Besides, her child didn’t need wads of money, a trust fund, or a huge inheritance to be happy. Money was transitory. Here today, gone tomorrow. Her child needed love and a positive role model for a parent. Those were the best things Laurel could give to her baby. “I don’t want your money.”
For the first time since she’d arrived, Brett laughed. “You expect me to believe you came all this way for a job?”
“I do.” Her voice remained calm while she seethed inside. How could she have slept with him? He was the most aggravating, insufferable…
She fought the urge to storm out of his office. Self-preservation kept her sitting. She needed his help getting a job, or she would be homeless. “If I wanted charity, I would have stayed in Chicago.”
“I’m offering you marriage, not charity.”
“Marriage for the wrong reasons,” she countered. “I’ve done that once. I won’t do it again.”
“I’m marrying you because the baby needs a father. That’s reason enough.”
“No, it’s not.” Sure, she was pregnant with his child, but Brett didn’t like her, let alone love her. Both her paternal grandmother and her mother had married for money and position. The women had both suffered when their roles as trophy wives ended abruptly due to their spouses “trading up” for younger lovers, though Grandmama had been given a mortgage-free mansion and a substantial alimony payment as part of the divorce settlement. Laurel had made the mistake of getting engaged to a man she didn’t love. She wouldn’t make a bigger mistake by marrying Brett. She wouldn’t be like the other Worthington brides, who married for financial security and comfort. Baby or no baby. “No one has to get married these days.”
His lips tightened. “People may think nothing about having a child out of wedlock, but that’s not what I want for my baby. Marrying you is the honorable thing to do.”
“Honorable?” The word left a bitter taste in her mouth. Honor had died with her great-grandfather’s generation.
“I won’t be an absentee dad.” His mouth twisted. “We have to get married. The baby needs a father.”
“Says who?” She tilted her chin. “Lots of women raise children on their own. I can do it, too.”
Disbelief filled his gaze. “You plan to raise the baby by yourself?”
His skepticism annoyed her. She pushed back her shoulders to sit taller. “Yes.”
He exhaled through his nose, or maybe he’d intended to snort on purpose. “What about a nanny? Someone to clean up the messes and smells? Someone to take care of the baby while you’re out, flitting about here and there?”
“My days of ‘flitting about’ are over.” She touched her belly. The action was the only thing that brought her comfort these days. Most nights, she fell asleep terrified by what tomorrow would bring, but she had no choice except to keep going. She couldn’t fail. “I love this baby more than anything. Dirty diapers, spit-up, and all.”
A vein throbbed in Brett’s neck. “You could be the greatest mother ever, but a child still needs a father.”
“Your point being?”
He pushed out his chest. “Your baby has a father.”
“Please.” He couldn’t be serious. She laughed, more a reaction from nerves than being amused, but maybe he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. “My baby has a sperm donor.”
She met his furious gaze with one she hoped equaled his. The line had been drawn.
“You’re wrong, Laurel.” Brett walked around his desk, sat, and opened a drawer. He pulled out a pregnancy book. No biggie—she had one of her own. Reading, however, wasn’t what made a good parent. He removed two more. Unbelievably, he stacked three on childcare on top of those.
She shifted in the chair. “A bit premature, don’t you think?”
“I believe in being prepared.”
Okay, so he probably knew more about being pregnant than she did, but that wasn’t a big deal. He must be the type of person who had to know everything about every subject, but knowing wasn’t doing. And none of that mattered right now. She was here for one reason and one reason only—to get a job. She couldn’t forget that.
“See this?” He waved a file folder in the air. “Now that I know the truth, I’ll have my attorneys finish preparing the necessary documents. Though they’ll want a DNA test before making anything official.”
Papers? Lawyers? DNA?
Her heart plummeted to her feet. Forget about the job and medical insurance. Brett had redrawn the line with hidden land mines in her path.
“You may be the one who’s pregnant, but that baby is as much mine as it is yours,” he continued in a harsh, business-like tone. “Don’t ever forget that.”
Laurel couldn’t lose control, not now. Maybe she couldn’t afford to fight him if he wanted full custody, but she’d do her best. She hadn’t been born on the Fourth of July for nothing. She would go out with a bang, fireworks and all. “No test.”
“What?”
She was hungry and exhausted. The initial adrenaline rush carrying her to his office had vanished, but she wouldn’t give up. With every ounce of strength she had, she stared him in the eyes.
“You either believe the baby is yours or you don’t.” Somehow, she managed to keep her voice from shaking. “If you want to sue for custody—”
“You think I would…”
She motioned to the file. “Aren’t those custody papers?”
The corners of his mouth fell. “It’s my will.”
The air whooshed out of her lungs. “I…”
He studied her. “Is that what you think of me? Of what I would do?”
The hurt in his voice made her straighten in her chair. “What am I supposed to think?”
“Anything but that. Our child needs a mother and a father.”
“This child will have both.” She couldn’t bring herself to say “our” child. Not yet, maybe not ever. “We just won’t live in the same house. At least I made the overture of relocating, which is more than I can say for ‘Daddy.’”
His lips thinned. “I’m talking about a family, Laurel.”
“A father doesn’t make a family.”
His nostrils flared. “I’ll concede that point, but neither does a mother.”
Confused, she pushed her hair behind her ears. She hadn’t come to Portland to get a father for her baby, much less a husband for herself. Yes, she and Brett had shared a wonderful night in Reno. He’d been warm, gentle, caring, but they didn’t love each other. She’d assumed he would help her find a job and make a clean start. Truthfully, she’d thought Brett might be more interested after the birth, but Laurel hadn’t considered how big a role he’d want to play in her baby’s life. That would make him a part of her life, too. Sharing a child, sharing memories, sharing a life…
“I have to go,” she said, panicked.
“Where?”
“I… I need to get something to eat.”
He stood taller. “I’ll go with you.”
“But—”
“Don’t read anything into this.” He grabbed his jacket, laptop, and keys. “You need to eat, and I’m driving you. For the baby’s sake.”
For the baby’s sake.
Everything she had done these past weeks—months—had been for her baby, and nothing was working out. In fact, it was getting downright complicated.
What was she going to do?
♥ ♥ ♥
Brett was only trying to do the right thing. Why wasn’t that good enough for Laurel? His family may not have crossed the Atlantic on the Mayflower or been listed on the pages of the social registry, but she was the one with no money, no home, and no job. What would he have to do to convince her to marry him?
On the drive to the restaurant, the atmosphere in his car was as chilly as a February morning, and the cold wasn’t blasting from the air-conditioning. Recognizing the scent of her perfume didn’t help matters. The light floral fragrance suited her perfectly, and the smell transported him back to watching her dress the
morning after their so-called wedding night. She’d dabbed the perfume behind her earlobes, on her wrists, and in the hollow between her breasts.
She’d thought he was asleep and was sneaking out before he awakened. She hadn’t known he’d been up since dawn wondering what to do and say to her. Laurel had taken care of that for him by leaving a note on the pillow next to him.
He’d read the letter so many times he had it memorized….
Every little girl dreams of her wedding day, complete with her own Prince Charming. The ceremony at the Love Dove Wedding Nest Chapel might not have met those expectations, but last night exceeded them. Thank you for making my dreams come true, even if it was for only one night. I wish I could stay longer, but family obligations require me to return to Chicago.
P.S. Thanks for the “wedding” gift. I love the snow globe.
Sure, she did.
Brett knew better than to believe anything she said, then or now. In Reno, he’d thought she would be the perfect wife. So much for perfection.
Yet, he couldn’t deny his attraction for her. An attraction growing by the minute, as crazy as it was to believe.
After parking at the restaurant, he helped her out of the car. She stiffened at his touch, but he wasn’t deterred. As he led her inside, his hand resting on the small of her back, she stayed tensed.
He swore under his breath.
The ice-maiden routine had to stop.
Once they were seated and ordered dinner, the tension between them didn’t improve. The din of voices from the other diners, along with music from the piano in the lounge, kept their lack of conversation from being overly awkward.
A brush of her leg against his sent sparks flying, but she merely apologized, dismissing him without a thought, and sipped her water.
Water wouldn’t cut it for Brett. Three fingers of whiskey sounded about right. He wasn’t a big drinker, but Laurel could make a man do things he normally didn’t do. He settled for beer, a local brewery’s award-winning summer ale, and tried to figure out his strategy.
He hadn’t gotten this far in life by taking no for an answer.
Things weren’t going as he expected—or rather, maybe they were. He’d deluded himself into thinking Laurel could see beyond her upbringing and former station in life. Both in Reno and now.
Truth was she’d hurt him by leaving without saying goodbye, and by not contacting him after she returned to Chicago. That had nothing to do with the baby and everything to do with him.
He shouldn’t care. Not now.
The situation had changed. This wasn’t about her or him. The baby was the bottom line. His ego might be bruised by her rejection, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him.
She had to marry him.
His baby needed a family. He would do whatever it took to make that happen. Even lower his standards to marry her.
“Now about us getting married,” he said finally.
She massaged her temples. “Let’s not repeat that mistake.”
He flinched. “Mistake or not, I’m concerned how you intend to care for our baby.”
“I told you.” She sighed. “Some women choose to stay at home. Others choose to work. I’m going to work.”
“You’re pregnant. You shouldn’t be working.”
Laurel frowned. “Pregnancy is not an illness, although some misinformed people think it is. That’s one reason I came to you.”
She didn’t have a clue. About life. About him.
“Don’t roll your eyes at me, Brett Matthews.” She pursed her lips. “I didn’t travel this far on a whim. Do you think leaving my hometown for a city I’ve never been to was easy? Do you think I wanted to spend three days riding on a bus?”
Everything she did surprised him. “Why didn’t you find a job in Chicago?”
She toyed with her napkin. “I had a job, but it didn’t work out.”
According to the PI’s report, she’d been fired from her position at an exclusive department store, but no reason for her dismissal had been given.
“I searched for another job, but due to my father’s stellar reputation preceding me, I couldn’t find anything that paid more than minimum wage. I thought you would be able to look past my current condition, so I could start over and make a new life here in Portland.”
“You really want to work?”
“I really want to work.”
She sounded serious but believing her was difficult. The woman he’d been with in Reno had been a pampered heiress who didn’t have a responsibility or care in the world. Well, she’d pretended to be one with her top-notch acting skills and lies. “Do you have a degree?”
“A B.A. in art history.”
Not the most marketable degree to make a decent paycheck unless she had artistic talent in the field of counterfeiting. “Any special skills?”
“I’m an excellent shopper.”
“Your one skill is to spend money?”
“Don’t frown. It’s a skill, and it helped me get a job.” She sounded so earnest. “I worked for two weeks as a personal shopper at a department store. I was good at what I did, too.”
“What happened?”
“I got fired,” she admitted.
“Why?”
She sighed. “Tiredness, tardiness, morning sickness. One day, I didn’t make it to the bathroom in time. Needless to say, despite receiving a brand-new pair of Prada sling-back pumps, my customer wasn’t satisfied. The higher-ups at the store weren’t pleased, either, considering I was only a trainee and on probation.”
“Have you worked other jobs?” He’d bet before the stint at the store, she’d never had a job in her life. She probably lived off her daddy’s credit cards. “After graduation, in college, high school?”
She stared at her glass of water. “No, but I’m great at event planning. Parties are my specialty. I’ve also chaired several charity events.”
No wonder she couldn’t find a job in Chicago. Laurel Worthington had no marketable skills.
“There has to be a job for me somewhere,” she added.
How could he hire her for a real position? Yet, she seemed determined to find a job. Something he’d never considered her wanting to do. “How much money do you have left?”
She hesitated. “Enough.”
He doubted that given she’d pocketed two dinner rolls when she thought he wasn’t looking. “Any assets?”
The edges of her mouth turned up slightly. “Do my suitcase and tote bag count?”
There. He saw a glimpse of the fun-loving socialite he’d wedded and bedded in Reno. “Are they filled with family heirlooms, jewels, or works of art?”
“No, only clothes, a few things for the baby, and a couple of knickknacks. Mementos I didn’t want to leave behind.” The momentary light dimmed from her eyes. “I liquidated everything else to pay the creditors.”
“Why didn’t you file for bankruptcy? Your debts would have been forgiven. You might have been able to keep your condo and your car.”
“I’m not my father.” Her lower lip quivered. “I take responsibility for my problems, not catch the first plane to the Caribbean. I don’t want my baby to grow up thinking a Worthington runs away when times get rough, or that it’s okay to take the easy way out. I have to do it right. My name is the one thing I can give to the baby.”
The baby is a Matthews, too.
But that hadn’t occurred to her yet. “What about your mother?”
“She’s living off the generosity of friends in hopes of finding a wealthy husband who will support her and her spending habits.”
“You could learn something from your mom.”
“I have.” Laurel raised her determined gaze to his. “And I’m not about to forget it.”
♥ ♥ ♥
Maybe Laurel had learned more from her mother and grandmother than she wanted to admit. The strained civility at the table with Brett was reminiscent of the final days before her father took flight. However, she controlled her temper, al
lowing Brett to take the lead when dinner arrived.
Laurel knew the main reason. She hadn’t eaten in a nice restaurant for months, and she’d been too hungry to let the tension bother her. But that didn’t make the atmosphere any less strange or disconcerting.
The romantic setting—flickering candlelight, sweet-smelling fresh flowers, soft music—contradicted the hostility brewing between them. They weren’t a couple on a date, but two almost-strangers eating at the same table. Avoiding what needed to be said. Ignoring what they’d shared once. Pretending they hadn’t created a baby together.
Laurel was only too happy to pretend, but with a full stomach and the plates cleared from the table, she needed to get down to business.
“It’s getting late.” She leaned toward him. “Are you going to give me a job or not?’’
“I’m sorry, but—”
“But what?”
“You don’t understand. I can’t just—”
“Hire me?” Not wanting to cause a scene, she lowered her voice. “You own your own company. Why couldn’t you?”
“I run a business, as you so aptly pointed out. There are organizations that will help you. They offer job-training programs for woman reentering the workplace or making career changes.”
Charity organizations, he meant.
So that was how he saw her. Someone to be tossed to a group that helped the poor, unemployed, and homeless. The same as everyone else she’d known and had once considered a friend. Writing a check or attending a five-hundred-dollar-a-plate benefit in support of a worthy cause was easier than helping someone they actually knew…
“I’ve never been in the workplace, so re-entering doesn’t apply to me. I haven’t been abused, in rehab, or living on the streets.” At least not yet. “That’s who those organizations cater to, and I’d never take services away from someone in a far worse place than me.”
The Wedding Lullaby Page 3
