Billionaire Bachelors: Gray

by Anne Marie Winston

  Patsy laughed, a deep, throaty sound and Catherine realized with a shock that her mother-in-law was flirting with Gray MacInnes. “And he’s charming, too. Catherine, perhaps you should keep this one.”

  “Perhaps he doesn’t want to be kept,” Catherine retorted. She was deeply uncomfortable with Patsy’s unapologetic matchmaking.

  “And perhaps he does.” Gray’s eyes were amused but there was a warmth in the sapphire depths that made her uncomfortable and she had to look away.

  “What brings you to the gala this evening?” Patsy inquired, still smiling.

  Gray shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not originally from the area. What better way to meet people than to attend such a worthwhile function? Heart transplants save a great many lives.”

  “True, although this isn’t strictly a heart transplant fund-raiser,” Patsy said. The warm smile faded and sadness filled her eyes.

  “Of course not,” he said quickly. “I merely meant—”

  “But you’re right. Heart transplants can be wonderful things.”

  Catherine sat as still as stone, wishing her companions would change the subject. The last thing in the world she wanted or needed to discuss was heart transplantation, for God’s sake!

  “I don’t know if Catherine told you, but my son, her husband, is deceased.” Patsy’s voice was low.

  “She mentioned it,” Gray replied. “You have my sympathies.”

  The ghost of a smile touched Patsy’s lips. “Thank you. My son’s heart was donated.” She gestured around the room. “This truly is a wonderful event, one at which we can help raise funds for organ donor awareness.”

  Gray swallowed, running a finger around the neck of his starched collar as if it were too tight. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  “My one regret,” she went on, “is that we’ve never met the person who received Mike’s heart. I had so hoped…it would be so wonderful to see the face of the person who still carries a piece of my son with him.”

  Catherine made an impatient movement with her hand, then quickly caught herself and folded both hands in her lap again. “There’s no way we can do that, Patsy. You know the rules. Anonymity unless the recipient chooses to communicate.”

  Patsy nodded sadly. “I know.” She glanced at Gray. “We did get an anonymous note from the man who got the heart, a lovely one, but I so wish he’d wanted to meet us.”

  Gray was nodding, his chiseled features sober.

  “Catherine doesn’t share my desire to meet the organ recipient.”

  Gr-r-r-r. Catherine struggled briefly with a desire to strangle her mother-in-law, with whom she very rarely disagreed. “It’s just…Mike is gone. And there’s someone walking around out there with his heart, and it makes me feel a little…resentful. I know it’s petty and mean but…” She tried to smile, to soften the words. “If it still works so well, why couldn’t it be working in Mike? I’m sorry, Patsy, but I’d just as soon not meet the person who got Mike’s heart.”

  “I’m sorry, too, dear.” Patsy reached across and laid a hand over hers. “I didn’t mean to be insensitive to your pain.” She fixed a smile on her face and turned back to their companion. “Organ transplantation is a complicated business, in more ways than merely medically.”

  Gray MacInnes nodded. He was looking from one to the other of them, a troubled look in his blue eyes. “Complicated, indeed.”

  Catherine took pity on him. Clearly the thought of transplant surgery wasn’t a palatable one for him. “Did you move to Baltimore for business purposes, Gray?”

  He turned to her with an undisguised relief that nearly made her smile and she relaxed a little. “Yes. I’m an architect. I plan to open a branch of my company here.”

  “Oh! You’re that MacInnes,” Patsy said, arching her eyebrows. She turned to Catherine. “Gray designed a new type of solar something-or-other…” She glanced at him for confirmation.

  “Window,” he supplied.

  “And it’s been a huge hit. I just read an article about you in the Sun last week. Apparently, your window is revolutionizing the solar building industry.”

  “Perhaps.” He inclined his dark head, the very picture of humility. The image was hard to match to the self-confidence of the real man.

  “Do you use your window in your designs?” Patsy asked.

  He hesitated. “Not always. I’d like to be known for the quality of the overall design, not simply for designs that incorporate a particular feature.”

  “Have you built a stunning home here, and may we have a tour?” Patsy asked.

  “Patsy!” Catherine was startled. Her mother-in-law usually was the epitome of correctness.

  But Gray didn’t seem to mind. He shook his head. “The sad truth, ladies, is that I am living in a very small town house in a very noisy area while my home is under construction. The contractor, however, informed me last week that there would be a delay so the short-term lease I envisioned is going to be a longer, uglier reality.”

  “That’s unfortunate,” said Catherine.

  “That’s ridiculous,” Patsy corrected. “You can’t live like that.”

  Gray smiled, shrugging. “I can but I don’t have to like it.”

  “You probably don’t spend much time at home, though, if you’re opening a new office,” Catherine said.

  “Actually, I do. I have an exceptionally competent executive office manager who is setting up the day-to-day details so that I can continue to design. My private office right now is in my home.”

  “But it’s very important to the creative process to have a living space in which you’re comfortable,” Patsy protested. “I was an artist until my hands got too bad to paint much—” She held up her hands, showing him fingers gnarled by arthritis. “—so I know how difficult it can be.”

  “Fortunately,” Gray told her, “it’s short-term. The office will be up and running within two months, and I can work there if need be until my house is finished.”

  “But you can’t continue to live in a place where you’re uncomfortable—oh!” Patsy pressed her hands to her breast. “I just had the most wonderful idea.”

  The enthusiasm in her tone unsettled Catherine. “And what might that be?”

  “Gray can have the guest house!”

  “The guest house?” Catherine was appalled. “But…the water and electricity aren’t even turned on.” And we can’t afford to turn them on, either. Besides, the guest cottage on the grounds of the large estate she shared with Patsy was located just out of sight of the main house. The mere thought of having this man in such close proximity caused a feeling akin to panic to flare to life in Catherine’s breast.

  “A minor detail. It’s a perfect solution.” Patsy turned to Gray. “It’s a two-story, two-bedroom house with a complete kitchen, living room and dining room. Much larger, I’m sure, than your current situation and much quieter, as well. It would be perfect for you!”

  Surely he would decline. Protest graciously and thank her profusely for the offer. And decline.

  “That’s too generous of you, Mrs. Thorne. I would be grateful to you forever.” He paused. “Is it furnished?”

  “No.” Patsy cocked her head. “Is that a problem?”

  “Not at all. I have some of my own furniture in my town home now.” He raised his eyebrows. “If you’re serious, I’d be delighted to accept.”

  Catherine stared at him. He wasn’t supposed to say that!

  “Wonderful.” Patsy’s tone indicated the matter was settled. “We’ll have it cleaned tomorrow. You should be able to move in by the first of the week.”

  “What’s the rent?”

  Patsy waved a hand. “That’s not necessary—”

  “Yes,” he said in a tone so positive that for once, Patsy didn’t seem inclined to argue. “It is. I can’t accept such a gift. And I’ll have the utilities turned on. I couldn’t possibly ask you to do that.”

  “Well, if you insist.” The older woman’s voice was slightly sulky. �
�We’ll discuss it later and come to some mutually agreeable terms.”

  No! Catherine wanted to shout. We will not! But technically, the house belonged to Patsy and she could invite whomever she liked. And if she was determined to have this man become a tenant, then rent was most definitely necessary.

  She stared at her mother-in-law, willing her to get the message she was trying to send with her eyes. What did they really know about Gray MacInnes? So Patsy had heard of him—so what? The fact that the man had patented an invention didn’t necessarily mean he was a nice guy.

  Gray said, “Since we’ve only just met, I believe it would be in order for me to offer you some references. I’ll have them brought by on Monday.”

  It was as if he’d read her mind, or sensed her reservations. But he hadn’t addressed them all. What about Michael? Had Patsy even given a thought to how a perfect stranger’s close, constant presence might affect Catherine’s son? Did Gray even like children? Patsy had promised him quiet and there were moments when Michael was anything but. She wasn’t going to be forever trying to shush the child just because the neighbor needed peace to work.

  She took a deep breath, willing herself to be calm. Something about Mr. MacInnes unnerved her, though she couldn’t put a finger on it. It was almost as if…as if his blue eyes saw through her polished facade to the far-less-confident woman beneath the gloss she cultivated as a shield. As if he knew her, somehow, though she was positive they’d never met before. He wasn’t a man one would forget.

  Apparently oblivious to Catherine’s consternation, Gray reached across the table and gently took one of Patsy’s misshapen hands, lifting it to his lips. “You’ll never know how much I appreciate this.”

  He couldn’t believe his luck.

  As he directed the movers who were bringing in his furniture and his home drafting table the following week, Gray marveled at the good fortune that had brought him here.

  He’d attended that fund-raiser for the sole purpose of meeting the woman in his dreams. Dreams? Hell, she wasn’t in his dreams. She was in his memories. And he knew exactly where she came from.

  She was Mike Thorne’s widow. Catherine. He savored the syllables.

  He hadn’t seen the donor’s name in his medical file, but he had seen the name of the Baltimore hospital from which the heart had come by helicopter. The organ would have had to have been freshly harvested since hearts were only viable for about six hours, so his donor must have died on the same date of his transplant somewhere in the Baltimore region. Once he’d figured that out, the rest was easy.

  He’d gotten on the Internet and looked through the obituaries in the Sun, Baltimore’s largest newspaper. As soon as he’d read about Mike Thorne’s death in an auto accident, he’d known. Or almost as soon. He’d been skimming the article, pulse quickening with excitement as he realized that this man fit his profile. And then he’d read her name.

  …survived by his wife, Catherine Shumaker Thorne…

  And he’d known. Catherine. That was her name. Not Cate or Cat or Kitty, but Catherine.

  The name had brought into focus the hazy image of a sweet smile and dark-lashed, soft blue eyes that had danced in his mind for months, and suddenly he’d been able to picture her face with sharp, vivid clarity, as clearly as if she’d been standing in front of him. Was she for real? Or was he going crazy?

  He’d been wracking his brain for days trying to figure out a way to meet Catherine Thorne, to see if his waking dreams were more than simply that, when he’d read about the charity ball—though he couldn’t imagine what he’d say if he did come face-to-face with her.

  Hello. I have your husband’s heart and I think I remember you.

  Right. She’d run screaming. When he’d seen the information in the paper about the fund-raising gala for organ donation and read that she was on the organizing committee, he’d known she’d probably be there so he’d made plans to attend. Even if he never spoke to her, at least he’d finally be able to see how she matched up with the woman in his head.

  Only his plan had had a flaw. She’d matched perfectly. Too perfectly, in fact. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her from the moment their gazes had met across the crowded room. He felt as if he knew her, could recall the scent and feel and even the unique taste that was Catherine. A part of him wanted to snatch her up and keep her with him where she belonged, but she didn’t belong to him at all.

  He knew he’d made her uncomfortable and he was sorry for that. But not sorry enough to turn and walk away, so he’d approached her.

  But, God, how was he supposed to handle this? Mike Thorne must have loved his wife deeply, with every cell in every tissue of his heart. And now Mike Thorne’s heart beat in another man’s chest.

  His chest. And he wanted Mike Thorne’s wife with a desperate intensity, made all the more painful by the knowledge that she didn’t know, and never would. Never could, he thought, remembering her reaction to the thought of meeting the recipient of her husband’s heart.

  “Hel-lo-o!”

  Gray turned his head in the direction of the voice and saw Patsy Thorne, Catherine’s mother-in-law, waving vigorously from the verandah of the big brick house on the other side of the pool.

  He waved back. “Hello, Mrs. Thorne.”

  “Call me Patsy! Care to come over for a bite of lunch? There’s plenty.”

  He really shouldn’t, he told himself. Even though the movers were finished and he’d just signed off on their work log, he should get into his new house and start getting settled. But…he might get the chance to see Catherine again. And if he were honest with himself, that wasn’t something he was prepared to miss. “I’d love to.”

  He skirted the fenced pool area and walked up the curving flagstone path between the casually elegant gardens that flanked it on either side.

  “Oh, how lovely,” Patsy said as he approached. “Catherine’s gone to a luncheon meeting and our housekeeper just put my grandson down for a nap, so I’m at loose ends. Come and entertain me, dear boy.”

  He grinned, despite the disappointment that swept through him when he learned that Catherine wouldn’t be present. Patsy was irresistible. His own mother had passed away several years ago and though her quiet presence couldn’t have been more different from Patsy’s buoyant vivacity, they both shared a similar quality in that everyone around them was bathed in warmth and love. “I’d be delighted.” He offered her his arm and let her precede him into the house.

  “So what do you think of Catherine?” Patsy didn’t beat around the bush as they settled down on the terrace with bowls of consommé and exquisitely prepared finger sandwiches of cucumber and egg salad. The housekeeper, Aline, hadn’t turned a hair when Patsy had introduced them and told her Gray would be staying for lunch, and he made a mental note to compliment her on the food.

  He smiled at Patsy as she returned the smile with a merry gleam in her eye. “Do you do this with all the men she meets?”

  “Yes, and you’re avoiding the question.” Her eyes twinkled.

  “Catherine is lovely to behold,” he said, “although I’m not sure she is quite as radiant as you are in pink.”

  Patsy giggled, putting a hand to the bodice of the pale pink dress that looked like something from a turn-of-the-last-century garden party. “Flatterer.”

  “Merely honest.” He toasted her with his water glass. “You have a beautiful residence here. I confess, I wasn’t sure if I’d done the right thing in taking you up on your offer so quickly, but now that I’m here, you may have to pry me out again with a crow-bar.”

  “It was my husband’s family home.” Patsy’s eyes softened. “Giles passed away quite suddenly a few years ago.”

  A wave of pity swept him as he realized that she had outlived not just the man she had loved but their only child as well, and he put a hand over hers on the table. “I can tell from the look on your face that your marriage was happy. You must miss him very much.”

  “Every day,” she said si
mply. “But I’m glad sometimes that he didn’t have to go through losing our Mike.”

  “That must have been a terrible time,” he said gently. Mamie. The word popped into his head without warning and he nearly blurted it out. Thank God he caught himself. Was Mamie a name her son had called her or was it just something his subconscious had seen fit to toss into the troubling mix his memories had become?

  She nodded and her lips trembled. She pressed a napkin to them with age-spotted hands still elegantly manicured and waited for a moment, then looked at him again. “It was the worst thing I’ve ever been through. I don’t know what I would have done without Catherine.” Then the sorrow in her eyes eased a little. “When she was at the hospital being checked after the accident, we learned about her pregnancy. After the funeral and the shock of everything had begun to pass, we were so thankful that we at least had that last gift from Mike.”

  “I bet your grandson is going to be spoiled silly.” He winked at her, relieved when she smiled back and the heavy atmosphere lightened again. He desperately wanted to hear more about the child, to see him.

  “Not if Catherine has anything to say about it.” But there was no sting in the words and Patsy’s smile was affectionate. “She’s a very good mother.”

  “As good as Patsy is a Mamie.” Catherine swept into the room with a smile and a kiss on the cheek for Patsy. For him, there was a single, very correct nod.

  Mamie. So he wasn’t going crazy after all. Although, as he looked at the woman before him, he felt like a werewolf in man form attempting not to give himself away by howling at the moon.

  Two

  Catherine was dressed in a slim-fitting pale blue summer suit and her fair hair was twisted into an intricate, shining knot at the back of her head. The severe hairstyle wouldn’t flatter just any woman but Catherine wasn’t just any woman. It emphasized the classic beauty of her delicate features, the sculpted bone of brow and cheek and jaw, the full, curving lips and her enormous blue eyes.