Truly A Match (Rocky Mountain Matchmaker Book 4)

by Tamra Baumann

  She crossed the room and sat beside him on the bed. Slipping an arm around his shoulder, she hugged him. “I understand what you gave up to be here. But don’t you see? There’s always going to be back-to-back interviews and people who need you as much as we do. I know you want to fix this, but if you can’t trust me with your secrets, there isn’t anything to fix. Maybe it’s best if we just go back to the way things were before. We’ll just be friends. Always friends, right?” The lump in her throat grew so big, it made it hard to swallow, much less speak anymore.

  “Bella, this is crazy! We are good together, don’t you see?” His face turned red with anger, and his jaw did the clenching thing again. “You and the children belong to me!” His eyes lit with a passionate anger she’d never seen before.

  She crossed her arms and lifted her chin. “We don’t belong to anyone. You left us behind so you can do what you love to do. Be flippin’ famous all by yourself!”

  Marcello’s head flew back as if she’d slapped him.

  Then he drew a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, his whole demeanor had changed. His fisted hands loosened as he whispered, “I apologize for raising my voice, amore. There is no excuse for that. I’m sorry if I scared you.”

  “You didn’t scare me. You’d never hurt me.” She laid a hand on his arm and gave a little squeeze. “I’m sorry too, for snapping at you like that. I’m just angry at you for expecting me to believe you’ve changed when you won’t come clean with me.”

  “You are right, of course. I don’t deserve trust when I can’t give it. I’m sorry for treating you and our children this way. Come un mostro.” His shoulders slumped. “I’ll go now. Goodbye, amore.”

  “What do you mean like a monster? I wasn’t saying that.”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  He laid a soft kiss on her cheek that made her eyes fill with tears. Part of her wanted him to stay; the other part told her it would be easier on her bruised heart to let him go. Again.

  Marcello stood and slowly walked to the door. After he opened it, he stopped and glanced over his shoulder. “For your lawyer job, if you know something is against the law, do you have to tell the police?”

  “Wait. What?” She hopped off the bed and wrapped a hand around his arm to turn him fully toward her. “What are you saying? Do your secrets have to do with breaking laws? Stop. Don’t answer that. Let me think for a second.”

  He whispered, “Just answer my question, please.”

  The sadness in his eyes killed her. Had he committed a crime? “I took an oath. But—”

  “That’s what I thought. Stella will fix my mistake. Find a kind man to be a father for my kids, bella. Ciao.” He softly closed the door behind him.

  Just like that? He’d gone from wanting to court her to telling her to find another man in a ten-minute span all because of a secret?

  She laid her forehead on the wooden door and closed her eyes. What had the father of her children done that was so bad he’d give up her and the kids rather than tell her what it was? What effect would it have on her kids when the truth finally came out?

  Because it always did.

  Marcello stared into the eyes of an elderly woman whom he loved with all his heart. The only one who knew all his secrets. “What do you think I should do, Wilma?”

  The elegant woman, dressed in designer clothes fitting for the famous star she once was, sat with her back as straight as a rod. Her hands rested on the slightly faded upholstery of a finely crafted antique chair. “You flew all the way to New York to ask me a question you could have asked on the phone? You’re not telling me something, Marcello. What is it?”

  He hadn’t told her the worst of it. It had happened only last year. He thought he’d be able to handle it, but the problem was just getting worse. “My father. He found out who I am now. When my aunt was in the hospital, he went through her things at home. Found the paperwork for my mother’s medical costs. Saw the corporation name who’d been paying her bills, and hired someone to find out who owned it.”

  “After all these years in hiding.” Wilma’s rheumy blue eyes slowly widened with understanding. “Did he threaten to turn you in to the police?”

  “Yes.” Marcello stood and paced the living room in the Hamptons that belonged in a palace, elegant even by the standards set by all the wealthy elite who could afford the real estate perched on the edge of the Atlantic Ocean. “So, I’ve been paying him money to save the factory my aunt confirms is on the brink of closing for good, but she says he’s not putting the money into the business. I only gave it to him to help the people from my village. But he keeps asking for more. I can’t go to jail. I need to take care of my mother.”

  Wilma slowly nodded, concern etched on her face. “I wish your aunt would change her mind and come here to live. You know she’d be welcome in my home to keep your secret safe. And your mother, and little Stefano too, of course.”

  “You are very kind. But my aunt doesn’t speak English and fears she’s too old to learn. She prefers to care for my mother in Italy. I have to respect her decision. I owe her everything for taking care of my mama when my father abandoned her.”

  “Yes, she deserves that.” Wilma sighed. “Besides, this house is all I have since Roger gambled away most everything else. The bank will take it after I’m gone. Which we both know will be soon.”

  “I hope for many more years of your fine company.” Only her secretary knew that he’d bought Wilma’s house from the bank, paid off all her debts, and made sure her staff was paid each month. She had too much pride for him to tell her he’d done it. But he needed to be able to continue doing that until her last breath. He had to do something to fix the problem with his father sooner rather than later.

  He walked to a window and stared out at the ocean restlessly thrashing against the shore. The same way his stomach had felt since he’d left Rachel and the kids. “Maybe I should go back to Italy. Face the charges, explain what happened.”

  Wilma shook her head. “It’d be your word against your father’s. And you’ve already confessed to his crime. Your career would be over, leaving you no way to take care of everyone who needs you.”

  “You’re right, as always.” There was no easy way out. And his father wasn’t an old man. His blackmail could go on for years. “I’m so tired of living a lie.” He turned and picked up his Oscar. “I thought winning this would make the hole in my gut finally close up so I can feel satisfied for a change.”

  Wilma smiled. “That’s a piece of metal, not something that can mend what’s wrong. You’ve been off-kilter for months, Marcello. Maybe taking some time off, spending it with Rachel and the twins is what you need.”

  “I can’t go back. I raised my voice at Rachel when I thought I was going to lose them for good. I can’t risk hurting them.”

  “People raise their voices. That’s normal. Did you ever feel the urge to strike her?”

  “No, of course not.” He’d vowed at the age of five, after witnessing his mother being beaten by his father, that he’d never hit anyone, not even the bullies at school who’d picked on him and deserved it.

  “I’ve known you most of your life. You are nothing like the men who came before you. You have your mother’s kind soul. Please do me a favor and stop avoiding life for fear of being like them.”

  He looked away. “How do I know for sure I can control—”

  “Stop.” She drained her sherry. “I’ll hear no more of that nonsense. It’s time to figure out what to do about your father, short of hiring a hit man. Maybe I could do it and claim dementia? I don’t have a lot to lose at this point.”

  “No.” He laid his golden statue on the table next to her many Tony awards, where he intended to leave it until she was gone. It would give her pleasure. “Hiring someone to take his life would make us just like him. I’d go to jail before I’d do that to you or myself. Not that he doesn’t deserve it. Abandoning Stefano after his mother died was as unforgivable as
what he did to me. He’s nothing more than a sperm donor to both of us.”

  “If you don’t fix things with Rachel”—Wilma struggled to stand to go to dinner, so he hurried to her side to help her—“that’s what you’ll end up being too. A sperm donor. You messed everything up in Denver. You need to get back there and figure things out before she takes you up on that stupid suggestion that she find another man. You’re the right man, the best I know, for her and your children. Go get them back.”

  Her words sent a jolt right through his heart. He’d never wanted to abandon his children like his father had done to his half brother. But how could he tell Rachel the truth without abandoning them in another, more humiliating way by going to jail? No one would hear his claims of innocence. The paparazzi sharks only wanted their blood.

  Maybe he had made a mistake by not telling Rachel at least who Stefano was. Maybe then she’d have trusted him enough to give him a second chance.

  But then there would be more questions, and how much more could he risk telling her? “Rachel is a smart woman. I have to be careful what I say. But maybe I could tell her small parts from the beginning. When I arrived in New York and was saved by the most generous, gorgeous legend on Broadway. But only if you’d permit me to tell her your part in all this. I’d never betray you.”

  “Ah. There’s the reason you’re here. It’s the week after the Oscars. You should be hitting all your media opportunities, not wasting time here asking an old fool for her permission to tell a twenty-year-old story.” She chuckled as they slowly walked down the long, gilded hallway to the dining room. “Some of what I did wasn’t entirely legal either, but if it came out after so many years, there’s no one left to testify. They’re all dead. Who could blame an old woman for helping a struggling immigrant boy? Any press is good press for me these days, Marcello. I say, go for it!”

  “Thank you.” Relief settled his knotted stomach. He’d still not betray Wilma if he could help it. But her permission might have opened the door just the crack he needed to convince Rachel to let him court her properly. To prove to her and himself that he deserved his family.

  Wilma waved her hand. “Get on that fancy phone and send her a message. Tell her you made a mistake. And that you’d like to talk some more.”

  He pulled his cell from his pocket and did as Wilma said. Hopefully, Rachel wouldn’t delete the text without reading it.

  Chapter Four

  Like the song says, what’s love got to do with it?

  Rachel, exhausted from tossing and turning all night thinking about Marcello and his vague text asking for one more chance, placed a cup of coffee on the table in the den for her visiting mom. Marcello had left a deep ache in her chest ever since he’d left on Monday. She’d gotten through the same pain when he’d checked out before. She could do it again.

  Should she text him back and tell him to forget it? Tell him they were really through this time?

  She’d deal with it after her mom left. Pushing her hurt aside, she joined her mother on the floor next to the twins.

  The puppies took that as an invitation to play and galumphed into her lap. They were sort of growing on her, even though she knew better than to get attached. “Mom, look how cute these two are. You need one.”

  “Oh, no you don’t.” Her mother shook her dark-haired head. “I’m still getting used to having your father back home after all these years. That’s been a big enough adjustment for now.”

  Rachel kissed the girl puppy on the head. She refused to name them but couldn’t resist cuddling with them. “I still don’t get how you can take Dad back after he cheated. Did you forget how badly he hurt you? I was there, remember?”

  When Ian started to fuss, her mom scooped him up and sat with him on the couch. “People can change, honey. Look at you. A woman who never planned to settle down. Now you’ve got two beautiful babies, two puppies, a new home that’s just lovely, and a handsome man who wants to court you.” Her mother smirked. “Your sister called me this morning and filled me in.”

  “Except Lori the optimist didn’t tell you the bad parts. Marcello and I are at an impasse. Again. Be right back.” She stood and jogged down the hall. The puppies loved to play chase. And they needed to go outside before the nanny arrived. She didn’t want to scare the woman away right out of the gate. “Come on, guys!” The puppies, tongues hanging out, ran for the back door.

  After she closed the door behind them, hoping they’d play for a few minutes, she rejoined her mom in the den. She picked up Hannah and sat beside her mother on the couch. “How can you be certain Dad won’t cheat on you again? Won’t it hurt twice as bad if he does?”

  Her mom took a sip from her mug as Ian’s eyes drooped. Her mom was a baby whisperer. She was the only one who could soothe the kids as well as Rachel could. Hopefully, the nanny would have the same effect.

  After her mom set her mug down, she whispered, “How do I know I won’t get hit by a bus tomorrow? I’d like to think this time I understand the risks going in and have learned to enjoy the time we spend together.”

  “I don’t know, Mom. I worry you’re making a mistake.” It had killed her to see her strong mother bravely battle her broken heart all those years ago. Eventually, Rachel had forgiven her dad, because that’s what her mom wanted. Rebuilding trust was a different issue. “If a guy cheated on me, that’d be it. No do-overs.” And yet, she was wavering about Marcello. But he hadn’t cheated on her. That she knew of, anyway.

  Her mom’s right brow arched. “You’ve never stuck around long enough to give a man the chance to cheat. Or break up with you first. Until Marcello.”

  She needed to change the subject. She wasn’t ready to talk about Marcello. “In all those years you dated other men, you never fell in love again? Not even a little?” There had to be better men out there for her beautiful mother. Ones who were faithful.

  “Nope. I tried. But I never found anyone I loved as much as I love your father. I’d never settle for less than that.” Her mom leaned over the baby and laid a kiss on Rachel’s cheek. “Why the frown, honey? What’s really upsetting you?”

  Her father had never remarried either. Were her parents soulmates? “I’m . . . just confused.”

  A soft hand slipped under Rachel’s chin. Her mom tilted Rachel’s face, forcing her to look into her mom’s concerned eyes. “Confused about my love life? Or yours?”

  “Both.” Her mom had been so strong after her father left. And had dated some very nice men who should have been perfect for her. What if Marcello had been Rachel’s only chance for love?

  Even though she didn’t know if she was in love with him. How did a person really know for sure? There should be an indicator, like that thing that popped up in the bird when the turkey was done on Thanksgiving, so there’d be no chance of giving people salmonella—or making a mistake and marrying the wrong guy.

  “Sweetheart. Sometimes you have to take a chance with your heart—”

  The doorbell rang. Thankfully. She’d heard that lecture before. From her mom, her sister, her sister-in-law, even her love-dense brother, Nick. She stood to get the door. “That’ll be the nanny. Be right back.”

  Hannah was still in her arms, watching intently. “Cross fingers the nanny likes adorable babies and cute puppies too.” When Hannah grinned as if she understood, it melted Rachel’s heart. Hannah had Marcello’s agreeable nature. And his gorgeous smile. How was she going to move on when looking at her children was like looking at their beautiful father?

  Rachel opened the door to a woman with spiked red hair. She wore ripped jeans, biker boots, and a short black leather jacket. It was hard to tell how old she was. “Hi. You must be the nanny. I’m Rachel.”

  “Au pair. Not nanny. That would imply longer term. I’m going to be actress when my English est better. My name est Ceilia.” Her heavy French accent made her name sound like Seal-la.

  “Nice to meet you. Come in so we can talk about the job.”

  Rachel stepped asid
e and let the woman pass by. “You can leave your bags here for now. Your résumé showed you’ve worked for a few celebrities?”

  “Oui.” Ceilia glanced around as they walked to the den as if assessing the home’s value. “Est new, no?”

  “Yes, I had it built last year. This is my mother, Linda Caldwell. Mom, this is Ceilia.”

  Her mom smiled and held out a hand. “I’d get up, but he’s fast asleep. Nice to meet you.”

  Ceilia nodded and shook her mom’s hand. Then she flopped herself into the leather side chair. “So, where would my rooms be?”

  Hold the phone, goth girl. “We’ll get to that. First, I’d like to introduce you to my children. This is Hannah. And my mom has Ian. You mentioned wanting to be an actress? So how does that work here in Denver? Local theater?”

  “No.” Ceilia shook her head. “I live in LA. The woman who interview say she has connections. I do this for a year, and I get a break from some big star. Don’t know who.”

  Rachel glanced at her mom, who frowned before she asked, “But you enjoy working with children?”

  “Oui.” Ceilia smiled for the first time. She was a beautiful woman under all the weird makeup. “Kids are great. And I’ve worked for many famous people, so I know discretion.”

  The puppies whined at the back door, so Rachel stood to let them in while listening as her mom talked with Ceilia, who had an impressive résumé. But that one-year-actress deal didn’t sit right with Rachel.

  She opened the door, and the puppies raced inside and straight for the den. They seemed to love to be with the babies as much as she did. They were amazingly gentle and polite around the kids, licking occasionally, but always careful not to step on them or hurt them when they were on their blankets on the floor. It was if they instinctively knew to be careful around the kids, and that it was only okay to roughhouse with adults.

  When Rachel stepped into the den, Ceilia had her booted feet drawn up under her. “Nobody say dogs too, Rachel. I don’t like.”