For Richer or Poorer

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For Richer or Poorer Page 18

by JoAnn Ross


  His mother was warm and loving and unhesitatingly generous. While Lily’s former mother-in-law could make a rattlesnake seem warm-blooded by comparison.

  “Connor!” She greeted him with a smile that somehow did not cause a single line around her lips or her eyes. “It was such a nice surprise when you called.” She opened the door, inviting him into a two-story marble-floored foyer flanked by dual staircases. Her blue eyes swept over him. “You’ve grown.”

  “Since I was fourteen the last time you saw me, I’d say that was inevitable.”

  “Yes.” She sighed. “You and Junior were roommates at the time. I remember thinking what a good influence you were on him.

  Obviously not good enough, Connor considered as he followed her into a room of silk-draped walls, crystal sconces and crown molding.

  “I was sorry to hear about his accident.”

  “It was a tragedy.” The sun was setting. Outside the French doors, a pair of black swans glided tranquilly on a small, man-made lake. “But life goes on. Could I get you something to drink, Connor, dear? It is the cocktail hour.”

  Feeling as if he’d landed in a third-rate Noel Coward play, Connor said, “That really isn’t necessary. Since I don’t plan to be staying.”

  “I don’t understand.” She stopped in the act of pouring vodka from a Baccarat decanter into a cut crystal glass. “Why would you go to the trouble of driving all the way out here from the city, only to turn around and drive right back again?”

  “I have a proposition to discuss with you.”

  “Oh, I’m afraid you’ve come at a bad time.” Picking up a pair of silver tongs, she lifted an ice cube from a sterling bucket. “James Carter handles all the family business. And he’s out of the country at the moment.”

  “I’m sure you’re capable of passing on a message.”

  She glanced up at him, clearly surprised by the dangerous edge in his tone. “Of course.”

  “I want you to lay off Lily.”

  A blond brow climbed a forehead free of lines. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard what I said. I want you to drop all this custody crap.” With a silent apology to his mother for sinking to vulgarities, he crossed the room and looked down into her frigid face. “And most of all, I want you to leave Lily the hell alone.”

  Wealth had given the older woman a sense of privilege that served her well in times of stress. Without so much as blinking, she lifted her chin and said, “And what, may I ask, is Lily to you?”

  “The woman I intend to marry.”

  That statement hit its mark. Madeline Van Cortlandt’s mouth opened in a silent O of surprise.

  “There’s something you should probably know about me,” Connor continued. “I’m incredibly protective about the people I love.”

  He had to give her credit for the speed with which she recovered. “Are you threatening me?”

  “It’s not a threat. It’s a promise. If you don’t call off your legal eagles right now, I’ll keep you and your husband tied up in legal red tape until the kid is twenty-one and you’ve burned through every last penny of all the Van Cortlandt trust.”

  “There’s not a judge in the land who couldn’t see that Junior’s child belongs here.”

  “Lily’s child belongs with its mother. Your son never wanted his child.”

  “You can’t know that!”

  “I know what Lily’s told me. I also think that running off with his mistress with their passports and half a million dollars in their luggage suggests he wasn’t planning any father’s day picnics any time soon.”

  She blanched beneath her Southampton tan. “How did you know about the money?”

  “Lily told me.”

  “And you believe her? A common farm girl with absolutely no background?”

  “I believe Lily without question,” Connor responded. “But it just so happens that a friend of mine on Wall Street confirmed the unpleasant fact that Junior had gone beyond churning his clients’ accounts to embezzling funds from their portfolios.”

  “That’s a lie!”

  It was the truth. And they both knew it.

  “It’s your choice, Madeline.” Connor was growing bored with the company and the conversation. “Leave Lily alone and you can create whatever rosy myth you want about your deceased son. One more threatening letter, any more intimidating phone calls or even a Christmas card and I will make your life a living hell.”

  “You have no right talking to me that way.” The formerly icy blue eyes flashed. The thin lips trembled with barely restrained temper. “Your parents obviously did not teach you proper behavior toward your elders, Connor.”

  “That may be, Mrs. Van Cortlandt,” he agreed easily. “But they taught me something even more important. Although our roots in this country may not go back to the founding fathers, believe me, lady, if there’s one thing we Mackays do well, it’s protect our own. Lily’s one of us now. And don’t forget it.”

  Satisfied that he’d made his point, he said, “Don’t bother to see me out. I can find my way.”

  As he left the mansion, Connor was whistling.

  * * *

  A WEEK AFTER the breakup, Lily’s two best friends surprised her with a baby shower. The outpouring of affection and support from the women of Bachelor Arms—not to mention the loot for the baby—made her cry.

  After everyone left, she was sitting with Blythe and Cait in her apartment, surrounded by discarded pink and blue wrapping paper. Lily had been planning, all evening, to break the news that she was entering into a partnership with Gage, but the opportunity hadn’t arisen during the festive party.

  Now, before she could say a word, Cait, with her usual knack for not beating around the bush, set the agenda for the evening’s discussion.

  “Don’t you think you’re being awfully hard on him?”

  “Hard on who?” Lily asked with feigned confusion. “Mac? Or Connor the lying-snake-in-the-grass Mackay?”

  “Come on, Lily,” Cait coaxed. “Surely during that year of law school you learned that even rich venture capitalists are innocent until proven guilty.”

  Despite the festive party, and the reason to celebrate her renewed good fortune, Lily was feeling cranky from lack of sleep. If the baby’s increased acrobatics didn’t keep her awake at night, leg cramps and back aches did. Although she’d never admit it, as her due date grew closer, she found herself missing Mac’s—no, Connor’s, she reminded herself firmly—soothing massages.

  She was also not thrilled by the way Blythe and Cait continued to try to defend Connor’s behavior.

  “He lied,” she insisted.

  “Yes, he did,” Blythe agreed calmly. “But his motives weren’t entirely self-serving, Lily.”

  “That’s right,” Cait said with a vigorous nod that sent her fiery waves dancing. “In the beginning, he just didn’t want to upset you by bringing up that failed business deal with Junior. Then it just all got out of hand. He’s really miserable without you, Lily.”

  “It sounds as if you two have been talking with him lately.”

  Lily was not surprised. Disappointed. But not surprised. She also refused to ask where he was living. After she’d refused to open her door to him, he’d left Bachelor Arms. And except for the presents that continued to come every day—gifts she continued to refuse—she hadn’t heard a word from him.

  “I can’t help running into him at the studio,” Blythe said, sounding somewhat defensive.

  “And Sloan and I had dinner with him last night,” Cait allowed.

  “You had dinner with him? You and Sloan?” That was a surprise. “I thought you were my friend!”

  “I am.” Cait pulled out her no-nonsense cop stare. “But this isn’t sixth grade, Lily. Just because you refuse to talk to the guy doesn’t mean I’m being unforgivably disloyal if I do. Besides,” she said, “I happen to like Connor. A lot.”

  Lily’s response was forestalled by a knock on the door. One she’d come to expect. “Here we go
again,” she muttered. She opened the door, barely glancing at the package the delivery man was holding. “You can take this one back, too.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t!” Cait said, jumping up as she recognized the gold box of Belgian chocolates. Flashing the delivery man a bright, dazzling smile, she signed for the candy.

  “Now he’s going to think I’m caving in,” Lily complained.

  “I’ll confess everything tomorrow.” Opening the box, Cait bit into a strawberry truffle, rolled her eyes and said, “The man has delicious taste.” She passed the box to Blythe, who pulled out a piece of white chocolate shaped like a starfish. And to Lily who, unable to resist, reluctantly succumbed to the appeal of a piece of creamy milk chocolate.

  “If I wasn’t already madly in love with Sloan, I’d marry Connor Mackay just for these,” Cait said, licking chocolate off her fingers. “And expensive candy aside, Lily, I’m sticking to my first impression that he’s just the man for you.”

  “I’ve already been married to one rich man,” Lily reminded her. “And look how that turned out.”

  Cait swore. Lily decided she must have picked up the extremely earthy, pungent curse during her days patrolling the streets.

  “Exactly how much money would Connor have to give away?” Blythe asked with her usual commonsense approach to things. “Before you’d be willing to give him a second chance?”

  “It’s a moot point,” Lily muttered, refusing to fall into the trap. “Since we both know he never would.”

  “Perhaps not.” Blythe’s dark eyes moved with overt concern over Lily’s face. From her slight frown, Lily suspected that the extra cover-up beneath her eyes wasn’t exactly camouflaging the deep shadows as well as she’d hoped. “But he’s the same man he was when you fell in love with him, Lily. The same man who fell in love with you.”

  “He didn’t love me. He was just playing a game, using me as some kind of sick distraction.” Even as she heard the words leave her mouth, Lily knew they weren’t true.

  “You paint a very unpleasant picture of wealth,” Blythe commented mildly. “Is that how you see me? As someone who’s been pretending to like you for my own amusement these past eight years?”

  “Of course not!” Lily was stunned Blythe could even consider a thing. “You’re not like other rich people. You’re different.”

  “I’m not like the Van Cortlandts,” Blythe agreed.

  “And neither is Connor,” Cait insisted. “And if you weren’t so busy trying to paint both men with the same brush, you’d see that for yourself.”

  The truth of that accusation hit a little too close to home. “I don’t want to talk about Connor Mackay,” Lily insisted. “Not tonight. Because I have something else to tell you.”

  The argument was put aside when she broke her news. Her two best friends were as happy for her as she’d hoped.

  The conversation remained bright and positive. Toasts were made, jokes told, gossip shared. It was, to all outward appearances, a successful evening.

  But later, after Blythe and Cait had left, Lily went into the room she’d been preparing for her baby, sat down in the used rocking chair she still hadn’t gotten around to refinishing, and wept.

  * * *

  “YOU’RE GOING TO LOVE this one,” the woman Connor had been spending several hours each day with promised. As they left the Pacific Coast Highway at Malibu’s Point Dume, she flashed him a smile as bright as the sunshine on the water.

  “I hope so,” he muttered. A man accustomed to making quick decisions, Connor was growing weary of being dragged all over Los Angeles in search of the perfect house.

  Not wanting to upset Lily so close to delivery, and deciding that it might be a good idea to give her time to cool down, Connor had moved into the suite at the Century Plaza, as he’d originally planned.

  The waiting wasn’t easy. If it hadn’t been for the continued encouragement from Blythe and Cait that Lily would eventually see the light, he would have been camped out on her doorstep.

  Today’s offering was perched atop a spectacular wide sandy beach bluff. The moment he saw it, Connor knew he was home.

  “Despite the size, it’s really quite comfortable,” the realtor assured him as she cut the Mercedes’s engine. “And there are views from every room.” Even from the driveway, the bright peacock blue waters of the ocean provided a spectacular vista.

  Inside, the house was open and inviting, elegant and serene. The realtor’s high heels tapped briskly on the peach-hued terra cotta floor as she displayed the highlights of the spacious home.

  “This is the game room,” she said, opening a pair of double doors onto a room that boasted a green-felted pool table, wet bar, an audio and video entertainment center that took up one wall, a towering stone fireplace and, wonderfully, Connor thought, an enormous train set.

  “Does that come with the place?” he asked, studying the amazingly detailed replica of a Swiss village atop the table.

  “The owner’s offering the home furnished.” The realtor reiterated what she’d already told him in the car on the drive up here. “Everything’s negotiable.”

  Connor pictured a small, miniature version of Lily, sitting on a stool beside him, wearing a striped engineer’s hat atop her blond head as she operated the controls. The image was more than a little appealing. “The train stays.”

  “Fine.” She nodded, obviously realizing that she was about to close what could well be her biggest sale of the month. “It really is quite charming.” She opened a teak case, revealing a command center that looked as if it belonged at Cape Canaveral. “Would you like to try it out?”

  Feeling seven years old again, Connor spent the next five minutes sending the train roaring through alpine tunnels, over bridges, up snowy mountainsides. After reluctantly bringing the engine back to the station, he decided he would have bought the house for this setup alone.

  Continuing the tour, the realtor led him into an adjoining room that was obviously an exercise room. The mirrored walls reflected back a vast array of equipment. The sauna’s in there,” she said with a wave of her hand toward a thick door. “It’s wonderfully cozy.”

  He glanced in at the wood-walled room and imagined making love to Lily on one of the wooden benches. “I like it.”

  The rooms flowed gracefully, from one giant oceanfront sweep to another. Connor walked through the expansive kitchen with its state-of-the-art appliances and granite counters into the adjoining dining room, where he thought about making love to Lily on the table designed to seat eighteen.

  “This is the master suite.” The woman opened a door onto a vast, yet charming combination bedroom, bath and sitting room. Wicker and chintz predominated; Connor knew Lily would love it.

  “As you can see, the French doors open onto the swimming pool,” the realtor pointed out. “Which in turn overlooks the ocean.”

  The only problem Connor could foresee with the suite would be deciding where to make love to Lily first—in the romantic four-poster bed draped with gossamer white netting or in the blue-and-white tiled pool.

  “I’ll take it,” Connor said. “On one condition.”

  “Which is?”

  “I need the large guest room redone.”

  “That certainly shouldn’t be a problem, I’m sure we can find a decorator who would be able to do the job sometime this summer.”

  “That’s not good enough. I need it converted into a dream nursery within the next three days.”

  Her poppy red lips turned down in a frown. “I don’t know if—”

  “I’m willing to pay,” Connor said, with a slight mental apology to Lily. “Whatever it takes.” There were times, and this was one of them, that having some bucks to throw around proved a decided advantage.

  Her smile was bright and professional. “I’m sure we can work out something.”

  * * *

  THE FIRST PAIN came before dawn. Believing it to be yet another occurrence of the false labor that had sent her rushing off to the d
octor the day before, Lily ignored it.

  The twinges continued from time to time during the day, but she was kept too busy to pay them much heed. The phones didn’t stop ringing.

  “Harold says that the pod people have landed in Hollywood and taken over the cast of ‘The Guiding Light,’” she informed Gage when he returned from a stakeout.

  Although he didn’t like doing matrimonial work, the job was for a former client. At this point in his career, Gage couldn’t afford to be choosy. “The full moon always brings out the wackos,” he muttered. Two hours sitting in a car, watching the door of a motel room wasn’t exactly his idea of an ideal way to spend an sunny afternoon.

  “When I told Harold I thought ‘The Guiding Light’ was taped on the east coast, he decided he really meant ‘The Young and The Restless.’” Lily grinned. “I promised to call the director and warn him that he was dealing with aliens.

  “Oh, and Blythe wants to talk to you. She asked if you could call her whenever you came in.”

  He frowned, knowing he was in trouble when just hearing her name could cause a frisson of expectation. “Did she say what she wanted?”

  “No.” Another pain, stronger than any she’d experienced thus far wrenched her back and sent her abdomen into spasms.

  Her ragged gasp captured Gage’s immediate attention. “How long has this been going on?”

  She breathed easier as the pain abated. “Since morning. They started about four, but I didn’t think they were real.”

  Gage remembered his rookie year when he’d delivered a baby in the back of his patrol car on the San Diego freeway at rush hour. “That sure as hell looked real enough to me. Let’s go.”

  “To the hospital?” Although she never would have thought it possible, after having waited for nine long months for this day, Lily was suddenly not eager to progress to the next stage.

  “Unless you intend to have your baby on the floor between phone calls from lunar crackpots.”

  Of all the reasons Lily had come to like Gage, his absolute unflappability was one of the highest on her list. That and the fact that he was a genuinely caring man.

 

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