The Billionaire's Baby Negotiation

by Day Leclaire

  He’d been blind not to have recognized his feelings sooner, to have believed that what he felt for her could be anything less than love. The first chance he got, he’d correct that oversight. He just needed one more chance. That was all. Just one.

  He couldn’t disguise his relief when they arrived at the hospital. He glanced down at Rosalyn. She lay on a bed of white, her skin and face almost as pale. Only her flame-bright hair provided any color. He took her hand in his as they barreled through the ER doors. It didn’t occur to him that he wouldn’t be able to stay with her, that they’d take her from him. But they did, overriding his furious protests with the ease of long practice.

  And in that moment, standing all alone in the middle of an antiseptic waiting room, Joc learned the true meaning of helplessness.

  Over the space of the next two hours, Joc paced every inch of the waiting room. By the end of the first sixty minutes he’d memorized each stain on the rug and all twenty-three nicks, holes and blemishes on the walls. By the end of the second, he could have named every cookie, candy and drink item offered for sale in the vending machines. And he could have done it blindfolded.

  Still no one came to give him an update on Rosalyn’s status. Finally he’d had enough. He didn’t care if he had to buy the damn hospital, someone was going to give him the information he needed. He started toward the door when Rosalyn’s doctor appeared in the doorway.

  “How is she?” Joc demanded. “Is she all right?”

  “Does Ms. Oakley have any family?”

  “I’m her family.” He struggled to keep from shouting at the man, fought to keep his tone level. “Please. How is she?”

  “She’ll live. Cuts, bruises and abrasions. The concussion has us a little worried, but all the scans are clear.”

  “And the baby?”

  The doctor checked his chart. “I gather she’s very early in her pregnancy?”

  “Six weeks.”

  “She hasn’t miscarried. But there’s still that risk,” the doctor warned. He gestured to the nurse standing behind him. “You can see her now, if you’d like. The next few days should tell the story.”

  When Rosalyn came to this time, the pain wasn’t anywhere near as bad as the other half dozen occasions she’d regained consciousness. This time she took note of her surroundings, realizing she lay in a hospital bed. The air smelled sharp and cold with the acrid scent of disinfectant and whatever medicines the doctors had dripping into her arm. Somewhere nearby machines beeped softly.

  She struggled to focus, fighting the splitting headache that blurred her vision and made her want to retreat into oblivion. Someone had turned down the lights to dim the room, making it difficult to see clearly. But even so she could make out a familiar form holding up one of the walls of her room.

  “Joc?”

  He straightened at her whispered call and crossed to the bed. Muted midday sunshine filtered in from a shaded window and gilded the hospital room with the faintest golden glow, a glow that flowed over and around him like a halo and gave him the appearance of a fallen angel.

  “I’m here, Red.”

  She asked the same question she’d asked every other time she’d awakened. “The baby? Did I lose our baby?”

  And he gave her the exact same answer. “Our baby’s safe.”

  Tears tracked down her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I was so upset and so angry. I forgot about the loose carpet. I’ve been meaning to have it fixed for months now. If I had, none of this would have happened.”

  He leaned down, feathering a gentle kiss across her mouth. “You don’t need to worry about that now.”

  “But I could have killed our baby.” She scrubbed at her tears with the heels of her palms, flinching when she inadvertently hit bruised skin.

  He caught her hands in his and drew them away from her cheeks. “Let me take care of that for you. You’re a bit banged up. When you tripped, you fell against a sideboard and it tipped over onto you. You’ve got the mother of all shiners.”

  “I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything after I tripped.” He dampened a washcloth with cool water and cleaned her face with such exquisite care that tears flooded her eyes all over again.

  “Hey, cut off the waterworks, Red,” he teased with a tenderness that stole her breath. “You’re leaking faster than I can mop up.”

  “Joc—” She moistened her dry lips. “What happened with MacKenzie?”

  The question caused a mask to drop over his face, one she found impossible to penetrate. “I kicked her out of the house after you were injured.”

  It wasn’t what she meant and she suspected he knew it, knew it and was avoiding her question—which could only mean one thing. Her heart sank. “For how long?” At his silence, her desperation grew. “Does she really own Longhorn?”

  “I don’t know.” He kept his response light, but she could see the truth in the bleakness of his gaze. “I’ll have my lawyers look into it first thing tomorrow. If we can get Duff to admit that he disposed of the mortgage payments instead of mailing them and that MacKenzie paid him to do it, there’s a chance we can get this turned around.”

  She shifted restlessly. “I can’t lose my ranch. I can’t.”

  “Right now you need to relax and give yourself time to heal.” He splayed his hand across her abdomen, his touch feather-light. “Your recovery is more important than anything else.”

  He was right. Her health and that of their baby’s came before everything else. She nodded, feeling exhaustion tugging at her again. She reached for his hand and squeezed it in acknowledgment, too tired to do more. Her eyes fluttered, then closed. “Think I’ll rest now,” she mumbled.

  “Red?” She heard Joc’s voice from a great distance. “Sweetheart? I need to tell you something. I need you to know…”

  She tried to hold on, struggled to fight against the relentless drag of sleep and listen to what he was telling her. But she lost the battle and slid into a soft, gentle darkness where nothing could harm her or her baby. Where she still owned Longhorn and the man she loved stood strong and proud at her side while they raised their baby together.

  Joc sat slumped in the chair beside Rosalyn’s bed, shifting in a vain attempt to find a more comfortable position. Not possible, of course, not that that kept him from trying. He checked to see whether she still slept, reassured when he saw the slow, easy give in and take of her breath. It was a far more natural sleep than earlier, and a hint of color tinted the unbruised portions of her cheeks a healthy pink.

  Had she heard him earlier? Had she heard him declare his love? He thought her lashes had flickered in response to the words, but he couldn’t be certain. His jaw firmed. Next time she woke, they’d be the first words out of his mouth. He’d make sure of that. Restless, he pushed himself to his feet only to discover MacKenzie standing in the doorway staring at Rosalyn.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded in a harsh undertone.

  She was perceptive enough not to advance any farther into the room. “I had to come,” she explained in a rush. “I’m so sorry, Joc. I know I’m partially responsible for the accident. How is she?”

  “How is she?”

  Pain howled through him and he lost it. Completely, thoroughly lost it. It was as though his brain disengaged from his body and all his senses went off-line. One minute he was in perfect control and the next he was streaking toward her, running off pure instinct and adrenaline. Maybe he would have been able to maintain some semblance of restraint if he hadn’t been so exhausted or so terrified of losing everything that mattered most to him. When he came to himself, he had MacKenzie up against the wall, his hands fisted around the lapels of her blouse.

  “If anything happens to her or our child, I swear to you I’ll take you apart, piece by piece.” His voice escaped low and guttural and filled with bone-chilling intensity. “You got me?”

  “Child!” MacKenzie shook her head in stunned disbelief. “No, no. Oh God, Joc. She’s pregnant? Have they s
aid how the baby is? Is it safe?”

  “So far.” His jaw worked and the breath shuddered in and out of his lungs. It took endless seconds before he could gather up his self-control once again. “I’ll make you pay, MacKenzie. If anything happens to Rosalyn, I swear I’ll take you down.”

  She stiffened within his hold. “How dare you threaten me? You started this, Arnaud. You had to take the Hollister homestead. You couldn’t get it through legitimate means, so you stole it away from my mother. Well, I’ve got news for you. You can take my home, but it still won’t make you one of us.”

  He flinched, amazed that he still had the capacity to feel hurt after all this time. He suddenly realized he continued to hold her pinned against the wall, and with great care, opened his hands and released her. “I’ve kept my distance in the past out of respect for your mother.” He fought to keep his voice to a mere whisper so they wouldn’t disturb Rosalyn. He backed away from MacKenzie, putting some much needed breathing distance between them. “But that ends after today. So we’re clear? The gloves come off. As far as I’m concerned, we’re no longer family. Hell, you never wanted to be, anyway.”

  “Do your worst, Joc, but it won’t get you Rosalyn’s ranch.” She yanked at her blouse and straightened the crushed collar. “Only I can give you what you want.”

  That gave him pause. “Don’t play games with me. Are you willing to sell Longhorn to me, or not?”

  “Oh, I’m willing.”

  Now for the vital question. “How much do you want for it?” As far as he was concerned, everything and anything was on the table so long as it didn’t adversely impact Rosalyn and their baby.

  She stared at him with eyes that had haunted him all his life, eyes he wanted to hate. His father’s eyes. But the pain that filled MacKenzie’s were far different from any expression he’d ever seen in Boss Hollister’s. The expression he read there was one he’d seen all too often, and always in the same place.

  In his own mirror.

  “I don’t want your money.” Her mouth quivered for an instant before she firmed it. “I want the Hollister homestead. I’ll trade it for Longhorn.”

  He swore beneath his breath. He should have seen it coming. Maybe if he hadn’t been so distracted by Rosalyn and the baby he would have. MacKenzie’s offer left him wanting to howl in fury. “That’s the one thing I can’t give you. Name anything else, MacKenzie. I’ll pay any amount you want.”

  Tears of fury glistened in her eyes and she trembled visibly in an effort to control them. “I don’t want money, damn you! I want my home.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Fine. Don’t make the deal. I’ll leave you to explain to your fiancée—” Her glance flickered in Rosalyn’s direction. “Or maybe that’s now your ex-fiancée—why you refused to save her home from my bulldozers. Something tells me you’re not going to have much success.”

  Joc spun around. Rosalyn lay there, her eyes a violent blue and filled with heart-breaking disillusionment.

  “Why?” Rosalyn asked. She couldn’t believe what she’d overheard. “You have it within your power to save Longhorn and you won’t do it. Why?”

  He held his position on the far side of the room, distancing himself from her. The instant he realized she was awake and had overheard his conversation with MacKenzie, his face had fallen into impenetrable lines, giving nothing away. “I’m sorry, Red. I can’t do it, and I can’t explain why.”

  “Can’t…or won’t?”

  “Take your pick.”

  She didn’t understand it. Didn’t understand his attitude. Didn’t understand his remoteness. This man bore no resemblance to the one she’d fallen in love with, the one she could have sworn had declared his love for her. She tried again, desperate to break through the barriers he’d thrown up. “You told me that your father’s land held no importance to you. That you weren’t trying to reconnect with him through his homestead.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Then why—”

  He simply shook his head.

  She believed him, at least on that front. He’d been too adamant on that subject. If he’d been lying to her, or even to himself, she’d have picked up on that by now. She scrambled for another explanation. “Is it revenge? Is that it? Is this your way of hitting back at the Hollisters? Is getting even for what Boss did to you still so important after all these years?”

  “Would you believe me if I said no?”

  She shook her head, wincing at the pain pounding between her temples. “I don’t know what to believe anymore. And you won’t explain. What am I supposed to think?”

  He approached then, sliding a hip onto the edge of her bed. “I need you to trust me, Red.”

  “You’ve asked that of me again and again. And each time I have.” She swept tears from her cheeks, the jarring contact with her bruises making her flinch. “But you have the ability to save my property and you refuse to do it. Is hanging on to your father’s land that important to you?”

  “All I can tell you is that I have a good reason for my actions.”

  Another possibility occurred to her, one that broke her heart. “Was MacKenzie right? Is this all a game to the two of you?”

  He hesitated. “Until now, I suppose it has been some sort of game.”

  “Well, this isn’t a game to me. It’s my life!”

  “Listen to me, Red. MacKenzie despises my existence. It doesn’t matter that I had nothing to do with the circumstances surrounding my birth, or that Ana and I are as much a victim of Boss’s callousness as MacKenzie and her brothers. She’s intent on besting me. And she doesn’t care who gets in the way or how badly they’re hurt, so long as she wins.”

  “But you can put an end to it. It’s within your power.” She couldn’t keep the desperation from her voice. “All you have to do is give her what she wants. Or is the win as important to you as it is to her?”

  He replied with painful gentleness. “I’ll tell you what I told her. Ask me for anything else, anything at all, and it’s yours. Despite what you think, this is the one thing it’s not in my power to give you.” He searched her expression and his mouth compressed. “You won’t be able to forgive me if I don’t make the trade, will you? It will always stand between us.”

  She wanted to deny it, wished she could be generous enough to shrug off the loss and move on with her life. But she’d been the sole protector of Longhorn for too many years to do that. It was her only connection with her parents and the generations of Oakleys before them. Her chin quivered, her silence condemning her.

  He stood. “I’ll be back tomorrow. We’ll talk more then.”

  “Don’t come,” she whispered. “There’s nothing left to be said.”

  He hesitated, then inclined his head. Without another word, he walked out of the room.

  The instant Joc left, Rosalyn leaned back against her pillows and closed her eyes, fighting a resurgence of tears. Something was terribly wrong. She didn’t know what, but every instinct warned of it. She had a horrible feeling the problem extended beyond the situation with her ranch and the Hollister homestead. But for the life of her she couldn’t figure it out. And unless Joc trusted her enough to tell her the truth, she doubted she ever would.

  Her hand stole across her belly. What would have happened between them if she’d miscarried the baby? Or if she hadn’t trusted Duff with mailing her loan payments and still owned the ranch? Would Joc still be insisting on marriage?

  How could she make a rational decision from this point forward if he wouldn’t talk to her about whatever secret he was keeping? How could they have a successful marriage if he shut her out?

  Or if he was marrying her for all the wrong reasons?

  The door to her room thrust open and for a split second she thought it might be Joc. That he’d returned to tell her he’d made a terrible mistake and that he’d do whatever necessary to save Longhorn. Instead a nurse entered to check on Rosalyn’s vital statistics.

  Why hadn’t he been willing
to trade Longhorn for MacKenzie’s old home? The question nagged at her. The only reason she could think of was the one reason she most wanted to deny. He hadn’t been willing to make the trade because doing so would force her and their baby to live in his world instead of on the ranch. That it would give him the control he’d lose by agreeing to her stipulation about marriage. Could he be that ruthless? She rubbed her aching head. Who was she kidding?

  Joc had invented the word.

  It was past midnight when Joc placed the call. A sleepy voice answered on the fifth ring.

  “It’s Arnaud,” he announced. “We have a problem.”

  “Do you realize what time it is?”

  “I’m well aware of the time.” His hand bunched into a fist. “I need your help, Meredith.”

  There was a long moment of silence. “I would have thought I’d helped you quite enough.”

  He let that slide. “MacKenzie managed to get her hands on Rosalyn’s ranch. She’s going to raze it if I don’t trade your old place for Longhorn. You need to stop her.”

  “Oh God. I’ll speak to her, but I doubt it’ll do any good.”

  He fought to remain calm. Never before had self-control been an issue. But it was an issue tonight. “You can do more than speak to her,” he insisted.

  There was a moment of silence, then, “We’ve had this conversation before. You made a promise to me and I expect you to keep your word.”

  He closed his eyes. “Do you doubt I will?”

  “You made a commitment to Ana that you’d change your life when you were a twenty-year-old hoodlum. To the best of my knowledge, you haven’t broken your word since then. I assume you’re not going to start now?”

  “No.”

  Relief bled through her words. “I’ll do what I can, but MacKenzie can be as stubborn as you when it comes to certain issues.”

  “I can’t lose her, Meredith,” he whispered. “Not Rosalyn. Anything but her.”

  “You love her?” she asked, shocked. “You, Joc?”

  “More than anything. That ranch means everything to her.” He fought to speak through the thickness clogging his throat. “Even more than me.”