by Jackie Braun
The baby was in her arms when Morgan opened the penthouse door. Bryan’s gaze drifted to the infant, the tight line of his mouth softening. Was it because he saw his brother there? More and more, Morgan thought she caught glimpses of Dillon or some trait that surely was more Caliborn than Stevens.
Or was Bryan recalling that the last time the two of them had stood in the foyer, they’d kissed? His gaze was on her now—specifically, on her mouth. She waited, certain he was going to bring it up. But he didn’t and she didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. Did that mean she was the only one who’d spent time obsessing over that earth-shattering lip-lock?
He ended the potent silence by holding up a brown paper bag. “Shall we eat in the kitchen?”
She nodded. “No sense breaking out the fine china for takeout.”
Morgan retrieved Brice’s bouncy seat from the bedroom and joined Bryan as he set the granite-topped island with two plates and cutlery.
Glancing up, he asked, “Can I get you something to drink?”
“That’s all right. I’ll get it.” She set Brice in the seat and poured herself a glass of milk. “Do you want some or would you prefer—what was it?—Scotch and soda?”
“I’ll just have water tonight.”
She waited till they were seated to say, “So, what did you need to discuss?”
“A couple of things, actually.” He selected one of the cartons and forked out some white rice. “First, Windy City Industries would like to make a donation to the community center.”
She blinked in surprise. “That’s very generous. They’ll be thrilled with any amount, I’m sure.”
“Not money. Well, not directly anyway. Your supervisor will be notified, but basically you’ll need to make up a list of the instruments you require for the after-school program you teach. We’ll see to it that whatever is on the list is purchased and gets delivered as soon as possible.”
“Bryan, I don’t know what to say. Other than thank you, of course.” She beamed at him. “You have no idea what a tremendous gift you’re giving these children.”
He brushed her gratitude aside. “It’s not me, Morgan. The donation is coming from Windy City Industries. We believe in being community-minded and supporting worthwhile causes. I thought an after-school music program for at-risk kids was just such a cause and passed the recommendation to the appropriate people at the company to make the final judgment. They notified me today of the gift.”
“Well, pass my thanks along to Windy City then.” She smiled at him. He might try to distance himself from the donation, but they both knew he was responsible.
“And now to the other matter.” He cleared his throat. “Unless their plans change, my parents will be returning from France the Friday after next.”
“Oh.” She gulped and a peapod nearly stuck in her throat. The hour of reckoning would soon be at hand.
“I’ll make the appropriate arrangements once they arrive and settle in,” he said.
Then Morgan’s eyes widened as another thought crossed her mind. “You’ll need your apartment back.”
That had been the deal they’d struck when she’d agreed to stay. She’d been paying him for the privilege, not that he’d cashed the checks she’d made out to his name.
“There’s no hurry,” he said.
Morgan set her fork aside. She’d been looking for a new place, and had a couple of leads on efficiencies that were in her price range. It was time to get off the fence and put down a deposit.
“When do you need me to leave?”
“Whenever,” he answered vaguely.
“Don’t tell me you’re enjoying staying in your boyhood room?” she teased.
He merely shrugged. “Actually, my parents have a guest house at the back of their property. Dill lived there on and off. I’ve been using it while you’ve been here. It’s quite comfortable, especially since there’s a pool and hot tub practically outside my door.”
“Well, as long as you’re sure I’m not putting you out.” She picked up her fork again and pushed a piece of chicken around on her plate. “Britney mentioned the commute when Brice and I first moved in here.”
He frowned. “Britney talks too much.”
“I probably shouldn’t say this, but she’s got a serious case of the hots for you.”
It might have been a trick of the lighting, but she thought he blushed. Regardless, he didn’t look comfortable. “Beyond the fact that I’m her boss, and not in the market for either a sexual-harassment suit or a serious relationship, she’s not my type.”
“She said the same thing about me.” Morgan wanted to kick herself as soon as the words left her lips; instead she plowed ahead. “What is your type?”
His gaze was steady, piercing, actually. It probably scared most people witless, but Morgan didn’t blink. He was good at pushing people away, but she was even better at hauling them close. She came by the talent naturally. Her father had been a pro at getting her to open up and share her feelings.
After a moment, he picked up his napkin. Folding it into smaller squares, he said quietly, “I used to know what I wanted. Now I’m not so sure.”
She knew exactly what he meant. Tall, dark and brooding had never been her ideal. Although lately…
He pulled her from her musing by saying, “About the penthouse. Don’t worry about packing up for the time being. You’re not putting me out. As for my parents, I’ll get together with them as soon as they’ve recovered from jet lag, explain everything and set up a meeting.”
“I’d prefer that you set up a visit,” she corrected. “A meeting implies business. Business, to me anyway, implies money. I want it to be clear that’s not what I’m after. I want a family for my son. Specifically, grandparents, since both of my folks are gone.” She tilted her head to one side. “I also wouldn’t mind an uncle, since as an only child I can’t provide Brice with one of those. Do you understand?”
God help him, he was starting to. More of the old distrust melted away. Morgan was so real and pragmatic. Her feet were planted firmly on the ground. She took on the yoke of responsibility without complaint. He couldn’t help wondering, he couldn’t help asking, “What in the hell did you see in my brother?”
Her eyes widened. “I…I…”
“Don’t answer that question!” Bryan stood so quickly he knocked over his water. The glass cracked and water sloshed across the granite before spilling over the edge and forming a puddle at his feet.
Morgan was up in an instant, grabbing a dish towel to mop up the mess on the island. When she bent down, he knelt beside her, his hand over hers on the towel. “Don’t answer the question,” he said again, this time more softly. “It came out wrong. For all of my brother’s faults, he was a good man.”
And Bryan missed him. God, how he missed him.
“I believe that, too.” They both stood. “And, since I would love to hear you talk about him more and, you know, share the kinds of things I can pass along to Brice, I’m relieved you feel that way.”
He waited until she returned from dumping the soaked towel and broken glass in the sink, to ask, “Why wouldn’t I?”
She settled back onto her stool. “Well, the name thing for one. Some people would have been upset about that, especially since I get the feeling it wasn’t a one-time occurrence.”
“No, it wasn’t.” He sighed and sat as well. “When he was killed in Vail, the police first notified my parents that I was dead. Since I was having dinner with them at the time, we all realized what must have happened. Still, we held out hope that it was all just a big mistake and that Dill would come waltzing through the door.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I flew to Vail to make a positive ID.” His chest ached as he recalled the shock of seeing his brother’s body on a cold metal slab at the morgue.
“My God! How horrible.”
“Yeah, but better me than my mother or father. No parent should have to go through that.”
; “No parent should have to lose a child, period.”
The ache in his chest intensified. There was more than one way to be robbed of that joy. She laid a hand on his arm. How was it possible that such a simple touch could offer so much comfort?
“You’re probably wondering why Dillon did what he did.” When Morgan nodded slowly, he decided to tell her. She had a right to know. “He was pretty much broke.”
If the news disappointed her, it didn’t show. Her expression never wavered.
“He had a trust fund, a sizeable one, left to him by our grandparents, same as I did. I invested most of mine. He spent his. Most of it was gone by the time he got out of college.”
“Didn’t he work?” She did look disappointed now.
“He had a position at the company.” Their father would have gladly made Dill a vice president if he’d shown any interest or initiative. “He showed up sometimes, but he didn’t put in regular hours. Dill was…He never really grew up.”
“And so you let him use your identity and spend your money?” Her tone held an odd mix of disbelief and censure.
“He was my brother. I looked out for him.” Guilt nudged Bryan as he recalled that final phone message he’d left. Perhaps that’s why his voice was hoarse when he added, “I’d been looking out for him since we were kids.”
“Maybe that’s why he never grew up,” Morgan answered quietly. “He never had to deal with the consequences of his actions.”
Anger came fast. Bryan welcomed it since it not only chased away the grief and guilt he felt over his brother, it corralled his wayward interest in this woman who was off-limits to him. She was his late brother’s conquest. The mother of Dillon’s child.
“I don’t recall asking for your analysis,” Bryan snapped, even though he knew she’d merely said aloud what he sometimes thought. That between his parents and himself they’d made it too easy for Dill.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “You’re right. I didn’t mean to be judgmental. We all have flaws and, as you said, despite those, Dillon was a good man.” Her gaze veered to Brice. “That’s what I’ll make sure my son understands about his father.”
“Thank you.”
“You’ve never held him, you know.”
Bryan didn’t feign ignorance, rather he ignored the question, forking up a bite of sweet and sour pork instead.
“What is it about him that makes you hold back?” Morgan persisted.
God, the woman was blunt. He knew hardened dealmakers who weren’t as adept at going for the jugular. Brice came to Bryan’s aid. Without any fussing at all, he spat up all over his pajamas.
Morgan crinkled her nose. “Sorry about that. We’re working on his table manners.”
“That’s all right.”
She tipped her head to one side. “You’re really not grossed out.”
“He’s a baby.”
“A lot of men would be, unless they’re dads themselves.” Morgan used her napkin to mop up what she could before scooping the baby out of the seat. It was just as well she wasn’t looking at Bryan. Her offhand comment had landed a direct hit.
After she left the kitchen, Bryan picked up his plate and dumped his uneaten dinner down the garbage disposal. His appetite was gone, obliterated by a powerful and confusing mix of emotions. He decided to leave before she started asking more questions that he didn’t want to answer. Questions whose answers he was no longer sure he knew.
He was on his way to the bedroom to tell her goodbye when a knock sounded on the door. He could hear Morgan talking to Brice in the nursery. Since she was busy and this was still his penthouse, he decided to answer the door.
Courtney was on the other side, wearing a low-cut black dress and stiletto heels. Just what the doctor had ordered in the past, but seeing her crimson lips bow with promise now did nothing for him.
“The doorman said you were home. Hope you don’t mind my popping by. I’m celebrating the fifth anniversary of divorce.” She held out a bottle of Dom. “Want to join me? I hate drinking alone.”
He glanced over his shoulder, nervous for no reason that made sense. “I’m…I was just on my way out, actually.”
“Let’s stay in for a little while,” she coaxed, walking past him into the foyer.
“I can’t stay here.” He expelled a breath.
“Okay. We can go to my place,” she suggested.
Take her up on the offer, he ordered himself. Go and forget about everything for a few hours. That was what he’d done in the past. But he shook his head. “Not tonight.”
“Oh? Not in the mood?” There was nothing Courtney found more exhilarating than a challenge. Her brows rose and she set the bottle of champagne and her handbag on the entry table. “Perhaps I can change your mind.”
She reached for him, but before her arms wound around his shoulders Bryan trapped her hands in his. He brought them to his lips for a kiss. The gesture wasn’t intended to be seductive. It was a goodbye. He could tell she knew it even before he said, “I’m sorry.”
She stiffened for a moment, but then was laughing huskily. “Who is she, Bryan? Please tell me it’s not that snooty little secretary that glares daggers at me every time I stop by your office.”
He really had to do something about Britney. But back to the matter at hand. “She’s no one you know.”
Courtney pulled away and turned, regarding him in the foyer mirror. She sounded genuinely interested when she asked, “Is she worth it?”
He glanced toward the bedroom. “It’s not like that.”
Courtney, of course, didn’t see it that way. Turning, she said, “It’s exactly like that, Bryan, or you’d still be interested in what I have to offer.”
“You do have a lot to offer,” he replied in lieu of an answer to her initial question.
Taking Courtney’s bejeweled hands in his, he raised them to his lips again. This time the kiss he dropped on her knuckles held an apology.
Morgan, however, was the one who said the words aloud. “I’m sorry.”
Both he and Courtney turned. Morgan was holding a freshly changed Brice, her eyes wide and assessing, her expression disappointed. In him?
“Oh, my,” Courtney told Bryan. “Now I can see why you said ‘not here.’”
“Courtney Banks, this is Morgan Stevens. She’s my…she’s my late brother’s….” He motioned with his hand, not sure what word to use to fill in that last blank.
The baby in Morgan’s arms apparently clarified things for Courtney. “Ah. I see.”
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Morgan said. She would no longer meet Bryan’s eye. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m going to put Brice down.”
“I was just going anyway,” Bryan said. Why did he feel like such a heel? He had nothing to hide. He’d done nothing wrong. The kiss he and Morgan had shared came to mind. Liar.
“Well, thanks for the takeout. It was nice to meet you, Courtney.”
“The same here.” Courtney gathered up the champagne and her handbag.
He wasn’t leaving with her, but Bryan knew that was exactly what it looked like. Maybe that was for the best. “I’ll call you when I hear from my parents,” he told Morgan.
Her forced smile was the last thing he saw before closing the penthouse door.
“I’ll see you to your car,” Bryan said to Courtney as they stepped into the elevator.
She was quiet during the ride to the lobby. He appreciated her silence. He didn’t want to answer questions right now. He walked her to her car, a sleek red foreign number that was parked in the fire lane.
“You’re lucky you haven’t been ticketed or towed,” he remarked.
“I like to live dangerously,” she said with a delicate shrug of her shoulders. Then, more seriously, she added, “Take care, Bryan. Don’t let her hurt you.”
“She’s…we’re not in the kind of relationship that allows for one to be hurt.”
“But you’d like to be.”
He opened the car door for her
and ignored the comment. “I can’t be hurt, Courtney.”
“Sure you can. We both can be. By the right person. And we were in the past, which is why we’ve sought out one another’s company these past few years. It’s been safe.”
“It’s been more than safe,” he pointed out in an effort to soften their goodbye.
Courtney’s laughter was bawdy as she slipped into the driver’s seat. “Well, that goes without saying. We’ve had some good times. I may even miss you.” She pointed back toward his building. “If things don’t pan out the way you’re hoping, be sure to call me. The Dom will be gone by then, but I’ll spring for a new bottle.”
He smiled, but made her no promises. After his divorce he’d stopped making promises to women. Or maybe he just hadn’t met a woman who’d changed his mind. Until now.
CHAPTER SIX
MORGAN grew anxious waiting for Bryan to call. Not, she assured herself, because she felt he owed her an explanation as to how he could kiss her so passionately and fail to mention he had a girlfriend—a gorgeous, perfectly coiffed, perfectly proportioned girlfriend who looked as though she’d just stepped out of the pages of a fashion magazine. No, she wanted to know if he’d spoken to his parents and how they had taken the news about Brice.
Already she’d been apprehensive about meeting the Caliborns. She was doubly so now. She’d conceived a child with one of their sons during a brief fling in Aruba, and now, just months after giving birth, she found herself disturbingly attracted to the other one.
What would they see when they looked at her? A conniving gold digger? An opportunist? Someone of low moral character?
What would they see when they looked at her son? Would they too question Brice’s paternity, perhaps even demand a test? It still surprised her that Bryan hadn’t done so yet, because even though his attitude seemed to have softened, he remained detached from the baby.
By the time the following Friday rolled around, she was a bundle of nerves, though it helped to be busy at the community center, so she’d stayed late to help a young girl practice scales. Carla was ten and had just signed up for the program the week before. She was shy and introverted, but, like the other kids, eager to learn.
