The Billionaire's Secret Baby (Silhouette Desire 90's)

by Carol Devine

  “Meg, being apart from you for one day is like a year for me. I couldn’t wait to see you again.”

  Meg wagged her finger at him, all too aware of the boggle-eyed receptionist. “Now, Jack. I wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea about us. Especially my big brother.”

  “That’s why I brought him along. We’re going to kidnap you.”

  “Really? Is that the plan?” Meg looked to Bram as he extricated himself from the pack of preschoolers.

  “I told you this was an ambush,” Bram said, helping Katie put on her coat. “Amanda is in town, and J.J. and I drove down from Bedford to meet her. We’ll be staying at Jack’s apartment for a couple of days and hoped you’d join us for dinner. Katie, do you remember J.J.’s uncle Jack? He’s your Aunt Amanda’s little brother.”

  Katie looked up at Jack with solemn eyes. “You’re not little.”

  “But I can be.” Jack crouched and completed the introductions by matching Katie’s solemnity and formally offering to shake her hand. Katie gave it after the slightest hesitation.

  Meg searched her brother’s face. Was he somehow in cahoots with Jack? “Why isn’t Amanda in D.C.? I thought Congress was in session this week.”

  “Now that she’s on the Foreign Relations Committee, she has to come to New York periodically for meetings at the UN. She ended up staying late last night and doesn’t have to be back at the Capitol until Monday. I won’t be on the road until next weekend, so J.J. and I drove up to see her.”

  “How about it, Katie?” Jack asked. “Would you like to come over to my apartment and see J.J.?”

  “Can I, Mommy?”

  That clinched it for Meg. Not only was he making mincemeat of the conditions she’d set, he was using Katie to do it. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but we need to go straight home tonight. Maybe some other time.”

  Bram held the door open for them. “Amanda and I get so few opportunities to see the two of you, Meg. What’s the rush?”

  “There’s no rush. I’m just tired, that’s all. It’s been a long day.”

  “You don’t want to make it longer by riding a commuter bus back to Jersey with Katie on your lap,” countered Bram. “Jack keeps a car here in town. I’ll drive you home after the traffic dies down.”

  “Or you and Katie are welcome to spend the night at my place,” Jack offered. “I’ll drive you home tomorrow myself. How’s that for service?”

  “Spending the night is definitely out,” Meg retorted flatly.

  Bram put a companionable arm around her shoulders. “Come on, honey. Have dinner with us. Put your feet up for a while, say hello to Amanda and J.J., and give yourself a little R and R.”

  “Please, Mommy?” Katie asked, tugging Meg’s hand. “I want to play with J.J.”

  Meg glanced pointedly at Jack. “We can’t stay very long. I want to make that clear.”

  Jack raised his hands in surrender. “Whatever you say, Meg.”

  Whatever you say, my eye. Meg faced her brother. “Katie and I will need to leave right after dinner.”

  “No problem,” replied Bram. “I’ll have you home in record time.”

  It turned out Jack lived in Midtown, only a few blocks away. Judging by the historic stonework on his apartment building, it dated back to the turn of the century and had been restored to its original grandeur. A doorman jumped to usher “Mr. Tarkenton and his guests” inside. The security guard monitoring the lobby treated him with unusual familiarity, greeting both Jack and Bram by name.

  The old-fashioned cage of an elevator was manned by a uniformed operator. She asked if Katie wanted to help pull the lever that closed the fancy ironwork doors. Of course, Katie did, and when Jack pointed at the floor numbers above the elevator doors, she counted up with him in unison.

  Studying his profile, Meg tried to assess his motives. She hadn’t expected him to barge into her life again this soon. Clearly he was trying to get to Katie. Clearly he wasn’t above using Bram, Amanda and J.J. to do it. But why now?

  The elevator doors clanged open, revealing a living room so large, the main floor of her house could have fit inside it. His so-called apartment took up the entire penthouse floor.

  “Katie!”

  Three-year-old J.J. catapulted from his seat on the thick dove gray carpet. Amanda rescued the playing cards that scattered in his wake and rose herself, barefoot in blue jeans and a fuzzy mohair sweater that gave her a girlish air despite the classic French twist of her blond hair. “Meg,” she said, extending her hands. “I’m so glad you and Katie could make it.”

  Smiling, Meg caught those hands, and they kissed each other cheek to cheek, as the French did, engendering a nostalgic pang for the culture of her beloved France.

  Amanda scooped Katie up. “My goodness, Miss Katie. When did you start getting so grown-up?”

  J.J. excitedly jumped up and down, tugging on Katie’s dress. “Katie, Katie, Katie,” he chanted.

  “Hey, sport, how about we give our special guests a chance to come inside.” Jack zoomed J.J. across the room as if he were an airplane.

  It didn’t appear to be put on for her benefit, but Meg still suspected Jack’s motives. If nothing else, this visit would allow her to see how he handled the children.

  His decorative tastes ran toward the traditional, for the apartment was furnished in the same style as his Wall Street office. Mahogany and cherry wood predominated, with upholstered pieces in cream or gold brocade. Glazed lemon yellow, the walls were trimmed by white molding that framed tall windows filmy with sheer drapes.

  Amanda led the way to a pair of overstuffed sofas and invited Meg to sit down. The butler’s table between them was covered by a thick towel, heaped high with toy cars and trucks. “Nice child-proofing,” Meg noted.

  “Isn’t it, though? Fortunately, Jack doesn’t mind. J.J., would you like to show Katie your cars?”

  J.J. came running. “My cars!”

  Bram slowed him, saving a collision with the table, and gathered up the ends of the towel, sacking the toys. “I think the children and I will retire to the entertainment room,” he said, exchanging amused looks with his wife. “If I’m not mistaken, a certain purple dinosaur is making an appearance on our favorite television channel.”

  Amanda clasped her hands and put them over her heart. “You have earned my eternal gratitude, dear husband. Let me know when reinforcements are required.”

  Seeing their obvious love and affection for each other brought a lump to Meg’s throat. She had never met a woman more secure with who she was and what she wanted than Amanda. Her brother was just as headstrong. Yet they served as perfect foils for each other, sharing a partnership so strong, Meg had to look away.

  Her gaze touched on Jack, with his inscrutable expression and idle stance. If she did marry him, it would be at the cost of such happiness. At least when she married Allen, she had been operating under the youthful delusion that given time, she would come to love her husband. She knew better now.

  “Meg, would you like a drink?” Jack asked.

  Startled by the hand he placed on her shoulder, she said the first thing that came to mind. “Scotch and soda, please.”

  “Amanda?” he asked.

  “Refresh mine, will you, Jack?” She held out her glass.

  “Certainly.” He retrieved the glass, letting the lingering warmth of his other hand brand Meg’s back. The clink of ice against glass and the swift pouring of liquid heralded his return, as did the rise of fine hairs at the base of her neck.

  He delivered her drink first, leaning over her shoulder. Meg cradled the glass with both hands, trying to appear perfectly at ease in front of Amanda. More clinking, then he ambled into view carrying two glasses. Handing one to Amanda, he set himself on the arm of the couch. “How’s the Scotch and soda, Meg?”

  “Fine,” she replied, sipping her drink. Icy cold, it was far too strong. She thumped the drink onto the coffee table, resolved not to pick it up again. The man was baiting her with his sister not
three feet away. “What are you drinking, Jack?” Meg asked.

  “Mineral water.”

  “Really? I didn’t realize you don’t drink.”

  “I do, on occasion.” He toasted her with his glass and stretched his arm along the back of the couch. “Despite the many reports to the contrary.”

  Amanda chuckled. “Meg, let me tell you the real reason why my brother doesn’t like to drink alcohol. It’s all because of our mother.”

  Meg arched an eyebrow at him. “Your mother?”

  “You know what an upstanding citizen of the world she is,” Amanda continued. “I’ve seen her angry only a few occasions in my life. The last time was when one of those supermarket tabloids reported Jack was in the Betty Ford Clinic for the tenth time in two years, dealing with his alcohol problem.”

  “You have an alcohol problem?” Meg asked Jack directly.

  “Some reporters like to think so,” he replied. “Normally my mother shrugs off that type of garbage, but she drew the line on the alcohol story. She picked up the phone and called the head of the conglomerate that published this particular newspaper.”

  “Now, Jack,” Amanda chided. “Remember what mother said. You mustn’t call it a newspaper.”

  “Mother called the CEO of this particular tabloid and told him if she ever saw such rubbish about a member of her family printed by him again, she would sue not only his publishing company but him personally. She then pointed out the fact that she was one of the few people in the country wealthy enough to do so.”

  “Did it go that far?” Meg asked.

  “Oh, no,” answered Amanda. “Mother was only bluffing. She’s well off, but certainly not wealthy enough to take down a billion dollar conglomerate. She gives that impression, however, with that ironclad dignity of hers. Of course, Jack had to back her at her word. Since he’s constantly dogged by dozens of photographers, he can’t be caught drinking anything.”

  Meg eyed his glass. “Not even mineral water?”

  “They say it’s spiked with vodka or rum,” Jack said. “Same with soft drinks, even if I’m drinking from an aluminum can. Such is the power of the press. A picture is worth a thousand lies, and I certainly don’t want to make my mother out to be a liar, now, do I?”

  “So you really are noble at heart,” Meg concluded dryly.

  Amanda gave him a sisterly poke. “I’m not so sure about that. You should see the young women he’s escorted around town. Jack, really. You’re much too old for teenagers.”

  “What do you say, Meg?” Jack asked. “Do I need to be more discriminating? Is it time to vacate my title of ‘the most eligible bachelor on earth’?”

  Amanda snorted. “Meg, don’t answer. He proclaimed long ago that there wasn’t a woman alive good enough to marry him. Mother concurs. Jack is her only begotten son, after all. She has let it be known, however, that she is willing to overlook a few minor shortcomings in exchange for several more grandchildren. The Tarkenton name must be carried on.”

  “The Tarkenton legend must be carried on as well,” Jack said, draining his glass. “Something you, my dear sister, handle with your usual aplomb. Well, ladies, I hate to leave your company, but duty calls. I need to check with my staff about dinner.”

  “Staff?” Meg inquired when he was out of earshot.

  “It’s not nearly as grand as it sounds. He has a part-time cook and full-time maid. The latter lives in, since he’s gone so much.”

  “Does he travel a lot?”

  “Constantly. Monaco’s a favorite. So are Rio, Bangkok, Hong Kong. He doesn’t stay anywhere long. He wants people to think all he cares about are fast cars and fast women.”

  “That’s not true?”

  “See? Even you think he’s beyond hope, and you’re one of the most perceptive people I know.”

  “Amanda, you’re a United States senator, for heaven’s sake. You size people up in an instant.”

  “Yes, but I don’t see with the depth you do. You know the difference between the purely ornamental and the truly authentic, and that is a rare quality in this world.”

  “Because of my education in art?”

  “That’s part of it. Certainly, your studies abroad refined your ability to see things as they really are. But it’s more than that. Nothing has been handed to you on a silver platter, yet you have spent your life immersed in the richness of our culture. And you did it on your own, at a relatively young age.”

  “When I left home to take that scholarship at the Sorbonne, I might not have been close to my family geographically, but I was in spirit. I certainly never felt like I was completely on my own.”

  “That’s what makes you unique, Meg. Your family encouraged and supported you every step of the way, even though there was no guarantee of success. Do you know how extraordinary that is?”

  “I owe my family, particularly my mother, everything. But isn’t that what families are for? You and Bram, for example. You both have demanding careers, yet manage to make time to be together at a moment’s notice, like today. To know that such love exists...” Meg broke off, overwhelmed by her yearning for what she had never had.

  Amanda took her hand. “It’s Allen, isn’t it? You must miss him terribly.”

  Meg couldn’t deny it. Not when she had to pretend that she had loved her late husband with all her heart. But her real sorrow was about the depth of emotion she and Allen had never had, had never experienced, had never shared. That same lack of depth would exist in her marriage to Jack. She couldn’t confess the truth to Amanda, though. So many secrets. So many lies.

  “Meg, you were the best thing that ever happened to Allen,” Amanda said softly. “You and Katie both. Don’t ever forget that.”

  Rather than spill her heart, Meg murmured something about checking on Katie and left the room. But once she gained the hall, Meg sought someplace where she could be alone and out of sight. She entered the nearest room, but didn’t switch on the light. She just huddled inside.

  What was she going to do? The events of the evening proved that Jack wasn’t going to change his ways. And she didn’t think she had the strength to survive another loveless marriage, even if it was in Katie’s best interest. The first time around, she’d been pregnant and foolish enough to believe that she could learn to love Allen. The road to hell really was paved with good intentions. During her marriage, she had never felt more lonely in her life.

  “Why, Meg, I’ve been looking all over for you.” Turning on the light and joining her in the bathroom, Jack closed the door behind him.

  Unable to believe his timing, much less the place he chose to exercise it, Meg put her hands on her hips. “What do you think you are doing?”

  “Courtship, remember?” he said, advancing on her.

  Meg raised her hands, keeping him at arm’s length. “This isn’t courtship, it’s coercion, and it’s much too soon.”

  “Too soon?” He took her hands and, kissing the back of them, crowded her into the corner. “You accepted my proposal. We are getting married, aren’t we?”

  “In two years, Jack,” she hissed, pushing at him. “I made it perfectly clear when I last saw you—”

  “Two years is much too long, Meg,” he said, leaning in and invading what little remained of her space. “I won’t even wait one year. Six months is stretching it. I’d rather be married in six weeks.”

  “Six weeks!” she gasped. “Are you out of your mind?”

  “As a matter of fact, I am. Over you.” He forced her hands down and nuzzled her neck. “Doesn’t that tell you something, Meg? Doesn’t it give you a thrill?”

  “What you’re telling me is that you have no respect for me and my feelings. We are not officially engaged and won’t be, either, if you keep acting this way. Now, back off.”

  He didn’t. He pressed closer, trapping her against the wall with his weight. If she screamed, Bram would come running, but what would it solve? She needed more time, more space, a clearer head. She couldn’t have any of that w
ith Jack cornering her like this.

  “Look, I’m not going to do this with you,” she said, straining to keep her voice low and under control. “We need a more appropriate time and place to have this discussion. Let’s do lunch. I’m willing to compromise if you are.”

  “This place seems perfectly appropriate to me.”

  “Jack, please,” she appealed directly, meeting the dark pools of his intense eyes. “Don’t do this.”

  “Don’t do what, Meg?”

  “This,” she choked, turning her face to avoid his. But the whisper of his breath stirred her hair, stirred her heart. It had been so long.

  “This?” he echoed, his mouth warm on the shell of her ear. “Or this?” Trailing tender kisses along the line of her cheek, he stroked her neck where her pulse revealed her swiftly beating heart.

  She closed her eyes, unwilling to bear the feeling, for she hurt inside, hurt for all the times she’d fantasized about being caressed by this man when Allen had touched her, groped her. She had tried to love her husband. But she had to trick her body with fantasies of another to do it.

  Jack. It had always been Jack.

  “Meg, you’re trembling.” He laid his hand on the side of her face and nuzzled her there. “I won’t hurt you. You know that, don’t you?”

  But it wasn’t bodily harm he threatened her with. It was the smoke of his voice, the feel and scent of him filling her lungs, hammering her heart, heating her skin.

  He knew it, too. He whispered how beautiful she was, how luminous, like a great work of art, fine and rare. Kissing her, he traced the bone of her jaw, the shape of her nose, the outline of her lips.

  It felt so good.

  Meg shut her eyes to concentrate, to keep hold of who she was and what she wanted, and she didn’t want this, not this way, not with him. It wasn’t right that Jack pushed her like this, that he took what she wasn’t ready to give.