Boardroom Baby Surprise

by Jackie Braun

  He had to say, Morgan Stevens wasn’t Dill’s usual type. His brother had always gone for flashy women—bombshell blondes, busty brunettes and sassy redheads whose idea of keeping up with current events was to leaf through the tabloids while they had their hair styled. One of the dates Dill had brought to a family dinner last year had actually thought Austria was an abbreviation for Australia.

  Morgan appeared to be intelligent and well-spoken, if her phone messages and letters were any indication. She was wearing conservative, if hideous, attire and, despite her advanced pregnancy, didn’t appear to be built like a Playboy centerfold.

  So, just what had Dill seen in this woman?

  Bryan didn’t have to wonder what Morgan had seen in Dill. His brother had been good-looking, charming and exceptionally free with his money, which he could afford to be since the money was actually Bryan’s.

  Gold digger .

  It was an old-fashioned term, but Bryan had met enough of those sort of women over the years to know it still applied. Rock stars weren’t the only ones who had groupies. Power brokers attracted them, too, though admittedly they were more refined and they tended to be looking for a ring and a Bergdorf charge card.

  His ex-wife came to mind. She was remarried to a Texas oil tycoon whose fortune made the Caliborns’ look paltry by comparison. And she’d borne the tycoon a son, a son who, for a brief time, she’d allowed Bryan to believe was his.

  The scandal had been the talk of Chicago for months after the news broke. The DNA test results had been leaked to the media—even before Bryan had seen them. The gossipmongers had had a field day and they would again if they caught wind of this.

  Morgan’s moan brought him out of his bitter musings. Her lips parted and she began to pant. Her eyes were pinched closed, her face drawn and dotted with perspiration. She looked incredibly young and scared, especially when she whispered brokenly, “I don’t…think I can…do this.”

  Bryan didn’t like weakness. In business, he considered it a character flaw. Oddly, her vulnerability touched him. It made him want to go to her, hold her hand, stroke her cheek and offer reassurance. Absurd reactions, all. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the edge of his desk instead.

  “Sure you can. You’re going to be fine,” the EMT told her. “Lie back on the couch now. I’m just going to check to see how far you’ve dilated.”

  That brought Bryan upright. He was no expert on labor and delivery, but he’d heard that term before and knew what it meant. On his way to the door, he said, “I’ll be outside.”

  In the reception area, he paced uncharacteristically. He was used to taking charge of any given situation and then taking action. At the moment, he wasn’t sure what to do. Should he call his folks, who were currently vacationing abroad, and tell them…what? What exactly could he say? Congratulations, you may soon be grandparents.

  Dill’s death had been so hard for Julia and Hugh Caliborn to accept. The death of a child, no matter how old, was wrong. It flouted the natural order of things. Parents were not supposed to bury their offspring.

  Bryan pictured his mother upon hearing about Morgan’s baby. She would be excited and weepy about reclaiming a precious bit of her younger son. No doubt, she would lavish the child with every comfort and amenity. And Morgan, too, by default. She’d done the same with his former wife and the baby she’d been cruelly duped into believing was her first grandchild. Four months before the due date his mother had already made over one of her home’s guest rooms into a nursery. Then she’d thrown her daughter-in-law a lavish shower, buying everything left on gift registry afterward. She’d been at the hospital for the birth, crying the happy tears women cry at such occasions. And, eighteen months later, when they’d learned that Caden Alexander Caliborn was not a Caliborn at all, she’d shed more tears, nearly as devastated as Bryan had been.

  He clenched his fists. Until he knew for certain this young woman wasn’t pulling a very convincing con, he had to protect them. That meant keeping news of Morgan not only from his parents, but from the press.

  “Britney,” he called as he stalked to her desk. “Not a word of this leaves the building. If anyone in the conference room has questions about who this young woman is or why she came here looking for me today, you direct them to me. Understand?”

  “Of course, Mr. Caliborn. You know you can count on me…for anything.” Her smile was a just a little too personal for his liking, but he ignored it. In all other aspects, Britney was an efficient and loyal employee. Her apparent crush on him would wane in time, especially if he kept doing nothing to encourage it.

  When he turned around, the EMTs were wheeling Morgan out of his office on the gurney. Her head was elevated. Her face was as white as a sheet.

  “Will you be coming with us?” the older EMT asked. “We have room in the ambulance if you want to accompany your wife to the hospital.”

  Wife? He heard Britney gasp and gritted his teeth. Another rumor to dispel.

  “She’s not my wife,” he bit out as the old bitterness returned. He glanced at his ring finger, recalling the gold band he’d once worn. To him, it had been a symbol of his love and fidelity. It wasn’t until Camilla had asked for a divorce that he’d learned neither had been returned.

  Whatever the EMT thought of Bryan’s blunt denial, he masked with his professionalism. “Maybe you could make some calls for her then. It would be nice for her to have some support in labor and delivery, even if it doesn’t look like she’ll be in there long.”

  Bryan nodded and glanced at Morgan. In a gentler tone, he asked, “Who should I contact for you?”

  Her eyes remained closed and though she was no longer panting; her voice was a breathy whisper when she replied, “No one.”

  “What about your family, your parents? Give me their number and I’ll have Britney call them. They’ll want to know.”

  Moisture had gathered at the corners of her closed eyes. It leaked down her temples now, blending into her perspiration-dampened hair. Weakness, he thought, once again drawn by her vulnerability. Before he realized what he was doing, he reached out and dried her tears.

  Morgan’s eyes flicked open at the contact. Green, he realized. A rich and vivid green. Like precious twin emeralds. He pulled back his hand and cleared his throat. “Your parents’ number?”

  “They’re gone.”

  “Where can we reach them?” he asked.

  “You can’t.” Bryan experienced an unfamiliar ache in his chest when Morgan whispered brokenly, “I have no one. No one at all.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  SEVEN hours later, Bryan paced the length of the waiting room, sipping tepid coffee from a disposable cup while his gaze strayed to the large clock on the wall. It was after six, but Morgan remained in labor. So much for the EMT’s assertion that the delivery would be accomplished quickly.

  What was he doing at the hospital? He didn’t have an exact answer, though duty ranked high on his list of choices. Given Morgan’s claims, he felt a certain sense of obligation to follow up on the situation. Of course, that didn’t explain why the minute the EMTs had wheeled her into the elevator he’d told Britney to clear his schedule for the afternoon, then he’d hopped in his Lexus, arriving at the hospital in record time. The entire way, he’d recalled Morgan’s pinched features and heart-tugging vulnerability.

  She needed someone. Bryan was the only someone available.

  He finished the remainder of the coffee and tossed the cup into the receptacle. If he’d known the birth was going to take this long, he would have lingered at the office or at the very least brought his laptop with him. Duty, he thought again. As Windy City Industries’ Vice President of Operations and soon to be CEO, he had plenty of work to keep him busy.

  “Mr. Caliborn?”

  He turned expectantly at the sound of the nurse’s voice. The woman stood in the doorway, a smile lurking around her lips, which he took as a good sign. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until she said
, “The baby is a boy.”

  Another Caliborn boy. Was this one the real thing? He pushed aside that question and asked, “Is everything…okay?”

  “Fine. The baby is perfectly healthy and a respectable seven pounds, eleven ounces.”

  He cleared his throat. “And Morgan?”

  “She’s doing well, all things considered. It was a difficult labor, especially toward the end. For a while the doctor thought he might have to take the baby by caesarean section, but it all worked out.”

  Because he didn’t know what else to say—a rare occurrence for him and not an entirely pleasant one—he offered a curt nod. Then he went to collect his suit coat from the back of one of the chairs. If he hurried, he could catch a couple of members of his management team before they left their offices for the day and maybe go over some of the plans for the company’s overseas expansion. But even as he was shoving his arm into a coat sleeve, he was changing his mind. Leaving seemed wrong.

  “Excuse me!” he called out to stop the nurse. “I know it’s late, but would it be possible for me to see…the baby?”

  That’s all he wanted, a glimpse at this child who might very well be his brother’s legacy and the sole Caliborn heir, as Bryan certainly had no desire to put his heart on the line ever again. For him, marriage and fatherhood were a closed chapter.

  “I think that can be arranged.” The nurse smiled again before slipping out of the room.

  Unfortunately, seeing the baby wasn’t as simple as taking a quick peek in a nursery window so Bryan could assuage his curiosity while maintaining his distance. The newborn was with its mother, the nurse told him when, forty-five minutes later, she led him down the corridor to Morgan’s room.

  “Don’t stay too long,” she advised. “Morgan really needs her rest.”

  He raised his hand to knock. Even as his knuckles grazed the door he wondered what he would say. In a business setting he could hold his own, but he’d never been good at casual conversation with virtual strangers. That had been Dill’s specialty.

  After his knock, he waited for Morgan to call for him to come in. Instead, the door was flung wide by a bleary-eyed man decked out in wrinkled green scrubs and wearing a sappy grin.

  “Have a cigar,” the man said, thrusting a cellophane-wrapped stogie into Bryan’s hand.

  Bryan pegged him to be about thirty, and, given his attire, he’d been at the hospital for some time. So much for Morgan’s Oscar-worthy claim that she had “no one.” Disgusted with himself for falling once again for a woman’s lies, he turned to leave.

  “Hey, wait!” The man grabbed his arm. “I take it you’re here to see the other new mom.”

  Other new mom? Bryan shifted back and glanced into the room. A brunette, presumably the man’s wife, was holding a blanket-wrapped infant in the first bed. Beyond her, a drawn curtain partitioned the room.

  “Maybe I should come back,” Bryan said. He already felt awkward and now he was going to have an audience.

  “Nah. Come in,” the man coaxed, tugging on Bryan’s arm. Lowering his voice, he added, “I think she could use some company. The nurses said she went through labor alone and I overheard them say she doesn’t have a husband or anything.” His cheeks turned red. “You’re not the baby’s—”

  “No.”

  Bryan shook off the man’s hand and walked to the far end of the room. When he peeked around the curtain, Morgan’s eyes were closed. He used the opportunity to study her in a way that would have been rude if she were awake. Matted blond hair and a blotchy complexion offered proof of the hours she’d spent in labor…all alone. It wasn’t guilt he felt. He had no reason for that. But something else nudged him. Admiration? She’d certainly shown a lot of grit when she’d burst into the conference room, demanding to see him. As she slept, her brow wrinkled and what he was experiencing shifted, softened. Once again he felt the odd desire to touch her and offer comfort.

  From the other side of the curtain, he heard the man talking softly to his wife. Though Bryan couldn’t hear the actual words, the tone was intimate. He recalled seeing a bouquet of fragrant flowers and a congratulatory helium balloon bobbing toward the ceiling. When Bryan’s wife had given birth, he’d bought out the hospital’s floral shop and had lavished her with gifts, including a diamond pendant necklace and matching earrings.

  Morgan’s side of the room was stark. No flowers, no balloons. No man whispering soft words of love and encouragement. No expensive gifts from a proud father. Bryan swallowed. He tried to picture Dill in the role of new dad. He tried to picture his brother being supportive and taking responsibility. But he couldn’t. Even in a situation like this.

  What was it Dillon had said upon learning Bryan was to become a father? After offering his congratulations, he’d added, “Better you than me.”

  How bitterly ironic.

  From the bassinette beside the bed came a faint sound, more like a mewling than a proper cry. Morgan might have been exhausted but her eyes opened immediately at the sound and a smile tugged at her lips.

  “I’m here,” she crooned softly as she shifted somewhat awkwardly to sit on the edge of the bed. “Mommy’s here.”

  It was then that she noticed Bryan.

  He cleared his throat, feeling as if he should apologize for intruding. Instead, he said, “Hello.”

  “Hi. I didn’t realize you were here. I must have dozed off for a minute.” She attempted to run her fingers through her hair, only to have them snag in a knotted clump of pale gold. Her cheeks grew pink.

  “I won’t stay. If I’d known you were asleep…” He shrugged. “I just stopped in to see the baby and…Do you need anything?”

  “No.” Then she shrugged. “Well, the little suitcase I had packed and ready for the hospital would be nice. I have a hairbrush in it, among other things.” Her smile turned wry.

  “Where is it? I’ll send someone for it.”

  “At my hotel.” When she mentioned the hotel’s name Bryan’s lips must have twisted in distaste, because she said dryly, “Apparently it’s not up to your high standards.”

  No, it wasn’t. The place was little more than a flophouse. He kept that opinion to himself, though the idea of her and the baby—of any young, single woman and helpless infant—staying there bothered him tremendously.

  “I’ll have Britney bring it by first thing in the morning.”

  “Thank you.” When he backed up a step, she said, “Don’t you want a closer look?”

  He did. That was why he’d come to her room when good sense had told him to be on his way. Yet he hesitated, oddly more afraid of what he might not see than what he might.

  The baby was lying on its back. Bryan remembered from Caden’s infancy that doctors recommended the position to prevent Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. When Caden had learned to roll over onto his stomach, Bryan had woken up at all hours of the night to check on him, watching his tiny back rise and fall in the low light of the nursery.

  “He has hair under the cap,” Morgan said.

  Bryan spied a few dark brown wisps poking out. Puffy eyes, that deep sea-blue ubiquitous to newborns, were wide open, and though the baby probably was merely trying to focus, he seemed to be regarding Bryan. Finally, one side of his tiny mouth crooked up in a fair imitation of a smile.

  Dillon.

  Bryan felt as if he’d taken a sledgehammer to the solar plexus. He saw his brother in that little face, not in obvious ways, for the baby’s features were too small. But taken in total, they reflected familiarity. Bryan’s heart ached again, this pain bittersweet because he couldn’t be completely sure he was seeing things as they were or as he wished them to be.

  That had been the case once before. And how it had cost him to believe and later find out he’d been deceived.

  “What will you name him?” he asked stiffly.

  “Brice Dillon Stevens.”

  He nodded, not surprised that she’d worked his brother’s name in somehow. But he wondered if Morgan had chosen to give the
child her surname because she was unmarried or because she knew the baby wasn’t really a Caliborn. Of course, that hadn’t stopped Bryan’s ex-wife. She’d tossed the child’s paternity in his face when their marriage had splintered apart. She’d stayed with Bryan for all the months it took her to convince the oil tycoon he was the biological father.

  Bryan’s lips twisted at the memory.

  “I suppose you listed my brother as the father on the birth certificate?”

  “I did. Is that a problem for you?” Morgan’s voice held an edge that belied her otherwise fragile appearance. She looked so young and vulnerable in that hideous hospital-issue gown that snapped closed at the shoulders. Yet her direct gaze and even more direct query hinted at steel.

  He ignored her question. “I’ll be going. You need your rest.” Before he did, though, he removed a business card from his wallet and handed it to her. “If you require anything else, my private number is on the back.”

  “Thanks, but I won’t be calling. I’m…” She glanced down at the baby, her expression softening in a way that tugged at him. “We’re going to be just fine.”

  After Bryan’s departure the doubts Morgan had been experiencing for the past several months once again began circling like vultures, picking away at her usual optimism and determination.

  We’re going to be just fine.

  Were they?

  What had she been thinking, packing up and crossing state lines without a firm plan in place? That wasn’t like her. Of course, nothing about her current situation fell within her personal range of normal. What was she going to do for a job, a place to live?