Billionaire Bachelors: Ryan

by Anne Marie Winston

  She was released early in the afternoon of the following day. Minus the IV and the nausea, courtesy of the prescription the doctor had already started. He’d instructed her to take it easy until her twelfth week, at which time they’d start easing her off the drug and see how she felt. When she’d ask him to define “easy,” she was immediately sorry. No working. No extensive walking. No stairs. Let someone wait on you for a few weeks. Her mind had reeled at the implications of all the restrictions. Then he’d said, “No sexual relations.” Ryan was in the room during the doctor’s visit, and she hadn’t been able to look at him, though she could feel her face burning. Could he possibly be feeling as chagrined and frustrated as she?

  An orderly took her down to the entrance in a wheelchair, where Ryan was waiting in the sedate silver Mercedes in which she’d ridden before.

  “Guess we’re going to have to get some car seats for this buggy,” he said as he helped her into the car. “Or get a minivan. They make them with child seats built in now.”

  She grimaced. “The ultimate family transportation. I vote for buying car seats.”

  “Mr. Shaughnessy?” A woman came out of the hospital, holding the white box that held the two tiger cub toys he’d brought Jessie, just as Ryan lowered himself into the car. “Don’t forget this.”

  Jessie’s breath caught in her throat. Not at the thought of forgetting the stuffed animals, but at the arrested expression on Ryan’s face. Turning, she looked at the woman walking toward them. She was short, petite and blond. Wide blue eyes were fastened on Ryan’s face and she was smiling…she was Wendy.

  Oh, not really, but the hospital attendant walking toward them with the box looked enough like Ryan’s deceased wife that the likeness would be hard to miss. She glanced back at Ryan and saw that he certainly hadn’t missed it. On his lean face was acute anguish, a deep, soul-searing grief burning in his blue eyes.

  “I’ll just pop this in the back seat,” said the Wendy look-alike, beaming.

  Ryan cleared his throat. “Um, thank you.” He gripped the steering wheel as the young woman placed the box in the back seat, and Jessie could see the tips of his fingers were white with pressure.

  “There you go. Good luck!” She stepped back and closed the car door, waving before hurriedly retreating into the warmth of the hospital.

  It was a gray, dreary day outside, and Jessie felt gray and dreary as well. She glanced across at Ryan as he drove. His profile was somber and a muscle ticked along his jaw. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. What was she going to say? He clearly didn’t want to discuss it, or he’d have brought up the topic himself.

  Holy cow! Did you notice how much that girl looked like my dead wife?

  No. He obviously didn’t want to talk.

  Insecurity hunched her shoulders deep into her coat, and she turned her face to look out the passenger-side window as her eyes brimmed with sudden tears. She didn’t have huge expectations for this marriage, she assured herself. As long as they remained friendly and got along well enough to be good parents, that would be sufficient. So what if they didn’t have a great, all-consuming love like Ryan had apparently felt for Wendy? Might as well keep her track record intact. She’d never known the love that most people took for granted from the ones who shared their lives. Chip had been her only experience with love, and his affection had been cloying, his tendency to set her on a pedestal and cater to her stifling rather than inspiring love in return.

  When he turned on Commonwealth Avenue heading away from the Commons, she came out of her silence. “We’re going the wrong way.”

  “No, we’re not.” His voice was quiet and deliberate. “No exertion, remember? The doctor said you need someone with you for a while.”

  “That isn’t exactly what he said—”

  “So you can move in a few days early. When I’m busy, Finn will look after you.”

  “I don’t need looking after.” She made an effort to relax her gritted teeth. “I just need to be a little careful. I’d prefer to stay in my own place.”

  Ryan shook his head. “Not an option. If I go out of town, I want to know that you’re not overdoing it or lying in bed too sick to move.” His right hand left the wheel and settled briefly over her stomach. “I want to see these babies alive and well in seven or so more months.”

  So he only wanted to be sure she was all right because of the babies. “I’ll hire someone to check on me daily,” she said, mentally juggling her finances, knowing she really couldn’t afford it.

  He simply shook his head again and kept driving toward Brookline.

  “I’m not ready to move in with you,” she said, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice. Why did this bother her so much? How many women would object to living in a mansion like Ryan’s? With Ryan to ice the cake.

  “What difference does a few days make?” he asked in a voice that dripped with reason and made her long to punch him. “We’re getting married as soon as you can stay on your feet for more than five minutes without wearing out. Are you telling me you weren’t planning on living with me after we’re married?”

  “I haven’t had time to plan anything!” she yelled.

  There was a small silence in the car. Ryan braked at the tail end of a traffic snarl and laid his arm along the back of her seat, turning to face her. “I want you to live with me, Jessie,” he said quietly. “I don’t want this to be a marriage in name only or some weird kind of commuter marriage. I want my wife and my children in my house.” He raked a hand through his hair and looked out the driver’s-side window. “I guess there are a few things we need to talk about, aren’t there?”

  She nodded tightly.

  “All right.” He sighed, facing forward and releasing the brake as the traffic began to move sluggishly. “Will you at least rest awhile and have dinner with me? Then, if you really want to go home, I’ll take you.”

  He sounded so reasonable that it would have been churlish to refuse. Even if she was dying to get back to her own home. “All right.”

  When they arrived at his house, Ryan helped her out of the car, then bent and lifted her into his arms before she realized what was happening. She gasped and clutched at his shoulders. “You’re going to give yourself a hernia.”

  He chuckled as he carried her through the garden. “I’ve carried furniture that was heavier than you, cupcake.”

  “Cupcake?”

  “Just a figure of speech.” As he went up the steps and across the flagstones of the semicircular patio, the back door opened. “I’ve been expecting you, Jessie,” Finn called from the doorway. “Welcome. I’ve prepared the most scrumptious chicken consommé for you and I have a room all ready—”

  She caught Ryan’s warning shake of the head and Finn stopped abruptly.

  “It’s all right,” she told Finn. Without looking at Ryan, she said, “Actually, I am more worn out than I’d expected. I think I’d like to rest before I eat. Could you take me straight to the room?”

  Without a word Finn turned and led the way through the house. Ryan carried her upstairs without even breathing heavily, and she caught herself wondering exactly how much exercise he got in a day’s time. His upper chest and shoulder were a hard rock wall beneath her head, and she could feel the powerful flex of muscle in his upper back as he shifted her slightly.

  The room into which Finn took them was absolutely beautiful. If she’d dreamed up the perfect environment for herself, it couldn’t have been better. She loved pretty, feminine things, and this was the ultimate in both. The wallpaper was a muted pattern of pink and lavender flowers with a suggestion of soft-green leaves down to a chair rail, beneath which was a subdued pearl and lavender stripe. The sheer, filmy curtains over the shades echoed the same pearly shade and a swath of fabric that matched the flower wallpaper created a striking yet informal swag across the top and draping down the sides. A duvet in the same fabric was accented by silky pearl and lavender pillows as was the fabric covering a genteel lady’s chair in
one corner.

  The bed itself looked like mahogany, as did all the furniture in the room, including a tall cabinet whose doors were folded back to display an up-to-date technological bonanza of computer equipment. As Ryan set her down on the edge of the bed, she noticed a small marble fountain with gleaming pebbles in it on a table against a wall, its small waterfall creating a pleasant, soothing sound. When Finn touched a button on the remote control that lay on the bedside table, a television screen unfolded from the ceiling into a not-quite-vertical position perfect for viewing from the bed.

  “You can change the angle of the dangle, so to speak, with these,” he said, chortling as he pointed to a couple of little, arrowed buttons. Then he set it down and walked to the right side of the room. Sweeping open a door, he touched a panel and illuminated the largest walk-in-closet she’d ever seen. “Voilà. Madam’s wardrobe.”

  “Holy cow. I could live in there,” she said. Her organized heart was singing as she looked at all the cedar shelves, vinyl zippered cupboards and hanging spaces for a wardrobe.

  To the left of the closet, a pale-pink marble bathroom with gleaming brass accents was visible through a set of double doors. A large, freestanding glass shower stall rose in the middle of the room. Along one wall two wide steps led up to an enormous spa-tub with a tasteful collection of plants, candles and bath soaps ranged around its broad lip. The wall behind the tub was a thick, opaque window that let in the light without any danger of exposure to prying eyes. At one end of the tub, a television was built into the wall.

  She walked slowly into the bathroom to get the full effect. His and hers sinks lined the wall opposite the tub; beside the tub, flames danced merrily in a small gas fireplace built into the wall. There was a separate, small stall with a toilet and bidet just inside her door. At the far end another set of double doors revealed a masculine suite.

  “My rooms,” Ryan said.

  Wordlessly she turned and paced back into her bedroom. She sat carefully down on the side of the bed as both men stared at her. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’ve finally realized just how wealthy you really are,” she said to Ryan. “It’s a little…disconcerting.”

  He gave a snort of laughter. “Because I have a really cool bathroom?”

  She shook her head and waved a hand to indicate the room. “It’s everything.” Then she hesitated, not knowing how to phrase the question burning in her brain. “Was this…?”

  Ryan nodded. “Wendy’s room. But Finn completely redecorated it when I told him we were getting married. New carpet, new furniture, new wallpaper and curtains—”

  “The paint’s not new,” Finn said modestly. “I was afraid it would leave an odor and really, the paint was in fine shape. So I simply went for a look that blended with it. It wasn’t difficult. There are some stunning fabrics and wallpapers out there. The furniture can be exchanged if you prefer a different style.”

  “It’s lovely,” she said, smiling at Finn, hoping to mask her relief at not having to sleep in a bed that had belonged to Wendy. “Really, really lovely.”

  Finn blushed. “We do our best.” He turned and bustled to the door. “I’m going to fix you a tray and bring it up. Then you can rest right here all afternoon.”

  There was silence in his wake. The room seemed calmer, as if Finn stirred the very air around him. She glanced at Ryan and caught him grinning, and she couldn’t prevent her own laughter from escaping. “He’s certainly…energetic.”

  “He’s manic,” Ryan said. “Give him a project and he works as hard as a squirrel on steroids. You have no idea how much fun he had with this. He did his own rooms, too. I asked him if he’d live in, and he agreed. So there will always be someone here for you when I’m not home.” He hesitated, then walked toward her. “Time for you to lie down. You’re weaving.”

  “I feel like a piece of well-cooked spaghetti,” she complained. “It’s ridiculous.”

  “You’ve been ill,” he reminded her, “and you’re pregnant.” He took her elbow, and she stood docilely while he pulled back the covers with the other hand. Then he bent and tugged off her fashionable boots, and when she lay down, he covered her with the duvet. “I have some things to do. Let Finn feed you and then you can rest. I’ll go by the gallery before it closes and see how everything’s going.”

  “Thank you.” She laid her hand over his where it pressed into the bed beside her.

  He smiled, bent and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “No problem. Cupcake.”

  She grimaced. “It’s a good thing I don’t have anything to throw at you.”

  He only laughed as he rose and walked from the room.

  When Ryan got home that evening, Finn met him at the door. “She’s still sleeping. I checked on her once each hour. After she ate a little soup, she crashed and burned.”

  Ryan nodded. “I don’t think she realizes how weak she is right now.” He set down the bag with the logo of a familiar department store, and Finn took his cashmere overcoat. “I’ll be with her. Why don’t you set dinner at that little table in my suite?”

  Finn saluted with his free hand. “Aye-aye, cap’n.”

  He picked up the shopping bag and took the stairs two at a time, but when he got to the door to her room, he paused. The door was slightly ajar, and the new colors seemed wrong to him for a moment. He was used to seeing the cool blue-and-white scheme in which Wendy had decorated the room.

  Wendy. He’d had a bad moment this afternoon when that nurse had walked toward him. Though she hadn’t looked that much like Wendy, at first glance anyone could have been forgiven for mistaking them.

  He didn’t think Jessie had noticed the resemblance. She’d been very quiet on the way home, and he suspected she was fighting to stay awake. The doctor had warned them that sleepiness was a side effect of the medication she was taking.

  At any rate, he’d spent the rest of the ride thinking about his life before Jessie. He’d been happy. Not delirious, but happy. Wendy had loved him totally, and his heart, bruised from years of longing for Jessie, had responded to her warmth and sweetness. And yet, if he were honest with himself, there had always been a small pocket inside him that had remained untouched. Waiting for Jessie.

  He’d never in a million years have imagined this current scenario, and guilt streaked through him. Rationally he knew he hadn’t wished Wendy’s death. But it was hard to shake the feeling that he’d never been as good to her as she deserved.

  Slowly he pushed the door wider so that he could see the bed. Jessie lay on her side, still sleeping. Her dark hair was tousled, and her face was peaceful, her lips slightly parted. One hand was tucked beneath her cheek, the other dangled over the side of the bed. Quietly he picked up a chair and set it beside her, then took her hand in his.

  Her eyelids fluttered. The silvery-green gleam of her eyes appeared, and then she smiled at him, turning her hand in his and gently squeezing. “Hello.”

  “Hello.” The moment was so sweet he thought his heart might burst. “I’m going to have to change your moniker to Sleeping Beauty.”

  She glanced beyond him to the window and he saw her eyes widen as she realized it was full dark outside. “What time is it? How long did I sleep?”

  “About five hours,” he said. “It’s seven-thirty.”

  “Seven-thirty!” She pushed herself upright, tugging the sweater and slacks she’d worn home from the hospital into a wrinkled semblance of order.

  He waited for her to protest, to demand that he take her home immediately. But all she said was, “Poor Finn. I didn’t eat much of his lunch.”

  “It’s all right,” Ryan said. “He’ll forgive you if you do justice to dinner. It’s the same thing, by the way.”

  She made a face. “Tomorrow I’m allowed to eat more. You’d better warn Finn his consommé days are numbered.”

  He’d love to ignore the whole topic but he knew they had to talk about it. “Will you be here tomorrow?”

  She hesitated, biting her lower lip
. “I guess so.” She looked up at him, and he couldn’t resist laying his finger on the lip she was mutilating. She released it immediately and gave him a small, forlorn smile that quivered at the edges. “I don’t know why I’m having such trouble with the concept of moving. I had expected to when we got married. It’s just—I’ve had to look after myself for a long, long time. I feel odd letting someone else take over. It feels wrong, somehow.”

  Pity rose for the little girl who’d had to make her own school lunches, who’d often had so many chores she didn’t have time to come out and play…the little girl who’d been alone long before her grandparents and her mother died, one by one, when she was in high school and college. He tended to forget the way she’d lived as a child. It would have destroyed a lesser person. But Jessie had drawn strength from somewhere inside herself and triumphed. No wonder she had trouble accepting help.

  Quietly he said, “I don’t want to take over, Jess. We’re going to be a team. Right now we need to work out strategies to win in October.” October sixteenth, the magic date. That was when the twins were due, although they’d been warned that multiples often came early.

  “You’re right,” she said. “Accepting help will be my personal challenge.” She took a deep breath. “Would it be okay with you if I stayed here tonight?”

  His chest rose and fell in a deep sigh of relief. He supposed he’d better not tell her he’d been to her apartment and packed a small suitcase of things for her. “That would be more than okay,” he said. “Tomorrow I’ll bring you some of your things.”

  The next three days were quiet. He brought Jessie some clothing and her toiletries. Finn reported that she slept a great deal, though she stayed in close touch with Penny at the gallery. The doctor called on Thursday and sounded pleased when she reported that she was resting a lot and feeling much better. At night they discussed her gallery, his business dealings and read each other information from the dozens of baby books he brought home. It was extraordinarily satisfying in some ways, though he knew it was merely a lull in the action. Once Jessie began to feel better, she’d be chafing at the bit. And once the babies came…well, he couldn’t even imagine it.