by Jackie Braun
Dark eyes surveyed her, no doubt taking in the oversize shirt and unflattering sweatpants. “I hope this isn’t a bad time. I forgot my shaving kit when I packed up my things earlier.”
“Oh. Sure. Come in.” She stepped back to allow him entry.
“The baby sleeping?”
“For the time being,” she said wryly. If she got lucky, she would have another hour before Brice roused and demanded to be fed.
Bryan nodded. “Britney said she showed you around. I take it everything is to your liking.”
“Yes.” She laced her fingers together. “She mentioned that you’re staying at your parents’ home in Lake Forest and that they are out of the country.”
“They keep a villa in the south of France. Now that my father is getting closer to retirement, they’ve been spending large blocks of time there,” he said matter-of-factly, as if everyone’s folks had a second home on the French Riviera.
She pictured the elder Caliborns, pampered, snobbish and every bit as laconic and dictatorial as their eldest son. Heaven help her. Morgan had wanted Brice to have extended family, loving relatives to help fill in the gaps a single mother couldn’t. Now she wasn’t so sure she would be doing him any favors.
Still, she said, “I had hoped to meet them and to have them get to know Brice. He is their grandson, after all.”
“Perhaps on another visit to Chicago,” he suggested with a shrug.
She didn’t bother to correct his assumption that she was just visiting. It was fast becoming apparent that moving here had been a huge mistake, even if she still felt strongly that she should live in closer proximity to the only family her child had.
“They don’t know about me,” she guessed.
“No.”
“And you’re not planning to tell them.”
“Not yet.”
No need to ask what he was waiting for. Obviously, he required proof of Brice’s parentage. She expected him to request a paternity test then. When he didn’t, Morgan decided to change the subject.
“I want to reimburse you for the groceries and, of course, for the amount you’ve had to spend on damage control.”
Dark brows tugged together. “Pardon?”
“The bouquet of flowers, the private room and the new dress purchased for me to wear home from the hospital,” she clarified. “Britney mentioned that the baby and I would make excellent tabloid fodder and, as such, appearances had to be maintained.”
Bryan scowled, but he didn’t deny it. Instead, he said, “No reimbursement is necessary. I wanted you to have those things.”
“Well, I insist on paying for my lodgings. When you get right down to it, I’m subletting your apartment.” She swallowed, knowing a Chicago penthouse with this incredible view and a rooftop patio far exceeded her limited budget, but she wasn’t going to stay here long and pride wouldn’t allow her to freeload, especially since Bryan clearly expected her to do just that. “If you’ll have a contract drawn up, I’ll pay the full rent and utilities for the next month.”
“I own it.”
Of course he did. “Then, whatever you feel is fair.”
“When the month is up, will you be returning to—Cherry Bluff, Wisconsin, isn’t it?”
“No, I don’t think I’ll be going back.” Other than her friends, there was nothing for Morgan there. As much as she missed Jen, she could no more freeload off her than she could off Bryan.
“What about your job?”
“I lost it.”
“I see.” Almost instantly, his dark eyes lit with speculation, suspicion.
Both stung. “I wasn’t fired. I was pink-slipped.”
“Another word for the same thing, I believe.”
“Not from my point of view. I loved my job and I was good at it. The principal hated to see me go, but the school district had to make cuts.” She folded her arms. “Perhaps you’ve noticed that the economy isn’t as strong as it once was. Well, in bad times, the arts are the first thing to face the ax.”
He appeared surprised. “You’re a teacher?”
“A music teacher, yes.” She nodded her head in the direction of the baby grand. Her own upright was sitting in storage. “You have a lovely piano. Do you play?”
“Not really.”
“Oh.” It seemed a waste for an instrument like that to go unused.
He apparently read her mind. “I assume that you do.” When she nodded, he said, “Feel free to use it, although it probably needs a good tuning.”
“If it does, I’ll pay for it.”
He sighed, shook his head. Was that amusement she spied in his gaze or exasperation? “Fine, but I’ll hear no more talk about contracts and subletting. That subject is closed.”
Morgan didn’t argue. When she moved out, she would leave a check to cover her expenses. Bryan Caliborn would discover she could be every bit as stubborn as he was. Still, she had to know, “Are you still worried about appearances just in case I’m found out?”
“Among other things,” he answered evasively. The enigmatic response as well as the way he was watching her made her wonder what those other things might be.
“Well, for the record, I do appreciate your kindness, even if I feel funny about taking over your home.”
“Don’t.”
One word uttered resolutely. Another edict. It grated against her already raw pride. “You know, you have a very annoying habit of telling me what to do and, now, what to think.”
A pair of dark brows shot up, telling her she wasn’t the only one who was annoyed. No doubt he wasn’t used to being talked to in such a manner. She waited for a blistering retort. Instead, he bowed mockingly.
“My apologies.”
Damn him! He was humoring her. “I’d accept them if I thought they were sincere.”
“You’re questioning my sincerity?”
In her stocking feet Morgan was a full head shorter than Bryan. Even so, she squared her shoulders and raised her chin. “Yes, I am.”
“God, you’re so damned—” he was frowning when he finished with “—refreshing.”
The description threw her, as did the momentary confusion she’d glimpsed in his eyes. “I don’t know what to make of that,” she replied honestly.
He snorted out a laugh. “Good. We’re even then, because I don’t know what to make of you.”
And he didn’t. Bryan usually could read people easily enough. Morgan, however, remained an enigma despite her blunt talk. Interestingly, the more time he spent with her, the more baffled he became. And the more curious. With that in mind, he said, “I’ll just get my shaving kit and be on my way.”
When Bryan returned to the living room, she was seated at the piano playing softly in deference to the infant sleeping down the hall. In the room’s low light, she looked almost ethereal, though the sound emanating from the piano was anything but heavenly. Even to his untrained ears he could tell it was off-key.
“How bad is it?”
She glanced up. “Abysmal. It’s a crime what you’ve allowed to happen to an instrument of this quality.”
He nearly smiled at her damning words. She certainly wasn’t one to pull punches. “I’d apologize, but I’m pretty sure you’d only accuse me of being insincere again.”
“You’re mocking me.” She plunked out more of the discordant melody.
“Only a little.”
She wasn’t amused. “I find that almost as intolerable as the fact that you don’t trust me and yet feel the need to clothe and shelter me as if I’m some sort of helpless waif.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t call you helpless. I’d say you’ve managed quite nicely up till now.”
Her eyes widened at the jab.
“Stop it! Just stop it!” she shouted, looking angry and exhausted enough to make him feel petty. “I don’t know what your problem is, but it’s your problem. Not mine. I’m not after the precious Caliborn fortune.”
“If I had a dime for every time a woman has said that—”
&n
bsp; She slammed the lid down over the piano keys. “And to think I was starting to feel grateful for all of your help. I’d get Brice and leave right now if my car wasn’t still parked across town in your company’s lot.”
He knew he’d regret it later, but he couldn’t stop himself from adding, “And if you had someplace to go. But you don’t, Morgan. No place to go and no job. Which is why you came to Chicago.”
Her eyes turned bright. Her voice became hoarse. “How is it possible that you and Dillon were brothers? I’ve asked you for nothing. You’re the one who insisted on moving me into your apartment, yet you’re so suspicious.”
I have good reason to be, he thought, calling on bitter memories to make him immune to her tears. He wouldn’t be played for a sucker a second time.
“You’re right, Morgan. Dill and I are very different men. You’d do well to remember that.” He lowered his voice to a more intimate level and added, “Although I can assure you there are certain things I am every bit as skilled at as you found my brother to be.”
She shot to her feet, shaking with justified outrage as she poked a finger in the direction of the door. “Out! Get out of here right now!”
Bryan didn’t question her right to order him from his own home. He did as she asked, already hating himself for the cheap shot and not at all sure why he’d taken it.
Bryan sat at his desk staring sightlessly out at the Chicago skyline as he levered a gold fountain pen between his fingers. He was too keyed up to concentrate on work, though he had plenty of it to occupy his attention. His agitation had nothing to do with the fact that Windy City’s last quarter’s earnings were not what he’d hoped they would be. He was thinking about Morgan.
It had been almost a month since he’d last seen or spoken with her. And though part of him knew he owed her an apology for the unforgivable comment he’d made, he couldn’t force himself to do so. In fact, just yesterday, after uncharacteristic foot-dragging, he’d hired a private investigator to probe her past. It was time to find out a little more about Morgan Stevens than what could be gleaned at face value. It wasn’t just that he couldn’t bring himself to trust her, though that was part of it. He didn’t trust himself and this odd desire he had to believe she was exactly what she claimed to be.
Now she’d thrown him for a loop again. She’d called half an hour ago and left a message with Britney that she would be moving out of the penthouse later that day.
That didn’t make sense. Nor did the fact that even though Bryan had a meeting with his management team in forty-five minutes, he was pushing himself away from his desk and preparing to stride out of his office. He needed to get to the bottom of this.
When he arrived at the apartment door twenty minutes later, he didn’t knock. He let himself in only to stumble over the luggage that was stacked in the foyer. She was packed and ready to go. But she was leaving a bit of herself behind, he noticed. His beige sofa now sported a pair of plump red pillows, and a throw of the same hue was tossed over the chair. Three weeks in his home and she’d infused it with more vibrancy and life than he’d managed in three years. But then, this was just a place for him to lay his head at night. He’d stopped wanting a home the day he’d learned he didn’t really have a son.
On the coffee table he spied an envelope with his name on it. He opened it to find a check made out to him. The sum had him shaking his head. She was either a clever actress or had too much pride for her own good. Though it wasn’t large by his standards, it was probably far more than Morgan could afford. With an oath, he tore it in half before stuffing it into his pocket.
From down the hallway came an infant’s shrill cries. He followed the sound, stopping outside the open door to the guest suite. Morgan was at the changing table with her back to him. She’d lost weight. That much was obvious despite the oversize clothing she wore. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail that made her look deceptively young. She was talking in soothing tones as she put a fresh diaper on the screaming baby.
“Hey, hey. Come on now, Brice. It’s not as bad as all that,” she said. “We’re going to be fine, you and me. We’re a team, remember?”
The baby quieted, almost as if he understood. More likely, though, the reason was because his bottom was dry and he was being lifted into the security of his mother’s arms. The baby eyed Bryan over her shoulder. Brice had more hair now. It stood up on end at the crown. And he’d acquired another chin. He and Morgan made quite a picture, the perfect snapshot of everything Bryan had held dear.
Before learning it was a lie.
He cleared his throat. Upon hearing the sound, she whirled around. The warmth that had been in her tone when she’d spoken to Brice was absent when she told Bryan, “I’ll be out in less than an hour.”
“It’s hardly necessary for you to leave.”
“I think it is,” she replied.
“Where are you going?”
“Does it matter?”
It did—for reasons he couldn’t explain to himself, much less to her. He should be happy she was going. Glad to be rid of her. Except…
“Look, Morgan, I want to apologize. What I said to you the last time I was here, it was…crude.”
“Insufferably so,” she agreed with a nod. “But your appalling lack of manners is not the reason I’m leaving. My plan was to stay here until I found employment, and I have.”
This came as a surprise. “You’ve been looking for a job?”
She rolled her eyes. “I know you’ll find this hard to believe, but I’ve always been self-sufficient and I prefer to remain that way.”
“What kind of job?”
“I’ll be turning tricks in the blue-light district. I hear I can set my own hours,” she deadpanned. “A teaching job, of course.”
“Were you called back to the school in Wisconsin then?” Oddly, his stomach clenched as he awaited her reply.
“No. I’ll be staying in Chicago, at least for the time being.”
He ignored the relief that had him wanting to sigh, perhaps because a new worry surfaced.
“Which school will you teach at?” Some of the public ones could be kind of rough. Though he admired Morgan’s spunk, it made his blood run cold to think of her going toe-to-toe with some young gang recruit.
“Actually, I won’t be in a school.” She lifted her chin. “I’ve been hired by a south-side community center to give lessons as part of an after-school program that’s being funded through a Tempest Herriman Foundation grant.”
His eyes narrowed. “That doesn’t sound long-term or, for that matter, very lucrative. Is it even going to cover your expenses?”
“I don’t see how that’s your concern,” Morgan snapped irritably.
He shrugged. And though it was far from the truth, he reminded her, “Appearances.”
“Appearances!” she spat. “If I wasn’t holding Brice right now, I’d describe to you, in minute detail, what you can do with your appearances.”
“Please, don’t hold back. He’s too young to grasp words. It’s tone that babies this age understand.”
“Now you’re an expert on children?” She expelled a breath, but then continued in a voice suited to a nursery rhyme, “Maybe it’s a good thing you don’t believe he’s a Caliborn. I don’t want my son raised around someone as superficial and self-important as you are.”
Bryan ignored the insults. He was a firm believer in quid pro quo , so he figured she was entitled to fling them. Besides, she looked absolutely lovely, with her color high and those emerald eyes flashing in dangerous fashion as she put him in his place.
Stepping fully into the room, he commented conversationally, “I never would have taken you to be the sort to cut off your nose to spite your face.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“No? You’re going to move your son, who’s barely a month old, out of the safety and comfort of my penthouse and take a job on the city’s south side making peanuts. What about health insurance?”
Morgan
said nothing, but she swallowed hard and he had his answer.
“No benefits,” he scoffed with a shake of his head and then drew closer. “And where are you going to live, Morgan? In some fleabag apartment on a par with that hotel where you were staying before the baby was born? Be reasonable.”
“Being reasonable hasn’t gotten me very far with you.” She abandoned the sweet tone. “You’ve done your level best to make me feel unwelcome, yet now you have the audacity to act amazed that I’m leaving. What do you want from me? Just what do you want?”
She’d shouted the last question and now the baby began to wail. She looked on the verge of losing it herself. That had him panicked, both because he knew Morgan’s tears were the real thing and because the bullying he typically reserved for the boardroom was the primary cause.
“God, don’t cry.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” she countered on a sob. “I’ve had it up to here with your edicts. I’ve had it up to here with you. Go away, Bryan. Just go away.”
He ignored the directive. In fact, he stepped closer. Close enough that he could smell the scent of baby powder. Close enough that he could have run his knuckles along the underside of her quivering jaw if he’d wanted to. And, God help him, he wanted to.
“Stay, Morgan. Not for the sake of appearances.”
“Why then?”
Because I want you to, he thought. I want to get to know you, figure you out. How nonsensical was that? So, he said, “Because it’s the right thing to do for Brice.”
The fight went out of her. Her shoulders slumped and she lowered her chin. Bryan leaned closer until her forehead was resting on his chest. Brice quieted, too, cocooned between them.
After a moment she sighed. “That’s so low.”
He laughed without humor. “Yes, but we’ve already established that I’m a bastard.”
She lifted her head and, without heat, admonished, “Don’t swear in front of the baby.”
“Sorry.”
“I’ll stay, but only until your parents return. They still don’t know about Brice, do they?”
“No.”
She shook her head. “Why am I not surprised?”
“They’ve been through so much pain.” The loss of what they believed to be their first grandchild as well as the death of their younger son.