by Elaine Fox
“He’ll marry you, of course.” Penelope looked at her as if there was no other answer.
Megan felt her insides drop. “Marry me!”
“Of course. Why? Don’t you want to marry him?”
“No!” Megan vehemently slammed the trunk shut and turned back to her. “Absolutely not. I’m not going to marry someone just because I’m pregnant. Good lord, that’s just begging for a miserable life.”
“But Megan,” Penelope protested. “It’s his child too. Don’t you owe it to the baby to be a family?”
Megan’s heart raced as fast as if she were being chased down a dark alley.
“Plenty of kids grow up just fine in single-parent homes,” she said firmly. “And it isn’t as if we don’t live close to each other. No, there’s no way in the world I would marry Sutter Foley. Not unless he pops up and asks me tomorrow, before finding out.”
Penelope eyed her shrewdly. “So you’d marry him tomorrow, huh? As long as he didn’t know?”
Megan blushed. “I guess I walked into that one. No. I wouldn’t even marry him tomorrow.”
“Megan, if you’re in love with the man, why wouldn’t you marry him when he finds out you’re going to have his child? That just doesn’t make any sense.”
“Because I’d never get over the fact that we got married because of the child. I would feel…” She stopped, shaking her head. Damn hormones, she felt like she was going to cry again.
Penelope stepped closer and put a hand on Megan’s arm. “Listen, if I know Sutter, he wouldn’t do anything he didn’t absolutely want to do anyway. And if he wanted to marry you because of the child, it would be because he wants both of you. Don’t you see?”
“No,” Megan choked out. “He’ll love the child, I know that. But he won’t love me.”
It sounded so pathetic, she hated herself for it.
“Besides, we haven’t even had a real relationship,” Megan argued. “Would you marry someone you’d never even been on a date with?”
Penelope tilted her head. “Well, no, not if you put it that way…But don’t just write him off because this has happened. There’s still time for you to develop a relationship. You’ll just have to give it some time, let your heart tell you what to do.”
Despite herself, Megan smiled wryly. “You make it sound so simple.”
“Maybe it is simple. Maybe his feelings will be clear once he finds out about the baby.”
Megan eyed her warily. “Don’t you dare go telling him, Penelope Porter.” She wagged a finger at her friend. “I’m going to tell him when I’m ready and not before. He won’t be able to fool me, either. If he proposes and I suspect it’s because he already knows about it, I’m turning him down flat.”
“Sure you will, honey,” Penelope said, patting her arm.
“You don’t think I will?” Megan demanded.
Penelope just smiled. “I think you’re madly in love with the man and the two of you will eventually be very happy. And that’s all I’m saying.”
With that, she leaned over, gave Megan a kiss on the cheek and headed off for her car, leaving Megan to wonder how she would react if Sutter did actually propose.
“Nooooo!” Megan wailed, holding the tabloid Georgia had handed her in both hands.
The sound was so loud and heartfelt that for a second all the dogs in the dog park stopped to look at her. Two schnauzers, a boxer, a miniature poodle, a springer spaniel, four Labradors, three beagles and, of course, Peyton, Sage, and Wimbledon.
Peyton cantered over and rubbed her face on Megan’s thigh, looking up at her expectantly.
“But this was just last week!” Penelope protested. “I didn’t even see anyone. You’d think you’d notice someone taking pictures of you.”
“There’s one more inside,” Georgia said, eyeing Megan.
“This is unbelievable,” Megan muttered, folding the front with the picture of her holding her Mommy ’N Me shopping bag so that it was hidden and opening to the other shot, of her and Penelope actually in the store, Megan’s hands on her abdomen. In the background of this second picture was the rack of tiny overalls.
“Oh God, oh no,” she said, the words coming out as another pitiful moan. “This is so bad.”
The headline of the article was “Sutter Foley: Expecting the Unexpected?” with the subhead, “Foley mistress adding peripheral to Sutter’s system…”
“So you were there? They didn’t just stick that lettering on the shopping bag?” Georgia asked.
“I’ve got to sit down,” Megan said.
“Here. Over here.” Penelope led her over to a large tree. “We can sit on the ground, it’s plenty dry in all this heat.”
“Now, c’mon y’all, I’ve got my good pants on,” Georgia said, hands on her hips. “Only way I’m sittin’ in the dirt is if Megan’s really pregnant.”
Megan and Penelope exchanged a glance.
“Then you better sit down,” Megan said.
Georgia’s mouth dropped open. “What? You mean this is true?”
Megan tapped a finger on the dirt. “Come on down.”
Georgia sat gingerly. A moment later Sage, catching sight of her on the ground—the universal dog-sign that the human is now fair game—loped over to check her out. He circled her once, then backed up so his behind came down squarely on her lap. He looked over his shoulder at her and panted happily.
“Sage, you big baby.” With an oof she pushed him off. He lay down next to her.
Peyton and Wimbledon were apparently too hot to bother with their people.
“So tell me all,” Georgia said, leaning forward, her elbow on her knee. “How long have you known?”
“A couple weeks. It’s taken me this long just to believe it myself. But this…” Megan looked unhappily at the tabloid. “This screws up all my plans.”
“You don’t even look it. You’re still skinny as a snake,” Georgia said, frowning at Megan’s figure. “It’s Sutter’s, I take it.”
Megan looked at her. “Of course.”
“Well, what did he say? Did he play the knight in shining armor and offer marriage, or did he run off like the fox who stole the chicken?” Georgia asked.
“He doesn’t know,” Megan said. “Or didn’t. Oh God! What if he’s already seen this? When did it come out?” Megan fumbled for the front page.
“It’s the newest one, but it might not be on the racks yet,” Georgia said. “I subscribe so I usually get it a couple days early. There’s a chance it hasn’t hit the stands.”
“You subscribe to the National Tattler?” Penelope asked. “What on earth for?”
“For obvious reasons, Miss High-and-Mighty,” Georgia said. She gestured toward Megan. “Obviously, they sometimes get things right. And they get it before everyone else. Including, it seems, the father.”
“I thought I had two weeks,” Megan said. “Sutter’s out of town until next Monday and I was going to tell him when he got back. Now…” She felt her palms breaking out in a sweat and she wrinkled the paper in her hands. “He’ll know it all before I say anything.” She looked up at them pleadingly. “You all know him. How do you think he’ll react?”
“We don’t know him like you do, honey,” Georgia said. “Your guess is better than ours.”
“I told you how I thought he’d react,” Penelope said. “He’ll offer marriage, of course. And I think she should accept, don’t you, Georgia?”
Megan looked at Georgia.
“Hell, yes,” Georgia said.
Penelope smiled and nodded her satisfaction.
Georgia snorted. “It’s not every day a girl’s got the means to land a friggin’ billionaire.”
“She’s not landing him,” Penelope objected.
“Besides, he owes you that much,” Georgia continued. “He owes that baby a name, for one thing. And he owes you for bringin’ it into this God-forsaken world. Even if you end up divorced you’ll be sittin’ on a pretty damn good nest egg.”
“She’s no
t going to divorce him,” Penelope said, glancing at Megan. “She loves him. And I think he loves her. You should have seen him the night of the concert, Georgia. I never saw him anything but reserved when he was with Bitsy, but that night he was positively frantic to get to Megan.”
“I told you, Penelope, and now I’m telling you, Georgia,” Megan said, giving them each a stern look, “I am not going to marry him. At least not now.” She looked back at the picture of herself in the parking lot once more. “But I do have to tell him the truth.”
“And what’s the truth, Megan?” Penelope said, looking as firm as Megan ever saw her. “That you’re pregnant. That it’s his. And that you’re in love with him, for pity’s sake. You can’t tell him part of the truth without telling him the rest!”
“Why?” Georgia asked. “Why should she give him that kind of power over her?”
“It’s not power,” Penelope said.
“I’ve got to find him,” Megan said, getting up. “I’ve got to call his office and find him. I’ve got to tell him before he reads this.”
She called Peyton and headed for the gate.
Penelope sprang to her feet and Georgia pushed up slowly.
“Megan, wait!” Penelope called after her, fumbling for Wimbledon’s leash. “Let me help you!”
But Megan was collecting Peyton and heading for the exit. “It’s all right. I’ll call you after I tell him,” she called back with a wave. A second later she turned back again and said, “Don’t worry!”
Penelope turned to face Georgia with a worried expression. “What do you think he’ll do?”
Georgia shrugged, looking after Megan. “I have no idea.”
They both watched Megan turn the corner.
“The good news is,” Georgia said, brushing off her pants with both hands. “Doc got the DNA test results back and guess what. Sage is a daddy too!”
Eighteen
“I told you she’d come up with something.” Montgomery marched across the hotel suite, her narrow silhouette and short-cropped hair making her look like a dart and Sutter was the target.
Twister jumped up from beside Sutter’s chair the moment the door opened and trotted next to Montgomery, sensing excitement that might mitigate the lack of crumbs dropping from Sutter’s breakfast plate.
Montgomery pushed the dog away, her face smug as she tossed the National Tattler onto the breakfast table in front of him.
Sutter put his knife and fork down on the side of his plate of eggs Benedict and picked up his coffee cup. He watched Montgomery sit down, antsy on the edge of her chair, took a sip of coffee, and put it back down.
“Good morning to you, too, Montgomery. There are some croissants on the piano, if you’d like one.” He indicated the baby grand across the suite with a nod of his head.
“No thanks,” she said brusquely and pointed to the tabloid. “You need to read that.”
He did not look at the wretched tabloid, though he knew it must have more libelous conjecture about himself and Megan Rose for her to get wound up again. Montgomery had been getting a little too strident on the subject of Megan and he had no desire to invite more criticism.
“I could order something from room service,” he said mildly.
“Uh, no, but thanks,” she said, looking confused and slightly shamefaced at her own impertinence.
“Forgive me if I’m wrong about this,” he said, picking up a piece of toast and buttering it, “but don’t we have more pressing issues than what’s made up for publication in the National Tattler?”
She sat straight in the chair. “I’m sure we do, sir, which is why I’d like to get you off of their pages once and for all.”
“Montgomery, do me a favor. Have some coffee, maybe a danish, and relax, all right?”
She was silent a moment, watching his knife spread butter on the toast. Finally, she said, “I’d feel better if you’d just look at it.”
He sighed, turned dispassionately to the paper and picked it up. On the cover was a picture of Megan. His eyes lingered on her face, on the sweep of her dark hair blown away from her neck by a breeze. Her body was lithe and graceful, even in the still photo.
Grainy though the picture was, even this mere glimpse of her had him wishing she were close. He missed her laugh, her knowing eyes, her sharp wit and ultimate kindness. And he missed her touch. God, how he missed her touch.
She was standing in a parking lot with Penelope Porter and she carried a shopping bag. He read the caption, looked again at the picture, then read the heading. With a long exhale, he leaned back and opened up the paper to read the article.
Briana Ellis better pack her bags unless she intends to share Sutter Foley with more than just the other woman, it began. It then went on to say that Megan was seen in a maternity store and left with a large shopping bag. She and her friend were spotted picking out maternity wear and baby clothes from the local boutique and were heard conferring in hushed tones for several hours as they shopped. The friend, Penelope Porter, was not pregnant, according to sources close to both women.
Sutter finished, then tossed the paper across the table and picked up his fork again.
If that damn paper had gotten this right, there’d be no question he had to race home to be with her. Fate, he would have to believe, had taken control. And wouldn’t that make things simple and clear?
But he knew better than that. To believe the National Tattler one had to be out of one’s head. Just as he’d been that night at the concert.
“I think you need to refine your reading tastes,” he said to Montgomery, taking a bite of his eggs. He could master this longing, he thought. “If you like fiction, novels are better.”
“But sir, don’t you see?” Montgomery said, her voice urgent in the face of his indifference. “That Rose woman is going to claim she’s pregnant! I told you she’d come up with something to get money out of you. And I’ve taken the liberty of doing a little investigating—her business is going down the tubes. She’s down to almost no clients ever since her father was involved in that puppy theft. How much do you want to bet she asks for a huge settlement to get rid of this ‘baby’?”
“Don’t be daft,” he said, dropping his hands to the table. “And don’t ever ‘take the liberty’ of investigating someone I know again without telling me. Do you understand?”
She hesitated, momentarily thrown. “Of course. I’m sorry.”
He held her gaze another moment, anger seething within him, and with an effort returned to his breakfast. “This is a nonissue. She’s not pregnant.”
Montgomery sat back in her chair, arms across her chest. “Maybe, according to you. But Sutter, she’s obviously got a different story and if I were you I’d ask for proof. It would be too easy for her to claim she’d gotten rid of a baby after you settled with her when there wasn’t even one there to begin with.”
“If I’d known you were so interested in fabricated gossip, I’d have bought you a subscription to that rag,” he said. “The story’s not true, Montgomery. Those pictures were doctored. She probably had a bag from Hecht’s.”
“How do you know it’s not true?” she demanded.
He glared at her. “Trust me. I just know it.”
What was she so upset about anyway? She was acting like his accountant at tax time, like he was being robbed in broad daylight.
She kneaded her hands in her lap. “I don’t know how you can be so sure. You must know that contraceptives are not one-hundred percent—”
“Montgomery,” he snapped. “I am not a teenager in need of a lesson on safe sex from you. Now tell me, why are you so upset about this? Even if this were true, it would be my problem. My personal problem. And nothing to do with you.”
At that she looked as if she’d missed the bottom step. “Sir—your problems are my problems. This kind of thing affects your reputation, which affects our company. Don’t you even want me to call the lawyers about it?”
“My reputation is not going to affect this
company in the slightest. Not anymore. It’s gotten too big and you know it. What’s this really about?”
Mongomery rolled her eyes, but to Sutter she looked more than a trifle appalled. “Well, think of it, sir. You, a father. It would be disastrous! Your passion is your work. You can’t be bothered with diapers and bottles and squawking all night long. Imagine if you couldn’t sleep with all the mess and chaos a baby brings. No, this is our life, right here. Work, travel, meetings—changing the face of the business world! We can’t be tied down by some drippy little baby.”
Like dawn breaking, a small light grew in his mind, illuminating Montgomery’s inappropriate, proprietary and misguided view of himself and the situation.
This is our life…
Montgomery, who worked all hours and showed up at his house on the weekends in a business suit. Montgomery, who cut off all her hair and wore mannish clothes as if to deny nature. Montgomery, who was desperate to dispute any place that Megan might have in Sutter’s life. Montgomery thought that he and she were one and the same. They were both married to the company and therefore, perhaps in some way, married to each other.
To her, he was this company and nothing else.
And was he? he wondered suddenly. Was he as pitiable as he’d always considered Montgomery? Had he really sold the very soul of his life to make this company what it was?
Montgomery clearly thought so.
Briana wouldn’t have interfered with Montgomery’s view of their life together, but Megan would. How had she known that Megan was different? How was it that despite her distorted point of view, she had seen almost immediately what it had taken Sutter months to see himself?
For it was obvious now, he told himself. He’d considered marrying a woman based on the same criteria he used in hiring one. Briana fit, she was appropriate, she had the diplomatic skills, hostessing abilities.
Megan, on the other hand, had brought laughter, passion, and freedom from a view of the world that was myopically corporate.
He hadn’t wanted Briana, because he hadn’t been able to let go of Megan. Somewhere inside, some small piece of humanity remained and it knew…
