She was still sitting there, staring at the unadorned windows, when he returned. “Here.” He closed her cold hands around the thick, white mug as he sat down on the coffee table in front of her. “Drink. It’s coffee and probably too strong.”
She lifted the mug. Took a ginger sip and winced. “Really strong.”
“It’s been sitting on the burner a while,” he admitted. Ignored just as much as his Scotch had been. “Now, talk.”
She drew in a deep, shuddering breath. “My father had an affair with Grace O’Connell. Sara Beth’s mother. About twenty-nine years ago. Supposedly it ended almost as quickly as it began.” She twisted the mug back and forth between her fingers. “He, um, he worked with her. She was the head nurse at the institute for years.”
“How’d you find out about this now?”
“Sara Beth told me.” Her jaw flexed. “Turns out that she’s my sister and I accused her of lying to me.”
“Obviously, she wasn’t.”
She shook her head. Looked upward and blinked hard. “I went to my parents. I didn’t even need to see the guilt on my father’s face. All I had to see was the iciness on my mother’s.” She looked at Rourke and the pain in her eyes made him ache. “Oh, God, I don’t want to be like her.”
He took the mug from her hands and set it aside. “Your mother isn’t all bad.” He closed his hands around hers, rubbing heat into them. “She raised you.”
“Right. She raised Derek, too, and look how well that turned out.”
His thumbs moved in circles against her wrists. He couldn’t think about Derek. Not without thinking about his own secrets. “And Paul,” he reminded her. “And Olivia.”
“And she ostracized Sara Beth, who didn’t do anything to deserve it. I don’t know who to blame. My mother for driving him to another woman, or my father, for being so—” She shook her head. “I can’t even come up with a word for it.”
“Imperfect?” Rourke kept his voice mild. “Honey, don’t forget that this all happened before you were born. What bothers you more? The fact that your best friend is not just a sister of your heart? Or the fact that she’s proof that your father is more human than saint?”
“I don’t know.” She folded forward, pressing her forehead to her wrists.
His hands moved from hers to cradle her head, his fingers tunneling gently through her hair, loosening it from the band that wasn’t doing a very good job. “It was a long time ago. And it has nothing to do with the way he was a father to you.”
“And not a father to Sara Beth at all,” she mumbled. “The only thing he did was ensure that when she retired, Grace was financially set.”
“Did she want more than that?”
“She refused to take any sort of support from him. But he should have done better.” She looked up. “Why don’t you ever talk about your father?”
“The only thing that made Jack Devlin my father was his DNA.” Rourke sat back. His voice was even. Entirely devoid of emotion. “He was a bastard and when he decided he wasn’t interested in being a husband or a father, he locked us out of our own home and that was that. There’s no point in talking about someone who, as far as I’m concerned, doesn’t even exist.”
“And your sisters?”
“Feel the same way.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Be sorry for my mother. She’s the one who had to fight just to keep us all together.”
“She did a tremendous job. Look at you.” She didn’t have to gesture to their palatial surroundings to make her point. It was evident in the man he was.
While she sat there, having denied her best friend and hiding the fact from her husband that she was very likely pregnant.
Maybe she was worse than her mother.
She stared at Rourke, the words that would probably have him routing out the manager of the nearest baby store to open it up for him, even if it was the middle of the night, jamming in her throat.
“Hey.” He ran his thumb down her cheek. “It will work out.”
That was what everyone seemed to keep saying. But he didn’t know what she suspected.
“You’ve been friends with Sara Beth a lot longer than you’ve known she’s your half sister,” he went on. “You’ll get past the shock. You’ll talk. If the fights my own sisters have are any indication, you’ll end up closer than ever when the dust is settled.”
Her nose prickled. Her eyes burned. This man who’d manipulated her into marriage was way too good for her. “I’m…I mean I think I—” Her voice strangled to a halt.
“I think you just need a break.” He pulled her to her feet, and she was too numb to resist. “Stay here for a few days if you need to. You’ll have plenty of peace and quiet since I’ll be leaving in the morning. You’ll let the shock settle and you’ll head back into it with everything you’ve got, just like you always do.”
She looked up at him.
He was the same man whose intensity had been as captivating as it had been terrifying.
“Make love to me,” she whispered.
His sharp gaze went even sharper and afraid that he’d see too much and what he’d see would be found wanting, she pressed herself against him. Slid her hands up into the thick, slippery black silk of his hair. “Right here.” She brushed her lips over his earlobe. When the heels of her boots hit the floor again, she caught the way his lashes had lowered. The way his jaw was flexed. “Right now.”
His hands closed around her waist. Slid up her spine. Down again. “Is this my sweater?”
“Yes.”
A faint, low sound seemed to rumble around his chest.
And then his mouth was on hers and the taste of him filled her senses.
She was reeling when he finally lifted his head. His fingers twisted through hers and he led her through the penthouse until they reached his bedroom. And there, he undressed her slowly. Carefully. As if she were a precious package to be unwrapped.
And then when he was as bare as she, when there was nothing between them but her secret and he pressed her back onto the bed and his lips found hers again while his hands began playing her like a delicate instrument, she knew that whatever the future held, when it came to Rourke and her heart, she was utterly lost.
Chapter Thirteen
“Do you remember the first time we danced?”
“How could I forget the Founder’s Ball?” Lisa kept a pleasant smile on her face in honor of the photographer who stood to one side of the dance floor, capturing Rourke’s image for posterity.
They were the first of the couples ceremoniously circling the dance floor in the Grand Ballroom of the Waldorf Astoria. Dinner had been served, speeches delivered, and Rourke— disarmingly deprecating over the honor—had received his philanthropic award.
The crystal globe signifying his worldwide efforts was now waiting at their empty table.
“It was the only time we danced,” she reminded him.
Until now. And eight weeks of marriage to the man didn’t make him any less disturbing to her senses.
If anything, he was more so, now that she knew for certain she was carrying his child.
While he’d been in London and she’d been essentially hiding out in his penthouse, she’d finally taken a home pregnancy test. Twice.
There was no question that she was pregnant.
“You looked very beautiful that night.” His voice drew her thoughts out of darkness, the way it always seemed to. “As I recall, not thrilled that I’d crashed the party, though.”
“And you were very objectionable that night.” She managed a dulcet smile. “As I recall.”
His lips twitched. His hand drifted dangerously low over the back of her black column dress. “Verbal sparring with you is almost as much fun as—”
“Don’t even say it,” she warned. “Not when your mother is dancing three yards away from us with Griffin Harper.” Grif’s wife, Nora, was sitting at one of the round crystal-laden banquet tables chatting with Rourke’s sisters.
“As beautiful as you were that night—” he pressed his mouth close to her ear “—you’re even more so tonight. But I can’t wait to get you out this dress.”
Anticipation dripped through her, measured equally by anxiety. That was what happened when you were afraid to tell your husband that his heart’s desire had come true.
Her fingers trembled as they grazed over the fine black wool covering his shoulder. “We can’t leave yet. You, um, you should dance with Nina and your sisters.”
“That’s nowhere near as much fun.”
An unexpected smile hit her lips. “I hope not.”
But almost as if he’d heard them, Griffin danced next to them. “Shall we change partners?”
Rourke gave her a look that had her nerve endings dancing as he handed her off to the older man, and took his mother sedately across the dance floor.
“I think we could power the city for a few nights on the energy you two give off,” Griffin commented. “It’s obvious you’re very happy together.”
Lisa just smiled, not quite knowing how to respond to that. “This is quite an event you put on here.”
“In this world, it seems we have to shell out money to bring even more in.” He smiled ruefully. “Nora considers this quite a dog and pony show. Hates it more every year.”
Lisa glanced toward his wife. “How is she feeling?”
His smile dimmed a little. “As well as we can expect. Fortunately, she still has more good days than bad.”
Lisa could hardly bear it that this man was so in love with his wife, but was going to lose her in the end. “I’m glad to have this opportunity to see you both again.”
Griffin chuckled. “Oh, my dear, as time passes, you’ll probably get heartily tired of us popping in and out of your and Rourke’s lives.”
Her throat went tight. Her time in Rourke’s life as his wife would be up all too soon.
She forced a smile and shook her head. “Nobody could get tired of either one of you.”
Fortunately, the orchestra was concluding their song, and taking advantage of the break, Lisa excused herself, taking a quick break to the ladies’ room where she managed, by dint of a little blush and gloss, to look much livelier than she felt. She adjusted one of the tiny, sparkling pins that held her mass of waves away from her face and brushed her hands down the front of her dress. Aside from the bodice fitting more snugly across her bust, there was no visible evidence of the changes going on inside her.
But she wasn’t so confident that would be true once Rourke had her wearing nothing at all.
She returned to the ballroom where the orchestra was in full swing again, and Rourke was on the dance floor with Tricia. His sisters and their spouses were dancing, too, and she returned to her seat at their empty table.
She traced the golden imprint of Rourke’s name on the base of the globe-shaped award.
Who was this man she’d married?
Generous philanthropist.
Powerful, corporate Midas.
Father of the baby growing inside her.
Man whom she’d impossibly fallen for.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Devlin?”
She looked up to see a young, petite blonde standing next to the table. “Yes?”
The girl smiled, looking vaguely familiar, and held out her hand. “I’m Victoria Welsh. I’m, well, I’m—”
“Ramona’s sister,” Lisa inserted. Of course, the resemblance was to her brother’s fiancée. She was ridiculously grateful to have something else to focus on and she clasped the other woman’s hand.
Victoria smiled faintly. “Yes. I’m afraid that fact still seems strange to me, even after all these months.”
Lisa could well imagine. Victoria had been conceived using donor eggs through the institute. Ramona had been desperate to find a donor for her gravely ill mother, and it had forced her to use extraordinary tactics to find one when she’d learned her mother had once donated eggs to the institute. “I know how grateful Ramona is to you. And her mother, too.” Not only had Ramona found Victoria, but she’d fallen in love with Paul. And Lisa knew her brother had never been happier.
Victoria waved a slender hand. “I’m just glad I was a suitable donor match for Katherine,” she dismissed. “Finding a family I didn’t even know I had is…quite remarkable. But I don’t want to intrude on your evening. I just wanted to say hello. I know you’re going to be Ramona’s sister-in-law once she and Paul get married.”
“Christmas Eve. You’ll be there, won’t you?” She knew that Ramona was hoping so.
“I’m planning on it.” The younger woman tucked a lock of pretty blond hair behind her ear. She glanced toward one side. “I’d better get back to my date, though.” She rolled her eyes a little. “An old friend, but if he gets bored, I’m afraid his hands will start wandering to one of the servers.”
“Then you can do better,” Lisa advised.
“Oh, we’re not serious.” Victoria’s gaze went to the dance floor for a moment. “There just needs to be more men around like your husband.” She smiled again. “Enjoy the rest of your evening and please tell Ramona that I said hello.”
“I will.” Lisa watched the girl gracefully weave through the tables until she reached a sulky-looking guy about her own age.
“Do you know Victoria Welsh?” Nora Harper slipped into the chair beside her. She looked brilliant in a royal-blue gown that set off her striking, silver hair. “The Welsh family have always been such good supporters of the foundation.”
“I’ve just met her tonight.”
“Ah. Well, she was always such a sweet child.” Nora gently squeezed Lisa’s bare arm. “Have you been enjoying yourself?”
“It’s a lovely event. And the setting—” She lifted her shoulders. “I can’t imagine any location being more beautiful.”
“It is quite grand.” Nora watched the dancers circling around the floor. “Though, honestly, next year I’m going to insist that Griffin get a more lively orchestra. All we’ve heard tonight have been waltzes.” She gave Lisa such a mischievous look that she couldn’t help but smile. “Bo-ring.”
“I think everyone here figures it’s classic,” she confided softly.
“How tasteful of you, dear.” Nora patted her arm again. “Now go rescue your husband and take him out of here.”
“But it’s still early.” Rourke was pretty much the guest of honor. It was a much better excuse than that she was afraid he would realize sooner rather than later what she hadn’t told him since those little pregnancy test sticks had turned pink.
“Nonsense.” Nora waved that off. “You’re newlyweds. Anybody who expects you to hang around a stodgy awards dinner like this has just forgotten what it feels like to be young and in love.”
Young and in love.
The phrase circled in Lisa’s mind.
It might describe her, but she knew it didn’t describe Rourke.
And how badly she wished that it did. If he loved her, they could have a future together. A real future. A real family instead of legal documents and visitation rights.
But she didn’t argue with Nora. She knew full well that Rourke was anxious to get out of there, and with Nora watching so benevolently, she didn’t have any logical alternative.
So she wound her way through the dancers and patted Tricia on the shoulder, forcing a cheerfulness that she was eons from feeling. “Can I play fast and easy with traditional roles and cut in?”
Tricia grinned, quickly surrendering her brother. “Be my guest. Rourkey hasn’t talked about anything but you, anyway.” She winked and hurried off the dance floor.
“Couldn’t stay away?” Rourke pulled her back into his arms.
It was more true than he knew. “I have permission from the hostess herself that you’ve been such a good boy, you can now be excused from the dinner table.”
“Thank God. I’ve never hated traveling so much as I have this past week.” His grin was decidedly unboyish as he immediately stopped dan
cing and herded her toward the nearest exit.
“What about your award?”
“My mother will grab it,” he assured her. “And add it to the wall of shame at the house.”
“I need my coat,” she reminded him when it seemed as if he intended to forget that fact, too, in his rush to escape.
He veered the other way. Stopped at the coat check and gave the girl a tip along with the stub. Two minutes later, he was swinging her cashmere cape around her shoulders and they were on their way out into the chilly night air.
He didn’t even bother to call for his driver, but hustled her into the first cab that came by. “Some people might consider your hastiness very unseemly,” she pointed out.
“I don’t have designs on some people,” he returned.
She smiled faintly and rubbed her palm against his and felt the faint clink of her wedding ring against his. “It’s been a perfect evening,” she admitted softly. “I wish I didn’t have to go back to Boston tomorrow.” For that entire week, she’d hidden out in Rourke’s penthouse, doing her work as best she could from the safe distance of knowing she didn’t have to face Sara Beth, or anyone else.
“You still haven’t talked with Sara Beth.”
Lisa’s throat tightened. “No.”
“It’s only going to get harder the longer you let it go.”
“Anxious for me to go home?”
His hand tightened around hers. “No. As far as I’m concerned, you can just stay here.”
There was an intensity in his voice that made her heart catch. “I’ve played coward long enough. I know that as well as you. And I can’t let it keep getting in the way of work. I need to pull my own weight there.”
“You don’t have to work.”
“The institute is who I am.”
“Who you are is my wife.” His thumb ran along her wrist. Pressed against the pulse that was fluttering uncontrollably. “Being the administrator there is what you do.”
“It’s my career.” She was reminding herself just as much as him. “It’s important to me.”
“And you’re important to me.”
Her mouth went dry.
The Billionaire’s Baby Plan Page 17