The Millionaire and the Pregnant Pauper

by Christie Ridgway

  Josie, always able to reach a kinder, gentler side of their grandfather, broke into the tenseness. She redirected the conversation to babies. Some particulars about childbirthing. How to make them smile. How you held on to their slippery skin in the bathtub.

  Michael found himself answering as much as Beth. He knew a lot about babies, particularly Mischa. His hand made an involuntary fist. He’d just told Grandfather that he was the baby’s father. When Beth and Mischa left him, he’d make sure he saw plenty of the boy.

  Then Beth started asking his grandfather about the sights in Washington D.C. The old man even bothered to answer.

  Josie elbowed Michael gently in the ribs. “You done good, little brother. I should have come to visit sooner after your surprise marriage announcement. I like Beth.”

  “You’re just married yourself. You can understand we wanted some privacy.” Josie was also supervising the building of a new house on her husband Max’s ranch. Michael had used that as another excuse to keep her away. “Why’d Max let you out of his sight anyhow?”

  “I’m picking up a few pieces of furniture that Grandfather said I could have—Grandmother’s desk, among them.” She looked around the shabby living room. “You could use a few things to spruce this place up, too.”

  Michael didn’t want to tell her it was only temporary quarters for a temporary family.

  Suddenly her eyes widened. “Would you look at that!”

  Michael turned his head to follow her gaze. Joseph Wentworth wore a cloth diaper over the shoulder of his hand-tailored gray suit. Beth was just placing Mischa into his curving arm. The old man wasn’t exactly smiling, but his face had softened.

  Michael couldn’t believe it. Beth was glowing with pride in her son and with friendliness toward Joseph.

  Before she could step back, the old man caught her wrist. “Third question, young lady.”

  Michael tensed. The crafty SOB. Get her to let her guard down.

  “Do you love my grandson?”

  Then go for the throat.

  A high whine started buzzing in Michael’s ears. This was it. Sink or swim time, and not half an hour ago he’d been practically throwing Beth out by mentioning her freedom. And after the best sex of his life. Great.

  Who could blame her if she took the easy way out right now and told Joseph the marriage was all a sham?

  She’d be no worse off and he’d be shackled to Wentworth Oil Works for another three years, if not forever.

  Over the insect-whine Michael heard Beth’s voice. “Last question?” she asked. “You promise?”

  Joseph’s gruff affirmative sounded. “Do you love him?” he asked again.

  Michael resisted the urge to shake his head like a dog to get rid of the noise in his ears. Josie leaned forward.

  Only a tinge of pink on Beth’s cheeks gave away any discomfort. She looked over her shoulder and her gaze found his. Turquoise was a beautiful color. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I love Michael.”

  Grandfather sat back in the rocking chair.

  Josie sighed and collapsed against the couch cushions.

  The whine in Michael’s ears flattened out and the room went suddenly quiet. His coffee cup clattered against the saucer as he set it on the table in front of the couch.

  Beth returned to her seat beside Josie. In seconds they were chattering again about pregnancy and babies. Joseph was silently holding Mischa who stared up at the old man’s beetly eyebrows with fascination.

  Mischa looked happy. Beth’s smile shone bright as sunlight as Josie exclaimed over her excitement at having a sister. “I wish Jack were here,” Josie said, as she hugged Beth. “Or at least Sabrina.” She sighed. “I just hope Sabrina’s all right.”

  With those little words and that little sigh, a certainty formed rock-solid in Michael’s mind. He tensed, expecting a noose to tighten around his neck. Any minute now he expected to lose all air. Because suddenly he knew.

  Nobody was getting their freedom today. Or any day.

  Yeah, he might be out of Wentworth Oil Works for good, but he was into a marriage for a life-time.

  Beth had said she loved him.

  She’d said she loved him!

  From the moment he’d met her, he’d found it hard to walk away. He could have dumped her at the emergency room, but he’d ventured into the hospital.

  He could have sent her a bouquet of flowers. Instead, he’d sent himself and ended up holding her hands while she bore a child he now claimed as his.

  He had thought their alliance would be temporary.

  But she was at once shy and sexy and she needed him. Needed him as a father to her son. Needed him and the family he could give her in Josie, in the grandfather who would snarl one minute but then stand by her with an iron fierceness the next. Michael couldn’t do less when it would be so easy to give Beth and Mischa his family.

  For some strange reason he didn’t even spare a thought for the weight of the responsibility.

  “Michael?” Josie was talking to him. “What do you think?”

  He had no idea what they were talking about But he knew that he was married to Beth forever.

  And he hoped that of all the things he could provide—security, a home, a family, warmth in bed at night—that she wouldn’t notice the one thing he couldn’t give.

  His heart.

  Beth let out a relieved sigh as Michael closed the front door. Joseph and Josie were gone.

  Michael touched her shoulder. “Are you okay?” he asked. “It was tougher than I expected.”

  Beth shrugged. The meeting with Joseph had been tougher than Michael knew. The old man had cornered her in the kitchen before he left. “Alice always said that if you put your nose in water, you’ll also wet your cheeks.”

  Michael grimaced. “I think I get that.”

  “It means I asked for it.” All of it. When she agreed to marry Michael, she was agreeing to playing Michael’s wife in front of his family. Who would have known, though, how much she’d feel like Michael’s wife?

  He slapped his hands together, almost too cheerful. “I think we should celebrate. I know Grandfather’s satisfied.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Before he’d left, Joseph Wentworth had found her alone in the kitchen and offered her $500,000 on top of whatever Michael had promised, to tell him the truth about their hasty marriage.

  “Why do you say that?”

  Beth didn’t know whether to tell him about Joseph’s offer. She’d refused the bribe, of course, and assured the older man she really loved Michael. She’d even said she wanted to remain Michael’s wife forever.

  She’d told the truth.

  She wasn’t sure she wanted to repeat that to Michael. “I—”

  The doorbell rang.

  Elijah stood on the other side of the door, a carton of doughnuts in his hand. “Hey, I just passed Joseph in that hulking Caddie of his. Was he—”

  Michael grinned and pulled the other man into the house. “Perfect timing! We’re celebrating.”

  Seemed that Elijah was always up for a party. He had a boombox in his truck that he carted into the house with a stack of CDs. Michael went to his truck for his favorite George Strait.

  Beth made another pot of coffee and found herself munching down doughnuts and laughing at the two men. They both wore powdered-sugar mustaches and she didn’t tell either one of them.

  At the sound of a scrubby fiddle, Elijah grabbed her by the hand and danced her around the tiny kitchen. She bumped into the counter, the refrigerator, the little table, and then Michael’s knees.

  He wrapped a long arm around her waist and pulled her onto his lap. “You’re having too much fun without me,” he said against her ear.

  She shivered.

  His mouth on her skin was too much like last night. She’d almost been grateful for the visit from his family because it prevented her from thinking about the hours in his bed. Loving him, and being loved physically by him, had meshed so beautifully the nigh
t before.

  The newfound feelings she had for Michael had dug deep into her soul.

  Elijah collapsed into a chair at the table. “I haven’t been dancing in years!”

  “Yeah, right.” Michael draped his hand over Beth’s abdomen and his breath warmed the right side of her neck. “I happen to know you kicked up your heels until dawn on New Year’s. What was that— six weeks ago?”

  Elijah leaned back and crossed his booted feet at the ankle. “So then it’s you that hasn’t been dancing in years!”

  Beth leaned back against Michael’s chest and listened to the men banter. What if this could be her life forever? What if, sometime before Michael got the trust, he turned to her and confessed his love? Then there could be years, forever, with this man, this kitchen, this warm teasing. Hadn’t he just claimed her son as his own?

  His arm tightened around her. She looked at him. “What do you think?” he asked. “You feel like going dancing tonight?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve not been dancing much,” she said. But her insides were shouting Yes! The more they were together, the greater the chance he would find he couldn’t live without her.

  “We’ll get a sitter for Mischa,” he said. “I bet Josie would love to spend time with him.”

  Beth smiled and nodded. An immediate connection had been established between herself and Michael’s sister. Josie would take great care of Mischa and appreciate the chance to play mommy for an evening.

  Elijah pulled another doughnut from the box. “I think you should make Joseph do it.”

  Michael grinned. “He probably would, if Beth asked. I swear she’s got him where she wants him.”

  A cold finger stabbed through Beth’s haze of happiness. She hadn’t convinced Joseph. The man continued to suspect their marriage was a sham.

  Still, Beth sensed goodness in him. He was only trying to protect his own, just as she would do for Mischa. With time she could win him over, she felt sure of it. There was no reason to burst Michael’s bubble.

  Michael drummed his fingers against the kitchen table. “Okay, so we have Josie to baby-sit. Where do you think we should go? The Spot?”

  Elijah had a mouthful of sugary doughnut. He pointed to it, to explain his silence, but shook his head vigorously.

  Michael frowned. “Okay, not The Spot. How ‘bout Dangers? I heard about a new band—”

  Elijah swallowed. “What are you thinking, man? Not Dangers, either. Let’s go someplace a little more out of the way. You’ll have more fun.”

  “More fun?”

  “I won’t even bring a date. I’ll just go stag. That way we can be three hot singles looking for love.”

  Beth felt a whole handful of frozen fingers slap her this time. At her back, Michael tensed. “Three hot singles looking for love?”

  Beth slid off Michael’s lap and onto the seat of the free chair. Her skin felt cold.

  “Yeah,” Elijah said, looking pleased with himself. “Maybe all three of us can find somebody new tonight.”

  Beth brought the doughnut carton close to her. She stared at a jelly doughnut covered with sugar. It made her queasy.

  Michael’s voice was tight. “Why would Beth and I be looking for somebody new?”

  Elijah grinned. “C’mon. This is me. Save the newlywed goo for your grandfather.”

  “I’m not cheating on Beth.”

  “Who’s talking about cheating?” Elijah waved away the whole idea. “For Pete’s sake, Michael, that’s why I brought up getting out of the county. We’ll go someplace where nobody knows us. Where nobody will know the two of you are married.”

  “We are married.”

  “What the hell’s wrong with you, buddy?” Elijah’s eyebrows came together. “I don’t get it.”

  “Maybe Beth and I are going to stay married.”

  The statement came out low and steady. Beth’s head swiveled, and she stared at Michael in astonishment.

  “What?” she tried to say, but her mouth opened and nothing came out.

  “What?” Elijah said it for her.

  “Why shouldn’t we stay married?” Michael asked the question of Elijah, but his gaze found hers. “I have what she needs. A family. I can be a father to Mischa.”

  Elijah spoke for her again. “But this was all just for convenience. So you could get Joseph to do what you wanted for once!”

  “It is convenient. I’m married. I have a son. No muss, no fuss.”

  No love, Beth thought. He hadn’t mentioned that at all.

  Elijah speared a powdered-sugar hand through his hair, giving himself a premature gray streak. “But…but…you’re a bachelor. You’re Freemont Springs’s playboy.”

  “You’re a bachelor. You be the playboy.”

  Elijah’s gaze jumped from Michael to Beth. “You hear him? What do you say, Beth?”

  I say it’s everything I could ever want. How easy it would be to let those words fall from her mouth. To walk into Michael’s offer and his arms and pretend for a lifetime that it would be enough.

  But he hadn’t said anything about love.

  “I…I’m not sure what I say, Elijah.”

  “Beth.” Michael found her hand. He touched her warmly, protectively, cradling her hand in his. “I want this.”

  Elijah shook his head. “I don’t get this,” he said. “I don’t get what you’re doing here, Michael.”

  Michael sent his friend a burning look. “Maybe it’s none of your business.”

  “Maybe I hate to see you make a big mistake,” he retorted.

  Michael ignored that. “Beth,” he said again, squeezing her fingers. “Don’t you think it’s a good idea? We do well together. You know we do.”

  Beth’s skin burned from her wrist toward her heart. They did well together. In bed, passion exploded. She loved him.

  But he didn’t love her.

  He wouldn’t. Not if she settled for this.

  “Tell me we’ll stay married,” Michael said.

  She slid her hand from his touch. “I can’t.”

  Michael heard the door to Mischa’s bedroom shut behind Beth. He glared at Elijah. “This is all your damn fault.”

  Elijah snorted. “Yeah, right.”

  “You ruined everything.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have brought up this great idea when I was here. You think that was just an accident? You wanted me to be the voice of reason.”

  Michael’s hands fisted. “Pardon me, O Sigmund Freud, but I want you out of here. Now.”

  Elijah rose slowly. “So you can put the pressure on her again? I told you not to hurt her, Michael.”

  A burn started smoldering in Michael’s gut. “So this is about Beth, huh?”

  “Hell, yes, this is about Beth!” Elijah shoved his chair toward the kitchen table. “You think I care about your sorry butt? She’s the one who’s going to be hurt, you fool. She’s in love with you.”

  The burn flared to fire. “I know,” Michael said.

  Elijah shook his head. “Then let her go, man. Let her go to find somebody to love her back.”

  “I can’t do that,” Michael said softly. “I just can’t do that.”

  10

  Michael didn’t listen to Elijah. He pushed the man out the front door and locked it behind him.

  Then found out Beth had locked Mischa’s door behind her. When he called to her she asked for some privacy so he slammed out of the house. Frustrated and tired, he sat in the cab of his truck for a while. At noon, he made his way to a bar where he nursed two beers while watching ESPN until 6:00 p.m.

  When he walked through the front door of the ranch house, the only light came from Mischa’s bedroom. He found Beth in there, a blanket thrown over her shoulder, nursing the baby. His heart started hammering against his chest. Like the night before, watching her feed her child turned him on.

  His gaze moved to her face. Her expression was studiously blank, her eyes shadowed and without their normal vibrancy. A desperate urge to take her in t
he shelter of his arms overwhelmed him. “What’s the matter, honey?” He moved toward the bed.

  “Don’t,” she said quietly, holding out a hand. “Mischa’s almost asleep.”

  He must look like a fool, standing in the middle of the small bedroom hungrily watching for a glimpse of her breast. But he could only retreat as far as the doorway. He slouched there, afraid to let her out of his sight.

  Her shadowed eyes worried him. At the bar, he’d convinced himself that her refusal to commit to their marriage was just nervousness talking. Or some kind of new bridal reluctance. He’d believed he could make her change her mind.

  She needed what he could offer. If he touched her, he knew he could bind her to him.

  With exquisite tenderness, she eased off the bed and placed the baby in the crib. Michael followed her there, peering over the rails at the sleeping child. The down on Mischa’s head was darkening.

  He looks like me, Michael thought. It didn’t seem a strange notion in the least.

  Beth walked toward the bedroom door. He didn’t follow. She turned down the light, but he remained at guard. Mischa slept peacefully. So had Michael at this very same age, blissfully unaware of losing his parents in a boating accident.

  Had his parents stood over his crib before their deaths? Had they made promises to him they’d been unable to keep?

  But Michael could do something for Mischa, if only Beth would agree. He found her in the kitchen. Her back to him, she sat at the table, elbows around a mug of hot tea. Steam rose and curled about her head.

  Michael wanted to touch her, inhale her, bring her into his body for protection. “Beth.”

  She looked over her shoulder at him.

  He said the first thing that came into his head. “Mischa is beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

  “Oh, Michael.” Her palms curved around the mug, as if she needed something to hold on to. Then she turned away from him.

  He walked toward her, his gaze on the back of her neck. Women didn’t often expose that part of their bodies. Beth’s skin was pale there, the small bumps of her spine visible as she bent over the tea. Suddenly he wanted to touch her nape, cover it, keep it from being so vulnerable.