The Billionaire's Seed_A Secret Baby Romance

by Natasha Spencer

  And so here she was, finishing up breakfast in the kitchen, having decided nothing. How could she possibly endure that sort of poisonous atmosphere in the house? Was she being watched right now? And would she end up with a good dose of hemlock in her serving of soup?

  Ben, having put aside his morning paper, was seriously discussing the condition of the puppy with his fascinated daughter. “And Dr. Morgan called this morning, and said we could pick him up any time.”

  “And can I go, Daddy, and can I see him and hold him?”

  “Of course you can, sweetheart. But you’ll have to be very careful of him. He’ll need a lot of care for a while.”

  “Care you can only provide in the house, isn’t that right, Ben?” Caroline couldn’t resist putting in her two cents’ worth.

  “It isn’t quite—”

  “In the house?” The child’s eyes widened. “You mean in my bedroom>”

  “I don’t see why not.” Caroline seemed determined to poke the tiger in the cage, and was rewarded by a small gleam from the tiger’s blue eyes. “You could certainly keep watch over him better from there, couldn’t you?”

  “Well, now, wait just a minute—”

  “We’ll buy him a bed,” she promised recklessly, “and some toys. He’s probably never had toys before. And we’ll give him whatever medicine he needs, and—”

  “The proper place for a dog is outside,” Mrs. Wyeth interrupted. She had paused, in the act of removing plates, to interject her opinion whether it was wanted or no. Stolid. Implacable. “All them germs and fleas. Ain’t never had no dog inside the house before, and you ain’t about to start now, Missy.”

  “Ah, but you have no control over what goes on in this house, do you, Mrs. Wyeth?” Caroline’s voice, silky-smooth, caught up the challenge and threw it right back at her. “I think I am the final authority on whether a dog stays or goes. Isn’t that true, Ben?”

  Puzzled by the byplay, which up till now hadn’t been a concern, the master put down his half-eaten slice of toast and picked up his coffee cup. “Caroline, do you really think—”

  “Yes, I really do.” Her aquamarine eyes flashed as brilliantly as the gems in question, and two bright spots of color high on her cheekbones melded in with the smattering of freckles.

  Not wanting to get involved in women’s concerns, he shrugged. “Sure. I reckon she can have the dog in her room for a while. We’ll see how it goes.”

  “And the authority, Ben?”

  “Well, yeah. You are the final authority, no question about that.”

  “Thank you. And, thank you, Mrs. Wyeth, for being so understanding.”

  Understanding, in a pig’s eyes. The lady turned away, glowering, resentful, and indignant. Yep. Definitely a dose of hemlock.

  It was a small battle, as skirmishes go, but she had won it. However, she foresaw a number of similar battles in future, depending on how much more insubordination the cook was prepared to give her, so she’d better be armed and dangerous. Or locked and loaded. Or whatever current war-like euphemism was being used.

  By ten o’clock Ben had cleared away any pressing details at his desk and conferred with Marilou as to plans for the day.

  “So you want me to put off the meeting with Transflux?”

  “No, let ’em go ahead and hold it. It’s nothing so important that I have to be there. Oh, but I do want you to send a formal letter to Dovetail, Inc., to accept…”

  The perky blonde admin had already heard the story from Tom of Lundigan’s attack on the dog, and Caroline’s attack on Lundigan, and Tom’s attack on Lundigan, and his subsequent hauling away by a sympathetic sheriff. She had apologized several times for her own lack of a background check.

  “I don’t know what happened,” she said abjectly. “Just fell through the cracks, I reckon. I started to look into what he’d been doin’ for the last ten years, things seemed okay, and then blam!”

  “Blam,” repeated Ben. Sitting behind the forbidding expanse of his desk, he was not quite so cavalier. “Blam.”

  “Yeah. I’m real sorry, Ben. It won’t happen again.”

  Caroline, suspecting that the secretary was not often called on the carpet, had slunk away from the office. Marilou didn’t need a witness to her moment of humiliation.

  “I’m sure it won’t. Because there could’ve been some very serious consequences.”

  At last, work finished for the while, they were ready to go retrieve the little foundling that had caused such an uproar.

  “Come on, Carrie, hurry up,” Sophie urged from inside the truck’s cab. “Time’s a-wastin’!”

  Caroline had been standing at the front door, ready to allow some father-daughter time, ready to wave a cheerful goodbye. “Oh, am I supposed to be going?”

  “You’re the one responsible for this whole mess,” said Ben. He was sitting in the driver’s seat, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. Albeit slowly and carefully. He wouldn’t admit it—big tough Texan and all—but some residual tenderness had resulted from his foray into ass-kicking, and he had decided it might be prudent to coddle those bruised knuckles and swollen hands for a bit. “Come on, time’s a-wastin’!”

  The twenty-mile drive was accomplished more decorously today—fifteen minutes, instead of ten. Sophie kept up such a round of chatter that no other conversational gambit was required, other than, “Yes, that’s right.” or “I don’t think so.”

  Sophie was excited. Unlike most children, who wore their hearts on their sleeves, she had kept her feelings locked away inside for too long a time. Now, thanks to Caroline’s gentle persistence and kindly guidance, the girl was beginning to blossom forth. As much as the sunflowers on her shorts.

  “Is this gonna be your own dog, Sophie?” Dr. Morgan asked with a twinkle when they trooped into his examining room.

  “Uh-huh. Carrie says so. And Daddy, too.”

  “Well, good, honey. Okay, here he is. You know you gotta be careful, right?”

  The dog was a sorry sight. It was anybody’s guess what breed he might be, from pointer to lab to some sort of hound. Once his body had filled out, and he had lost that scrawny look, he would be a handsome animal. But for right now, his right paw was bandaged, and one ear dangled, and every rib of his skinny, eight-pound carcass showed

  Still, sedated and hurt thought he was, the puppy managed to thump his tail a few times, and he looked up with soft soulful eyes that begged only for kindness.

  “Oh, good boy,” crooned Sophie, crowding close to the table upon which the animal lay. “Good little boy.” Bending close to gently pet him, she was sloshed by a wet tongue that immediately set off a round of giggles.

  “How is it you’ve never managed to get this child a dog before?” murmured Caroline, sotto voce.

  Ben shrugged. “Dunno. Guess it just never occurred to me.”

  “Well, Missy, looks like you’ve made a new friend there,” said Dr. Morgan, beaming. He was as proud as if the arrangement were all his, and he had instigated this first date. “You got a name for this boy yet?”

  “Uh-huh.” Sophie looked up, eyes shining. “I’m gonna call him Jasper.”

  “Jasper. Well, that’s a fine name. Okay, then, let me just give your pop some instructions as to his care, and we’ll let you take Jasper home.”

  And so Jasper went home, with a supply of special dog food to build his wasted body and a cache of toys to be introduced at intervals.

  Seated between her father and stepmother, Sophie cradled him and spoiled him. “Ain’t nobody gonna hurt you no more!” she pledged to the unknowing puppy.

  Caroline’s startled glance has flown to Ben’s. How had she known? Or was that just a lucky guess?

  The first order of business was to let Jasper loose, when they’d arrived home, so that he could explore and find a favorite spot on the front lawn to—well, do his business.

  “Gonna be brown spots everywhere,” said Ben gloomily. He had climbed down from the driver’s seat, shut the door, and
stood watching while Jasper made himself at home.

  “No doubt.” Caroline was unperturbed. It wasn’t her greenery being decimated. “Don’t worry, Ben,” she took pity on him. “We’ll get Jasper into the back yard from here on. The brown spots won’t be so noticeable there.” And she giggled.

  He stared at her. “You think it’s funny?”

  “Well, yeah…I kinda do. It is kinda funny.”

  “The hell you say!”

  Suddenly, before she realized what mischief he was pulling, Ben had picked her up and flung her over his shoulder like a sack of old clothes. Except that this sack was kicking and screaming, pounding on his shoulders, and demanding to be put down. He took a few minutes to dance around with her, defying her demands, taunting her with gibes and jeers, until her cries of outrage turned to helpless laughter.

  “You really wanna mess with me? Huh? Really?” By then he was laughing, too.

  Finally, he righted her, sliding her slowly down until they were standing evenly and tightly locked together, breast to breast, loin to loin, thigh to thigh. Her arms were flung around his neck; his battered hands were clamped around her buttocks, grinding her hard against his erection.

  “There,” he managed huskily. “I reckon that’ll—learn you—not to—go round causin’ problems for—your betters…”

  Sophie was looking on with interest and a trace of distaste. “Come on, Jasper,” she said, gathering up the puppy and starting for the front door. “I think the grownups are gonna start actin’ silly, and I think you’re too young to watch.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  He didn’t come after her again for several more days—mainly because he was off traveling.

  Houston, for a meeting with board members of an unknown corporation. Phoenix, to confer in person about a start-up business of solar energy. Up to San Francisco, where three prominent area councilmen were putting in place a small cattle ranch, and wanted Ben’s expertise. Back to San Antonio, on some political free-for-all.

  It made Caroline dizzy, the way he was criss-crossing the country in such a short time. If not for his own private jet, so as to bypass airports, security, and air traffic schedules, he would have been tied down even more than he was.

  At least he had been considerate enough to provide his itinerary for Caroline. He had had Marilou print a list of dates and times, the hotel at which he would be staying in each city, and the telephone number for every single one. The number for his cell phone was prominently displayed, just in case she hadn’t already programmed it into her own records.

  In case Sophie needed him for anything, he had told her, with a glint in his eye. Or maybe the newest family member. Meaning Jasper.

  Caroline sometimes felt fragile enough to wonder if he were enjoying some female companionship in those hotel rooms, after hours. Perhaps the best champagne, and chocolate, and a vase full of red roses. He was a very virile man, as proven by their few times together. As much as he had taken from her, he so obviously had wanted more.

  True, he seemed to schedule his need for sex with her in between these business jaunts. So was he being supplied with sex by someone else, elsewhere, when she wasn’t available? And, if she asked, could she believe what he told her? They had repeated their vows before an ordained minister, so that should have been a bargaining point. Still, each had spoken an untruth about the “love” part. Could faithfulness be far behind? She seemed to remember something about “forsaking all others…”

  And, even though a mail order bride, didn’t she have the right to expect as much consideration and loyalthy from her husband as she was giving him?

  Surprisingly, he had aimed a kiss at her cheek before he set off on this latest junket. More to the point, he had hugged Sophie, told her to behave herself, and to make sure she took that dog into the back yard, not the front. A final wink and he was gone.

  “Well,” said Caroline, somewhat breathlessly. The man had that effect—it was like trying to make one’s way through the eye of a hurricane.

  “Uh-huh. He’s always in a hurry, isn’t he?” She got down from the table, and her breakfast of a chocolate chip waffle, to play with Jasper. “But I gots my dog, now. And I gots you, Carrie. So I don’t miss Daddy so much.”

  Oh, telling phrase! Caroline’s heart ached for the child. How lonely her childhood must have been, relegated always to the back corner of her father’s exceedingly busy life. And how simply she had accepted Caroline’s presence, as Daddy’s new wife and her own new mother.

  But at least, she thought, with some measure of pride, Sophie was neglected no more. Even a stepmother—a caring, concerned stepmother—could fill the empty spots.

  The puppy was a baby. Always hungry. Always energetic, racing in ecstasy with Sophie one minute, despite his injured paw, only to collapse in utter abandon the next. Outside, while Caroline sat on the terrace lounge working desultorily at her laptop, Sophie played with Jasper, fed him, watched him while he slept, and played some more. He had spent the night in Sophie’s room, with, happily, no accidents. (Caroline had given herself the task of carrying him out the back door at two hour intervals.)

  Having decided that she must take a firmer hand on the reins of the household, from ordering supplies to checking about the laundry to looking into some summer activities for Sophie, she was studying some online menus to find some easier, lighter fare when she was interrupted.

  “Excuse me, Mrs. Taggart?”

  Caroline looked up, frowning against the bright sunshine. Next time she came out here, she’d wear some sunglasses. Or the ball cap that Ben made fun of. “Yes? Oh, it’s Maria, isn’t it? What can I do for you?”

  “Esperanza and me, we were wondering—”

  “Yes?”

  “Well, we were not sure…and I said I would ask the Señora, did you want a meal in the dining room tonight?”

  “No, let’s not go to all the trouble. There’s only the two of us, anyway, and…” She stopped, curious. “But why are you coming to me, Maria? Even if you’re the one who normally does our serving, I would expect Mrs. Wyeth to take that responsibility.”

  The girl, for she was barely more than that, with her thick shining black hair and vivid coloring, was all but wringing her hands. “Mrs. Wyeth, ma’am, she is—enfermo…sick. She is sick.”

  “Sick? Is it serious?”

  “Me, I am not for sure, Mrs. Taggart. When I knocked on her door this morning, she only told me to go away, she was not well.”

  Caroline stood up. “Okay, Maria. I’ll go check on her. Thanks.”

  Mrs. Wyeth was not sick. She was sulking.

  As the Ten Buck’s full-time employee, the housekeeper was given a suite of her own, along with her salary. It was a very nice suite, in a private wing jutting off to the side of the main house, set up, according to the floor plan, with spacious bath, personal terrace, sitting room and bedroom, and a small kitchenette.

  “Mrs. Wyeth,” called Caroline, after knocking on the door. “Mrs. Wyeth, I understand you’re feeling unwell. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Silence. Then a mumble.

  “Mrs. Wyeth. I really need to check on you. If you’re ill, I have to come in.”

  Another mumble. Something that sounded like “Bugger off.”

  She tried turning the door knob. Locked. As she had expected.

  All right. Caroline had come prepared; no flies on her. A master key undid the lock, the latch clicked, and in she walked.

  To find Mrs. Wyeth fully dressed, taking her leisure on a chaise longue, sipping some dark liquid from a glass filled with ice cubes and flipping through the pages of a magazine. She looked up at Caroline’s entrance with a glare like thrown daggers.

  “This is my own private room. What are you doin’, comin’ in here without my permission?”

  “I was told you were ill,” said Caroline, just as coldly. She could play lady of the manor, very well, since it seemed to be expected of her. “You didn’t answer; I wanted to make sure
there would be no need for an ambulance.”

  “I’m takin’ a sick day.”

  “So I shouldn’t get you to the hospital for immediate care?”

  “I’m takin’ a sick day,” the cook repeated, as if Caroline had not heard the first flat statement.

  “Yes, so I understand. Which I would have no problem with, Mrs. Wyeth, if you would but inform me, in advance, so we can plan our schedule.”

  “The schedule,” mocked Mrs. Wyeth. “Always the schedule.”

  “Yes, it’s done in all the best houses. Well, I’ll leave you to your sick day. Do you suppose you might be needing one tomorrow, as well?”

  She cocked her head on one side, considering. “I don’t know yet. I’ll let you know.”

  “You just do that. On a timely basis, if you please.”

  Resisting the impulse to slam the door, instead of shutting it carefully behind her, Caroline stalked down the hall to the main house. In the kitchen she found Maria; Esperanza was busy folding towels in the laundry room adjoining.

  “Well, girls, nothing major. Mrs. Wyeth is only throwing a hissy fit.”

  The maids, clad in neat grey uniforms, looked at each other, then back at Caroline. “Pardon, Señora?”

  “Yes, she’s a little pissed off for some reason. So we’ll leave her alone to wallow in it.”

  Again that exchange of glances. “Pardon. Wallow?”

  “Meanwhile, don’t bother about lunch. Or dinner.” Caroline grinned at the two of them, literally rubbing her hands together with glee. “I’ll fix Sophie soup and a sandwich shortly. And I do believe we’ll head into town later, see what trouble we can get into. It’s about time we eat at a fast food restaurant and have something fattening and greasy. I swear, that child has been positively deprived.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  As it turned out, she and Sophie were escorted into Marigold by a gentleman of the old school: Tom Sinclair.

  They were out for a very brief walk—brief, because Jasper needed some growth and stamina to him before attempting distance—and excitedly discussing plans for the trip to town, when Tom came upon them.