by Cat Schield
Then, slowly he became aware that one change had happened. Reading his mother’s letter had dispelled the restlessness that drove him to spend his days seeking his place in the world. He knew where he belonged. Who he was. The hazy doubts he’d always carried in the back of his mind about being Vance’s half brother were a thing of the past. He was a Waverly. In blood if not name. Waverly’s wasn’t a straightjacket to be avoided at all costs, but his family’s legacy and he was going to do whatever it took to save it from the likes of Dalton Rothschild.
“Roark, are you all right?” Mrs. Myott had come to stand beside him. Her hand covered his.
He blinked and reoriented himself in the penthouse. The hum of the refrigerator. The lingering scent of the pot roast. The comforting sight of Mrs. Myott’s face. “I’m fine. Just need to make a phone call.”
Even though he wasn’t sure if she’d pick up, Roark dialed Elizabeth’s number. To his relief, she answered.
“Roark?”
“Someone delivered a ten-year-old letter to the penthouse from my mother to Edward Waverly telling him about me.”
“Who?”
“It was delivered by messenger. I have no idea where it came from.”
“Vance?”
“Not his handwriting and definitely not his style.”
“How odd.” Her voice took on a thoughtful note. “And after all this time. Do you think it was recently discovered?”
“Edward has been dead five years. Vance went through all his papers. That’s where he found the letter telling him about me. I know if he’d found this letter he would have given it to me immediately.”
“So why has it surfaced now?”
“Because Waverly’s is in more trouble than ever. The note that accompanied the letter states that I’m as much a Waverly as Vance. The auction house is as much my responsibility to save as Vance’s.”
“So, what are you going to do?”
“Fight.”
“How? With George Cromwell stepping down, there’s no one to stop Rothschild from securing the votes he needs from the Waverly’s board.”
“It might help if I had someone by my side to help me.”
“You have Vance and Ann.”
“I was thinking about you.”
“Me?” Her tone sharpened. “I can’t help you, Roark. Even if we could somehow make the world believe our engagement wasn’t a lie, you aren’t going to stick around as long as it’s going to take to save Waverly’s. It’s not in your nature.”
“What if my nature has changed?”
“I don’t believe it can any more than I believe you want it to.” She spoke so softly it was hard to hear her words. “Maybe it’s time to give up on Waverly’s. Let Rothschild have it. Ann’s brilliant, she’ll land on her feet. Vance has numerous businesses to occupy him.”
“And the hundreds of people Waverly’s employs? What of them?”
Elizabeth didn’t speak for a long time. Roark tamped down his frustration. Had he really expected her to come running just because he’d received a letter confirming he was a Waverly? She’d never truly believed he was committed to saving Waverly’s. And he’d further damaged her trust when he’d run off to Egypt the day before Thanksgiving.
“I’m sorry, I can’t help you, Roark. I really do hope you can save Waverly’s. It sounds like you’re fully committed to the task.”
“I appreciate your faith in me. Good night, Elizabeth.”
“Goodbye, Roark.”
He didn’t miss the finality of her words as the phone went dead in his hand.
Twelve
The Monday after Thanksgiving dawned with clear skies and temperatures in the forties. All dressed up, but with no place she had to be, Elizabeth headed to the coffee shop on the corner. She had to get out of her apartment and at least pretend she was making progress. After spending Sunday updating her résumé and assembling a digital portfolio of her best work, she’d emailed all of Josie’s competitors, praying one of them would give her a shot. The holiday season took its toll on event planners. Surely someone could use an extra set of hands.
For an hour she sipped coffee and stared out the window. On her laptop awaited the phone numbers she would dial. Nerves kept the coffee from sitting well in her stomach. What if she couldn’t find a job doing what she was good at? How was she supposed to start over?
Five phone calls later, anxiety had turned to dread. A stone had lodged itself in her throat making talking difficult. It wasn’t just that no one had an opening or was unimpressed with her work. Three of the five event planners warned her that Josie planned to wage war on anyone who hired her.
She was sunk.
Her phone rang. Elizabeth checked the unfamiliar number against the companies she’d sent résumés to. It matched none of them. She hit Talk.
“Elizabeth Minerva?”
“Yes.”
“Please hold for Mrs. Fremont.”
Her heart thumped against her ribs like a loose shutter in a hurricane. Sonya Fremont was calling her?
“Elizabeth. You were supposed to call me if ever you got free of that employer of yours.”
“I know. I just assumed that with the Page Six article…” She let her words trail off. What if Sonya didn’t read the gossip page? Had Elizabeth just blown any chance of working with the woman? And what if she got the job and was later fired because Sonya found out about the whole fake engagement with Roark?
“Oh, for heaven’s sakes, Elizabeth. This is New York City. You’re already yesterday’s news.”
“I am?”
Sonya laughed. “I’ve never heard anybody sound so glad to have their fifteen minutes of fame behind them.”
Elizabeth’s confidence was returning with each second. “I think you’ll find I’m happier behind the scenes.”
“And that’s what I’d like to talk to you about. Now that you’re no longer employed by that woman, I’d like to hire you to plan the gala. Your proposal was original and inspiring. Can you come by tomorrow to discuss a few minor changes I’d like to make?”
“Of course.”
Did this mean she was going into business for herself? Josie’s decision to blackball her from working with other event planners had backed Elizabeth into a corner. Hope floated through her, erasing most of her doubts.
After she hung up with Sonya, Elizabeth tackled a list of things she’d need to go into business for herself. The money she’d tried to return to Roark would have to be diverted from her fertility treatments to rent, food and other basic survival needs. Was it enough to last until she could find other clients?
Elizabeth dialed the fertility clinic. She needed to cancel her upcoming appointments. She’d already come to terms with the reality that motherhood would have to wait until she could afford it. The switchboard connected her to Bridget Sullivan, her doctor’s nurse. In the eight months Elizabeth had been trying to get pregnant, Bridget had been so kind to her. She deserved an explanation why Elizabeth couldn’t move forward at the moment.
“I just wanted to let you know that I’ve cancelled my upcoming appointments.”
“Of course you have,” Bridget crowed. “Congratulations.”
This was so far from the sympathetic response she’d braced for that Elizabeth wondered if Bridget knew who was on the phone. “Bridget, this is Elizabeth Minerva.”
“What timing. I have your file in front of me. I was about to give you a call.”
“But you said congratulations.”
Now it was Bridget’s turn to be confused. “I thought you’d be thrilled. You’re pregnant. Isn’t that what you’ve been hoping for all these months?”
“Pregnant? How is that possible?”
Bridget laughed. “Since I’m confident you haven’t been cheating on us with another fertility clinic, I’m guessing that fiancé of yours has the right stuff. You must be over the moon. A baby on the way and a wedding to plan. You’re one lucky lady.”
“Lucky.” It wasn’t the first word that she’d u
se to describe her current situation. She was pregnant? The room tilted as she tried to absorb what she’d just heard. “But two rounds of in vitro failed. Dr. Abbot told me it would be impossible for me to get pregnant without help.”
“I don’t know how to explain it other than sometimes miracles happen. A couple that has struggled with fertility for years adopts a child and suddenly the wife is pregnant. Maybe you just needed to find the right guy.”
But Roark wasn’t the right guy for her. He was an amazing man. A terrific lover. Wonderful friend. Loyal to the core, but he wasn’t interested in making a commitment to her or anyone.
“Do you need us to recommend an obstetrician? I can email you a list.”
“That would be great.” Her thoughts were like cotton in her head. Thanking Bridget, she disconnected the call and stared at the list of event planners on her laptop screen.
In the space of ten minutes she’d become an entrepreneur and learned she was pregnant. What if she wasn’t ready to tackle both at the same time?
And Roark. How angry would he be when she told him he was going to be a father? This was all her fault. She’d told him she couldn’t get pregnant. He would think she’d tricked him.
Elizabeth caught a cab and gave the driver the address for Roark’s loft. In the back of her mind, she knew it would be prudent to call ahead and warn him she was coming, but after breaking things off, what was she supposed to give him as an excuse for needing to see him? Telling him that she was pregnant with his child was not a conversation she wanted to have on the phone.
She rapped on Roark’s door. The sound barely drowned out the thunder of her heart as she anticipated the scene to come. Conversation openers spun through her head while she waited, making her dizzy. Her nerve was fading by the second. She’d actually started backing down the hall when Roark’s door opened. A beautiful young woman with disheveled dark hair peered out. She wore a sleepy expression and a gorgeous turquoise silk nightgown that hinted at the flawless figure beneath.
“Hello?” She spoke in accented English. “Can I help you?”
This was yet another development Elizabeth hadn’t foreseen. Her first impulse was to make an excuse and race away, but she’d never been one to run from her problems. “I’m looking for Roark.”
“He’s not here.” Her dark brown eyes smiled. “Are you a friend?”
“Yes.” Elizabeth’s head bobbed. “Elizabeth Minerva.”
“I am Fadira. How wonderful to meet you.”
This was the woman Darius had raced halfway around the world to save. Elizabeth understood his fascination. Fadira was breathtaking.
“Do you know where Roark might have gone?”
“I do not, but he may have called while I was sleeping. Please come in.” The woman opened the door wide and turned to address someone inside the loft. “Darling, have you heard from Roark this morning?”
Darius appeared beside the slim Middle Eastern woman and put his arm around her waist. She leaned into his embrace and slid her hand onto his bare chest.
“Hello, Elizabeth. I see you have met my fiancée.”
Tears sprang to her eyes. “Congratulations.”
“She is looking for Roark,” Fadira explained.
“I thought he might be here.” Renewed anxiety displaced her momentary relief. “I’m sorry to intrude. I should have called before coming over.”
“Roark didn’t tell you that he gave us the apartment for a few days?” Darius asked. “I have not heard from him since he left Saturday night. Are you worried about him?”
“Nothing like that. I had something I wanted to discuss with him. Do you know where he might have gone?”
“No. I’m sorry.”
Which meant her news would have to wait a little while longer.
* * *
Roark sat at the desk in his mother’s bedroom and for the first time, read the entries she’d made after he’d left for the marines. It had taken him two days of wandering like a ghost through the penthouse before he been able to face his mother’s heartache.
He’d spent those days reliving memories of her. How he’d done his homework at this desk, while she’d sat in her favorite chair by the fireplace and read. If he’d gotten stuck on a math problem or wanted to discuss a social studies assignment, she was always close, ready to offer what help she could. Sometimes he pretended he didn’t understand just so she’d lean over his shoulder. Her light, floral scent would fill his nostrils while her musical voice would explain the complexities of iambic pentameter or point out where he’d gone wrong with a formula.
To his surprise, his mother hadn’t been devastated by his departure. She’d been proud that he’d chosen to serve his country, and she’d understood that he needed to make his mark on the world.
If he’d had the courage to say goodbye, he wouldn’t have been burdened by guilt all these years. He could have left knowing that his mother wished nothing but the best for him.
Instead he’d acted like a fool and his mother had suffered. He’d hurt her like he’d hurt Elizabeth. All because he believed that love was a trap he had to avoid at all costs. An obligation that interfered with his freedom.
Well, Elizabeth hadn’t tried to hold on to him and these past few days without her had been some of the most miserable hours of his life.
“Roark?” Elizabeth’s soft voice came from the doorway. “I hope it’s okay that Mrs. Myott let me in.”
Dressed in a dark gray wool coat, her cheeks pink from the cold, she stood just outside the room as if afraid of her welcome.
His heart soared at the sight of her. “It’s fine.” More than fine. It was fantastic. Since she’d turned him down a second time on Friday night, he’d been moldering in a stew of recrimination. Unable to contain his relief, he crossed the room and hauled her into his arms, whirling her off her feet. “How’d you know to find me here?”
For two complete spins she melted into his embrace and he savored the peace he always felt in her company. The second her toes met the floor once again, she pushed out of his arms.
“I stopped by the loft.” She moved out of reach. “Darius said he hadn’t heard from you since Saturday. I couldn’t think of anyplace else you might have gone.” She gazed around the room, not meeting his eyes. “I met Fadira. I’m so glad they’re able to be together.”
“They blamed the canceled wedding on the missing statue,” Roark said. “Which of course means that the Rayas royal family is more determined than ever to get their hands on the Gold Heart statue Waverly’s is going to auction. Ann needs me to give her the statue I found, but I still haven’t located the missing documentation.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Stall Ann and get the documents back. I’ve got a lead on them. The man who stole them has business in the Bahamas in a week. I plan on heading down there to get them back.”
“How do you know he’ll have them?”
“I had a chat with an acquaintance of his in Cairo.”
“What sort of a chat?”
“The sort that gets information.”
“And after you get the documents back, what then?”
“Waverly’s reputation is saved. The Gold Heart statue is brought up for auction. We fight off whatever Dalton Rothschild has in store for us next.”
She seemed to have run out of questions. That was fine. He had a few of his own.
“Would you come with me?”
“Where?”
“For starters to the Bahamas. You no longer have work as an excuse to stay in New York.”
“I can’t just go.”
“Why not? You have nothing keeping you here.”
“It’s my home.”
“I’m not asking you to move across the world, just to spend a couple weeks seeing new places, meeting new people.”
“What happens when a couple weeks becomes a month, then six months? What if I get to a point where I never want to leave you?”
“Then don’t.”
He snatched her back into his arms and tasted her surprise as his mouth settled on hers. She met the searching plunge of his tongue with a joyful moan and slid her fingers into his hair.
In an instant everything that had been dull in his world burst into vivid color. Kissing her was like the return of spring after a long cold winter. She was sunshine and warming earth, lilacs and hyacinth. Nothing in the world compared to having her in his arms.
“Roark.” Her breath came in soft pants. “I have something I need to tell you.”
He’d surrendered her mouth so that he could nibble his way down her neck. She arched her back, pressing her breasts into his chest. Her coat was on the floor at her feet. In a few minutes he intended for her black suit to join it.
His fingers plucked her white blouse free of her pants. “I’m all ears.”
“No, you’re not,” she gasped, grabbing for his hands a second too late. He’d released the clasp on her bra and swallowed one breast in his palm. “You’re all hands.”
“And lips.” His mouth covered hers.
Slow and deep, he kissed her until all resistance vanished. He scooped her up and sat down in his mother’s favorite chair with Elizabeth cradled in his lap.
“You’re going to want to stop once you hear what I have to say,” she warned him, her fingers fanned across his cheek. She brushed his lower lip with her thumb.
“Nothing you could say would ever make me want to stop making love to you,” he told her.
Here in his mother’s bedroom, surrounded by her things, he’d discovered something. He was no longer the boy who’d run away to join the marines because he needed adventure. He was the man who had found the adventure of a lifetime in the woman he held in his arms.
“Oh, I think this one will.” She drew her finger between his brows, exploring the frown her words had produced. “What’s the one thing you dread more than anything else in the world?”
“Until four days ago, I would have said being tied down to a place and responsible for another person’s happiness.”
She nodded sagely. “I’m pregnant.”
Joy hit him square in the chest. “Congratulations.”
“Congratulations?” She gaped at him, so obviously expecting him to be horrified because she was pregnant with his child.