by Jackie Braun
“But—”
She steamrollered over him. “As for Brice, you have no need to be concerned that I’ll somehow deprive him of his heritage. As a matter of fact, I was already considering starting the necessary paperwork to legally change his last name from Stevens. As you said, he’s a Caliborn. His name will reflect that soon enough.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“You didn’t mean what? To insult me? To make me feel belittled and bullied? Well, you have. I thought—” She shook her head and shoved hurt behind anger. “It really doesn’t matter what I thought now. I was wrong.”
“It does matter.”
She pointed a finger in the direction of the door. “Go, Bryan. Now. Because while you seem to think we have so much in common, at the moment I can’t think of anything.”
“Morgan—”
When he made no move to leave, she marched to the door, flung it wide for him.
“Just go. Maybe it’s for the best you’ll be leaving for London soon. I don’t want to see you for a while. When you return, I’ll be in my new home and things will be less awkward for all of us.”
He stood at the threshold, looking dismayed. “You’re angry with me.”
The understatement grated. “And hugely disappointed.” Hurt came into play, too. “But don’t worry that how I feel right now is going to prevent me from allowing either you or your parents to see Brice. I came to Chicago because I wanted my child to have a relationship with his father’s family. That hasn’t changed. I may be a lot of things, but I can assure you that spiteful isn’t one of them.”
“I never thought that.”
“Good.” She nodded.
Frowning, he said, “I handled this wrong.”
He was still handling this wrong as far as Morgan was concerned.
“Proposing marriage shouldn’t make sense, Bryan. I know you’ve been hurt. I know what happened to you must have made it very hard for you to trust again. But marriage should be about love. You should want to marry the person you can’t imagine living without. Not merely the person you feel an obligation to on behalf of your family.”
She closed the door before he could respond. She didn’t need to hear any more of his cold rationalizations.
He’d botched it. Screwed it up royally. He sat on one of the lounge chairs beside the pool and reran their conversation. He’d laid out his argument just as he’d planned. It had sounded reasonable when he’d rehearsed it in front of the bathroom mirror earlier that day.
His head dropped forward and he scrubbed a hand over his face. Reasonable. God, he was an idiot. He walked to the main house, pausing outside the patio doors. Inside he could see his parents doting on Brice, who was lying on a blanket on the study floor.
They were happy again. Nothing could replace Dillon, of course. But the sharpest edges of their grief had been filed down thanks to the baby. Thanks to Morgan. She’d done the same for his grief, both over his brother and the boy he’d thought was his son.
She’d given them all a chance to get to know Brice when she could have filed a paternity suit and claimed compensation. In return she’d been doubted, dismissed, investigated and libeled.
If I ever marry—it will be for love.
The one thing Bryan had kept from her, even while seeking her hand. How cold it must have sounded, he thought as he climbed into his car and revved the engine to life. Hell, it must have sounded as if he were proposing a business merger rather than marriage.
CHAPTER TWELVE
FOR the next several days, Morgan was determined not to think about Bryan and his heartbreaking suggestion that they marry because it “made sense.” She was hurt and angry with him. She also was disappointed with herself, because after he’d left she’d wondered if she should have said yes. She loved him. She wanted to be his wife.
To keep her mind off his proposal and her foolish heart, she immersed herself in the upcoming move. The owners had accepted the offer she’d made, leaving only the paperwork and packing to complete. Morgan was looking forward to retrieving the rest of her belongings from storage and having the new piano she’d purchased delivered. At the penthouse, she’d had Bryan’s baby grand to play. Other than at the community center, she hadn’t played in weeks.
Before she could move in, however, some work had to be done, thankfully all of it cosmetic and not likely to take very long. She’d hired a painter and was in the process of picking out wall colors, had measured the windows for custom shades and draperies and had made inquires to have the hardwood floor in the living room refinished. If all went according to plan, she and Brice would be out of the guesthouse the first week in December.
Bryan would already be in London. Morgan sat down at the counter with a bundle of paint chips and tried not to think about the fact that he was leaving that day. She wasn’t very successful. She could only hope that by the time he flew in for Christmas, she’d have her emotions under control.
When she glanced up and saw him outside the door that led to the patio, she almost thought she was imagining things. But he knocked then and the sound had her scrambling off the stool.
“What are you doing here?” She glanced at her watch. “Your flight leaves for London in less than three hours. Shouldn’t you be on your way to the airport?”
“I should be,” he agreed. “But I couldn’t leave without seeing you.”
Morgan’s heart, bruised but apparently still foolish, knocked against her ribs. Tell him to go, her head demanded. Her feet didn’t obey. Stepping back, she invited him inside. He was, after all, her son’s uncle. If he could be pragmatic about their relationship, then so could she.
“So, besides seeing me, what brings you here?” She gave herself high marks for her casual tone and blasé attitude. They provided a nice cover for her clammy palms and rioting nerves.
“You and I have some unfinished business that needs settling.” He shook his head then and grimaced. “Not business. Forget I used that word. What’s between us is personal.”
“I think we already discussed everything we needed to discuss when you were here the other night.”
Having picked up on her emphasis on the other offending word he’d used, he told her, “No discussion this time, Morgan. I’m here to apologize.”
“Okay.” She crossed her arms, a reminder to herself to hold firm. “I’m listening.”
He blew out a breath, looking uncharacteristically nervous. “Oh, hell, I’m no good at this.”
Genuinely curious, she asked, “At what?”
“Talking.” He gestured with one hand. “Oh, sure, with cue cards or memorized responses, I can come off well enough. But when I have to speak extemporaneously—” he cleared his throat “—or from the heart, I don’t do so well.”
Her eyebrows inched up. “I promise not to grade you.”
“Right. The other night when I came here, I knew what I wanted, but my approach was all wrong. I left you with the impression that my ultimate goal was to provide for you and Brice.”
“It’s not?”
“No. Well, yes. Of course I want to provide for you. But that’s not why—” He swore again and then reached for the fan of paint chips. “I want to marry you, Morgan, because I don’t want to come home to a beige penthouse any longer. My life is beige. I want color in it. And, before you say it, I’m not talking about home decor here.”
When she opened her mouth to speak, he waved a hand to stop her.
“That sounds corny. Forget it. What I meant to say is I’m lonely.” He winced. “God, that makes me sound desperate and as if just anyone would do. But that’s not true. I am lonely, but I don’t want to be alone anymore and you’re the reason.”
Before she could respond, he blew out a sigh. “I’m making an ass of myself when I’m trying to sweep you off your feet. I need you. I don’t want to lose you, because I love you, Morgan. I love you and Brice. And I want us to be a real family.”
She put a hand over her mouth, holding in a sob and
unintentionally covering up her smile. He loved her. The passion in his tone and his perfectly imperfect proposal made that clear.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” he asked.
She crossed to where he stood. For the first time since she’d known him Bryan didn’t look authoritative, imposing or powerful. His expression was unguarded and sincere enough to steal her breath. Maybe that was why it took her so long to speak.
“Well?” he prodded, looking like a newly convicted man awaiting his sentence.
Morgan decided to put him out of his misery. “I have just one thing to say.” Going up on tiptoe, she wound her arms around his neck. A moment before her lips touched his, she murmured, “It looks like we’re going to have to call another press conference.”
ISBN: 978-1-4268-3803-3
BOARDROOM BABY SURPRISE
First North American Publication 2009.
Copyright © 2009 by Jackie Braun Fridline.
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