by Jackie Braun
Bryan was grateful to see the last straggling queue of reporters file out of the conference room and pile into the elevator.
Once they were gone, Julia wilted onto one of the chairs with a sigh. “I think that went well.”
“For a feeding frenzy.” Hugh grunted. “But at least it’s over and done with now.”
Morgan was leaning against the far wall, jiggling the baby in her arms and staring intently at a spot on the carpet. She was quiet, far too quiet for Bryan’s liking, and he suspected he knew the reason.
“Mom, would you and Dad mind taking Brice into my office? I’d like to talk to Morgan alone for a minute.”
When the conference-room door closed behind his parents, he turned to her. “That was pretty brutal. How are you holding up?”
“I’m fine.”
Liar, he thought. But he didn’t call her on it. He’d lied as well. By omission, when it came to Gil Rogers, but still.
“Look, Morgan, about the private investigator,” he began.
She shook her head to stop his words. “Don’t, Bryan. There’s really no need for you to explain. I didn’t know you’d hired one, but I knew that you didn’t trust me. You made that pretty plain.”
“In the beginning, yes. But that was before—”
Before he’d gotten to know her and realized what a strong, brave and determined woman she was.
Before he’d kissed her and his ordered world had begun spinning into chaos.
Before he’d fallen in love with her.
The last revelation was too new and staggering to ponder let alone share. Love? Good God! He hadn’t seen it coming. Of course, he hadn’t predicted any of the recent events that had occurred in his life.
Morgan was watching him, waiting for him to continue.
“I let past circumstances color my judgment. I meant it when I told the reporters you’re nothing like my ex-wife. I should have seen that right away. I should have believed you.”
“I understand, really.” But her arms remained wrapped around her waist, her body language stating quite plainly that something was troubling her…something had hurt her.
“Still, I’m sorry. I made things more difficult for you in the beginning than they needed to be, especially given everything you were already going through. I know what happened to your parents.”
“The detective?”
He nodded guiltily. “I can’t even begin to imagine how horrible that must have been for you. And then, in my stubbornness, I cheated you and my parents out of months of time together.”
That wasn’t what he was most sorry for, though. Most of all, he was sorry about Dillon. Not only because his brother had lied to Morgan, charmed and seduced her in Aruba, and then walked away without a backward glance only to die in a tragic accident and leave her child fatherless. No. Bryan was sorry that Dillon had been the Caliborn brother to meet her first.
“It’s okay. In the end, things have worked out the way they were meant to.” Something in her words struck him as ominous, though he couldn’t put a finger on what before she motioned toward the door and asked, “Do you think that’s the end of it?”
“God, I hope so.” Running a hand over the back of his neck, Bryan added, “I don’t want to be dodging reporters’ questions and photographers’ flashbulbs every time I leave the office or arrive home. That’s why I tried to spell out the facts as clearly as possible so they won’t look for more.”
She offered what passed for a smile. “Well then, I’d say mission accomplished.”
Immediately following the news conference, Morgan moved out of the penthouse as planned. Bryan moved back in. Her personal effects were gone, but reminders of her were everywhere. In the red accent pillows and throw, the scented candles and the dining-room-table runner she’d left behind. Even in the rearranged living-room furniture. She’d turned his place into a real home during the short time she’d lived there. But it didn’t feel like a real home now that she and Brice were no longer in it. When he came home from work late the first evening she was gone, the penthouse just felt big and empty, and, yes, he could finally admit it, lonely.
He was lonely.
In the weeks that followed, it became clear that his relationship with Morgan had changed along with their addresses. Did she regret the stolen kisses they’d shared? She’d told him they should forget they’d ever happened and apparently she had. Bryan, however, hadn’t been successful. He lay awake each night, torturing himself with memories of what had been as well as what he wished had transpired…what he still wished would happen. But none of it seemed possible when Morgan smiled at him so politely and kept him at a distance during visits that she made sure were conducted under the watchful eye of his parents.
It was killing him. She seemed not to notice.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
IN THE middle of November, Morgan found a house. She’d fallen in love with it at first sight. It was a two-story Tudor in a quiet, tree-lined neighborhood of older homes just a few miles from Bryan’s parents’ place. Compared to that house, it was small, but with four bedrooms and three and half baths spread over two stories, it more than accommodated her and Brice’s needs.
It had a big yard with a couple of mature oaks whose fat limbs were perfect for supporting a tree house or a tire swing, and while the landscaping was nice, Morgan was sure Julia could give her plenty of ideas on how to improve it. The owners had already relocated to another state, which meant she could move in as soon as the paperwork was completed. If all went as planned, she and Brice could be in their own home by Thanksgiving or at the very least Christmas. The idea appealed to her. Even though she enjoyed staying in the guesthouse and the Caliborns respected her privacy, she wanted her own home, a place on which she was free to put her own stamp.
Today, Bryan was coming by to see the house. She’d asked him to, wanting his opinion since she would be plunking down a chunk of Brice’s inheritance to pay for it. She waited for him in her car in the driveway. The vehicle was new, purchased a couple days after the old one had left her and the baby stranded in the rain. It was nothing flashy, but it boasted all of the latest safety features and had fared the best in a national publication’s crash tests.
Leaves swirled on the street when Bryan pulled his Lexus to the curb. Morgan got out of her car and joined him on the brick-paved walk that led to the front door. He was dressed in a dark suit since he’d come straight from his office. His attire was professional, his smile personal. Upon seeing it, her pulse took off like a warning flare.
They hadn’t been alone together since the press conference. Morgan had made sure of that. They wouldn’t be alone for long now. Her real estate agent was running late, but the woman would be there any time to let them inside and answer his questions during the walk-through. Even so, Morgan wondered if it had been a mistake to leave Brice in the care of Bryan’s parents. At least with the baby in her arms she wouldn’t be so tempted to open hers to Bryan when he reached her.
“Hello, Morgan.”
“Hi.” The cool temperatures turned their greetings into white mist. They eyed one another awkwardly before she asked, “So, what do you think of the neighborhood?”
Stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets, he glanced around. “It’s very solid. The values here are in no danger of dropping. And there’s nothing wrong with the home’s curb appeal.”
“The mature trees help,” she said, pointing to a nearby oak. Its leaves had turned yellow and most of them had fallen, exposing a squirrel’s nest high in the thick branches.
“Brice is going to have a field day around here when he gets older.”
“Tell me about it. He’s already impatient to be mobile. Just this morning he pushed up onto his knees after rolling onto his belly. Any day now, he’s going to be crawling and everything at his eye level will be fair game.”
He glanced toward her car. “You didn’t bring him?”
She shook her head. “He’s with your mother.”
&n
bsp; The real estate agent arrived then. After apologizing for her lateness she unlocked the front door and waved them inside. “If it’s okay with you, I’ll just stay out here and make a few phone calls while you show Mr. Caliborn around.”
Morgan swallowed. She had little choice but to agree. The door closed behind them with a thud that seemed to echo in the empty house.
“The parquet floors are original and for the most part in excellent shape.”
“So I see.”
She pointed to a room through an arched doorway to the side. “Why don’t we start the tour in the dining room?”
Bryan had more on his mind than the house, but he followed her through the rooms, listening patiently and with no small amount of interest to her plans for decorating. It was clear Morgan loved the house. He liked it, too. Even though it was bare of furnishings and its walls were in need of a new coat of paint, it exuded charm and character. No doubt once she took possession of it, in short order and with little effort, she would turn it into a home.
Even now as they walked from space to space he could picture her there. In the living room sitting beside the fireplace and admonishing Brice to keep away from the flames. In the kitchen baking cookies or drinking hot cocoa at a table tucked into the nook. In the library curled up with Brice on an overstuffed couch turning the pages of a picture book.
And in the master bedroom at the top of the stairs, he pictured her in a big bed, wearing white satin and smiling as she held out her hand in invitation.
“What’s wrong?”
Her question yanked Bryan from the daydream. “Sorry?”
“You’re frowning. Don’t you like the house?”
“That’s not it. The house is perfect. I can see you here,” he told her truthfully.
The problem plaguing Bryan was he could see himself there, too. With Morgan. With Brice. And with the other children he wanted to create with her to fill up the spare bedrooms. He hadn’t thought it possible to want a wife and children again after what had happened. He hadn’t wanted to risk his heart as either a husband or a father. He knew the reason behind his changed mind. She was standing in front of him. She was also moving on. She didn’t need him.
“Then you think I should buy it?” Morgan’s excitement was palpable.
“Yes. It’s a good investment, although I wouldn’t offer the full asking price given the current market.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” she replied. “Especially since the owners have already left and are motivated to sell.”
He couldn’t have asked for a better segue. Bryan cleared his throat. “Speaking of leaving, I’ll be flying to London next week.”
“The company’s expansion project?” she guessed. She’d heard him and his father talk about it enough.
He nodded. “We’ve hit another snag. At this point the new facility won’t be operational until next summer, which puts us six months behind schedule and close to three million dollars over budget. I’m hoping that by being there I can help move things along.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“A month is the best-case scenario. Three or more if we need to appeal a judge’s ruling.”
Her expression dimmed. “You’ll miss the holidays.”
He shook his head, offered a crooked smile. “They have these things called airplanes, you know. But I will miss—”
Bryan couldn’t stand it any longer. He had to touch her, even if just to stroke the side of her face, which he did. His hand lingered, turned so his palm could cradle her cheek. He didn’t want the contact to end or the connection he felt with her staring up at him to be lost.
“What will you miss?” she asked softly.
“Seeing Brice on a regular basis. Babies change so fast.” He swallowed. “And you, Morgan. I’ll miss you.”
His mouth found hers. The kiss was light, soft, giving her a chance to pull away if that’s what she wanted. When she didn’t, he infused it with all of the feelings he couldn’t yet give voice to. Dillon had been good with words and a master when it came to persuasion. His brother also had been spontaneous, never thinking beyond the moment. Bryan couldn’t be like that. He always looked before leaping. But he could be persuasive in his own way.
By the time the kiss ended, a plan was forming. He needed time to put it in place, to perfect his strategy. Twenty-four hours would do it.
“I have to go, Morgan, but can I stop by the guesthouse tomorrow evening?”
“Okay,” she said slowly.
“Ask my mother to sit for Brice again. There’s something we need to discuss.”
Morgan blew out a breath and paced the length of the living room, hoping to wear off the worst of her nerves. Brice was already at the main house with the Caliborns, and Bryan was due to arrive at the guesthouse soon. She’d changed her clothes three times before deciding on a chocolate-brown sweater and tweed pants. She blamed her indecisiveness on the way he’d looked at her after that kiss.
Bryan could be a hard man to read, but as they’d stood in the empty master suite with the late-afternoon sun filtering through the window, she’d sworn a much deeper emotion had stirred in his dark gaze than the sort that went with either sexual attraction or family obligation. It had thrilled her to see it, especially coming as it had after his admission that he would miss her and Brice during his stay in London. But a moment later he’d been his usual contained self when he’d asked to stop by the guesthouse tonight.
She was adding a little more lip gloss when she heard the knock. She glanced at her watch. Bryan was early. Morgan wasn’t sure what his eagerness said about the topic he wanted to “discuss.”
“Hello, Morgan.”
“Hi.” She managed the greeting in a casual voice and stepped back to allow him inside. “Can I take your coat?”
He handed it to her along with the bottle of wine he’d brought. Morgan was still nursing Brice, but she decided to indulge in half a glass when she poured him some of the merlot. She’d expressed some breast milk earlier for Julia to give the baby and she’d begun supplementing his feedings with some formula and cereal so he slept through the night.
When she returned with their glasses, he was standing in front of the sofa. He took his glass of wine, but instead of sipping from it, he set it aside and then squared his shoulders as if preparing for battle. His tone was firm, his words more of an order rather than a request, when he said, “I want you and Brice to come to London with me.”
“Wh-what?” Morgan’s wine nearly sloshed over the rim at that. He took it from her hand and set it next to his on the side table.
“I know I won’t be gone long, a matter of months at most, but I want you with me.”
“You do?”
“Actually, I don’t just want you with me in London, I want you to marry me, Morgan.”
Her heart bucked out an extra beat as she waited for a declaration of love or at the very least a mention of his true feelings, but what Bryan said next was, “It makes sense for a number of reasons.”
“Marriage makes sense?” she asked, because she wasn’t sure she’d heard him right.
“Absolutely.” He nodded, clasped his hands behind his back and began pacing in front of the sofa where she’d taken a seat since her legs threatened to give out. As if addressing Windy City’s management team, Bryan began ticking off those reasons in a voice that conveyed plenty of conviction, but lacked the kind of passion a woman hopes to hear from a man asking her to spend the rest of her life with him.
“Brice is a Caliborn. He is an heir to one of the largest businesses in the country. It’s not expected, but of course it’s hoped, that when he comes of age he will take his place within the company that his great-great-grandfather started in post-fire Chicago.”
“I’d never stand in the way of that.”
“I love Brice. I know it took me a long time to show it, but it’s true.”
“You had your reasons,” she said softly.
“I’d do anything
for him.” Just as he would have done anything for Dillon? “I want to look after him, Morgan.” Just as he’d always tried to look after Dillon? “And I want to look after you.” Because Dillon was no longer there to do it?
Responsibility, obligation, duty. Morgan needed better reasons than those to wed. “But marriage is—”
“The perfect solution.”
His use of the word solution implied Bryan was addressing a problem. Her heart began to ache. The pain grew worse when he said, “You and I are compatible. I enjoy spending time with you.” His gaze dipped to her lips. Longing, was that what she saw? Apparently not, she decided when he said, “We share similar tastes in takeout food and home furnishings.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Chinese food and room decor are a good basis for a lifelong commitment?”
“That’s not what I meant.” He frowned, as if sensing his argument wasn’t winning her over. “It’s just that a lot of couples I know got married because they were attracted to one another.”
“And that’s bad?”
“It’s not enough. You have to have things in common to succeed long-term.”
She agreed with him to an extent, but he still wasn’t talking about love. Love was the only reason Morgan would marry.
“I will be faithful to you,” he was saying. “Of course, I’ll expect the same from you in return. And, as my wife, I will support you in whatever you want to do.” He gestured with his arms. “For example, if you want to continue teaching music weekday afternoons at the south-side community center, you may do so.”
“Gee, thanks for the permission.”
He coughed. “What I mean is you wouldn’t be limited to only that. I have the resources that would allow you to create your own center somewhere if you’d like, or do whatever else you feel necessary to bring music into the lives of young people.” He ruined that fine speech by adding, “Philanthropy is a Caliborn trait.”
“Apparently so is high-handedness.” Morgan rose from the sofa. She’d heard enough. More than enough. Her heart couldn’t take any more. Crossing her arms over her chest, she shouted, “Where do you get off telling me what I can do and expecting me to settle for compatibility in a marriage? When I marry—if I ever marry—it will be for love.”
