets. The warmth of the duvet. The heat of the hard male body next to her. Shock reverberated through her.

She’d done the deed with Morgan Danby!

He protested sleepily when she jerked to a sitting position, the duvet wrapped around her.

She glanced around the room. If she could get dressed and sneak …

Her clothes weren’t in this room. Just the tiny scrap of blue lace he’d pulled off her body …

Or did she pull off her panties? She wasn’t sure. Shame washed over her.

No, not shame. Embarrassment. Shame would mean she was sorry for what happened, but to her surprise, she wasn’t sorry at all.

She was still trying to sort out her tumbled emotions when a muscular arm wrapped itself around her waist and tried to tug her gently back down toward the undertow. It slid away at her resistance. Morgan raised a sleepy head to frown up at her.

“Regrets?”

She felt her face go hot, but she owed the man honesty. “No. Just …”

He sat beside her, the duvet across his lap. “Not sure?”

“Closer.”

The air turned thick, not with the sexual heat from before, but with unruly thoughts, unsaid words. She didn’t have much experience with situations like this, and none with men like Morgan.

He stared at the painting on the wall across from them—another Ritchard, maybe a nude, but she wasn’t sure—as the minutes stretched out between them.

“Rosalie?”

The tone of his voice, the way he didn’t look at her, made her heart race. Was he the one with regrets? Was he eager to get rid of her?

Or did he want to tell her he loved her?

He cleared his throat. “Rosalie?” he asked again.

She held her breath.

“Will you marry me?”

Her mind went blank. “What?”

“Will you marry me?”

“Are you crazy?” She couldn’t suppress a laugh—half genuine surprise, half unexpected disappointment that cut her in two.

The sound froze his face into the mask she remembered too well from the day they’d first met. The memories crashed through her post-orgasmic haze.

Please, she urged silently, don’t let this be about Joey.

“It makes perfect sense,” Morgan said. “You love Joey.”

And I almost fell in love with you, you almighty jerk!
But no way would she ever let him know. She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold inside.

“If you marry me,” he went on in a much-too-reasonable tone, “we’d be able to adopt Joey together and Lillian can see him whenever she wants.”

“All this,” she waved one arm at the rumpled bed, “to make Charlie’s mother happy?”

“No. It was to make you happy. I don’t want you to lose Joey.”

“I can fight my own battles, thank you.” Her voice quavered. “Why not just tell me what you had in mind? Why pretend you liked me? Why have sex with me?”

“I do like you. I wanted you to feel safe with me.”

Outrage burned away the threat of tears. “Safe with you! So you could manipulate me better? What kind of safety is that?”

“Think for a minute. If you marry me, everyone can get what they want. Lillian gets her grandson. You get to keep Joey.”

“And what do you get?”

Morgan already knew he’d blown it, but Rosalie’s question had sent a new shock wave through him.

“I get a wife.” For the first time in his life, he found no other words for how he felt, what he wanted from a woman.

“For how long?”

Forever.

Nothing is forever
. Not even a mother’s love.

“Until one of us wants out,” he said instead

“Not good enough.”

“Maybe bed isn’t the best place to discuss this. Why don’t you shower and get dressed while I make coffee?” It’d be easier to focus on winning her over without her warm, naked body next to him. “I have a plan. You’ll see it’s the best solution all the way around.”

“If I listen to your plan, will you go away and leave me and Joey alone? For good?”

Reluctantly, he nodded. One chance was better than none.

Not that he could stay away from her, not after tonight. He closed his eyes, remembering the heat of her mouth, the way her body melted into his, the gasps of pleasure he’d coaxed from her. As she’d once said, he liked to win. And he knew of no battle more important to win than this one.

Rosalie waited until Morgan left the room before she crept out of the bed. The opulent marble and chrome of the en-suite bathroom was wasted on her as she tried to scrub away the memories of what she’d done in the hot flow of the shower.

The clash between the warm water and the arctic chill inside dizzied her. Each beat of her heart, each breath, was an effort. She felt like Lucifer, plunged from the heights of heaven to the icy depths, but couldn’t for the life of her figure out what she’d done to deserve it.

But wasn’t that the lesson she’d learned from her mother’s illness? Things happen. What we deserve doesn’t come into it. All you can do is make the best of what life gives you.

And what was the best to be made of the fiasco of having sex with Morgan Danby?

She found her clothes laid on the bed when she came out of the bathroom. She dressed with hands that shook so much she was barely able to do up the buttons Morgan had undone so easily.

“So tell me this wonderful plan you have,” she found the courage to ask once she was seated across from him at the marble breakfast bar where he’d place two mugs of coffee. “If I were crazy enough to marry you, we’d adopt Joey, but then what? Where would we live?”

He frowned. “In Boston.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“There’s a nice, big two-bedroom loft for sale in my condo building.”

The hot coffee did little to melt the ice inside of her, but the bitter taste seemed right and the caffeine supplied false energy to let her play his game for a while.

“A loft? With no real walls, low window sills, and an open stairway?”

He gave a glum nod.

“Does it have a yard?”

Clearly something he hadn’t thought of.

“It has a balcony.”

She shook her head in disbelief.

He blinked twice and tried again. “The building is close to the Commons. You could take Joey to the playground there every day.”

“But what would I do for work? I’m not a member of the Massachusetts bar, and taking a second bar exam at this point in my life does not sound like fun.”

“You’ll take care of Joey. Isn’t that what you’ve wanted to do all along?”

“I want to be his mother, but I’m a lawyer, not a nanny.”

Morgan stiffened and took a sip of his coffee.

“I don’t want Joey to be raised by someone who cares more about their paycheck than they do about him.”

She started to tell him how wonderful the workers at Joey’s day-care center were, but the expression on Morgan’s face told her his words had less to do with Joey and more to do with his own past.

For a moment the ice around her heart cracked enough for her wonder what it must have been like to be Charlie’s little brother—or worse, his stepbrother—when all the servants worked for Charlie’s mother. Then she remembered what had happened between them and decided to save her sympathy for someone who deserved it.

“I’m supposed to sacrifice my career, my home, my life to move to Boston and be an unpaid nanny for Joey? Why would I, why would anyone do that? On the off-chance that his grandmother can win a custody suit?”

When Morgan didn’t respond, she steamed on ahead.

“If I do agree to this insane scheme, how long do you plan on staying married? You said until one of us wants out, but what does that mean? Until Joey starts school? Until he goes away to boarding school?” She didn’t hide her contempt for the idea. “Until he goes to college? And what happens after the divorce?”

“Whoa! You’re getting way ahead of yourself. I don’t foresee a set end date for our marriage.”

But he did foresee an end date. No doubt right when she needed him most.

“If we do, did divorce, you’d get a settlement large enough to let you live wherever and however you please. Go back to L.A., if you want. You’d never need to work again.”

“Did it occur to you that I might want to work, that I might like what I do?” She tapped one fingernail on the marble surface between them. “Tell me again how giving up everything I’ve accomplished in my life makes sense from my point of view.”

He didn’t know much about women, Morgan realized, as he searched for the words to answer her. Sure, he knew what to do in bed to keep them happy and eager for more. And he

knew how to charm them if it suited his purposes, and how to shut the charm off if it didn’t. But he’d never let a woman get close enough for him to learn how to get his way with her once she saw through the charm. No woman had gotten that far, or wanted to, until Rosalie.

His life had been a series of one-night stands, even if the same woman was involved. He’d never spent a whole night with a woman, unless he counted the time in high school he and his date had fallen asleep in the back seat of her father’s Rover. Or nights the sex lasted until dawn.

Thinking about sex while he tried to make Rosalie see reason was a bad idea. It made him notice how she rubbed her fingers up and down the side of her mug, how the scent of his soap became flowery and feminine on her skin. It reminded him of the bliss they’d shared.

“I’m a very rich man,” he was horrified to hear himself say.

She gave him a look that would have frozen stone.

Unable to help himself, he reached out to lay his hand on her arm, to make her stay. Her skin seared him, but her eyes froze him out. The softness of her flesh was too much to resist. He rubbed his hand slowly down her arm to her hand, and smiled to himself when she didn’t pull away. He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed the palm.

“And, as you know, a very good lover.”

She blinked, as if waking from a dream, jerked her hand away and stood up in a single, almost violent, motion.

“Goodbye, Morgan Danby. I do not have to damn you to hell. I’m quite sure you can get there all on your own.”

To Rosalie’s shock, a look that might have been genuine pain, crossed Morgan’s face, quickly replaced by the familiar stony mask.

“At least let me drive you home.”

“You
are
home,” she pointed out. “But you can call me a cab.”

He did. He also rode the elevator with her down to the building’s lobby and waited with her until the cab appeared. He handed the driver some money and gave him the address while the doorman helped her into the cab. Then the man who’d made such wonderful love to her, the man who’d asked her to marry him, turned and walked inside without a backward glance.

She nursed her anger all the way through the long cab ride home. The effort exhausted her enough that she was able to sleep once she got there.

The next day she continued the litany of reasons why Morgan Danby was a diabolical jerk and not worth even one minute of her attention.

Still, when Vanessa came by the office that afternoon to ask how the date had gone, Rosalie found she couldn’t tell her friend what had happened. She muttered platitudes about the great dinner, but said Morgan wasn’t her type.

“How can a rich, smart, charming, handsome man not be your type?”

“He’s arrogant and has to have him own way.”

“You mean he didn’t let you control the situation?”

Rosalie’s jaw dropped. “I’m not … I don’t …”

“You don’t need to be in control?” Vanessa swung her hand around the meticulously neat office. “I don’t blame you, given how out of control your mother’s health was, but someday you need to grow up and learn out-of-control isn’t always bad.”

Rosalie closed her eyes, surprised when a tear rolled down her face.

Vanessa swore under her breath. “What happened last night, Rosalie? Did he hurt you? Should I send Aaron after him?”

“No. I’m fine. I’m tired. We were out late.”

Before her friend could ask more painful questions, the receptionist called in to say Vanessa’s next appointment was there. She stood and gave Rosalie a worried look.

“You decide you want to talk about it, you know where to find me.”

Alone again, Rosalie took deep breaths to clear her mind. But despite her best efforts it filled again with memories of the night before. She should have been furious with Morgan. She
was
furious with him. But the anger was mixed with a sadness she hadn’t expected.

Sadness that she’d never have such great sex again, she told herself, but it didn’t stick.

Sadness, she had to admit, that she’d never see Morgan again. She liked the man, dammit. Or the man she’d thought he was. Her devotion to the truth eventually forced her to admit she more than liked him. That was the worst of it, what carved an aching hollow in her chest.

So the real sadness was at the death of another illusion. The illusion of a cure for her mother. The illusion her father would come back to them. The illusion she’d ever be able to count on anyone besides herself.

She didn’t sleep well that night. Her dreams were too full of the good parts of her evening with Morgan. And those parts had been very, very good.

In the dark hours before dawn, she awoke to the memory of the moment he’d touched her after she froze up when he mentioned how rich he was. He’d put his hand on her arm as if he

couldn’t bear for her to leave. For an instant, she realized, with a new ache in her chest, she’d seen the face of a boy whose mother had walked out on him.

Rosalie didn’t sleep well for the next week either, but she’d been through worse. Time would take away the lingering heartache from the—what? certainly not relationship—fiasco with Morgan Danby. In the meantime, she had Joey, her work, and her friends to get her through.

She was putting the files she needed to work on over the weekend into her laptop bag the next Friday evening when her office phone rang. Despite the late hour, she picked it up. She needed every client she could get with a custody battle to finance.

“Ms. Rosalie Walker?” The efficient female voice sounded like a secretary.

Rosalie’s foolish heart jumped to her throat and froze there. “Yes?”

A click, then a moment of silence. Rosalie forced a breath past the tightness in her throat.

“Ms. Walker?” Another woman’s voice.

Rosalie’s heart plummeted past its usual place and deep into her belly. “Yes?”

“This is Lillian Danby, Charleston Thompson’s mother. I want to see my grandson.”

Rosalie hovered between mother and lawyer.

To buy the time to think, she asked, “Are you in Los Angeles?”

“Yes,” the other woman huffed. “Where else would I be?”

Rosalie suppressed a rude suggestion or two before she let the lawyer take over.

“You have no legal visitation rights at this time.”

“My attorney says, since the DNA evidence proves I’m the baby’s grandmother, I do have some rights.”

“Strictly speaking, a court would have to order an unwilling custodial parent or guardian to grant you those rights.”

And strictly speaking, Joey wasn’t a baby anymore, but Rosalie let it pass.

A noise that sounded like a sob came over the phone. “How can you be so cruel? I just want to see my grandchild.”

Rosalie wished she could call Joey’s social worker to ask what would be best for him, but a quick glance at the time told her Ms. Cameron would have already left the office for the weekend. It was too late to call the lawyer Rosalie had consulted about the adoption and possible custody case, too. She closed her eyes and tried to figure out what she’d advise a client who was in a situation like this.

“Are you still there?” Mrs. Danby asked. “You didn’t hang up on me, did you?”

“No. I’m trying to decide what’s best for Joey.”

“What’s best is for him to be with his grandmother. I’m all the family he has left, the poor baby.”

Yes, and why is that? Rosalie managed not to ask. Mrs. Danby didn’t seem the type to accept any responsibility for Charlie’s actions. Maybe she wasn’t responsible, but all this might have been easier if Rosalie had been able to believe the woman ever considered the possibility.

Another sob-like sound brought her mind back to the advice she’d give someone else.

“I could bring him to a public place to meet you.”

“I want you to bring him to my hotel room.” Mrs. Danby’s voice held no hint of tears. “I’m sure to fall apart when I see the little dear, and I hate to cry in public. My makeup runs.”

Rosalie shook her head as she imagined Joey’s reaction to a weepy stranger who wanted to cuddle him, but his grandmother seemed to have no idea what toddlers were like.

“I’m sorry. It has to be a public place. Perhaps the lobby of your hotel or a restaurant?”

Mrs. Danby sniffed. “The hotel doesn’t have a restaurant.”

An exclusive boutique hotel, no doubt. “Where are you staying?”

“Santa Monica. The room has a nice view of the ocean I’m sure little Joey would enjoy.”

Yeah, right. Little kids loved to sit still and look at the view. What planet was this woman from? Oh, yes, Planet Nanny.

“We can meet at Santa Monica Place,” Rosalie suggested. “It’s a mall near the ocean.”

“A shopping mall?” Mrs. Danby sounded horrified.

Rosalie rubbed her forehead. Somehow she’d acquired a stereotypical mother-in-law without a husband. She turned to her computer and found the Santa Monica city website.