The Daddy Decision

by Donna Sterling

  10

  FINGERS RIFFLED THROUGH her hair and brushed tendrils back from her face. A warm nuzzling against her neck made her squirm and smile. A smooth, strong jaw rubbed against her cheek. The pleasantly masculine scent of sandalwood aftershave teased her senses.

  Laura opened her eyes.

  Cort’s dark, rugged face loomed above her. The warmth in his smiling blue eyes kindled an answering glow within her. “Morning,” he greeted.

  She smiled and ran her hand tenderly over the planes of his face. “Morning.” And memories of their passionate, sumptuous night flooded back.

  A remnant of the heat they’d shared warmed his eyes, and she wanted to feel his arms around her. She realized then that he was sitting on the bed, not lying in it, as she’d expected. And he was fully dressed, casually elegant in a light sage-colored shirt and charcoal-gray sport coat.

  She, meanwhile, lay naked beneath the sheet.

  “I have to meet with my real estate broker,” he said in answer to her unspoken question. “Unavoidable, or I’d cancel. I might be tied up until three or so.” He leaned in and brushed his mouth alongside her ear. “But I didn’t want to leave without a kiss,” he whispered.

  ″A kiss?” Her eyes rounded, and she caught his face between her hands to stave him off. She hadn’t brushed her teeth yet! She couldn’t possibly kiss him. “No. No kiss!”

  “Now, Laura. After all we did last night, you can’t be shy about something as tame as a kiss.” She saw the mischievous glint in his eyes and knew he remembered darn well that she never kissed anyone in the morning before she brushed her teeth! Scoundrel that he was, he tilted his face and advanced.

  With a protesting cry, she averted her mouth. He pinned her arms beside her head and dug his chin into her neck. She laughed and struggled. He kissed his way to her face, and she twisted beneath him to get away An impromptu wrestling match ensued, as it often had in mornings at the Hays Street house, when the tussle usually degenerated into breathless laughter and the sweetest early-morning lovemaking.

  But even then, she hadn’t kissed him before brushing her teeth. A girl had to draw the line somewhere.

  He soon had her shrieking in laughter from playful attacks and fending him off with shoulders, elbows and knees.

  The phone rang. The answering machine clicked on, and a man spoke. Cort cursed, raised up and reached for the bedside phone. A business call. She took immediate advantage and scampered away, tugging the sheet off the bed and wrapping it around her as she dashed from his bedroom to her bathroom.

  Moments after she’d locked the door, he said from directly outside the bathroom, “Okay. You win. Brush your teeth. But make it quick. I’m already late. And I′m not leaving without a kiss.”

  Laughter gurgled in her throat. She brushed her teeth, washed her face, combed her hair and slid into the white, terry-cloth robe she’d left on the hook. “You’re a savage, Cort Dimitri,” she called through the door.

  “You bring it out in me, Laura Merritt. And you have ten more seconds to open this door, or I′ll use my master key.”

  “You have a master key?” She opened the door and poked her head out. “You’re just so masterful.”

  He pounced. He pulled her out of the doorway, braced her against the bedroom wall and nipped at her mouth with light, smiling kisses, then delved more deeply.

  The heat ignited in her again. She slid her fingers into his thick, raven hair and reveled in the hot, arousing taste of him. He groaned, then wrapped one hand around her nape and slid the other beneath her robe to roam freely.

  The kiss deepened. The heat grew serious.

  He forced himself to stop. Exhaling a long breath, he pressed his face to hers. “I’ll be home as soon as I can,” he rasped, his eyes closed, his body taut and hard, “and we’ll pick up where we left off.”

  Her heart thundered. She didn’t want to let him go. But of course, she did. His departing gaze left her weak-kneed and breathless.

  She knew she should be worried. She was too emotionally involved. They’d made love all night—urgently, then tenderly. Teasingly. Insatiably.

  How could he possibly make love to her like that if his emotions weren’t engaged? Don’t be naive, an inner voice warned. Don’t confuse sex with love... or history will repeat itself . Yes, she should definitely worry.

  But not today. Not when there was a chance that Cort’s baby was growing inside her. She placed her hands wonderingly against her abdomen. She could be pregnant at this very moment!

  With a rueful grin at her own irrepressible excitement, she hurried to take a shower. She had a lot of windows to measure before Cort returned. She also had ideas to sketch for the bedroom at the end of the hall, which she believed would make an adorable nursery.

  A nursery. For their baby. Hers and Cort’s.

  Smiling to herself, she dressed in dark, slim-fitting jeans and a red sweater—red for Christmas, since today was the first of December. What a wonderful house to decorate for Christmas, she thought dreamily. She knew exactly where she’d put the tree. She hummed as she hooked dangling gold hoops into her ears.

  The telephone rang, the answering machine clicked on, and a message piped through the intercom. “Cort, darling. Trisha. It’s too, too bad of you to cry off from the duchess’s party this Saturday, isn’t it?” The feminine, throaty voice flowed with a rich British accent. “I had such a lovely idea for after the party. Give me a ring, won’t you, and let me know when you’ll be in London, you naughty boy.” She didn’t leave a number.

  Laura sat down on the bed with an unpleasant rush of her heart. No reason to be upset, she told herself. He had, after all, “cried off” from the party. But he would be returning to London eventually. Maybe often.

  Of course he had women. Of course he dated. She hadn’t believed otherwise, had she?

  The duchess’s party. Was that someone’s nickname, or did he schmooze with royalty while he jetted around the globe?

  And what grounds did Trisha have for calling him a “naughty boy”?

  Laura shut her eyes and forced herself to get a grip on her volatile emotions. Cort didn’t owe her fidelity. She had known that before she’d slept with him. She had also known that he’d built a rich and varied life in which she played no part. Could she tolerate that fact, and possibly interact with the other women in his life, if she were raising a child with him?

  A picture flashed across her mind’s eye of her child jetting off to London with Cort for a romp around the castle grounds with Trisha.

  Oh, my. An attitude adjustment was definitely needed. Or else, a drastic change in plans.

  She’d be playing the role of ex-wife, she realized, without ever having had him as a husband. How could she bear to do that when she loved him? If she was already pregnant, she wouldn’t have a choice!

  Determined to put the anxiety aside until her emotions had settled and she could think clearly, she busied herself measuring windows.

  A noise caught her attention—the sound of a door opening. The kitchen door. Laura wondered if Cort had come home early. Her heart beat faster at the thought.

  What was she going to do? Sleep with him again, despite her reservations about having his baby? Tell him about those reservations, despite the abject humiliation of having to admit that she’d fallen in love with him again?

  The murmur of a woman’s voice mingled with a child’s in the kitchen. Surprised and curious, Laura set down her measuring tape and ventured toward the sounds.

  A stout, friendly-eyed woman with scraggly wisps of brown hair streaming from a haphazard topknot stood near the sink with a pitcher in her hand. “Oh, hello,” she greeted in surprise at the sight of Laura. “I’m Judy Jeffries, the housekeeper. Hope I didn’t startle you. I didn’t know anyone was here.”

  “I hope I didn’t startle you. I’m Laura Merritt. I’m a decorator, working here for a few days. Did I hear a child’s voice, too?” She looked around the kitchen, but saw no child.

 
; “My grandson, Duncan, just ran out to the car to get his coloring book. I bring him with me on Thursday mornings while my daughter works.” Judy gave her a quick, curious once-over. “So...you′re the new decorator, huh?”

  Laura wondered at the odd way she’d phrased the question. Not a decorator, but the new decorator. “Um, yes.”

  A definite glint of curiosity lurked in Judy’s gaze.

  The door swung open and a small blond boy of about four or five traipsed into the kitchen holding a coloring book and crayons. “Grandma, I can’t find the purple. Oh, hi.” He regarded Laura with friendly, curious eyes, much like his grandmother’s. Before he said another word, though, he looked beyond Laura and exclaimed, “Where’s the table? I always color at the table. Where did it go?”

  Laura glanced behind her at the empty kitchen, then back to the boy. He seemed to think that a table had been there. But Cort had told her that the only tables were in his bedroom. They’d had to eat breakfast on the courtyard-pavilion porch for that very reason.

  “Duncan,” said Judy, looking oddly flustered, “why don’t you go outside and color? Duncan!” Judy bustled across the kitchen after him as he loped off toward the main rooms.

  “Hey, everything’s gone!” he yelled from the formal living room. His amazed tones echoed throughout the house. “Look, Grandma. The couches, the chairs...even the pictures are gone!” Judy lunged for his arm, but he evaded her, clutching his small box of crayons and coloring book as he ran. “The naked-lady statue is gone, too!” he shouted from the entrance hall.

  “Uh, Duncan,” Laura piped up, thoroughly puzzled. He really believed there had been furniture, pictures and naked-lady statues the last time he’d been here, which, according to what Judy had said, would have been last Thursday. But Cort had clearly told her that the house hadn’t had any furniture or artwork since he’d moved in. Other than a couple bedrooms, it’s as bare as a barn, he’d said. “Are you sure you’re thinking of the right house? I mean, your grandmother probably takes you with her to more than one house when she cleans, doesn’t she?”

  “Nope. Mr. D.’s the only one who lets me come. Tell her, Grandma,” he appealed to Judy, troubled that his credibility was being questioned. “Didn’t there used to be couches and pictures and stuff?”

  One glance at Judy’s hesitant face told Laura the truth. There had been. And Judy didn’t want to tell her.

  But that made no sense!

  Judy bribed Duncan with a handful of cookies to go outside, then turned to Laura with a worried, apologetic gaze. “I hope this isn’t going to cause problems. Mr. Dimitri asked me not to mention his moving all the furniture out of the house.”

  Laura gaped at her in stark disbelief. She couldn’t believe he’d done such a thing, nor could she understand why. Was it furniture from the previous owner—something he didn’t like? But even so, why had he lied to her about it?

  “I believe he wants me to keep quiet about getting rid of everything so word doesn’t get around about the other decorator. You know, he doesn’t want to hurt her professional reputation.”

  “The other decorator?”

  “The one who was here in August, when he bought all that stuff. She filled every room slap full.”

  “He had the house professionally decorated in August? ”

  Judy bit her lip, clearly realizing that she’d made matters worse. “I don’t understand rich people, Ms. Merritt. They can be so eccentric.”

  LAURA SAT ON the edge of the bed in the guest room, her hand wrapped painfully tight around the telephone receiver. Cort would be home anytime now, and she desperately needed to understand the situation before she confronted him. She called the only person she knew who might have some insight. “I’m sorry if I pulled you away from a class, Steffie. It’s not exactly an emergency, but I’m trying to make sense of things, and I really, really need your help.”

  “You didn’t pull me away from class. I was at lunch,” Steffie assured her, sounding concerned. “What’s wrong?”

  “Tell me, please—why did Cort hire me to decorate his house?”

  The lengthy pause that followed only heightened Laura’s tension. When Steffie finally answered, she sounded...cautious. “I assume because he wants his house professionally decorated.”

  “He had the house professionally decorated in August.”

  “He did? You’re kidding!”

  “And that’s not the worst of it. After buying a household of furniture, he moved it all out last weekend, before I got here. He deliberately deceived me into thinking it’s been empty since he bought it. He lied to me, Stef! I’ve never known him to do that. I feel that I don’t really know him at all.”

  “Aw, Laur, no. Don’t take this so hard. I know the thing with the furniture must seem like a lie, and in a way, I guess it is, but...but...” she lapsed into conflicted silence “...Cort had the very best intentions, I promise you.”

  “Best intentions?” The phrase doused her with foreboding. “What do you mean, ′best intentions’?”

  Steffie hesitated, then burst out, “Oh, heck! This is all my fault. I should have listened to Tamika. She warned me that you’d end up hurt, and you are hurt, aren’t you? I’m so sorry.”

  “What the hell are you talking about, Steffie?” Laura asked sharply, her alarm growing.

  “You have to understand, Laura...Tamika, B.J. and I were worried sick over your plans to have a baby with Fletcher. I just heard this morning that you two called it off, and I can’t tell you how relieved I am. Fletcher told B.J., and B.J. called Tamika, and Tamika—”

  “I get the point. You’ve all been discussing my personal business as if I don’t have enough sense to run my own life.” Although she managed to keep her voice reasonably quiet, she couldn’t help the anger that threaded through it.

  “I understand why you might take it like that, but—”

  “What does my plan with Fletcher have to do with Cort hiring me to decorate his house?” she interrupted, needing desperately to know.

  Again, Steffie paused, then said in a deliberately low, calm voice that was obviously meant to soothe, “Cort was only doing what he thought was best. And so were we, because we all love you and care about you.”

  “Cut to the chase, Stef!”

  “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but when you said your appointment at the clinic was Wednesday, we had to find a way to stop you, at least long enough for you to think it over.”

  Laura felt the blood drain from her face in a nauseating whoosh. “You intentionally kept me from my clinic appointment? All of you? You discussed it, and planned it...and then Cort hired me to decorate his house as part of the scheme?” The shock of that revelation left her reeling.

  “Well, it wasn’t exactly like that. Cort came up with the scheme on his own. Oh! No! I mean—He didn’t come up with the scheme, but with the idea of hiring you.”

  “That’s why he insisted I start right away,” Laura stated with a sickening lurch of her heart. “To get me to break my appointment.”

  “To slow you down for a while. To give you time to reconsider. For your own good,” Steffie stressed.

  “Oh, please...!”

  “Face the facts, Laura.” Steffie’s voice rose to match the volume and sharpness of Laura’s. “The only reason you considered having a baby with a platonic friend is because you’re afraid to get seriously involved with a man. You run from the first hint of intimacy. You can’t blame us for worrying about what’s going to happen to you, because you’re not the kind of person who can live without love.”

  Laura’s heart rose so high in her throat she couldn’t respond. She wanted to lash out at Steffie—at all of them, including Cort. Especially Cort. But she couldn’t argue with what Steffie had just said. She had run from relationships. She had preferred the safety of a platonic friendship.

  And intimacy terrified her now more than ever.

  But they still had no right to interfere in her life so intrusively. An
d Cort...! She couldn’t bear to think about Cort.

  “Maybe I feel more personally involved than I should,” Steffie admitted in a choked voice that edged on tears, “because my brother was the one who hurt you so much. I’d do anything to help you get back to the person you were before he broke your heart. And I believe Cort would, too.”

  Laura sat in stunned silence. Could she be right?

  “You mean, Cort feels guilty for hurting me...” Laura said, working her way through a painful jumble of thoughts “...and thinks that he’s responsible for my...my avoidance of intimate relationships?”

  “Well, isn’t he?”

  “No! I’m the one responsible for the choices I make. No one else. No one else has the right to claim responsibility.”

  The silence stretched between them like an unscalable wall.

  “I’m sorry that I’ve upset you so much, Laura. Please believe that we all just wanted you to be happy. And I might be wrong about Cort’s feelings, since he never talks about them. But whether he was acting out of guilt or just plain concern, I do know he invited you to decorate his house because he cares about you.”

  “Thank you for your honesty in telling me all this.” Laura’s voice was a strained whisper. “Having a baby with Fletcher would have been a terrible mistake, and I am glad I realized it before things went any further. I believe I would have canceled that clinic appointment on my own, but who knows? Maybe you did me a favor.” Unless I′ve already conceived Cort’s baby.

  STEFFIE HAD CRIED A LITTLE, and told Laura again how much she loved her. By the time they hung up, they’d agreed to put the matter behind them.

  Laura hoped that would be possible. She hoped no one would ever have to know about the real mistake she had made; the one with the potential to destroy the very fabric of her life.

  What a fool she’d been, making love with Cort last night.

  At least now, the puzzle pieces had fallen into place. She had no doubt that Cort had acted for “her own good.” She believed that he did indeed care about her. She also knew he felt guilty for hurting her all those years ago. He’d apologized for it at Steffie’s. He’d talked to her about her fear of intimate relationships, and tried to make her see that she was making a mistake with Fletcher. In return, she had cursed at him and swore that she hated him for hurting her, using her, scorning her.