by Jackie Braun
The girl’s fingers stumbled over the keys of Morgan’s old upright. Carla missed a couple of notes, went back to find them and winced when the wrong ones came out.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. Just do it again. Practice is the only difference between you and me. I’ve had years of it.”
“You think I can be as good as you someday?”
“Maybe even better if you stay with it. Remember to invite me to see you play Carnegie Hall.”
“Have you played there?”
“Twice. Now play.”
The girl flashed Morgan a grin and started again, this time finishing with only a couple of minor mistakes. In his car seat on the floor next to the piano, Brice let out a delighted squeal when Carla was done.
“See, even the baby thinks you’ve improved.”
“Thanks, Ms. Stevens. I appreciate the extra help.”
“Don’t mention it. It’s been my pleasure. Is someone coming to pick you up?”
“My mom. She told me to wait for her at the front door so she doesn’t have to find a parking space.”
“Okay. Have a good weekend.”
Morgan stood and gathered up some sheet music from a nearby stand. When she turned, Bryan was leaning against the jamb of the door through which Carla had exited. His suit coat was slung over one shoulder and he was watching her with dark, unreadable eyes that left her feeling far too exposed.
“How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough. Carnegie Hall twice, hmm? You must be very good.”
She lifted her shoulders in lieu of an answer. “Are you here for a lesson?”
“That depends.”
“On what?” she asked.
“On what you’re offering to teach me.”
His reply raised gooseflesh on her arms. Morgan cleared her throat and glanced away. “In addition to the piano I play the oboe and clarinet. I’m passable on sex—sax.”
His brows rose at the Freudian slip, but Morgan noted thankfully that he let it go without comment. He pushed away from the doorjamb and came fully into the room. “My parents are home. I spoke to them last night. They’re eager to see Brice and to meet you, too, of course.”
Nothing like being tacked on as an afterthought to make one feel welcome, Morgan groused internally.
Brice cooed and Bryan’s gaze shifted to the baby, who was batting his chubby fists against a string of colorful rings that Morgan had draped over the carrier’s handle. Bryan’s expression softened. She saw him swallow hard before glancing away. Did he see his brother in the baby? Was he missing him? Could it be that that was why he sometimes seemed so sad when he looked at Brice? Now wasn’t the time to ask such questions, though. Other ones needed to be answered first.
“When do your parents want to meet me? And where?”
He laid his coat on top of the piano and sat down on the bench. “They’re leaving that up to you.”
That news had Morgan slumping down next to him. The bench was small. Their hips bumped. She could smell his cologne. It was the same scent he’d worn the day he’d kissed her. She was inhaling deeply, even as she tried to focus on the matter at hand.
“The sooner—”
“The better,” he finished for her. His gaze was locked on her mouth. She swore he leaned closer for a moment, before he pushed to his feet and took a few steps away. “That’s what my parents said, too.”
“How about next Saturday?” That would give her a week to rehearse what she was going to say and to find something suitable for her and Brice to wear.
“That leaves where.”
“Well, I can’t very well invite them to your apartment. Of course, they probably know I’m staying there since you’re living in their guesthouse.”
“Yes. They think I’m chivalrous.”
“I can only imagine what they think of me,” she remarked dryly. She turned on the bench and played the opening chords to one of her favorite concertos. “I suppose we could have dinner at a restaurant, although that seems a little impersonal. Not to mention that we wouldn’t be able to talk freely without the risk of being overheard.” She sent a smile in his direction and added, “My name may not be as well known as your family’s, but I’m every bit as eager as you are to keep it out of the tabloids.”
“In that case, I suggest that you and Brice come to my parents’ estate.”
She stopped playing. “You want me to invite myself to their home? Gee, should I tell your mother what to serve for lunch, too?”
He surprised her with a chuckle. “If you’d like.”
“I’m serious, Bryan.”
“So am I. Outside of my penthouse, the location makes the most sense.”
She sighed, because he was right. “Okay.”
“I’ll set it up.” He tucked his hands in his trouser pockets. “Are you heading home now?”
She nodded. “You?”
“I was thinking of stopping off for dinner first. Meal preparation isn’t included with my new accommodations.”
She smiled. “Mine either. But I’ve enjoyed having someone to do the grocery shopping for me. Not to mention the laundry and the housework. I’m getting spoiled.”
“Somehow, I doubt that,” Bryan replied.
He meant it. A woman who would work for peanuts in a community center teaching underprivileged kids the joy of music wasn’t spoiled. That conclusion didn’t surprise him as much as the fact that he felt Morgan deserved to be pampered and he wanted to be the one doing it.
His gaze dropped to her lips and he recalled that kiss. He didn’t like the feelings that had begun to take root. They were the kind that held the potential to grow, spread and blossom into something that terrified him. His dealings with Courtney had been blissfully straightforward. No ties. No lies. No talk of a shared future. Which was why parting the other night had been managed so easily and so affably. There were no messy emotions to get in the way. No explanations required.
But he heard himself offer one to Morgan now.
“Courtney and I…we’re not seeing one another any longer.”
“Oh?” Her brows notched up. “I’m sorry.”
“Do you mean that?” he asked quietly.
She glanced away. “Of course I do. She seemed…nice. And she’s very pretty. You made a handsome couple.”
“Did we?”
“Yes. You’re both very…” She lifted her shoulders. “You turn heads.”
He wasn’t a vain man. Nor was he one who required his ego to be stroked. But he asked, “Turn heads?”
“You have a commanding presence.”
He laughed. “Some people just call me intimidating.”
“Do you try to be?”
“Sometimes,” he admitted. “It has its uses.”
She shook her head. “I think it gets in the way of real relationships. How long were you and Courtney together?”
Bryan thought back. “Since just after my divorce was finalized.”
“So a few years. It sounds like it was serious.”
“No. It wasn’t like that. Actually, it was…pretty casual.” He frowned.
“Well, I hope my being in your penthouse had nothing to do with your split.”
“No.” But it did. It had everything to do with it, Bryan realized, because suddenly pretty casual wasn’t enough. His frown deepened. “I can’t figure out what it is about you that…”
“What?”
He left his previous thought unfinished and said instead, “You don’t fit into any mold.”
“Then why do you keep trying to force me into one?” she asked.
“Habit.”
“It’s a bad one. Break it.” Her gaze held a challenge.
“I don’t know if that would be a good idea.” He tilted his head to one side.
“Why?”
A million reasons came to mind. The one he offered rose from his subconscious. “You’re dangerous, Morgan.”
She blinked in surprise. �
�Dangerous. Me?”
Yes, he thought. From the moment he’d met her she’d been a blight on his peace of mind. He wanted it back. Even more, though, he wanted…her.
He shot to his feet. He should go. Hell, he shouldn’t have come. He could have called Morgan with the information about his parents. He could have had Britney call her, for that matter. But he’d wanted to see her and he’d figured a public place was safer than stopping in at his penthouse.
And so was a restaurant, his libido offered slyly. What could happen in a restaurant with a table between them and waiters and other patrons around?
“Would you and Brice like to have dinner with me?” he asked.
“Now?”
“Now.”
“I can’t. Sorry. I’m nearly out of diapers and he’s going to need to nurse soon.”
He nodded. “I understand.” Just as well, he decided. Just as well.
“May I have a rain check?”
Bryan shrugged. “Sure.”
It was hot when he arrived home an hour later. He’d been hungry when he stopped at the community center. He was starving now and it had nothing to do with the fact that he’d skipped dinner.
He bypassed the main house, even though he knew his parents would welcome a visit from him and would gladly ask their cook to whip up a meal. Instead, he headed to the guesthouse and changed into his swim trunks.
A moment later, he was diving into the deep end of the in-ground swimming pool, powerful strokes taking him to the far side in a matter of seconds. Just before reaching it, he flipped and pushed off the wall with his feet. The water was cool on his heated skin and the exertion took the edge off his frustration. When he hoisted himself out of the water twenty minutes later, his mother was holding a towel, which she handed to him.
Julia waited till he’d dried off and caught his breath before asking, “So, did you talk to her?”
“Yes. I suggested that she come here.”
His mother nodded. “Good, good. Well, as long as she won’t find that too intimidating.”
Rough laughter scraped his throat. “I don’t think anything intimidates that woman.”
“Oh?”
He cleared his throat. “We set it up for next Saturday. I didn’t pin down a time. I figured I’d ask you what worked best first.”
“See if one o’clock is acceptable and tell her we would like her and the baby to come for lunch.” She rubbed her hands together in an uncharacteristic show of nerves. “Do you know what she likes to eat?”
His mother’s question had him chuckling since it echoed Morgan’s earlier comment. “I can ask her if you’d like.”
“Yes. Do that. I want everything to be perfect. Oh, my God.” She covered her mouth with her hand for a moment. “I still can’t believe it.”
“Mom,” he began, not sure how to proceed. “There’s no concrete proof that she’s telling the truth.”
“Yes, so you mentioned when we first came home and learned that she’d been here since the end of May.” Her tone held censure and more than a little hurt. Julia hadn’t been happy that he’d kept Morgan and Brice a secret. His father wasn’t pleased either, though Hugh at least understood and accepted Bryan’s reasoning.
“Why haven’t you sought that proof?” she asked now.
All it would have taken was a swab from the inside of Brice’s mouth and one from Bryan’s. Since Dillon was dead, short of having his body exhumed, that was the only way to establish a link between the baby and the Caliborns.
“The last thing we need is for the press to get wind of our family requesting another paternity test,” he said tightly. “The slowing economy is already giving our investors enough reasons to worry.”
“Very well, but you’ve met her, Bryan. You’ve spent time with her and you’ve seen the baby. Tell me, do you really think she’s lying about Dillon being the father of her child?”
“No. Not lying.”
“But you think she could be wrong about…the circumstances,” Julia allowed.
I’m not promiscuous.
Morgan’s words echoed in his head. Nothing about her suggested otherwise, so why hadn’t he called off the investigation? Why wasn’t he just accepting she was exactly what she said she was and Brice was who she claimed him to be?
Perhaps because he was scared to death of the attraction he felt for her.
With a muttered oath, he shoved the wet hair back from his forehead. “I don’t know what I think anymore, Mom.”
Julia laid her hand against his cheek. It was the same hand that had soothed his hurts when he was a kid. As comforting as he still found it, he knew it wasn’t going to set things right this time.
“This must be especially hard for you, Bry.”
“It’s dredged up a lot of memories,” he admitted. “None of them very pleasant to recall. Caden turned five a few weeks ago. I still think about him, you know.”
“I know.”
“The happiest day of my life was the day he was born.” He’d been in the delivery room, gaping like a fool as he’d watched the miracle unfold. “I was the first person to hold him when he came into this world,” he whispered hoarsely.
And he’d been among the last to learn of his wife’s duplicity thanks to the DNA test results that were leaked to the media.
“We loved him, too,” his mother reminded him. Julia’s voice was filled with the same tangle of emotions that had Bryan’s throat aching and his eyes stinging. “What Camilla did to you—what she did to us all—with her lies, it was wrong. More than wrong. It was cruel. But at some point you have to let go of the past and move on. It pains me to see you so lonely.”
“I’m not lonely,” he protested.
This was the second time in recent weeks that he’d been labeled as such, the second time he’d been told he needed to move on. He didn’t like it.
His mother patted his cheek again, smiling sadly, and even though she didn’t say a word, it was clear she didn’t believe him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
FOR the next week, Morgan dragged poor Brice into half the stores in Chicago looking for an appropriate outfit to wear when meeting the Caliborns. Nothing in her closet would do. Well, except for the dress that Britney had selected for Morgan to wear home from the hospital in case a picture got snapped. She was averse to it for obvious reasons.
Besides, she’d lost more weight and a few more inches from her waist. She wanted to make the most of it. She owed her improved figure to yoga and running. Not the kind of running that involved lacing up high-performance shoes and heading out into the late August heat. Rather the kind involved in being a single, working mother whose car had decided it needed a rest. The ancient compact had started stalling out regularly a couple weeks earlier.
Usually, after a couple of minutes, it was kind enough to start back up, so she’d put off taking it in. Today, the engine had whined copiously and refused to switch on again. Now it was at a garage being worked on by a mechanic named Vic, whom Morgan hoped wasn’t going to try to pad out the price of repairs just because she was female.
She shoved that thought from her mind. She had more important things to worry about, such as what she was going to wear to meet the parents of the now-dead man who had fathered her child. Outfitting Brice had been easy and affordable. As a shower gift one of the other teachers had given her an adorable sailor suit. It was in a bigger size, but he’d grown enough to wear it. Finding something for herself was proving far more frustrating.
All she knew from her brief conversation with Bryan earlier in the week was that his parents were expecting her and Brice at one o’clock on Saturday at their Lake Forest home. Lunch would be served in the garden, weather permitting. Somehow she doubted they were going to gather around a picnic table and eat franks and beans. More likely, the Caliborns would serve fancy little finger sandwiches stuffed with things like cucumbers, alfalfa sprouts and watercress.
“I don’t think I like watercress,” she muttered as she rumma
ged through the clearance racks in Danbury’s.
It was the third department store she’d been to this day and it would be the last since she had to work later that afternoon. Without her car, she and Brice would be taking the El before transferring to a bus and then hoofing it three blocks to the community center.
From the final rack, Morgan pulled out a yellow sundress. Holding the hanger just below her chin, she asked Brice, “What do you think? The price is right at half off.”
He yawned up at her from the stroller before smacking his lips together, clearly unimpressed.
“You’re right. The color will make my skin look sallow.”
Sighing, she put it back. Another two hours wasted. Or maybe not, she thought, spying the moss-colored suit on a mannequin in the department across the aisle. The jacket was short and fitted with three-quarter-length sleeves and double rows of mother of pearl buttons. The skirt flowed slightly away from the body for a fit that was sure to flatter her post-pregnancy curves without drawing too much attention to the ones she was still working to erase. She steered Brice over to it and then held her breath as she reached for the price tag.
“Oh, my God!” She swallowed. She almost prayed she was right when she said, “They probably don’t have my size anyway.”
They did.
“It probably won’t look good on me,” she said.
“Can I put that in a fitting room?”
Morgan turned to find a saleswoman standing behind her. “I—I—” With a sheepish smile, she nodded.
Not only did it fit, it looked fabulous, if she did say so herself. Even Brice gurgled happily as she modeled it in front of the changing room’s trifold mirror. Of course, his exuberance may have been the result of gas since he belched loudly afterward.
“How are you doing in there?” the saleswoman asked from outside the door.
“Great. It fits and I love it. But I have one problem.” Other than the price tag. Morgan stared at her reflection. “I need shoes.”
She wound up walking out of the store with more than the outfit and a pair of pricy peep-toe heels. She also purchased a new handbag and had made an appointment in the store’s salon for the following day. She wasn’t even going to think about how much she’d just put on the charge card she kept for emergency purposes.