A Bachelor and a Baby

by Marie Ferrarella

  He didn’t care for her tone. “I haven’t exactly kept you chained in the basement.”

  She sighed. She didn’t want to lose her temper. He’d been good to her. More than good. But this was just something she needed to do. The fund-raiser had only reminded her.

  “You haven’t kept me chained at all. You’ve been wonderful.” She went back to preparing the meal. “But I told you, I can’t let myself get used to this.”

  He took the knife out of her hand and held her arms still. “Why?” He searched her face for an answer. “Why can’t you let yourself get used to it?”

  “Because this is your house.”

  “It could be yours, too.”

  A soft smile curved her lips as she shook her head, denying his assertion. “I don’t think squatters’ rights apply to mansions, Rick.”

  At times, she could be the most exasperating woman. “I’m not talking about squatters’ rights. I’m talking about spouse’s rights.” He saw her eyes grow huge and moved in for the kill. “Marry me, Joanna.”

  It took effort not to let her jaw drop. “Just like that?”

  “No, not just like that. We’ll need a license, blood tests, a priest—”

  She pulled her arms away from him and moved back. “Stop kidding around.”

  “I’m not kidding around. I’m serious.” He turned her around again to look at him, then took her hands in his, half imploring, half trying to keep the edge out of his voice. “Marry me, Joanna. You, me, Rachel, Mrs. Rutledge, we’ll be a family.”

  She wasn’t buying it, wouldn’t allow herself to buy it, not for one moment. He was trying to make up for what she’d endured. “I won’t have your pity.”

  It wasn’t easy hanging onto his temper. “There’s nothing about pity in the marriage vows. They’ve even taken out the word obey.”

  Why was he making this so hard for her? Didn’t he understand? What they had was wonderful, but it couldn’t be permanent.

  “Rick, your parents were right. I hated them for it, but they were right,” she insisted, her voice nearly breaking. She refused to allow herself to cry. “I’m just a teacher, an out-of-work one at that until the fall. You’re a jet-setting multi-millionaire.” He was still being dense, she could see it by the look on his face. “I’m a mutt, you’re a pedigree. People are going to keep reminding you of that.”

  Was that it? Was she afraid of what people like the ones at the fund-raiser would say? To hell with that. To hell with all of them. Didn’t she know that?

  “The kind of people who’d remind me of that are the kind of people I don’t want to associate with,” he insisted. As she tried to pull away, he held her wrists fast. “And as for ‘pedigree,’ I don’t want to try to create thoroughbreds or show dogs, Joanna, I want to create a marriage. I thought you did, too.”

  This was breaking her heart. He had to see that, she thought.

  “I’m not in your league,” she insisted, knowing that eventually, the matter would come up. She needed to say it before he did. Before he resented her for all the things she wasn’t.

  “What ‘league’?” he cried, his temper dangerously close to erupting. “We’re not playing baseball here. I’m trying to forge a good life for myself. And you’re part of that life. I lost you once because I was too stubborn to block out my pride and come after you. I’m sure as hell not about to let your pride keep us apart.”

  Joanna sighed. “Then maybe I’d better leave now so that you can see this clearly—”

  “Damn it, Joanna, you’re the one not seeing things clearly. You’re the prejudiced one, not the insufferable, egotistical people you think will stand and wag their fingers in my face for having the good sense to fall in love with someone who’s—”

  He stopped abruptly when he saw the look on Joanna’s face. She was looking toward the doorway. “We’re not alone.”

  He swung around to see Mrs. Rutledge standing there. Her expression was unreadable. “Mr. Rick, there’s someone to see you.”

  He wasn’t in the mood for anyone. “Mrs. Rutledge, I’m in the middle of a hell of an argument right now.” He waved dismissively, turning away from the housekeeper. “Tell whoever it is to come to the office on Monday.”

  “I don’t plan to come to the office anymore, unless I’m invited, of course.”

  The familiar voice had Rick pulling up short. Stunned, he turned around again and saw that, as incredible as it was, he was right.

  His father was standing directly behind Mrs. Rutledge in the doorway.

  Eleven

  Rick moved forward, putting himself between his father and Joanna.

  He seemed oblivious to the protective gesture, but it wasn’t lost on Joanna.

  “Is this about the potential wildcat strike? Because if it is, that’s over.”

  “Yes, I hear you handled that quite nicely. No, this isn’t about the wildcat strike. I’m not here to look over your shoulder anymore.”

  “What are you doing here, Dad?”

  Tall, gray-haired and just gaunt enough to be still referred to as suave, Howard Masters gave his surroundings a short once-over before answering. “Well, unless I miss my guess, until a short while ago, I used to live here.”

  Apparently her timing was excellent, Joanna thought. She’d started looking for a place to rent just in time. “Are you moving back?”

  Rick’s father turned his gray-blue eyes in her direction. It was impossible to know what he was thinking, but the look in his eyes appeared kindly. “Would that be an inconvenience?”

  “Not at all, sir.” To make her point, Joanna picked up the newspaper from the table and folded the page she wanted, slipping it into the pocket of the apron as she looked at Rick.

  There was a ghost of a smile on his father’s lips. “Hire a new cook, Richard?”

  Damn it, the old man knew what Joanna looked like. He took instant offense for her. “No, Dad,” Rick said tersely, “this is—”

  But Howard cut in deftly, his lips curving into a full-fledged smile as he looked at her. He inclined his head in a silent show of respect.

  “Joanna Prescott, yes, I know. I was only teasing, son. I haven’t had much practice at it, so I imagine it didn’t come across that way. Perhaps my field is more in the area of deadpanning,” he proposed, then gave a small half shrug. “At least, that’s what Dorothy says.” He looked from one to the other. “From the sound of it, I was interrupting something.”

  Joanna got back to her work. “Nothing that won’t keep, Mr. Masters.”

  “Call me Howard. I’ve decided to become less formal in my remaining years.” The announcement was met with stunned silence.

  Obviously unmindful that he appeared completely out of his element, Howard wandered over to the large pot simmering on the stove. Three sets of eyes watched him with more than a little wonder.

  Lifting a lid, he inhaled deeply. “Am I correct in assuming that you’re making dinner?”

  Was he toying with her for some reason? Should she be bracing herself for some kind of mind-blowing confrontation? “Yes.”

  He carefully replaced the lid before turning toward her. “May I stay?”

  She was just thankful there were no gusts of wind traveling through the house, otherwise she was certain she would have been blown flat on her face. It took her a second to recover. “As you pointed out, Mr. Masters, it’s your house.”

  It wasn’t the answer he was after. “May I stay?” he repeated, waiting. His tone gave every indication that the question was genuine and not meant to bait her.

  Joanna exchanged looks with Rick. He didn’t appear to know what was going on any more than she did. “Yes, of course.”

  Enough was enough. If his father was playing some elaborate game to embarrass Joanna, it wasn’t going to happen, not while he was here to stop him. “Dad, what’s going on?”

  Rather than take offense at the sharply voiced question, Howard looked at his only son affably. “Part of my new lease on life, Richard. I’m
not taking anything for granted anymore.” He looked at Joanna. “Do I have time to freshen up?”

  He certainly looked like the man who’d tried to buy her off eight years ago, but he definitely didn’t sound like him. “Dinner won’t be ready for an hour.”

  Howard nodded, pleased. “Splendid. I’ll see you in the dining room then.” As he walked out of the kitchen and past Mrs. Rutledge, he gave her a nod of approval. “You’re looking very good these days, Nadine.”

  “Thank you, sir.” The words dribbled from her lips. Mrs. Rutledge’s eyes shifted to Rick, silently questioning him. But he merely lifted his shoulders in a confused shrug.

  “Positively eerie,” Mrs. Rutledge murmured to herself after the senior Masters left the room. In all the years she had worked for the man, this was the first personal comment, much less compliment, that he had ever given her. Giving her head a quick shake to clear it, she turned to Joanna. “So, tell me, how may I help?”

  It seemed odd to have a woman so capable in the kitchen willingly take a back seat and assume the role of assistant. But she had no time to waste arguing about who belonged at the helm here. Joanna glanced toward the end of the counter. “The potatoes need peeling.”

  Mrs. Rutledge went to wash her hands. “Consider them peeled.”

  “And what about me?” Rick asked. There was an edge in his voice. He still wasn’t entirely convinced that his father was here purely for altruistic reasons, that he wasn’t here to somehow sabotage his life, the way he had eight years ago. “What role did you have planned for me in all this?”

  The comment about too many cooks spoiling the broth played across her mind. She went to find a colander. “You can play the part of the hungry but patient lord of the manor.”

  He knew how to read between the lines. “Which means get out of your way.”

  Joanna looked at him over her shoulder, grinning for the first time since he’d walked into the house. “Exactly.”

  She was using this as a respite from what they’d been talking about. She knew that he wasn’t about to try to argue with her while Mrs. Rutledge was in the room and his father could walk in on them at any time. This was a private matter just between the two of them. Okay, he’d table it for now. He might be wounded, but he was by no means defeated. His mistake eight years ago was in not pushing. A man learned from his mistakes.

  He leaned over her and whispered in her ear, “To be continued.”

  “I never doubted it,” she murmured under her breath as he walked out. Putting the matter out of her mind for the time being, she looked over toward Mrs. Rutledge. “Thank you.”

  Long, spiral peels piled up beside the cutting board as Mrs. Rutledge made short work of the potatoes before her. She raised only her eyes as she continued peeling. “For what, dear?”

  She knew that the woman was on top of everything, had heard everything. “For not asking questions.”

  “Not my place, dear,” Mrs. Rutledge responded blithely.

  But that was what it was about exactly, Joanna thought. Place. And hers was not beside Rick.

  Howard Masters entered the dining room and took his place at the head of the table just as Joanna put down the last of the covered dishes on the table. He noted that there were only two places set.

  He looked at her. “You’re not joining us?”

  Joanna avoided Rick’s eyes. He’d asked her the same question less than a minute earlier. She’d just assumed that his father wouldn’t want her at the table and after turning Rick’s proposal down, she was in no mood to be placed in a position where she might be belittled.

  She took a step toward the doorway. “Well, no. I thought that you two would want to eat alone.”

  “No, please,” Howard countered, “join us.” He looked at his housekeeper who had brought in the main course, chicken parmesan. “Mrs. Rutledge, please bring another place setting for the young lady.” Before Joanna could protest, Howard pulled out the chair to his left, directly opposite his son. “Please,” he coaxed Joanna, “sit.”

  She had no choice but to do as he asked, allowing him to push in her chair for her.

  Taking his own seat, Howard smiled at her. “I see that you’ve brought the settings closer together.” He nodded his approval. “Much better.” He turned toward Rick. “Your mother and I always wound up shouting whenever we ate in here.” Raising his wineglass to his lips, he took a long sip before setting it down. “Of course, that seemed to be the natural order of things. I suspect we would have wound up shouting even sitting as closely as this.” He turned his attention to the dishes before him, helping himself to a sizable serving of everything on the table. “Everything looks very good, Joanna. I had no idea you were so capable.”

  This was a father Rick hardly recognized. He had half expected, after the confrontation they’d had over the telephone regarding the deception, that his father would reconnoiter and take the offensive again. This was completely unfamiliar territory for him. The heart attack really had changed him for the better.

  Rick made an effort to clear things up and get back on stable footing. “You said something when you arrived about not going to the office anymore?”

  “Yes.” Howard paused to savor a piece of the chicken and then nodded his approval. “I’ve decided to retire. Officially. All my life, I believed that a man was defined by his family, his work. That ultimately meant having no identity of his own. No life of his own. At sixty-seven, I’ve decided it’s high time I had one.”

  An identity, huh? Rick wasn’t sure if he was buying into this new, improved model his father was purporting to be. “And just who are you, Dad?”

  Howard’s smile was stately, regal. Howard could see that his son didn’t believe him. That was all right, there were times when he was surprised himself at this turn of events. Surprised and grateful for a second chance.

  “I’m just discovering that, Richard. And the process, they tell me, is half the fun.” He looked at Joanna. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Joanna felt as if she was shell-shocked. “Is that what you’d like me to do? Agree?”

  “My dear young woman, I want you to do anything you want to. Really.” He knew that wasn’t enough, that they weren’t going to believe him, either of them, until he showed them how sincere he was. Laying down his knife and fork, Howard took a breath, bracing himself. “I suppose this has to be gotten out of the way before anything can move forward.” He shifted slightly in his seat, looking at Joanna. “I apologize, Miss Prescott. I did you a great disservice eight years ago.

  “I could, of course, blame it on Richard’s mother. That would be the easy way out. Richard can testify that she was a very strong-willed, opinionated woman and she is gone, so she wouldn’t be able to contradict anything I said.” His smile was philosophical. “However, since I did not have my spine surgically removed, that isn’t really an excuse. No one can make you do anything, and the truth is, at the time I thought that a marriage between the two of you would be a great mistake.”

  He saw that his son was about to interrupt. Holding his hand up, he quickly continued. “You must understand,” he addressed his words to Joanna, “I come from a long line of blue bloods and snobs. We like to fancy ourselves a cut above everyone because, three hundred years ago, our ancestors had the good fortune to be sent to this country, crammed on a ship that was barely seaworthy. Never mind that they were most likely thieves and undesirables, the only creatures who came to the new world with a fair amount of regularity. They were forefathers and that was all that counted. Over the centuries, they were all whitewashed and elevated to a level just a little above saints and a half breath below God.

  “What I am trying to say, in a very roundabout way, is that there was no excuse for doing what I did. Whatever my opinion regarding a proper spouse for my son,” his smile was ironic, “lying, intimidating and forging should not have entered into it.” He took Joanna’s hand in his, strengthening his appeal. “I am truly sorry for what I did and can only hop
e that you will find it in your heart to someday forgive an old man his foolishness.”

  It took Joanna a moment to recover. The man had caught her completely off guard. And, as always, when confronted with an apology, any ill feelings she might have felt quickly disappeared.

  Besides, she had already seen his side of it. Had made it known to Rick that she understood. “You were only doing what you thought was best for Rick.”

  Howard looked at his son. “I see what you see in her. Aside from beauty, she possesses compassion, a very rare quality indeed. It only makes me regret my actions more.”

  Joanna had never been the kind of person who enjoyed turning the knife in someone’s heart. “There’s no sense in harboring regrets about the past, you can’t do anything about it.”

  “Other than learn from it,” Howard agreed. “And I have. Life is too precious to waste dragging your feet or putting off anything that needs doing.” He gazed at his son pointedly. “That’s why I came here. To make my apology to you in person and to tell you that I am bowing out of the picture.”

  Howard raised his wineglass in a toast. “Masters Enterprises is all yours, Richard. Other than my stock options and the annual shareholder’s vote, I am divorcing myself from the company entirely. Putting myself out to pasture, so to speak.”

  His father had alluded to this during their last call, but Rick had been certain it was just a passing thought, soon to be glossed over and forgotten. “I don’t know what to say.”

  Howard placed his glass on the table. “Good luck comes to mind.”

  “Of course.” Try as he might, despite the last few months, Rick couldn’t see his father in the role of a man on a permanent holiday. He’d always felt that his father needed to work. “But aren’t you being too hasty? The company was always your life.”

  “And isn’t that a sad thing?” Howard eyed his glass, shaking his head. “Dorothy taught me that,” he confided to Joanna. “The legacy we leave behind is not a building, but deeds, people we’ve touched as we pass through life. People who are better off because we’ve passed their way.” His sadness melted into a smile as he reacted to her expression. “Ah, you’re beaming. You agree with me.”