His Billion Dollar Baby

by Lea Nolan

  Seeming to steel herself, Judith mustered a smile and leaned toward her husband, speaking close to his ear. “Sweetheart, this is Gwen Radley. She was a friend of Ben’s. She’ll be staying with us for a while.” Judith gazed up at her expectantly.

  Unfazed, Gwen approached Rocky’s wheelchair. During her residency at George Washington University Medical Center, she’d treated her fair share of stroke victims and seen firsthand how effective therapy could be to rebuild and regenerate neuronal pathways, even among the very worst cases. Why hadn’t Mr. Anderson benefited from similar care? Surely money couldn’t have been the issue, and neither could access to competent doctors.

  The stroke must have been catastrophic. The left side of Rocky’s face hung slack; the right was pulled in a wrenching grimace, but his eyes tracked her every move.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Anderson.” Gwen said, careful to speak to him as an adult, not a baby. It was one of the first things her preceptors taught her when she started her clinical training. Too often people talked to stroke victims like they were children and had lost their capacity to think. While cognitive loss was possible, most often mental faculties remained intact, but trapped inside a paralyzed body. She placed her hand on his. “I’m so sorry for your loss. Ben was a good man. You should be proud of him.”

  A low mournful whimper worked its way up Rocky’s throat, but his gaze conveyed more than any words could. In his pale blue eyes, she saw terrible, soul-crushing despair.

  Gwen nodded, squeezing his withered fingers. “I know. I’ll miss him, too. His jokes, mostly. He told the dirtiest jokes.” She leaned forward and waggled her eyebrows. “Did he ever tell you the one about the farmer, the blonde, and the potatoes?”

  That seemed to strike a chord. Rocky’s eyes sparkled and the side of his mouth shifted slightly upward as he let loose a higher pitched sound than before. His chest quaked softly. He was inside that broken body. And he was laughing. Gwen couldn’t help but giggle with him.

  The nurse stepped toward Judith. “May I take him back to his room now, Mrs. Anderson? It’s nearly time for dinner and I’d like to get him washed up.”

  Gwen couldn’t agree more. It was well past time for dinner. If she didn’t eat soon, she was likely to become nauseous or get a migraine. Maybe even both.

  “Yes, please, Olivia. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Judith leaned down and kissed Rocky on the cheek. “Be good now, you hear? Don’t start in with your own dirty stories. Olivia won’t be amused.”

  Of course, she was teasing. Given the degree of Rocky’s disability, he wouldn’t be saying anything any time soon, but it was nice to see Judith trying to boost his spirits. Rocky glanced up at Judith and, with effort, managed to wink his right eyelid.

  Olivia scoffed as she patted his shoulder. “Don’t listen to her, Mr. Anderson. Dirty jokes are the only ones worth listening to.” Wheeling him backward a few steps, she turned his chair around and pushed him from the room.

  Judith turned toward Gwen. The tension in her face and shoulders was gone. She looked…relieved. “That was simply amazing.”

  “What was?” Gwen wondered if she’d missed something.

  “I haven’t heard my husband laugh in ages. He likes you. A lot.”

  Warmth swelled in Gwen’s chest. “Really? All I did was talk to him.”

  Judith eased onto the gold silk sofa and gestured for Gwen to do the same. “You have no idea how few people do that. And with dignity, no less. In just a few short words you made him feel respected. Like a person. You have no idea how much that means.”

  Although Gwen would rather have been on her way to the kitchen, it was clear Judith wanted to chat. Food could wait another few minutes. Taking a seat, Gwen shrugged. “It’s part of my job. I do it every day.”

  “Well, then you have a gift.” Judith’s gaze turned down toward her lap. “Things have been quite dark since his stroke.” Her voice was a low murmur.

  “I’m so sorry.” Gwen debated whether to put on her physical therapist hat and ask the questions that had been looping through her mind. She didn’t want to pry, but if there was a chance she could help, she couldn’t shy away. Even years after the event, stroke victims could recover some of their faculties so long as they got the proper care. It couldn’t hurt to ask.

  “When did it happen?” Gwen asked.

  “Nearly two years ago. It was a difficult time, made all the worst by his condition. Rocky was once a paragon of a man, a star football player who relied on his body to score touchdowns and provide for his family. There was simply nothing he couldn’t do. Even after he retired and went into business, he used that glorious body of his to sell sporting goods equipment. In many ways, his physicality is who he is, who he envisions himself to be. He simply couldn’t accept that he was crippled. It broke him. Rather than channel that frustration into hard work, he just gave up.”

  That explained a lot. Many patients with chronic conditions fell into a deep depression that robbed them of their will to fight for recovery.

  “Let me guess, he never engaged in his therapy?” Gwen asked. Now that she was here, maybe that would change.

  Judith’s face fell. “Never. I think he was hoping to just slip away. At first he wouldn’t even eat, but I demanded that he at least let us feed him. I couldn’t watch my husband starve to death. But beside that, he’s refused any other interventions. We’ve explained that exercise would help, even a little, but he won’t participate.” She rolled her eyes. “Ben didn’t come by his stubbornness by accident. It was bequeathed by his father.”

  Gwen couldn’t help but chuckle. Given Judith’s insistence that she come live at River View, stubbornness was a family trait. Add to that Gwen’s own bull-headed determination to overcome the obstacles of her past, and it was clear her child would be one strong-minded individual. That was all right. Far better than giving birth to a wishy-washy wallflower.

  A sharp pain embedded itself behind Gwen’s right eye. A millisecond later, sour queasiness rumbled in her gut. Oh no. It was starting. She’d waited too long. Her head started to spin. Pursing her lips, she scanned the room for a bowl of fruit or nuts, anything to pop in her mouth to stall the freight train about to thunder through her brain. But there was nothing. Just a room full of fine furniture. Damn.

  Carter’s voice carried down the hall from the foyer. “Afternoon, Loretta. Is Mother in the great room?”

  Great, from one headache to another. A visit from Carter was the last thing she needed. What was he doing here, anyway? Judith had sworn he rarely ventured out of the east wing. Eyes wide, Gwen stared at Judith as she breathed deep and tried not to vomit on the immaculate carpet.

  “In here,” Judith called, then shot her a reassuring glance. But the silver-haired woman couldn’t possibly understand the nature, or extent of Gwen’s worry.

  A moment later, Carter rounded the corner, dressed in dark blue jeans and a crisp, white buttoned-down shirt. Even through her escalating pain and sickness, Gwen could see the deep creases and ugly expression that had marred his face the last time they’d met were gone. He looked almost cheerful. And devastatingly handsome. Damn him.

  But then he stopped short. Tilting his head, his brows drew together as he stared at her, no doubt puzzling over her presence.

  “Hello, Carter,” Judith said and motioned to a side chair. “Please, have a seat.”

  …

  “What the hell is she doing here?” Carter’s mood suddenly plunged. After a long and taxing week, he’d hoped to squelch his grudge and make amends with his mother, but now all he could see was Gwen, the woman who’d caused so much disruption in the first place. And to make matters worse, he couldn’t help but notice that she’d ditched that great looking dress she’d worn to the funeral in favor of a Work It Gear outfit. The irony was too rich. Though the patented fabric did cling to her curves in exactly the right way.

  Judith crossed her arms, a hint of a smile curling the side of her lips. “Gwen’s ac
cepted my invitation to move into River View after all.”

  The room collapsed on itself, sucking the oxygen from the air and his lungs. He almost couldn’t process what his mother had said. But her words echoed in his mind, ensuring that he could hear them, over and over again. Gwen was moving into River View. Wow, she was good. He’d underestimated her, but clearly she was as skillful a manipulator as Deandra. Maybe even more so.

  Rage boiled in his gut but he worked to contain it. He’d lost his temper once already, he didn’t want to do it again. Breathing deeply, he walked toward his mother, stopping just a few feet from her. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “Carter, I can explain—” Gwen began, her fingers pressed against the side of her head. What was she doing, employing some kind of bizarre mind control trick?

  He threw up his hand, cutting her off. “I thought you didn’t want to impose. I suppose you got over that misgiving. The lure of a fancy home with extravagant furnishings must have been too much to resist.”

  Wincing, Gwen pulled herself to her feet. “You don’t understand.” Gripping her temple, she leaned against the side of the sofa.

  Was her posture supposed to telegraph weakness? Helplessness? Was he supposed to feel sorry for her and race to save her like his mother had? If so, she could forget it. Having seen the fire in her eyes a few days earlier, he’d already noted her strength and resilience. He couldn’t be duped.

  Color literally drained from Gwen’s face. Her pink tint leeched away, leaving only a pale green-gray cast. What was wrong with her?

  “Are you quite all right, dear?” Judith asked.

  “Um, I’m fine,” Gwen murmured as she lifted a trembling hand to her forehead. “Just hungry. And probably dehydrated.” Her breaths came in short, quick pants. “I haven’t eaten since this morning.”

  “Goodness, why didn’t you say anything?” Judith’s face filled with alarm. “Loretta!” she called. “We need some food—a piece of bread, some crackers, anything—quick!”

  Gwen’s lids fluttered and her grip slipped from the side of the sofa. Her small frame swayed, just steps from the glass-topped coffee table. If she fainted, she was liable to crash through it.

  Then, her knees gave way, lolling her body backward.

  “Carter!” Judith cried. “Help her!”

  His pulse surged. Springing toward Gwen, he crossed the distance in two long strides, then scooped her up and away from the table. She collapsed in his arms. His breath caught, and he was surprised by the depth of his concern for her wellbeing. And for how good she felt in his arms.

  “Gwen?” he asked, his voice tight with panic. “Are you all right?”

  Chapter Seven

  Gwen heard her name called several times, but the sound was muted, as if she was listening to something underwater. She even felt like she was floating, suspended by something other than her own two feet.

  Then suddenly, everything snapped into focus. Carter Anderson loomed over her, staring into her eyes and repeating her name. His deep blue gaze was filled with concern. She blinked to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating. He was still there. And worse, she wasn’t standing at all. She lay prone in his arms, his fingers splayed through her hair, supporting her neck.

  She shook her head, dragging herself back to the present. “W-what happened?” Her voice was weak and her body jittery. A throbbing pain pulsed behind her eye.

  To her shock, he smiled. “I think you fainted.” God, he was beautiful. Almost too beautiful to be real. Too bad he was such an ass. He laid her on the sofa. “You said something about not eating. Mother’s gone to get Loretta and some food. You should be okay soon.” He took a seat in an adjacent armchair.

  It all rushed back. The headache, nausea, and her gut wrenching-panic that she was about to throw up all over Judith’s exquisite rug. By some miracle, rather than destroying the carpet, she had fainted instead. And woken up in Carter’s embrace.

  Her cheeks burned and she wished she could evaporate into nothingness. How mortifying. Bad enough Judith saw it, but did it have to happen in front Carter, her new mortal enemy? How could she possibly overcome this? He probably thought she was a total nutcase.

  Judith entered the great room. “Oh! Thank goodness you’re all right. Loretta, she’s awake.”

  Loretta followed close on Judith’s heels, carrying a tray with fruit salad, a sandwich, some juice, and a pitcher of water. “Here you go, Ms. Gwen.” She placed the platter on the coffee table and handed her the juice. “Drink up.”

  “Thanks.” Gwen took the glass with trembling hands and lifted it to her lips.

  “I’ll go see what else I can find for you in the pantry. I’m sure there’s a box of saltines in there somewhere,” Loretta said and headed out of the room.

  “Thank you, Loretta.” Judith sat down on the sofa opposite Gwen. “What were you thinking by not eating? Don’t you realize you’re pregnant?”

  As Gwen gulped her juice in one long swig, Carter answered for her. “I’m sure she’s aware of her condition, Mother.”

  “That may be so, but you simply can’t ignore the body’s need for fuel,” Judith answered without so much as a glance in his direction. “Perhaps we ought to call an ambulance to have you checked out. Just to be on the safe side.”

  Gwen swallowed the last gulp from her glass and set it down with a still-quaking hand. Only then did her taste buds register its sweet grape flavor. The sugar was exactly what she needed to replenish her energy. After clearing her throat she said, “No ambulances. I’ll be fine. Really. And don’t worry, I know how important it is to eat. Normally, I’d never let it go this far, but I’ve been so stressed lately, it just sort of got away from me.”

  Carter grasped the sandwich from the tray and handed it to her. “Here. That juice isn’t enough.”

  Why was he being so nice? He could have walked away, gone back to his wing and left her to wallow in her soul-crushing mortification.

  “Thank you.” She accepted it and took a bite. It was hard to stay mad when he was being so kind. From the looks of that coffee table, she’d be nursing a nasty bump if he hadn’t grabbed hold of her. But still, she couldn’t pretend that he hadn’t caused some of this. True, she shouldn’t have skipped a meal or two, but his anger and cutting comments after the funeral had tipped the scales on her stress meter.

  Judith seemed to read Gwen’s mind. “Carter, I realize you think you’re trying to help, but I must insist that you cease this animosity and aggression. It is not good for the baby.” She told him about the fire and Gwen’s homelessness, and explained that bringing her to River View wasn’t about enriching the soon-to-be mother, but providing for the Anderson’s future grandchild.

  Carter stiffened and leaned back, ever so slightly from her on the sofa. “I’m sorry you lost your home. It must have been a very frightening experience.” His gaze was softer than before, but still held an edge of skepticism. He turned to his mother. “I understand your impulse in inviting her here, but her sad circumstances don’t reduce my concerns. I’m only thinking about our family. I wish you could see that.”

  From the look in his eyes, Gwen could see it was the truth. His expression was sincere. For the first time she could see the reason for his rudeness. It didn’t matter that she had gotten pregnant out of wedlock, or that she’d had a fleeting—or non-existent—relationship with Ben. Carter’s primary concern was that she was pulling a scam on the Anderson family. As much as she hated to admit it, Carter’s defense of his loved ones was admirable. He had integrity. She’d just have to find a way to convince him she was trustworthy.

  Gwen sat up a bit on the couch and edged toward him. “I would never hurt your family. Or take advantage of them.”

  His deep blue eyes were filled with reservation as they searched hers. “I wish I could believe that. But we’ve only just met. Before this week, we had never even heard of you. And now we’re supposed to believe you’re pregnant with an Anderson heir? If it’s true, it’s a
n amazing gift, but in my experience, such things are almost always too good to be true.”

  He had a point, but that didn’t make him right. “I may be a lot of things, but I am not a liar.” She’d proven that more times than she could count, even when it caused more harm than good. Her honesty had cost her more than one foster home, and landed her in permanent residence at the D.C. Home for Girls, the last resort for the District’s unplaceable girls. But she never regretted sticking to the truth after her first foster father was arrested for his inappropriate hugs and kisses. Or when she was falsely accused of stealing from her second foster parents’ wallets and liquor cabinets. The real thief, her older and wilder foster sister, had pressured Gwen to take the rap, since her punishment would likely be less severe. But Gwen couldn’t admit to something she hadn’t done, and certainly wasn’t going to rehab and counseling she didn’t need. Furious, her foster parents branded her a pathological liar and kicked her out. But at least she had the truth on her side.

  He shrugged. “That remains to be seen, doesn’t it?” He reached for the bowl of fruit salad and offered it to her, his arm stiff and oddly formal. “Have some fruit. It’s good for you.” Despite the cold reality of his words, the gesture was moderately attentive.

  Reluctantly, she grabbed a strawberry and a few grapes. The combined effect of the juice, sandwich, and now the fruit was beginning to take effect, quelling the nausea. Her head stopped pounding and the jitters calmed.

  Judith smiled at Carter. “Time will sort out all these issues, though I’m certain your concerns will prove to be moot. Until then, Gwen will live here.” Judith turned toward her son. “You may not believe it, Carter, but I understand your concerns. I just don’t agree with them.”

  He shook his head. “I simply don’t understand, Mother. You’ve never dropped your guard so easily.”

  Judith’s eyes turned glassy. “Nothing is as it used to be. Your father is sick, you’re always at work, and now Ben will never return. Aside from Loretta, I’m by myself for most of the day. I’ve still got my charity work, but without your father at my side, it’s not nearly as meaningful.”