The Billionaire's Seed_A Secret Baby Romance

by Natasha Spencer

  Ben’s cell made its insistent, intrusive sound that seemed more growl than ring tone. With an apologetic glance across the table, he turned slightly sideways to answer.

  Caroline was just beginning to realize what superb acting skills she had acquired. The man couldn’t even perceive that she was fuming like a hot teakettle, and ready to blow.

  The rest of their honeymoon weekend passed by without incident. Without any kind of incident. In other words, a tad boring. A two-hour jaunt through the Museum of Sixteenth Century Art. Ho-hum. Even Ben, who had suggested the visit, seemed less than interested. Of course, why would he notice priceless paintings in baroque gilt frames, when his boon companion, that pesky little phone, kept him so entertained by contact with the outside world?

  Was he buying and selling cattle futures? Arranging mega-deals and mergers? Changing the shape of the entire world?

  Caroline began to wonder if stomping someone’s cell to death might be considered a punishable offense.

  Lunch at some delightfully expensive restaurant, whose name she could not recall, was a quiet affair. In between courses, while Ben answered occasional calls and made more, Caroline contented herself with staring out the window, memorizing the vintage years detailed on the wine list, and chatting up the waiter. Next time she’d be foresighted enough to bring along a paperback.

  All the while craving a soyburger from some fast-food place. Was that sacrilege, in cow country?

  At least, seated in the darkened theatre for a showing of the most recent action movie, the phone needed to be silenced. She’d forgotten the “Vibrate” feature. Since he had chosen an aisle recliner, Ben was able to slip out to the lobby whenever necessary, leaving Caroline all on her own. To watch some flick in which she had had no interest in seeing, anyway. Another lesson learned.

  Their return to the Ten Buck, cushioned by the limo’s plush surroundings, was made in almost total silence.

  Uncertainly, unhappily, Caroline was afraid this was setting a pattern for the rest of her married life.

  It was a depressing prospect.

  Chapter Ten

  “Hey, Miss Sophie, ma’am, shall we go off on an adventure today?”

  Five days had passed since Caroline’s departure to the big city as a spinster and her return as a spouse. Immediately Ben had taken up his old habits of spending more time with his secretary than with his wife and disappearing on unexplained business trips. If, by some chance, he had sought her out for a little frisky hanky-panky, she wasn’t aware of it. They maintained separate bedrooms, at opposite ends of the sprawling house’s second floor; and, after hours, her door remained locked to any visitor. Meaning her husband.

  Caroline couldn’t help wondering about Diane Taggart, Ben’s late lamented wife. Had his coldness and unresponsiveness begun during that marriage? Or was his distant attitude a result of her death? How long had the two of them been married, and when and how had she died?

  All nagging questions, to which she would appreciate having the answers. Not entirely out of idle curiosity, but because the knowledge might provide some means of dealing with this obstinate, irritating, arrogant man.

  Meanwhile, she was concerned about the appearance of her stepdaughter, and determined to do something about it.

  Far too used to being left in the hands of adults, or to her own devices, especially now that classes had been released for summer, the little girl seemed too quiet, too pale, for an active child almost seven years old. The only time Caroline had seen any typical chatter or giggles from her was in the company of her friend, Becca Sampson.

  To that end, Caroline set out to win her over. Having already made a good start at doing so, on her very first day at the ranch, from here on should be an easy enough task.

  Outdoor play was a must, in the cool of mid-morning. Wearing her rattiest pair of jeans and scuffed sneakers, Sophie hiked quietly along as they explored the ranch on foot. An old service road took them through summer woods, beside a sparkling creek, up gentle knolls and down again.

  Sophie was entranced. Bugs, butterflies, small frogs, even a young snake all caught her attention, and she quickly cast off all inhibitions to race after whichever prize she sought while Caroline laughed at her antics. Being silly was a healthy attribute at that age (actually, at any age) and soon they were singing the old standbys of “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” and “I’m a Little Teapot.”

  No matter how poorly Caroline admitted to carrying a tune.

  After these excursions, several days running, they would return to the house dusty and briar-scratched and leaf-strewn, to clean up and face Mrs. Wyeth’s accusatory glances over lunch. Some quiet afternoon time meant board games or reading or playing together with Barbies, Shopkins, and the like in a magazine-perfect room filled with toys. Then bath and bed, to begin all over again the next morning.

  Today would be an exception to this tentative routine.

  Today they were accompanying Lila Sampson and little Becca to the Children’s Adventure Park outside of Austin.

  “You’ve never been?” Caroline asked.

  “Uh-uh.” The child’s big blue eyes stared intently into hers. “Will there be slides and swings?”

  “Well, from what I saw on the website…” A description of the place followed: all sorts of magical rides, from antique cars to roller coasters to Ferris wheels; a discovery museum; and, the most fun of all, a huge water playground, complete with pools and fountains and sprinklers.

  “So I’ll need a swimsuit?” Some interest had begun to show, and burgeoning excitement.

  “You absolutely will. Me, too. Shall we go get our things packed and ready to go? Becca and Mrs. Sampson are picking us up in half an hour.”

  Now, finally, Caroline could observe, and take delight in, the little-girl behavior of two little girls, belted securely into the back seat of Lila Sampson’s SUV. Giggles and squirms and joking and chatter—so right, and so necessary for children needing the sweet security of their upbringing. If nothing else positive was happening so far in this marriage, at least she was bringing Sophie Taggart out of her shell and into the normal world of juvenile antics.

  Lila, meanwhile, seemed equally pleased.

  “This is a great idea,” she admitted, from behind the wheel and her designer sunglasses. “I can’t imagine why I never thought of it before. Only—what, a couple hours’ ride away?”

  “Not even that, according to info on the website. And at the speed you drive…” Caroline’s happy grin took away any possible sting from the words.

  Lila gave her an eyeroll. “You mean he lets you have access to a computer?”

  “I beg your pardon. Lets?”

  “Well, sure. He likes to keep his women isolated on that godforsaken ranch of his. So you’ve actually been provided with a laptop, and a cable to run it? You can actually go online and check things out?”

  “Lila—” Caroline’s voice had acquired a tinge of coolness, a hint of warning.

  “Oh, honey, don’t get up on your high horse. I’m just tryin’ to prepare you for the real world of Ben Taggart. Wish I’d gotten hold of you before you married the stiff—I could have steered you away before you got in so deep. Marriage. Hah!”

  Biting her lip in consternation, Caroline turned to glance out the side window. From there, and the attached outside mirror, she could see that the girls, involved in whatever play they were sharing in the rear seat—stickers being applied to the blank pages of an activity book, at the moment—were paying absolutely no attention to this adult conversation.

  “Look, Carrie, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” Lila hastened to apologize. “I’m just a blunderin’ old fool, I admit, but I mean well. Hell, I went to elementary and high school with that guy. We had a few dates, and he tried to feel me up.” She chuckled. “Succeeded once or twice, too. So I don’t hate him. I just feel sorry for the women he hooks up with.”

  Stiffly, Caroline murmured that there were extenuating circumstances.


  “Oh, sure, there always are. Get off the road, you moron!” she suddenly diverged to yell at another driver, who couldn’t possibly have heard her. “Honest to God, some of these old fogies oughta be sittin’ in a rockin’ chair on their front porch, instead of causin’ trouble for the rest of us people on the road. I mean, sure, I have no doubt you both had your reasons for gettin’ hitched. But I like you, Carrie, and Ben is a hard man to deal with.”

  “I’m finding that to be—true…” came the reluctant admission.

  “You betcha. Here, this is our turnoff, right? I mean, correct? Left turn?”

  “Yes, left turn. Then another few miles. We should be seeing signs for the entrance soon.”

  “How are you settlin’ in at that great house, Carrie?”

  “Well—getting used to things.” She managed a small mirthless laugh. “Especially Mrs. Wyeth. I’m afraid she and I don’t really see eye to eye on a number of points.”

  Lila’s mouth twisted with understanding. “Oh, hell, no, of course you wouldn’t. That woman is a tyrant from the word go. She worshipped Diane, you see, and she probably resents you like the devil itself for darin’ to come into the place she’s been runnin’ for so long, all on her own, with Diane gone.”

  “Mrs. Wyeth and I will have ourselves a nice little chat one of these days,” said Caroline quietly, almost to herself, as a pledge, “and make arrangements as to how we go forward. But, for now, my main concern is making sure that neglected little girl back there gets the love and attention she needs.”

  “And a wise course that is, honey. I agree 100 %.”

  Suddenly Lila reached across to lay a supportive hand on her passenger’s bare forearm. Even though this was a casual outing, and would no doubt finish up with all four park visitors emerging drenched to the gills, that hand was weighed down by several rings, a watch, and two clunky bracelets. A string of pearls encircled Lila’s tanned throat, and her sundress and sandals subtly announced their designer labels.

  By comparison, Caroline’s longish red hair was pulled back into a pony tail under her NYY ball cap, and she was wearing a faded beige tee and olive green Capri pants. Neither pretentious nor ostentatious, just simple and comfortable.

  Still, despite the outward trappings that she so favored, Lila was a kind woman, and would be, Caroline instinctively felt, a good and loyal friend.

  “Ben’s had some troubles in his life,” Lila told her now, quietly. “And it’s closed him off. I don’t know if he will ever be able to enjoy the normal things, like a wife and a daughter, and—well, something like our trip today. It doesn’t seem to be in him. The business comes first, last, and always, with no time for anything else.”

  Caroline’s heart was sinking just a little at this bleak diagnosis. “Has he always been this way?”

  “Noooo…No. Thinkin’ back, I noticed it more and more after he married Diane. That first year—well,” she shrugged, “it’s always tough for newlyweds, that first year, isn’t it? Adjustin’, and all. But—I dunno…it sure didn’t take long for the bloom to go off the rose.”

  Here at least was someone who might be able to answer Caroline’s nagging questions. “What happened to her? To them?”

  With a sigh, Lila lowered her voice. The girls seemed occupied, but Lord knew they had sharp hearing when they needed to. “Oh, honey, the most beautiful weddin’ you’ve ever seen. Eight attendants, a dress and veil to cry for, hundreds at the ceremony and the reception. A real society event, y’ know? They settled in at the Ten Buck and seemed as happy as clams.”

  “But?”

  Lila tooted the horn at another driver. The more involved she became in a topic of conversation, the less control over her spleen against other lawful occupants of her lane. “Well, as I say, that first year was fine. Then somethin’ happened—I don’t know what. Except that Diane was pregnant, and not happy, and the two of them grew farther and farther apart. Pretty soon, they were barely speakin’.”

  Little Sophie was born, and left to the care of a nanny because neither parent could find time to spend on her. The estrangement worsened. Lila, privy to none of the personal problems involved, feared a divorce was imminent.

  “Ben was out of town—again—when Diane took off one night in her red Ferrari,” Lila finished up softly, soberly. “She was doin’ that a lot, by then, just speedin’ on the country roads. Drinkin’, too, I heard. Only this time she missed a sharp curve.”

  Caroline caught her breath.

  “Uh-huh. Crashed and caught on fire. Not much left of anything, once the local cops tracked her down. I think the ashes that they found were burned right into Ben’s soul. Oh, he had a memorial service, all done up just as nice as you’d expect. And that was it. From then on, what you have is this Ben, all scraped raw down to the bone.”

  Silence ruled for a few minutes, with the only sounds being the smooth hum of tires on concrete, and the murmur of two little girls carrying on their own private talk.

  “Thank you, Lila,” Caroline said finally. “That explains a lot that I hadn’t known. I appreciate your telling me something that is obviously still so painful.”

  “Well, it threw all of us for a loop, believe you me. But I wish you luck, honey. It can’t be easy, marryin’ a widower with all those memories he’s carryin’ around. Becca, Sophie, look!” she suddenly broke off to squeal. “There’s the park! We’re here!”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Daddy, Daddy! You’re home!”

  Sophie, racing ahead down the wide staircase, flew straight into the dining room where breakfast was about to be served. Caroline followed along, more slowly and with less enthusiasm. It would be—a choice of various adjectives came to mind, so she settled for “interesting”—to see Ben present again, after a week of fleeting glimpses and prolonged absence. Conversely, this meant meals presented in a formal manner in this formal setting, under the glaring supervision of a hostile cook / housekeeper.

  All in all, Caroline preferred the simplicity of the kitchen.

  Especially if Mrs. Wyeth were out of it.

  “Hey, Princess, how you doin’?”

  To give the man credit, he did put aside a Wall Street Journal to envelope his daughter in a hearty hug. Ah. No suit today; no customary cord jacket or neat rep tie. Evidently he was planning to stay home for something involving the ranch, since he had dressed in faded Levi’s, boots, and a lightweight chambray shirt. Blue, again. By accident? Or by choice, knowing the dynamite effect in conjunction with those devastating eyes?

  “Morning, Carrie.” Still holding Sophie in one arm, he looked up with a smile. “C’mon in and join us. As you see, I’ve got my trusty crew here already.”

  “I do see. Good morning, Marilou, Tom.” Caroline, in her favorite summer uniform of beige Capri pants and a black tee boasting the logo of some 80’s rock band, felt quite underdressed beside the lush and lovely Marilou. Blue, as well—were boss and worker bee doing a matchy-matchy, for some reason?

  With a mental shrug, Caroline poured a cup of coffee from a silver pot on the sideboard, then took her seat at the foot of the table. It hardly mattered. Since when had she cared about another woman’s wardrobe?

  “And then where did you go?” asked Ben of his daughter, who, seated on his knee, was regaling him with stories of yesterday’s adventure.

  “There was old-fashioned cars on a track, Daddy. And Carrie and me went in one, and she let me drive, and she said I was so terrible that I couldn’t get my license till I’m fifty.” Little hand in front of her mouth, Sophie giggled. “What’s a license, Daddy?”

  “Something legal, sugar, and I’m afraid I might have to agree with her.” Ben raised his brows and sent a crooked grin across the table. Much as she would not admit it, that grin did thaw just a bit of the frost collected around Caroline’s agitated spirit. “Here, why don’t you sit on your own chair and then you can tell me more while you eat?”

  Sophie blossomed under the attention, as, over plates of fluffy omelets
, a bowl of grits, a platter of sliced ham, and English muffins, her father, and even Tom and Marilou, plied her with questions.

  She chattered on, describing the crazy collection of bumper cars (“I didn’t wanna go on those, Daddy, but Becca and her mom did.”) that had everybody at the rails laughing. The fire truck, with hoses attached so that each rider could put out the flames of a burning house with real water. The roller coaster, pulled by a dragon that breathed smoke. The helicopter ride, and the hay wagon ride, and the Ferris wheel all lit up.

  “And what did you have to eat?” Ben asked quite seriously.

  Digging into a mound of jelly, Sophie replied that they’d had hot dogs and French fries. “’Cause Carrie said it wouldn’t hurt me, just that once, to have somethin’ not so healthy. Aren’t hot dogs healthy, Daddy? They sure taste good.”

  Again that considering look sent to the foot of the table. Helplessly blushing, Caroline ignored it to attack her own dish of raisin oatmeal. At last, the semblance of an appetite on her part!

  While Ben’s thoughtful glance might have been critical, Tom’s was definitely approving. “Sounds like you two made a fine day of it,” he smiled. “Wish I coulda gone along.”

  “That’s all right, Tom,” the little girl comforted him with a grown-up air. “We’ll do it again sometime, won’t we, Carrie? And I’ll make sure to invite you, special.” Then, tentatively, she turned toward her father. “Uh—Daddy, would you go with us, too?”

  This grin encompassed his whole handsome face. For once, even his eyes danced with good humor. “Sweetheart, I’d enjoy being there. Depends on my schedule, though. We’ll just have to see, okay? Was there anything besides rides at this place?”

  “Oh, yeah!” Sophie beamed. “A pettin’ zoo, Daddy. With bunnies, and goats, and even a—what was that funny-lookin’ animal that spits, Carrie?”

  “A llama.”

  “Uh-huh. A llama. And then we put on our swimsuits, and we played at the water park. And I went down the big slide!” She closed her eyes in remembered bliss. “It was such fun. Best day ever, Daddy!”