Her Baby's Father

by Rebecca York

“She has the qualifications?”

  “Most of my experience has been in staging homes that are for sale.” Sara held out the binder of photos that she’d brought along. “This is some of my work.”

  Barbara thumbed through the pictures. “None of these is office space.”

  “Her touches will make the office more homey. More inviting for clients. Like she does with houses. And I think she can make the lunchroom a much friendlier place.”

  “Um.”

  Jack turned back to Sara. “Let me show you around.”

  As she followed him toward the back of the building, she did something she hadn’t thought of the first time. She glanced back to look at Barbara and saw the woman hunched over, punching in a phone number. Sara had a pretty good idea whom she was calling.

  Beyond the lobby, the interior was more broken up. As Jack showed her the various spaces, she kept wondering about the phone call, then focused on the reason for their visit. Getting out a tape measure, she found the length of several of the walls. She also got out her cell phone and snapped pictures of the various areas.

  “You didn’t take any pictures or measurements out front,” he said.

  “I didn’t want to disturb Barbara.”

  “You’re not going to be any more disturbing than the workmen. She’s used to functioning in the middle of chaos.”

  “A good skill to have.”

  “Let’s look at the lunchroom.”

  He led her to the back of the building to a space that might have been part of a deli.

  “Pretty uninviting,” she murmured.

  “What would you suggest?”

  “Making it look more like an inexpensive but charming restaurant. Wood-grained tables. Comfortable chairs. Nice posters on the walls. Plants.” She looked at him. “Does Morgan Enterprises have a service that tends the plants and changes them out when they get straggly?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “We should find out.”

  “I like your restaurant idea.”

  “It’s always good to have a nice environment where people can relax.”

  She slowed down as they returned to the front of the building. An older man now stood beside Barbara’s desk. Dressed in a navy sports coat with brass buttons, gray slacks and a crisp white shirt, he appeared to be in his late sixties, although he was actually a little older. His salt-and-pepper hair was thinning on top but carefully cut to minimize the effect of the loss.

  His eyes were dark, and there was a strong family resemblance to Jack.

  Her heart began to pound inside her chest as his gaze fixed on them. Today he was wearing his pleasant public face. And not just for her benefit.

  “Dad,” Jack said, as they approached. “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

  “I stopped by to check on the work,” he said.

  Sure. Sara was almost certain Barbara had called him as soon as they had left the reception area.

  “Dad, this is Sara Carter. Sara, this is my dad, Bill Morgan. He’s the heart and soul of Morgan Enterprises.”

  “Well, chairman of the board, now,” he said modestly. “I’m turning the heavy lifting over to my boys.”

  They shook hands.

  Her encounters with him after Jack’s death had been far from pleasant, leaving sharp memories. But today he hadn’t yet developed a strong dislike for her. Now she tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. He was a man who had used the money he’d inherited to build up a formidable company and who wanted to keep the rewards of his labor in the family. He was also a man who was used to wielding power—until recently. Now that he was getting older, he was trying to let go of the reins, although the process wasn’t exactly graceful.

  And perhaps his son’s death had been a blow that had knocked the stuffing out of him. Perhaps he hadn’t been exactly rational. He’d acted like he thought Sara had something to do with Jack’s murder, although that could simply have been an elaborate act.

  One thing she’d known for sure. He was determined that she wouldn’t get her hands on any of the Morgan money.

  “You’ve hired Sara to decorate the offices?” Bill Morgan asked carefully.

  “Yes. She’s excellent.”

  “Are you an interior decorator by training?” Bill asked.

  “I’m self-taught.”

  “Have you ever taken on a project this big?”

  “Actually, no.”

  “Probably we shouldn’t make a hasty decision,” Bill said.

  “I’ve brought some pictures of my work,” Sara answered.

  She handed the loose-leaf binder to Bill, who flipped through it.

  “See what I mean,” Jack said to his dad.

  “Um,” the older Morgan answered.

  Sara would bet that one way or the other, she wouldn’t actually be getting very far into the assignment. Either her association with the Morgan family would end the way it had the first time, or Bill would find a way to obstruct her. For now, she thought it was best to give him an easy out. “We could start on a limited basis. I could do a couple of offices and see if you like my work.”

  Jack shot her an annoyed look, but Bill smiled like a man who had won a minor victory.

  “I appreciate that,” the elder Morgan said.

  “I’ll work up some concepts,” Sara said.

  When they’d left the building, Jack turned to her. “Why did you suggest starting small?”

  “Because he was worried enough about my taking the job to rush over here.”

  “He said—”

  “You don’t think Barbara called him, and he dropped everything to meet us?”

  Jack was silent, and she wished she hadn’t been so direct.

  “I don’t want to start off on the wrong foot with the company,” she said.

  “You’re not.”

  “Let’s see how he likes my concepts.”

  “It’s not enough that I like your work?”

  “He’s turning over a lot of control of the company, but the image of Morgan Enterprises is important to him. He wouldn’t want anyone to think he decorated the new offices on the cheap. Or that Morgan couldn’t afford the best.”

  Jack nodded. “Perceptive of you.”

  “I’m trying to see it from his point of view. Actually, I always try to do that with clients.”

  “You’ll give him some drawings that will knock his socks off.”

  “I’ll try.” She could have added that Bill Morgan might not like anything she gave him, but she kept the observation to herself.

  Jack waited a beat before asking, “Where do you want to eat?”

  “I picked last night, and look how it came out. Maybe you should choose.”

  He laughed, then thought for a minute. “What about Partridge Farm?”

  “Sounds good,” she agreed. It was a restaurant located in a rural area of the county, in an old house, the same place they’d eaten the last time around. And it was only a ten-minute drive from the office complex.

  The car she’d spotted earlier followed at a discreet distance, then drove on past as though the driver hadn’t been interested in them at all. Jack didn’t seem to notice it, but she suspected he was preoccupied by the run-in with his father. And maybe by her comments, which she wished she’d kept to herself.

  They were able to get a table on the patio, shaded by tall oaks and poplars.

  “How’s the cream of crab soup?” Jack asked the waiter.

  “Excellent. And we’re having a special on penne pasta with a puttanesca sauce.”

  They both ordered the soup. Jack got the pasta, and she got chicken and fruit salad for her main dish, then looked at Jack. “I see they have onion rings. I love them, but I don’t think I can eat a whole order. Want to share?”

  “Great idea.”

  She wanted to relax and simply enjoy his company after the morning’s stress.

  But as they ate their soup, he said, “I guess you can see there are some tensions in Morgan Enterpri
ses.”

  “Yes.”

  “Dad used to have control of every aspect of the business. He’s having trouble delegating responsibilities to Ted—and me.”

  “Your brother wanted to stay here learning the ropes, and you left to join the army.”

  He sighed. “Right. So to Dad’s way of thinking, I defected.”

  “Hard on you.”

  “But I feel like I owe it to the family to give it a try.”

  “What would you do if you could pick anything you wanted?”

  He answered immediately, “Run programs for kids who have physical handicaps.”

  “You didn’t have to think about that very long.”

  “It’s been in the back of my mind.”

  “Why?”

  “It would be something important. And I have some idea of how the kids feel.”

  “Why don’t you do it?”

  “I think I have to give Morgan Enterprises a fair shot, first.”

  “Even if it’s not what you want to do?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t have enough money to finance the program myself. I’d want to build a facility where the kids would be comfortable—and hire a staff. I’d have to do some fundraising for all of that.”

  “You’d be good at it.”

  “Fundraising? I’m not sure. I don’t love public speaking. Which is what I’d have to do to get donors.”

  “Or do it in small groups or one-on-one with people who might be interested.”

  “Who?”

  “Local sports figures who want to give back to the community—or attach their names to a worthwhile project. People who had some handicap as children that they overcame.”

  “Those are interesting ideas.” His gaze focused in the distance as his mind worked. “There’s a property Morgan Enterprises owns that would be perfect.”

  “Around here?”

  “On Willow Lane. It’s got an old house on it now, but the parcel is about fifteen acres. It goes back to the Little Patuxent River.”

  Willow Lane. She hadn’t remembered he’d mentioned it during this conversation. Then it hadn’t meant anything to her. Now a little shiver went through her as she recalled the location. That property was where someone had lured Jack—and made it look like he’d fallen off the roof and broken his neck.

  It was suddenly hard for her to breathe. She wanted to scream, “Stay away from Willow Lane!” but she couldn’t do that. All she could do was try to calm the pounding of her pulse.

  Chapter Eight

  “Have you talked to your family about your plans?” she managed to say.

  “I did ask about maybe using the property, but I made it sound like I wanted to build a house there,” he said, his eyes on her. “What’s wrong?”

  “I just got a piece of crab shell in my soup.” She lifted the napkin to her mouth, pretending to remove the shell.

  “It’s easier to talk to you than it is to them,” Jack was saying.

  “I’m flattered,” she answered, and she was. What she really wanted to say was that if he got away from the environment of Morgan Enterprises, maybe he’d be safe. But she couldn’t suggest that. And she certainly hadn’t known him long enough to get heavily involved in his decisions.

  When the onion rings came, they both reached for one, and their hands met. They both went very still, staring at each other, until they pulled away and he said, “Go ahead and take one.”

  After they received their main dishes, he took a few bites then said, “The Morgans are having a reception tomorrow night. Would you come with me?”

  “What kind of reception?”

  “At Mom and Dad’s house. They like to give a couple of big parties a year. This is the spring extravaganza.”

  “It’s okay to bring me?”

  “I can bring any date I want.”

  She nodded, knowing that he might have skipped the party if he’d had to be there on his own.

  “I’d love to go with you.” The part about being with him was true, even when she knew she wasn’t going to love the party. But it gave her an opportunity she hadn’t considered before.

  Last time she’d been intimidated by the grandeur of the Morgan estate and by the high-society guests. This time she could focus on everyone’s interactions with Jack.

  “Is it very dressy?”

  “What passes for casual with the Morgans.”

  “What time tomorrow?”

  “I can pick you up at seven.”

  “I have to look over a house where I have an upcoming job. But I’ll be back home by then.”

  “Good.”

  When he drove back to the warehouse, she looked for the car that had ridden their tail. This time it wasn’t with them.

  What was the purpose of the surveillance? And who had ordered it?

  “Thanks for a fun afternoon,” she said when he pulled up in front of her door. “Well, it didn’t start off as fun.”

  “I like being with you. Even looking at mug shots.”

  “I guess the feeling’s mutual.”

  He reached for her, and they kissed. She could feel the passion rising between them.

  “I’m not used to moving this fast,” she murmured when the kiss finally broke.

  “Yes. But I like where we’re going,” he answered.

  “Agreed.” She reached for his hand and leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes.

  With his free hand, he stroked her lips, the line of her jaw, the column of her neck, his hand coming to rest just above her breasts. Her nipples tightened in response.

  “Are you trying to convince me to invite you in?” she asked.

  “Maybe. Or maybe I just can’t keep my hands off you.”

  “Don’t tempt me too far.”

  “Then you’d better escape inside.”

  Reluctantly, she took his advice.

  Inside, she stood breathing hard with her back against the door. This was going fast. Even faster than last time. She craved him. And she knew he felt the same. Soon she was going to make love with him, and the thought made her almost giddy.

  Ordering herself to cool down, she checked her email. But she kept thinking about Jack. About how to play their encounters.

  The thought process made her stomach knot. She shouldn’t be “playing” anything. She should just be letting the relationship build naturally. Only that was impossible when there was so much she knew and so much riding on every encounter.

  Was there anything she could do to make a better impression on the Morgans?

  Maybe a preemptive strike.

  Last time good old Bill Morgan had dug up some information on her and presented it to Jack like she’d been hiding something. If she got it out in the open first, maybe that would prevent the blowup they were going to have.

  She sighed, hating the way she was second-guessing everything.

  For the rest of the day, she focused on inventorying her stock of items on hand—and also noting which were out at various houses.

  * * *

  JACK MORGAN’S NEMESIS SMILED in satisfaction. Jack was going to the party at his parents’ house tomorrow. But he’d be able to stand the well-dressed people and the idle chitchat for only so long. There were places he liked to visit when he was at the old homestead. Which presented another opportunity for an accident. Maybe it wouldn’t work out. But maybe it would, and then everything would be over. Jack Morgan would be dead, and the world could go on the way it was supposed to.

  Nemesis’s hands clenched in anger.

  Jack had been stupid enough to join the army. Then he’d been sent to Afghanistan. It could have ended there. But the older son had come home to screw everything up.

  Now it was time to set things back on their proper course, before everything went wrong.

  * * *

  THE NEXT DAY, SARA WENT to a property she was going to be staging. This was a different kind of assignment. A homeowner was hiring her to help sell the house they were still living in. Which meant her job
was to persuade them to put two-thirds of their possessions in storage to show off the sizes of the rooms to the best advantage.

  It was a tug-of-war between people who loved every piece of furniture and knickknack they’d accumulated over the past thirty years and Sara’s judgment about what needed to be cleared out. By the time she left, they had reached a satisfactory understanding.

  She was home in time to lie down for twenty minutes before she had to start getting ready for the party.

  Last time she had felt out of place because she’d taken Jack’s word for “casual.” This time she was going to wear a sophisticated black-and-white sundress and strappy black high-heeled sandals that would be as stylish as anything the other women were wearing.

  She showered and washed her hair, then applied a bit more makeup than usual. But not too much, because she didn’t want the Morgans to think she was doing anything extra special to impress them.

  Jack was right on time, looking good enough to eat in a crisp white shirt and dark slacks.

  And he was gazing at her as though he thought the same thing.

  “You look fantastic,” he said.

  “Thanks.”

  “How did the work go today?” he asked, as he pulled out of the parking lot.

  “Fine. I even got a little time to relax.” She leaned back in her seat. “Where do your parents live?”

  “Glenwood.”

  “The high-rent district.”

  “Of course.”

  She and Jack had grown up in the same county, but they’d been worlds apart. She’d gone to public high school. He’d gone to private schools, first locally, then in Baltimore. She’d gotten a scholarship to the University of Maryland. He’d gone off to Harvard. Which he hadn’t told her yet.

  Again, she’d have to make sure she didn’t trip up and mention something they hadn’t talked about.

  Fifteen minutes later, they turned in through stone gates and took a winding drive to a huge stone mansion. She peered at the house in the fading light, thinking it would have been at home in the English countryside.

  Parking attendants were directing visitors to temporary rows of parking spaces on the lawn, but Jack pulled up in front of the garage next to a caterer’s truck and cut the engine.

  Turning to Sara, he studied her face. “You look tense.”