Gray took her hand. His fingers toyed with the ornate engagement ring he’d given her not so long ago. “Turn on the lamp.”
She frowned a little but reached behind his chair and turned on the matching lamp that was situated on the narrow bookcase filled with stuffed animals. “What’s the matter? You want to see if any diamonds have fallen out of the ring? There’d still be plenty left to fund a country,” she assured, deadpan.
He shifted the baby to his other side. “Look at my shoulder.”
“What?” Her gaze automatically shifted to his shoulder.
He angled it toward her. “A little on the back side.”
She leaned over, humoring him. “Am I supposed to be oohing and ahhing?” She could certainly do so. His muscles were amazingly well-defined. His warmly tanned skin stretched smoothly over them. One day she’d have to ask him how he managed to get any sun when the only time he seemed to spend out of doors was their early-morning runs.
“The birthmark.” His flat voice put an end to her meandering mind.
And there it was. In plain view for anyone to see if they ever bothered to look. If they ever had an opportunity to look.
A small, diamond-shaped smudge of darker-tinted skin.
Just like the one she’d kissed a hundred times on Timmy’s little arm right above the crook of his elbow.
She sat back, covering her mouth with her hand, struggling for composure. “You want me to believe that’s a coincidence?” she finally managed to ask. “You’ve known this all along?”
Gray sighed. Timmy was sucking so hard on his bottle, it was already nearly empty. “No. Harry noticed it, right off. He said something to Jack.”
Jack? What must he have thought? Her stomach tightened. “No wonder your father’s been so welcoming. He thinks—”
“It doesn’t matter what he thinks.” Gray cut her off. “Timmy is not my son.” His voice held so much conviction she wanted desperately to believe him. Wanted to know—without question—that she hadn’t stepped into Daphne’s shoes where Gray was concerned.
“Then why point out the birthmarks?”
“It was a matter of time before you noticed it yourself. Now that—”
“Now that I’ve slept with the man who tossed aside my own sister.”
He grabbed her hand, squeezing it so tightly the rings seemed to cut into her fingers. “I didn’t. But I think I know who did.” He looked pained. “Gerry.”
She slowly exhaled. “Your…half brother?”
“All my brothers are half brothers,” he reminded. “Gerry’s just not my brother on Harry’s side.”
“And he has this, this birthmark.”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “The only thing I share with him are some genetics.”
“Daphne’s not a fool. She wouldn’t have mistaken him for you.”
“He’s done it before. Used my name. You saw him yourself.” Gray shook his head. “The bastard can pass for me when he tries.”
Amelia pressed her fist to her lips, too many emotions coiling inside her to focus on just one. “But if Daphne met you in person, she’d have known.”
“She never had an opportunity. Marissa saw to that. Look, I know it sounds harsh. But Marissa was doing her job protecting me from what seemed to be just one more scheme against HuntCom.”
“Daphne didn’t claim HuntCom fathered Timmy,” Amelia murmured. “She claimed it was you.”
Gray snorted softly. “Is there a difference?” He held Timmy out to her. “You’d better take him. Doesn’t he need to be burped or something?”
She gathered the baby against her and rubbed his back. To her, Gray looked more uncomfortable than Timmy. “I thought you were doing fine with him.”
“Give me computers and contracts,” he said. “More my speed.”
She disagreed, but wasn’t going to argue the point. If Gray was right, he was Timmy’s uncle. “What am I supposed to do with this information, Gray? You want me to question Daphne about it?”
He shook his head. “Hell no. She doesn’t need to be upset by anything when she’s doing so well.” He snapped off the second lamp. “I just didn’t want you thinking I was…holding out on you.”
Her vision blurred. Against her shoulder, Timmy let out a thoroughly dignified burp. “It seems we’re trusting each other more than we intended.”
“If I’m right, Daphne would have a legitimate claim against Gerry.”
“If you’re right, Daphne wouldn’t want Timmy to ever be influenced by a man like that. She thought she was notifying him about her pregnancy when she sent you those papers. She never saw him again after he dropped her. He probably has no idea whatsoever that he even has a son.”
“I wish I could tell you that I knew him well enough to predict what he could do with the information. The only thing I can go on is his behavior where I’m concerned. And it isn’t admirable. He’d use Tim for whatever gain he can get. But the decision isn’t mine to make. You are Timmy’s guardian. Whatever happens where he is concerned is your call.”
She wished it weren’t a decision she’d have to make. And she knew that Gray could easily have gone around her to have Timmy’s DNA tested without her even being aware of it. But he hadn’t. He was leaving the decision to her. “You really got more than you bargained for with us, didn’t you?”
“That works both ways.” In the soft light from the single lamp and despite Timmy leaning his satisfied and sleepy head once more against her throat, the way Gray’s gaze drifted over her seemed dauntingly intimate. “It’s not all bad. Is it?”
“No,” she admitted.
“He going to go back to sleep now?”
“Probably.” She brushed a kiss over Timmy’s forehead and settled him inside his crib. Such a tiny person to have to overcome so much havoc. She wound up the mobile that hung over the crib and a soft lullaby sounded from it.
The baby’s eyelids were already closing.
Gray slid his hand over her shoulder. His long fingers grazed the curve of her breast through the robe. “It will be all right, Amelia.”
“You said that to me before.” She was no more certain now than she had been when she’d agreed to marry him that he would be right in the end.
“I know.”
“So far, the only thing that is remotely turning out all right is Daphne’s recovery.”
“That’s not the only thing.” His fingers brushed against her again. Not a coincidence, then. And she was shocked at the ready response of her body to the caress.
If she’d ever had such responses to John, the man would probably never have needed to find more excitement elsewhere.
For the first time, she realized how lucky she was that he had or they’d have both ended up in a marriage that would have been thoroughly and utterly lackluster.
“Come back to bed, Amelia,” Gray whispered against her ear.
Shivers danced down her spine. Nothing was going to be solved about Timmy that night.
She turned her head and found Gray’s lips with her own. And when they finally broke apart, dragging in long breaths, it was Amelia who took Gray and led the way down the wide, silent hall to their bedroom.
“Retirement looks better on Harry than I thought it would.”
Gray was standing near the bar set up in the bustling reception hall with his brothers. It was two weeks since Amelia’s birthday. Two weeks of sharing their bed. In every way. No more ten feet of space between them.
He’d begun to realize that he wanted no more space between them anywhere.
Now, Gray followed J.T.’s gaze, looking over to where their father stood.
Still head and shoulders above most of those around him, still wearing his trademark glasses, Harry’s head was tossed back in laughter at something being said.
It was Harry’s final hurrah as the departed chairman of the board of HuntCom and the gowned and tuxedoed guests milling around the reception hall before they were seated for dinner seemed to have come from
every corner of the world to share the moment.
“You going to hang on until you’re seventy before you do the same?” Justin sent a sideways look toward Gray.
“You know me. Just like Harry,” Gray drawled. He lifted his drink and tossed it back.
J.T. gave him a sharp look.
“I never thought I’d say it—” Alex broke the silence between them “—but his plan where we were concerned turned out pretty well.” He nodded toward the far side of the room. “Our bride hunt yielded something I never expected. Look at them. Have you ever seen anything that looked that good under this roof?”
Near the head table, their wives were a collective vision, not merely because of their designer gowns that ranged from Amy’s timeless black and P.J.’s rebellious fuchsia to Lily’s shimmering bronze and Amelia’s ivory confection. It was the women, themselves. Character. Grace. Strength.
“Not in my lifetime,” Justin agreed. His lips quirked. “In fact, standing over here with you while they are over there? No contest.” He headed off through the crowd like an arrow set on its course.
“Sorry, guys. He’s right. Pretty as you both are, they’re prettier.” Alex grinned and picked up the soft drink he’d come to the bar to retrieve for his wife and headed after Justin.
“So,” J.T. murmured softly when Alex was gone, “you want to spill what’s bugging you?”
“Nothing.” Gray slid his hand into his pocket. Felt the ring he’d tucked there hours earlier.
“You’re gonna take a cell phone call now?”
Gray pulled his hand back out. Empty. “I stopped carrying it.”
J.T.’s brows shot up. “Since when?”
He shrugged. But he knew exactly when. The night Amelia had told him he wasn’t at all like Harry. “Habit sticks, though. They make a patch for people who want to quit smoking. What do they do for people who are connected to their phones?”
“Put research and development on it,” J.T. suggested blandly. “They’ll come up with something. Another gadget that’ll raise profits even more. So, how many crazies have come out of the woodwork since you’ve taken over as chairman?”
“No more than expected,” Gray said absently. “Just the usual e-mail threats about us trying to take over the world and anonymous letters we’ve always gotten from those who think computers are going to be the downfall of humanity. Security has been beefed up as a precaution with the changeover, but we’ll probably lower it again to normal levels in a few months. Did you tell Amy about the guards?”
“I didn’t want to spook her, but yeah. She knows. Alex and Justin told their wives, too. Everybody’s covered. Nothing’s going to happen to anyone, Gray. Nothing like before. You’re in love with her, aren’t you.”
Gray exhaled. “How are any of us supposed to even know what that is?”
J.T. smiled slightly. “I think even Harry’s learned a few things along the way this past year. God knows I have.” His gaze was focused across the room. “You just have to let them in. And believe.”
“You think that will last?”
“Amy and me?” His brother didn’t seem surprised by the question. He looked at Gray. “Yes. We’re going to make sure of it.” He clapped his hand over Gray’s shoulder, then he, too, headed for his wife.
“Son.” Harry stopped next to him. The glass in his hand would have held vodka a year ago. These days, Gray knew, it held sparkling water. “I want a word with you.”
Gray looked across the room again. Amelia was listening to something Georgie was going on about, not even looking his way. She’d fretted about feeling out of place at the reception, but from Gray’s observation, his wife was handling herself more than capably.
If anything, she outshone every woman there with that intriguing combination of shyness, intelligence and wit.
He slid his half-filled glass on the tray of a passing waiter and followed Harry out of the hall and took the wood-paneled elevator up to the empty gallery above. “What is it?”
Harry wandered along the gallery several feet before stopping in front of one of the black-and-white photos. He rocked back and forth on his heels, looking casual as he studied the print. “I want to know when you’re going to tell me the truth.”
Gray went still. “About?”
“You always were a tougher nut than your brothers.”
“And you’re usually not so cryptic.”
“I knew you’d finagle your way around our agreement.”
“Our agreement felt more like coercion and you damn well know it.” He kept his voice neutral. He still wasn’t certain exactly where Harry was headed or just how much he thought he knew. “Ironic, really, since we know how you refuse coercion yourself.” Gwen’s kidnapping might have been faked, but they hadn’t known that until the dust settled on her casket.
Harry shot him a look that was filled with an anguish that Gray never expected to see. “You want me to admit that I wish I’d have paid Gwen’s ransom? I should have. Maybe you wouldn’t have found out until after the baby was born what she was like. Maybe everything ever since would have been different. Maybe you wouldn’t still hate me.” He ran his hand down his face. Looked at Gray. “This isn’t twenty years ago, though. This isn’t Gwen. You married that girl to get her boy.”
“Tim is Amelia’s sister’s boy.”
“Her sister who’ll never be able to care for him on her own again. Amelia is his legal guardian.”
“She’s guardian of all three. You knew that Jack would pass on your suspicions to me.”
“He’s young. I remember what you all were like at that age.”
Gray snorted. “You barely noticed what we looked like when we were that age.”
“And I’m paying the price,” Harry said. He exhaled. “I didn’t marry the right woman when I had the chance, either, and I’ve paid the price for that, as well. Your brothers are going to be fine. Better than fine, because they’ve already broken the pattern I set for them. But you—” He shook his head. “You always have to break the rules. Create new ones that you think will better suit you.”
“It’s that kind of reasoning that had you start up HuntCom.”
“Yes. And as we both know, I’ve made plenty of mistakes, and you’re all set to repeat them. I admit I wasn’t the best father. But one mistake I didn’t make was not claiming my own sons. When I knew they were mine,” he added before Gray could challenge the declaration. “Amelia is a nice girl. I don’t even need Cornelia’s opinion to know that. Does she know about the boy? Know that she was your method of hedging your bets?”
“She knows more than you,” Gray assured evenly. “It’s a helluva thing, Harry. You really think I’d actually ignore my own child?”
“No wife, no children, no inheritance. Remember? You can have as many or as few children with Amelia as you want, but Timmy is a Hunt, too. He should have the Hunt name.”
“Trot out all the reasons you want, Harry,” Gray snapped. “There will never be any children with Amelia. Not any of mine. I had a vasectomy when I was twenty-two!”
Harry stared at him. “What?”
But it wasn’t Harry’s voice he heard. It was Amelia’s.
Gray spun on his heel to see her hovering behind them, one hand holding open the elevator door that she hadn’t even quite exited. Her brown eyes looked huge in her face that had paled to the same shade as her gown. “Cornelia sent me up,” she said. “They’re seating for dinner now.” She pulled back into the elevator.
The doors were already closing before Gray could stop them.
Swearing, he glared at Harry. “You don’t know what you’ve done.”
His father looked pained. “Are you so sure you do?”
Gray wasn’t going to stand around and argue the point. He started around the gallery for the staircase on the other side.
But when he finally made it to the main floor and managed to circumnavigate the crowd that was settling itself around the crystal-laden tables, he saw no sign of Amel
ia.
No sign at all.
Chapter Sixteen
Amelia pounded her hand on the door, praying that Paula would be home. If she wasn’t, Amelia didn’t know where else to go.
They’d spent the night in a hotel that had used up all the cash Amelia had been able to grab on her rapid escape from the shack. She’d been more concerned with gathering up Molly and Jack and Tim and getting out of there than she had with details that only a few months earlier she’d never have ignored.
“I don’t like this,” Molly whispered behind her. “I want to go home.”
Amelia’s eyes burned. “Don’t worry, honey,” she managed, and rapped her knuckles on the door once more. It was early in the morning. Maybe Paula hadn’t awakened yet.
“Why didn’t we get to bring any of our stuff?” Molly repeated the question she’d asked several times already.
“’Cause,” Jack answered. He was carrying Timmy and he looked no more happy than Molly about being dragged from the shack. Particularly when Amelia had made him leave behind his handheld gamer.
The door suddenly opened and Paula stood there, eyeing them with sleepy, surprised eyes.
“Can we hang out here for a while?”
Paula’s expression fell. She silently pulled the door wide and they trooped inside. But not until the children were sitting at the table, distracted only somewhat by breakfast and the television, did she drag Amelia into the relative privacy of her bedroom where they could talk.
“What happened?” She sat down on the padded stool she used at her small vanity table.
Amelia paced. “Nothing I shouldn’t have expected,” she admitted painfully. She rubbed her fingertip over her bare wedding ring finger. She’d left the rings behind, along with everything else except the children and a handful of cash.
“Gray isn’t Timmy’s father,” she added after recounting the whole story. “At least he didn’t lie about that.” She pressed her fingertips to her aching eyes. As for everything else he’d said, done, she couldn’t bear to think how easily she’d fallen into his deception.
The Bride and the Bargain Page 20
