Secret Son, Convenient Wife

by Maxine Sullivan

  Two

  “Look straight ahead and keep walking to the limousine.” Tate’s hand slipped around her waist as if he were shielding her from the man standing in the parking lot. Or shielding his son was more likely, she thought, trying to ignore the protective feel of this man beside her as she carried Nathan.

  “Who is he?”

  “A photographer. He was here for the dedication. I’m not sure why he’s still here. Probably just our bad luck he was leaving at the same time as us.”

  The open car door loomed ahead, and it was sheer instinct that orchestrated their haste onto the backseat in a matter of moments. Then the driver came around and Tate pressed a button to lower the screen as the older man slid in behind the steering wheel. “Go straight home, Clive, but take it easy.” He was clearly thinking about Nathan, who now sat between them in the car seat the driver had moved from her car. The screen came back up.

  Gemma finished checking that her son was comfortable and had his teddy bear, then she looked up. “I want to go to my home, Tate.”

  “And lead the media straight to you and Nathan?”

  “It was only one guy, and he can’t know anything,” she said, trying not to overreact. “You said earlier you would take me home and have someone collect my car. I’m sure you want to get back to the office. You can come over tonight and we’ll talk then.” She needed some time to herself to sort things out in her head.

  He snorted. “And find you and Nathan gone when I return?”

  She blinked. “Where would we go?”

  “Your parents’ place, for a start.”

  “You’d find me in next to no time.” Not that she would go there. Or even could. Her middle-class parents had cut her out of their staid and virtuous lives, but she couldn’t tell him that. Apart from it hurting too much, she wouldn’t give him that power over her.

  And she had no other relatives to whom she could turn. With her parents starting a new life and coming to Australia from England straight after their marriage many years ago, distant relatives were exactly that. Distant.

  He picked up his cell phone and began speaking to someone called Peggy, who by the sound of his instructions was the housekeeper. His last housekeeper had been an older lady who’d merely come in to clean the apartment a few times a week, usually during the day when no one was there.

  Accepting that she couldn’t change anything right now, Gemma tuned him out. Lord, she was still reeling from everything that had happened today, and in her life in general over the past two years. She didn’t regret having Nathan—not at all—but her life had changed so much since meeting Tate.

  Not wanting Tate to learn she was having his baby, she’d left her job in an architect’s office, downsized her trendy city flat and moved into a one-bedroom apartment in the suburbs. But getting to and from work in the city would have become impossible once she’d had Nathan, so she’d taken a job closer to home. At least then she hadn’t had to worry about the hour of traveling each way cutting into quality time with her child.

  She’d done her best, and it had been good enough, but it still hadn’t been easy to stop herself from running to Tate and asking him to take them away from it all. She’d been more afraid he would only take Nathan away from her. Tate had kicked her out of his life once before. She had no doubt that if he believed he was doing the right thing, he would kick her out again—and keep her son.

  Yet all this heartache could have been avoided if only Tate had believed her eighteen months ago. He’d given a party for his best friend’s birthday and invited her to play hostess. She’d been so excited. Later in the evening, she’d written a note to Tate, telling him to meet her in his study for a kiss, and asked the waiter to give it to him.

  The room had been dark when he stepped inside and she’d thrown herself at him. Only…it wasn’t Tate. The real Tate had opened the door and caught her kissing his best friend thoroughly, her arms around Drake’s neck. It seemed Drake had followed her into the room, but it had been she who looked guilty.

  The thought of that night made her feel ill, so she pushed it out of her mind, and a while later the limousine turned into a driveway. A security guard opened two large gates, showcasing a beautiful mansion. Gemma said the first thing that came to mind. “This isn’t your apartment.”

  “It’s my home now.”

  A spasm went through her heart. This was more than big enough for a family. “Were you planning on marrying?”

  “One day.”

  “So there’s someone special in your life?”

  “Only my son.”

  She looked away, thankful the car was pulling to a stop. The pain of losing Tate had been made worse by frequently seeing him in the papers with a beautiful woman on his arm. Not that it was any of her business, but knowing he wasn’t serious about anyone made her feel better about things.

  Everything was a bit of a blur after they left the car. Gemma insisted on carrying Nathan again as they went inside. He was usually a happy child, but his eyes were wide and she could sense he was confused by everything today.

  He wasn’t the only one!

  Tate briefly introduced them to the housekeeper, who beamed at them both. “He’s beautiful, Mr. Chandler.”

  Tate’s face softened as he looked at his son. “Yes, he is, Peggy.” Then he glanced at Gemma and his eyes hardened before he turned back to Peggy. “So the suite next to mine is ready?”

  “Of course.” She hesitated. “Mr. Chandler…I was thinking. I have a crib you can use temporarily. It’s not an expensive one, but Clive and I keep it in our rooms for when we mind the grandchildren. He could set it up in the suite…until you get your own, that is. We won’t need it anytime soon.”

  Tate nodded. “Good idea, Peggy. Thank you for thinking of it.”

  Peggy’s face filled with pleasure. “You’re welcome. I’ll get Clive right on it.”

  Tate put his hand under Gemma’s elbow and herded her toward the staircase. “Good. I’ll talk to you shortly about what else we need.”

  Of course Tate would give her and Nathan their own suite, Gemma thought with relief. Tate hadn’t wanted her once he’d “discovered” her with Drake. He wouldn’t want her now.

  As he opened the bedroom door, he indicated his own rooms farther along the landing. The distance was considerable, thank goodness.

  Her suite was bigger than her apartment. The large bedroom had a king-sized bed, a sitting room and a gold-encrusted ensuite. It was as one would expect in such a house, except that while the bedroom was suitable for a crawling infant the sitting room definitely wasn’t childproof.

  “I might need to move a few things out of Nathan’s way. And that couch might need a cover.” It looked like it was made of velvet. Not exactly safe for grubby little fingers.

  “I don’t care about the furniture, but I don’t want him hurting himself, so do what you need to do. I’ll make sure Peggy has everything else in the house childproofed as soon as possible.” Tate put the bag of baby paraphernalia she’d brought to the hospital on one of the chairs. “Does he need anything heated up?”

  “No. This is fine.” Gemma had a bottle of juice in the baby bag. “He’ll probably take a nap.” He’d been sleepy in the car, though now he squirmed to be put down.

  Gemma placed Nathan on the plush carpet with his teddy bear, then closed the sitting room door so he couldn’t go in there. He wasn’t quite walking yet, but he could crawl like the wind and at least she could keep a firm eye on him in here.

  “Clive will bring the crib up, and I’ll be back soon. Peggy will need a list of anything Nathan needs. We’ll order a crib and other things tomorrow. I want them as soon as possible.”

  How wonderful to be able to snap your fingers and have things happen. She’d snap her fingers and get her and Nathan out of here if she could. “I’ve got everything he needs at home.”

  Arrogance bounced off him. “I intend my son to have the best.”

  “He has. He’s got me.”r />
  “Of course. And now you won’t need to worry about anything else.”

  Her breath stalled. “What do you mean?”

  “We’re getting married.”

  “Ma-married?” She heard the words and thought she might faint. The minute he’d learned about Nathan, she’d known he was old-fashioned enough to insist on marriage, but hearing it out loud hit her hard.

  And yet…if she had her son, she had everything that mattered. “So you’re not going to try and take Nathan from me?”

  “No.” He allowed a silence. “Of course, if you don’t marry me I’ll fight for custody. A child should have both parents.”

  She quickly pulled herself together. To live with the man she’d once loved, knowing he believed she’d cheated on him—wouldn’t her life be a living hell? How would that affect Nathan? Perhaps if she pointed this out…

  “Even if we don’t love each other?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even if you consider me a liar?”

  “Yes.”

  “That won’t be a marriage, Tate. That’ll be a nightmare, not only for us but for Nathan.”

  His mouth tightened. “If you care about your son, you’ll make it work.”

  “That’s unfair.”

  “Is it?”

  “Perhaps part-time custody,” she began, knowing she was in a losing battle now, not even sure why she didn’t simply give in. Tate always won.

  “No.”

  “Hear me out. I—”

  Just then, the infant babbled something. When she looked, Nathan had pulled himself up by the side of the bed and was hanging on to the quilt, the cheesiest of grins telling them how clever he thought he was. Gemma’s heart overflowed with love.

  Then something about Tate made her look at him. In his eyes was twelve months’ worth of longing for a son he’d never known. “Tate, I—”

  “Don’t, Gemma,” he said tersely. “Don’t say another word.” He twisted on his heels and left the room.

  Tate stood at the living room window, a hard knot in the center of his chest. He still felt shell-shocked by today’s events, like he was in a war zone with everything raining down on him.

  And then his infant son had smiled and lit up the room, and Tate knew there was a reason he had run into Gemma today. His son might have a mother, but Nathan needed his father. Tate had never felt more certain of anything in his life.

  God, how could Gemma have kept Nathan from him? And how could she let him believe—even briefly—that she’d had another man’s child? He’d felt physically ill in that hospital corridor. The reminder of her with other men, the shock of thinking she’d had another man’s baby, had knocked the breath from his body.

  There had only been two times in his life when he’d been this winded. Once when he’d caught Gemma kissing Drake, and the other when he was twelve and his mother had left his father for another man.

  Darlene Chandler had supposedly gone away on a trip to visit a sick cousin, but Tate had overheard his father talking to her on the phone. Never would Tate have thought he’d hear his tall, strong father pleading for his wife to come back to him. Nothing had worked, and Jonathan Chandler had seemed to shrink in size, as if he’d lost a part of himself. Not even Tate’s young sister, Bree, who’d been too young to know and who was the apple of her father’s eye, could get through to him.

  A week later, his mother had walked back in the door.

  Tate had always felt protective of his father after that. He loved his mother, and somehow his parents’ marriage had been better than before, but Tate couldn’t forget how loving a woman could tear a man down. He was determined never to let that happen to him.

  Certainly not with Gemma.

  It had been all about sex with them, nothing more. He’d never wanted a woman like he’d wanted her. From the moment he’d set eyes on Gemma, he’d needed her with an ache that had gone right through him. He’d spent every spare second of the next month trying to ease that ache. She hadn’t moved into his penthouse, exactly, but they’d spent so much time there, she might as well have.

  He’d been confident their affair would eventually run its course. He wasn’t fool enough to believe it had been about love. He’d known he’d never give his heart to any woman. Sure, one day he’d marry, and he’d have kids, but that was in the future. Until then, he thought, he had plenty of time to tire of Gemma and then go back to playing the field.

  He just hadn’t expected Gemma to be the one playing games, and definitely not with his best friend. She may not have slept with Drake, but it hadn’t been for want of trying.

  Memories flooded back. It had been Drake’s birthday, and Tate had asked Gemma if she’d host the party. No wonder she’d agreed so enthusiastically. He’d thought it was because she was finally meeting more of his friends. In reality it was because she’d planned on seducing Drake.

  God, he’d been a fool. She’d used him two years ago, making him think she was a woman to be trusted. How could he still want a woman like her? Sure, she was very beautiful, even with those small lines of tiredness under her eyes and a weariness to her shoulders that could not be manufactured. But she would milk his sympathy for all its worth.

  He was one step ahead of her this time.

  He’d been duped once by her charm. He wouldn’t let that happen again.

  After Clive delivered the crib and Peggy brought up a tray with a plate of daintily cut sandwiches and a pot of coffee with two cups, Gemma thanked them and settled Nathan down for a nap. In the sitting room and alone at last, she gratefully poured herself a coffee and sat on the couch, not realizing until then how desperate she was to ease the dryness in her mouth. The sandwiches she left untouched. She couldn’t eat a thing right now.

  As she wrapped her cold hands around the china cup, it was hard to believe how things had spiraled so out of control within a few hours. God, why had she chosen to get involved with Tate Chandler in the first place? Why couldn’t she have settled for a simple man? Damn him for being a man of substance in more ways than one. Moneyed or poor, he’d fight to have his son. Of course, that left her with no options at all.

  Just then, there was a soft rap on the bedroom door. She hurried to answer it, knowing Tate was being quiet for Nathan’s sake. His manner reminded her of how a lover might sneak into her room. But that was crazy thinking. Tate had never snuck into her room or her apartment. He hadn’t needed to.

  Tate’s eyes flickered to his son in the crib then back to her as he stepped inside the door. “Everything okay?”

  He meant his son.

  “Yes. Coffee?” Not waiting for an answer, she led the way to the sitting room, quietly closing the connecting door. All at once, she was aware of Tate behind her, following her, feeling his eyes on her as he stood and watched her pour.

  She handed the cup to him, then gestured to the other chair, giving the impression that this was her territory. At least it made her feel she had the upper hand in here.

  That impression didn’t last long.

  Not with Tate.

  He didn’t sit. He drained the coffee from the small cup, then went to the window and stood looking out, his back totally immovable and unbending. “By the way, you won’t be getting your car.”

  She’d been about to put down her cup, but her hand stopped midair. “What do you mean?”

  He slowly turned around. “They couldn’t even start it, let alone drive it out of the hospital grounds. I’ve told Clive to get rid of it.”

  The coffee cup wobbled and she almost dropped it onto the saucer. “What!” she exclaimed, keeping her voice low so as not to wake her son. “You had no right to do that.”

  “You’re not driving my son around in that thing.”

  She ignored the fact that he didn’t care that she drove around in it. “My car is only five years old. Admittedly, sometimes it can be temperamental in starting, but apart from that it works fine.” It had been a good buy at a time when she’d needed to be very careful wit
h money. She still needed to be careful with money. “Anyway, I need my car to get to work.”

  An arrogant brow lifted. “You work?”

  “Yes, that’s how we mere mortals pay our bills,” she snapped sarcastically.

  “If you’d told me about Nathan in the first place, you wouldn’t need to worry about the bills.”

  “And then I’d have bigger problems, wouldn’t I?”

  “You’ve got them now.”

  “Damn you, Tate.”

  There was a moment of stony silence.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about Nathan?” he demanded, his voice tight with strain.

  “I had my reasons.”

  “You took it upon yourself to keep my son from me. Those reasons had better be bloody good.”

  There was no way she’d let him see how heartbroken she still was by everything that had happened between them or he’d use it against her. “You already thought the worst of me. I had nothing else to lose by keeping him to myself.”

  His eyes narrowed. “So this is about you not wanting to share him with me?”

  It wasn’t that. She would have been glad to share with him, only she wasn’t convinced Tate would want to share with her. “At least I only had to please myself,” she said offhandedly.

  His mouth tightened. “He needed both of us, Gemma. He still needs both of us.”

  “We did all right without you.”

  Anger flashed in his eyes. “Really?”

  She wondered if somehow he knew about her struggle to put food on the table—not for her son but for herself. But then, how could he possibly know that? Was he talking about her car?

  Anyway, she’d made sure Nathan had everything he needed, the most important thing being love. Tate may have killed her love for him when he kicked her out, but she’d never had reservations about her love for his baby.

  “Tate, think about this. If we marry, do you really want your son living in such a stressful environment? Because it can’t be anything but. You know it and I know it.”

  “He doesn’t seem too stressed out right now,” he said, directing her gaze to the quiet coming from the bedroom.