The Child They Didn't Expect

by Yvonne Lindsay

  He continued, “Look, I don’t have the first idea of what to do.”

  “Then it’s a good thing you called Best for Baby,” Ali said, oblivious to the turmoil that was churning inside him. “So, correct me if I’m wrong. You have absolutely nothing here in preparation for the baby.”

  “That’s right,” he confirmed. “CeeCee was fiercely superstitious about buying anything before the baby was born. And she forbade anyone else from buying things. There wasn’t even a baby shower, at her insistence. We tried to persuade her otherwise, but she was nothing if not determined.”

  A small frown flittered across her face so swiftly he wasn’t sure he’d seen it. She drew in a deep breath and let it go slowly.

  “And when is the baby coming home?”

  “He should be released in about ten days’ time, if all goes well.”

  She typed a note on her tablet. Even though she hadn’t commented on the short time frame she had to work with, he had the impression she disapproved somehow. He knew his request was unusual, but this had mostly been covered in the contract, so he couldn’t believe she was surprised by it. But then what was the problem? Maybe she was still angry with him for walking out on her in Hawaii. He had never been one to leave issues to fester. This thing between them needed to be brought out into the open.

  “Look, Ali, about that night—”

  She looked up from her note-taking.

  “That night? Oh, you mean that night. Let’s not talk about it shall we.” She gave him a smile that was no more than a mere upward twitch of the corners of her full lips, utterly devoid of warmth. “I’d prefer it if we could confine our discussion to the task at hand.”

  Well, he’d tried. She didn’t want to talk about it. That was just fine. A pity though, he thought, as his gaze followed the chain of silver beads that slipped inside the neckline of her blouse. He had a feeling that getting to know Ms. Alison Carter all over again would have been a very interesting exercise.

  * * *

  Ali focused on the ten-inch screen she held in front of her, building a checklist of all the things she’d need to tackle if she took this job on. She gave herself a mental shake. Who was she kidding—if? Best for Baby wouldn’t and couldn’t turn down this job. Deb had shown her the signed contract. They were bound to work with this...this man!

  A near overwhelming surge of fury threatened to break past her carefully controlled professionalism. How dare he cheat on his pregnant wife with her? How dare he cheat on his wife, period! Having been victim to an unfaithful husband herself, an affair with a married man was the last thing on this entire earth she would ever have willingly embarked upon. She’d rather die than be the other woman, than be the cause of the kind of pain and grief she’d gone through. Betrayal, on any level, was cruel—but this went several levels deeper than that.

  Ali reached for her glass of water and took a long slug of the crystal clear liquid in an effort to tamp down the fiery anger that vied with sickening disgust deep inside her. What a bastard, she told herself. Yes, he was attractive. Even now her body, traitor that it was, virtually hummed with recognition, remembering his touch as if it were an imprint on her skin.

  She drained her glass and set it back on the table with a sharp clunk. Attractive meant nothing whatsoever if it didn’t come packaged along with a few other necessities to make up the man. Necessities like integrity, honesty and reliability—just to name the basics. Ali briefly closed her eyes and searched deeply for the inner strength she needed to get through this meeting as quickly and efficiently as possible. It galled her to even have to breathe the same air he was.

  She pitied his poor wife, and the baby as well. They both deserved better. Ali quietly resolved to get this contract over with fast. She didn’t want to find herself face-to-face with the new mother, not with the guilt she was now forced to bear, hanging like a yoke around her shoulders.

  “Right,” she said as she opened her eyes again. “Perhaps you could show me the room that will be the baby’s nursery so I can take some measurements.”

  “Sure,” Ronin said, his eyes never leaving her face as he stood. “It’s upstairs. Come with me.”

  Ali rose to her feet and followed him from the room. As he ascended the staircase in front of her, she tried not to let her gaze linger on how the finely woven fabric of his trousers skimmed his taut behind, or to notice how the crisp fresh scent of his cologne subtly trailed in his wake. Every breath of him reminded her of the one sinfully exquisite night they’d spent together. Night? No, it hadn’t even been that. It had been no more than a few hours, she reminded herself. And she wasn’t entitled to reflect on the memory of those hours now that she knew the truth behind his oh-so-alluring facade. Ronin Marshall was a married man and, therefore, completely off limits.

  “There are several bedrooms upstairs. The nannies will have the guest suite at the far end at their disposal. It’s fully equipped with two bedrooms, a bathroom, a sitting room and a kitchenette.”

  Ali just nodded. It wasn’t unusual for her wealthier clients to employ a nanny, although it definitely sounded as if he was talking in terms of more than one.

  Ronin continued down the hall and pushed open the door into a spacious and airy bedroom. “I thought this room next to the guest suite would be best as a nursery.”

  She looked around, taking in the high-quality furnishings that already filled the room. “Do you want to keep anything that’s already in here? The bed, perhaps?”

  “Will the baby need any of it?” he asked with a helpless expression in his eyes.

  Ali fought back the urge to sigh. Hadn’t he paid any attention during his wife’s pregnancy? Surely he should know the very basics of what their own child required.

  “Not right away, no,” she said, controlling her voice so her disapproval wouldn’t shine through. “I’d like to keep the bureau in here.” She ran a hand over the provincial French chest of drawers. “But the rest can go into storage. The sooner the better, so I can get painters and paper hangers in here within the next couple of days.”

  “You have people who can come in that quickly?”

  She arched a brow. “There are always people who can come in that quickly when the price is right.”

  He nodded. “That’s good. I’ll see to it that the furniture is out of here tomorrow. Do what you have to do.”

  “That’s what you’re paying me for,” she answered, digging into her bag for her laser tape measure.

  It only took a moment to record the dimensions of the room and the window. Together with the ideas she’d begun to dream up as she’d waited in the front portico her mind was brimming with enthusiasm. If only the client wasn’t such a dirty, rotten, philandering creep, she’d be relishing this job. Instead, she couldn’t wait to get back to the office and hand it off to Deb.

  “Right,” she said, with a brightness she was far from feeling. “I think that’s everything. We’ll be in touch.”

  “That’s it?” he asked.

  “For today.”

  “Okay, then.” For a minute he looked nonplussed, but then his brow cleared. “Will you stay a while? Talk with me about the steps you’ll be taking? I know I’m off to a late start, but I want to understand the task ahead, and what I can do to help it along.”

  “Mr. Marshall—” she started.

  “Ronin. At least you can call me Ronin.”

  She pressed her lips into a line and sharply shook her head. “I need to get back and get the ball rolling on this so we don’t waste any time.”

  “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t leave you a message straightaway. I shouldn’t have—”

  “Please, that’s not necessary. I’ll see myself out.”

  She couldn’t stay there another minute and hear his empty platitudes or even ponder at the gall of him to make them. Nothing would change th
e truth. She’d done the unthinkable—slept with a married man—and he’d done the unforgivable in betraying his wife, and making Ali party to that betrayal. Ali moved quickly out of the room and down the stairs. Behind her, Ronin’s heavier tread was muffled by the carpet. He beat her to the door. With one hand on the ornate brass handle he faced her and offered her the other.

  “Thank you for coming out. I do really appreciate you taking this on. Right now we have too many other things to focus on.”

  “Yes, well, this is what we’re good at, so you can rest assured the baby will get the best of everything possible.”

  She steeled herself to take his hand, determined to keep their physical contact to a minimum. It made no difference. Palm against palm, their touch all but sizzled. She quickly pulled away and walked through the open doorway to her car. He stepped out onto the portico and watched her leave—not moving back inside, she noted through the rearview mirror, until she was a good distance from the house.

  It was so unfair, she thought as she drove through the iron gates and turned left onto Whitford-Maraetai Road. How could he have been so...so everything and so nothing all at the same time? Clearly she needed to hone her inner lie detector some more. First her husband, now this guy. What kind of message was she inadvertently transmitting to the universe that caused her to attract men for whom fidelity was a negotiable bond?

  She might never know the answer to that, she told herself as she whipped along the road back toward the motorway interchange. But there was one thing she definitely knew—and that was that Ronin Marshall, and men like him, had no place in her life.

  Ever.

  Three

  Two days later Ronin pushed open the door to Best for Baby and decisively rang the silver-and-crystal bell at the abandoned reception desk. Abandoned, no doubt, because he’d been fobbed off with the receptionist while Alison Carter hid from him here at her office.

  He rarely lost his temper. In fact, he was known for being cool under pressure. But this had made his blood boil and, as did everything involving Alison Carter from the moment he’d met her in Hawaii, it churned up emotions that were both unfamiliar and uncomfortable.

  The soft noise of a door opening made him wheel around to face her. He didn’t even give her a moment before he spoke.

  “Why aren’t you at my house?” he growled, fighting to keep his voice level.

  For a split second she looked taken aback, but her composure quickly settled back around her like an invisible cape.

  “I sent my associate. Is there a problem?” she asked.

  “Yes, there’s a problem. Your lack of professionalism is the problem.”

  “My what? Are you complaining about the level of care my company is giving to your contract?” she answered, her face pale but resolute.

  “I’m complaining that you’re not doing the job yourself.”

  She squared her shoulders and lifted that dainty chin of hers a notch. “Deb has been with me since the firm opened, and she is equally capable of seeing to it that your nursery is completed on time.”

  “Deb’s your receptionist, right?”

  “Normally, yes,” she answered, with obvious reluctance.

  “And how many contracts has she undertaken that are as time-sensitive as this one?”

  “This is her first, but I’m still supervi—”

  “Not good enough.”

  “Your contract is with Best for Baby, not specifically with me,” she pointed out in what was, to his way of thinking, a totally unreasonable reasonable voice.

  But beneath her sangfroid, though, he heard the tremor of unease. It gave him power he wasn’t afraid to use. Not when the ends justified the means. He wanted the best for his nephew, and that meant Ali Carter. If he had to make a stink to get her to handle his contract with her precious company personally, then a stink he’d darned well make.

  “You will complete the contract with me, and only you.”

  Or else ominously remained unsaid.

  “Are you threatening me?” she asked, her voice obviously unsteady now.

  “Do I need to? Your firm promotes itself as doing what’s best for baby. It’s your name behind that promotion. If I’m not mistaken, doing what’s best is the basis of your mission statement. Yes,” he said in response to the look of surprise that flitted through her blue-gray eyes, “I’ve done my research.”

  “And your problem?”

  Oh, she was good. He’d give her that. She’d pulled herself together, and if he hadn’t already heard that weakness just a few moments before, he’d have thought she had the upper hand right now.

  “My problem is that I contracted with your company with the expectation that I would receive the best, not the second best.”

  “I can assure you that Deb is as skilled and efficient as I am. In fact, she’s probably better for this contract, as she has no reason on earth not to be. She’s eager to work with you.” She left the words “I am not” unsaid, but they echoed in the air around them nonetheless.

  “So you admit that you’re letting a personal issue stand in the way of your Best for Baby creed, as stated on your company website?”

  “I...”

  “Not terribly professional, is it?”

  “I’m not compromising what my firm offers in any way by putting Deb on the contract.”

  “But she’s not you. I want you.”

  In more ways than one, he added silently. She picked up on the entendre, her cheeks draining of color before flushing pink once more.

  “Well, we don’t always get what we want, do we?” she snapped back.

  “Give me one good reason why you won’t work on this project yourself.”

  “A reason?” her voiced raised an octave. She let out a forced laugh that hung bitterly in the air between them.

  “Is that so difficult?”

  His words became the catalyst that broke the crucible of her control.

  “Fine,” she snapped. “You want my reason for not working directly with you, you can have it. Men like you who cheat on their wives and who expect the rest of the world to simply drop everything at their behest make me sick. Do you hear me? Sick! You’re scum. You swan around an exotic location under the guise of work and you pick up stray needy women. You betray everything about yourself as a decent human being and all the promises you’ve made before heading home—without so much as a goodbye, I might add—to your perfect life and your perfect wife. That’s why I won’t work directly for you. Satisfied?”

  A lesser man might have staggered under her onslaught. He was not that man.

  “I’m not married,” he said succinctly in the echoing silence that followed her unexpected tirade.

  “Oh, and you think that makes it okay? Wife, partner—what difference does it make? You betrayed the mother of your child when you slept with me, which in my book makes you both a liar and a cheat.”

  Ronin tamped down his increasing anger, forcing his voice to remain calm. “I repeat. I am not married. Nor am I currently in any kind of romantic relationship. The baby is not my son. Legally, he’s my ward.”

  “Your...your ward?”

  Ali clutched at the lapels of her blouse with a shaking hand.

  “He’s my nephew. My dead sister’s son.” He sighed. Just saying the words ripped off the carefully layered mental dressing he’d been using to protect his emotional wounds. “Look, can we sit somewhere and discuss this like rational people?”

  * * *

  Ali let go of her blouse and gestured to the room behind her. “Please, come into my office.”

  Her heart raced as her mind played over the appalling way she’d just spoken to him. She never lost it like that, ever. Not to anyone, and especially not to a client. But this was just a little bit too raw for her. The first t
ime since her divorce she’d trusted anyone enough to even consider kissing them, let alone sleeping with them, and this had happened. She could be forgiven for jumping to the wrong conclusion, but she couldn’t be forgiven for the diatribe she’d just delivered. She’d be lucky if he didn’t rip up their contract right now and throw it back in her face.

  Two facts now echoed in her mind.

  The baby wasn’t his.

  He wasn’t married.

  “Take a seat,” she said, moving over to the carafe of iced water she kept on a credenza. She poured out two glasses and placed one on her desk in front of him. “Here. I know we both could probably do with something stronger, but it’s all I have on hand.”

  “It’s fine,” he said. He reached for the glass and drained it with one long swallow.

  “I apologize for jumping to conclusions, and for speaking to you like that,” she said as calmly as she could. She settled behind her desk and looked at him directly. “And I’m deeply sorry for your loss.”

  Her eyes raked over him, taking in the shadows that lingered under his eyes and the fine lines of strain that hadn’t been on his face the first time she’d met him. She must have been too preoccupied to notice them when she’d seen him at his house the other day. He looked haggard, as if he’d been on the go non-stop.

  “Thank you. It’s why I had to leave you so suddenly the night we met. My father called to say my sister and her husband had been in a fatal accident. My nephew was born by emergency C-section immediately before his mother died. I left your room on autopilot. I wasn’t really thinking clearly, I just knew I had to get home. By the time I realized how unfairly I’d treated you, I was already back here, and when I contacted the hotel, they said you’d checked out.”

  “I understand,” she assured him, her heart breaking for the shock and pain he must have felt. She was close to her sisters and couldn’t begin to imagine how she’d feel if the same thing had happened to one of them. “I would have done exactly the same thing.”

  He dipped his head in acknowledgment. “It’s been hell this past week. So much to organize, so many people to see.” He swiped a hand over his face. “And the baby. It would have helped if CeeCee hadn’t been such a superstitious thing and had organized the nursery already. I could have simply transported everything to my house.”