Adopt-a-Dad

by Marion Lennox

  “Very well, I agree,” Gloria said weakly. “Half a million.”

  Silence.

  “You’ll pay that much?” Michael demanded.

  “I said I agreed.”

  “Half a million pounds,” Michael said blankly. “You have to be kidding. Certified check?”

  “If you must.”

  Jenny gave an angry, desperate gasp and headed for the door. Michael moved to block her, holding her lightly against him.

  “No, Jen. Stay.”

  “I’m not a possession,” she said furiously. “To be bartered.”

  “No.” He looked thoughtfully into her furious eyes and smiled, then looked at Gloria. “She’s right. Jen’s not a possession. Besides, she’s real cute. You know, I have a mind to keep her.”

  “For half a million-”

  “I know. I’m nuts. But a wife like this doesn’t come along every day.”

  “You know you don’t want her. It’s just a marriage of convenience. How much?”

  “You mean you’d go higher?”

  “I…” Gloria looked incredulous. Then the venom returned in force. “If I must. But not-”

  “She’s not for sale.”

  “You’ll have your price. Everyone does. And if you don’t sell…”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “If you like. It’s my son’s child.”

  “No.” Michael’s arm held Jenny tight. “Jenny’s carrying my son. That’s the end of it.”

  “Your son!” she hissed. “Any DNA testing in the world will tell that’s nonsense.”

  “I think you’ll find,” Michael said smoothly, “that since I’ve married Jenny, any court in the land will uphold my right to claim fatherhood-with or without DNA testing. As long as Jenny doesn’t dispute it, and I don’t think she’ll do that.” He looked into her confused eyes and smiled. “Will you, love?”

  “No.”

  “I didn’t think so.” His thoughtful gaze returned to Gloria. “Now get out and stay out. Take your hired men and your filthy little syringe and your private jet and get the hell out of this country. If Jenny and I never see you again it’ll be too soon.”

  “You can’t-”

  “Oh, yes, I can,” Michael said softly, dangerously. “Jenny’s my wife, and I know how to look after my own. Get out. Now.”

  THEY DIDN’T SPEAK.

  They didn’t speak while Gloria and her thugs took themselves down the stairs, Bruno giving them a nervous backward glance. They didn’t speak while the trio gunned the Mercedes into action and drove out of sight, rubber burning on the road behind them. Michael could have bet Bruno was behind the wheel. Jenny stood numb while Michael crossed to the bed and reached under it for her suitcase.

  Finally she stirred to life again. A couple of kids-a boy and girl of about sixteen, draped around each other in obvious lust-had stopped at her open door and were staring in. Their curiosity was obvious.

  “You heading to the hospital?” the boy demanded, looking with fascination from Jenny’s belly to where Michael was placing things in her suitcase. “Looks about time. My mom said you went on Thursday. False alarm?”

  “I…yeah.”

  “Gee, you’re big,” the girl breathed, and Michael suppressed a grin and turned to face them.

  “That’s what happens when you let your heart take over from your head,” he told the entwined couple. “It’ll happen to you, too, if you’re not careful.”

  “We’re not that dopey. He’s got protection,” the girl retorted. “Don’t you, Bob?”

  But Bob, it seemed, hadn’t. He gave a shamefaced grin. “Aw, we don’t need it, Mary. It’s safe.”

  The girl wrinkled her nose in horror and turned to look at Jenny. Her eyes widened. Obviously Jenny’s condition didn’t appeal one bit. “You moron. You think I want to be as fat as that? Get real.”

  “Aw, Mary…”

  The girl turned and fled downstairs, and Bob followed, bleating protestations of eternal love. He hadn’t caught her by the time he reached the street, and his protests echoed faintly into the night.

  “I think we might just have done our bit for population control,” Michael said, grinning. Then he glanced at Jenny’s white face and tried to think of something to ease the strain he saw there. She wasn’t smiling. “Hey, it’s okay, Jen. Don’t worry. I’ll look after you.”

  “I don’t want to be looked after.” She closed her apartment door and leaned against it, breathing fast. “Nor do I want to be an advertisement for safe sex. Michael, what are you doing?”

  “Packing.”

  “I can see that. But why?”

  “You know you can’t stay here.”

  “Or you’ll sell me,” she said bitterly. “For half a million pounds.”

  “That was some offer!” He tried to make her smile. “Just lucky I’m already loaded.”

  “Lucky.” She winced. “You sounded interested.”

  “Yeah.” He left what he was doing and put his hands on her shoulders, holding her at arm’s length. Her eyes were full of worry. “Sure, I was interested in seeing just how far she’d go.”

  “And?”

  “And it seems the sky’s the limit. If she’s prepared to pay half a million for this baby, then you move into my place right now. I thought we’d have a couple of days’ grace from immigration, and maybe we do, but it’s not safe for you to stay here.”

  “Gloria’s gone.”

  “If you stay here, then she’ll be back.”

  “No.”

  “Yes, Jenny,” he said, his eyes locking on hers. “She wants your baby, and she wants it a lot. Her offer told me that. The woman has no scruples. You need to be out of her range.”

  “I’ll go to a hotel.”

  “You think she can’t find you? She has serious money, Jen. She can bribe and she can buy whatever she wants.”

  “But I’m married. I have the right to stay here. She can’t touch me. Even if she forced me to go to England tonight, do you think I’d stay there?”

  “What would you do if she succeeded in getting you back to England? You have no money, and she has influence there. If she manages to get the baby to England and applies to the courts for custody, Lord only knows what dirt she’ll dig up against you. She can pay whoever she wants to say whatever she likes. Since the baby stands to inherit the title, then an English court may order that the baby stays with her. So…”

  “So?”

  “The only thing to do is to stay with our original plan,” he said, still holding her shoulders. His gaze was intent and sure. Jenny’s world was crumbling, so he had to sound confident. “I understand why you had to run, but the threat’s not over. We make sure our marriage sticks. It’s a legal contract, but Gloria will be down at immigration first thing tomorrow telling them our marriage is a sham. She’ll shout it to the rooftops, and if necessary she’ll bribe them to get their interest.”

  “But…”

  “Jen, if she’s not back here tomorrow, the immigration officials will be. That’s almost guaranteed. Either way, you can’t be here. Our marriage has to seem real. You have to be with me. You need my protection, and so does your baby.” He gave a self-mocking smile. “Maybe it’s time for me to be a real hero.”

  She didn’t smile back. “Michael, I don’t want to live with you.”

  “Jen, we started this,” he told her, and his voice took on a note of steel. “You knew you’d have to stay with me, whether you want to admit it or not. To do otherwise is stupid, and Gloria’s proven that tonight. Now, let’s get your gear packed and move you where you legally belong. Living with your husband.”

  JENNY SAID NOTHING on the drive, but Michael was growing accustomed to her silences. He liked them, he thought. When his sisters were upset they let him have it with both barrels. Jenny withdrew into herself, holding her trouble close.

  They had packed all her belongings into the Corvette. There was nothing personal left in her apartment.

  “The br
eak has to be complete,” he told her.

  “I can’t stay with you forever.”

  A couple of years, he thought, but he knew if he said that, she’d bolt like a startled rabbit. “Let’s take one day at a time,” he said instead.

  Or even one night at a time, he thought as he watched her worried face. Her absolute weariness concerned him. His first priority was to get her to sleep tonight.

  The responsibility he’d taken on was growing heavier by the minute, he acknowledged bleakly. It seemed he had himself a wife in truth, as well as on paper.

  At least she had a calm nature, he decided, trying to look on the brighter side. She wouldn’t disturb his bachelor existence much.

  “I’ll try not to be too much trouble,” she whispered into the dark, as if she guessed his thoughts. “I never meant to do this to you.”

  “I offered,” he said, and managed a smile. “Don’t be grateful, Jen. Just do what you need to do to survive and go from there.”

  MICHAEL’S HOME couldn’t have been more different from Jenny’s. His multilevel town house was part of a new housing development built on a tree-lined avenue overlooking the bike trails by Town Lake.

  Michael hit his remote control and the door of his garage slid silently up. The Corvette entered the garage, and the door slid closed behind them, and Jenny had the sensation of being trapped. Crazy or not, she had to suppress an impulse to get out, thump on the garage door and demand to be let out.

  But Michael was holding open the door to his house, and she had nothing to do but walk inside.

  And gasp.

  His home was white!

  Jenny stopped dead and stared around with astonishment. Of all the places she’d imagined Michael could live, this wasn’t it. This was no messy bachelor pad. The place was stark and coldly white, with the occasional splash of black for dramatic effect. White tiles, white chairs and sofa, white wood furniture with glass-topped tables to reflect the white tiles. White walls, with black and white prints on the walls. White drapes.

  Michael put down the first load of her belongings and pulled the drapes wide. Outside was parkland and the river beyond. The lights of Austin were twinkling against the night sky. Gorgeous.

  She turned to the room-and shuddered.

  “Michael?”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “This room.” She gestured helplessly. “I can’t…”

  “You can’t what?”

  “I can’t live here,” she said honestly. “I don’t think I can even stay here.”

  “Why not?” He smiled at her. “It’s in better shape than your place. That was a real dump.”

  “There’s no need to get personal.”

  “But it was. Admit it.”

  Her anger flared. “If we’re talking of dumps…”

  “Are we?” He was watching the spark behind her green eyes. She came alive when she was angry.

  She really was lovely.

  “What’s wrong with this place?” he asked, and watched while she tried like crazy to be polite. And failed.

  She took a deep breath. “Michael, it’s awful.”

  “Oh, yeah? Who are we kidding here? Your place was awful. This place has serious money spent on it.”

  “I can see that, and of all the wasteful-” She bit her lip, and Michael grinned. She was so transparent.

  “Go on.”

  “I’m too polite.”

  “No. Come on, Jen.” He was enjoying this. “I’ve been honest about your place. You owe me the same.”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “Yeah, I do.” She was fascinating. Her eyes were roving around the place as if she were mentally pulling it apart, and he could see her courage returning. “We’re married, remember? You’re going to have to show immigration officials around and admit you like living here.”

  “You think I could do that in a million years?” she asked incredulously.

  “Why not?”

  “Oh, yeah, as if I could ever like white. I’d rather face Gloria again than admit I had anything to do with this place. Where do you relax?”

  “I’m not here much.”

  “I can see that. It looks like the photographer’s just left. But when you are here, where do you watch TV and drink beer?”

  “Mostly I do my beer drinking at Garrett’s ranch,” he admitted.

  “No wonder. It’s so cold here. Who decorated the place?”

  “A woman I went out with.”

  “How many times did you go out with her?” Jenny demanded, fixing him with a look. Michael stared at her. She was transforming in front of his eyes. This wasn’t the quiet Jenny he thought he’d married.

  “Beats me. Twice, maybe.”

  “She obviously didn’t know you. This isn’t decorating. This is a vacuum!” She went to the sofa and stared in disgust at its gorgeous white surface. “You don’t sit on this thing!”

  “Of course I do.” He was stung.

  “How often?”

  “I don’t know. Sometimes.”

  “Like never,” she said flatly. “I tell you, Michael, if you sat here now you’d leave a mark that’d take a chemical arsenal to remove. I bet your housekeeper has an awful job keeping it clean.”

  He glared, cornered. “How do you know I have a housekeeper?”

  “Hey, I just guessed.” She grinned. “Sherlock Holmes, that’s me. And I’ll bet she comes once a day. Or more. What’s her name?”

  “I don’t…” Michael frowned. “What the heck does it matter what her name is? It’s an agency. Whoever’s available comes. I don’t know names.”

  “Then that’s easy. Michael, you don’t really like this stuff, do you?”

  Did he? He tried to find words to defend his decor, but they weren’t there to find. There was something about this woman that demanded honesty. “No, but…”

  “Let me fix it for you.” Her eyes gleamed with challenge, and he found himself starting to laugh.

  “Hey, I didn’t bring you here to work.”

  “And there’s no way I’m sitting here idle. I’m scared to sit down. This stuff is the pits, and if I have to stay here for a month I’ll go nuts. You remember what I did with your office?”

  Did he?

  His office had been a bit like this, all chrome efficiency. Five months ago-it must have been about the time Jenny started-it was suddenly transformed. His glass desk was replaced by a vast antique wooden one, his swivel chair became old leather, the chrome disappeared, and someone painted the walls a dusky pink instead of gray.

  He hadn’t realized she’d done it until now. He’d thought it was part of an office renovation ordered by Ellie. Come to think of it, though, it was a darn sight more comfortable place to work now than it had been before.

  But… She was starting on his home?

  “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

  “There’s no problem.” She was staring at the furniture as if it were poison. “I’ll be able to sell these for heaps and replace them with items that are much more comfortable. You won’t even have to write a check.”

  “Jen…”

  She fixed him with a look, and for the first time he felt like a-like a husband! “Tell me that you like this stuff, and I won’t touch it.”

  “I don’t like it, but…it’s home.”

  “You watch TV at your brother’s.”

  “Yeah, but-”

  “Let me have carte blanche to fix this place, and I’ll feel happier living here. It’ll be a project for me.” She smiled at him, her most charming smile. It was a smile that made him blink. Made him take a step backward. “Please?”

  “You haven’t even seen your bedroom yet. Maybe you won’t want to stay,” he said weakly, knowing he was defeated before he started.

  “I don’t want to stay,” she said honestly, her eyes sparkling at the sound of defeat in his voice. She knew she’d won. “But if I must stay then I’ll be useful, and I’ll run replacements past you before I buy t
hem. I’m not taking over your life, Michael. It’ll be your choice.”

  “Hell, Jen.” He stared at her, baffled. He was so far at sea here he was almost drowning. That’s just how he did feel, as if his life were being taken over-by a tidal wave.

  “You do what you want,” he said heavily, humor fading. “You’re my wife, so this is your home. Do what you want.”

  HER BEDROOM was the most comfortable place in the house.

  “Shelby stayed in it while her place was being redone,” Michael told her as he showed her in. Jenny had fallen silent again, and it was worrying him. It seemed there were two Jennys-the one who’d been kicked so many times it was hardly worth getting up again, and the stronger Jenny who was only allowed to escape for brief airings and then put firmly back in her box. “She added a few of her own touches.”

  There was a bright patterned quilt on the bed, a floral print on the wall and a large framed photo on the bedside table. The picture showed a middle-aged couple, parental and proud, with their children. The two girls and the younger boy looked to be about four years old, and there was an older boy of about six.

  There was no mistaking who they were. Michael’s grin, even then, was unique.

  “I’d forgotten you’re a triplet,” Jenny exclaimed, finding her voice. “Who are the others?”

  “That’s Lana sitting down. I gather you’ve met her. Shelby’s behind me and has my arm twisted behind my back-that’s because I was going through a phase of sticking my tongue out at the camera. Garrett’s the big guy.”

  “They all live here? In Austin?” She frowned in concentration.

  “Lana runs the baby shop, and Shelby owns Austin Eats Diner, next to the hospital. Garrett lives on his ranch a few miles out of town.”

  Jenny was frowning. Something about the picture didn’t make sense.

  “You all have red hair,” she said slowly. “But your parents don’t.”

  “We were adopted.”

  Something in his voice warned Jenny she shouldn’t take it further, but she was so far past exhaustion she didn’t pick up on it. “That’s right. You said your birth mother abandoned you. But your adoptive parents took all four of you? That’s wonderful.”