Baby Bequest

by Robyn Grady

  Jenna passed through those French doors now, crossed the spacious room decorated in forest-green leather and handcrafted oak, then folded herself into the chair set before her laptop. Her gaze settled on the photo her father had kept on his desk—herself and Amy, aged eight, in Cinderella dress-up. Amy, the nurturing one, was fixing Jenna’s lopsided tiara.

  Jenna picked up the photo, as she’d done so often these past days. But this time her thoughts drifted back to her visitor.

  Gage and his mother had lived in a house next door, which had been supplied by her father. For five years she’d glimpsed her young male neighbor only at a distance. Then she’d come home from college that summer and the brooding ruffian had grown into a man—deep-chested, muscled and sexy in a dangerous way that had left her breathless whenever he’d looked at her with a slanted smile that said he’d noticed her too.

  Puppy love. The term was too naive for the wonderfully wicked feelings he’d planted and nurtured within her. Far more explicit phrases came to mind.

  The simmer of remembered longing trickled through her bloodstream then swirled and sparked like a lit match down below. But she shrugged off the smoldering sensation. Her father had said Gage wasn’t the type of man a young woman should get involved with.

  Jenna rested her forearms on the desk.

  Twenty-nine wasn’t so young.

  “I managed to end that call sooner than I’d thought.”

  Jenna jumped at the deep voice at her back. She swung around and felt her heart beat faster. Gage’s striking silhouette consumed the doorway, eclipsing a good portion of the golden afternoon light.

  How many lovers had he had in twelve years? How many times had she secretly wished she’d sampled him herself?

  As he moved forward, she tamped down that thought and, after replacing the photo, eased out of her chair.

  She searched for something to say. “So, another business deal in the bag?”

  “Afraid not. And I won’t lay more chips on that table just yet.” He flicked back his jacket, set his hands low on his hips and took in the room—the wood-paneled walls, the limestone fireplace, the wingchair where she’d once curled up on her father’s lap while he read his botany books and explained the pictures.

  “So was Leeann bequeathed the house as well?”

  Jenna slid her attention from the chair back to Gage and gave him a wry smile. “Leeann’s been generous enough to let me stay while I’m here. She and Meg are in the penthouse in town.”

  “Do you have savings? I presume you won’t starve.”

  She might not be wealthy by his standards, but who was? “I haven’t lived off my father since I left college and found my first freelance job overseas.”

  He came closer and her center warmed as that lit match flickered and leapt high. It wasn’t the place—certainly not the time—and yet the burning physical response to his being near was automatic, a literal knee-jerk reaction. Did he have that effect on all women? The answer was obvious: no question about it.

  “You really don’t care about the business, the house?” he asked, a curious light in his eyes.

  That inner warmth wavered and fell away.

  “My family, bar one, are gone. No, Gage, I don’t care about the money.”

  Landing back in reality, all the pain fresh again in her mind, she crossed to the door. For more reasons than one, it was time to end this reunion.

  “Thank you for making the trip. If you don’t mind, I think it’s best you leave now.”

  Deep in thought—also ignoring her suggestion—he moved to the desk. “I’ll speak with my lawyer.”

  Over a decade on and still he didn’t listen. “I just told you—”

  “Not about the money. About your niece.”

  She shut her eyes and groaned. “Please don’t.”

  The last thing she needed was a Family Court judge bristling over the heavy-handed tactics of a multimillionaire who thought he could buy anyone and anything.

  He eased a thigh over one corner of the desk and laced his hands between his long, clearly muscular legs. One dark eyebrow flexed. “What if it means getting custody of your niece?”

  “Gage, please. This isn’t a game.”

  But the steely look in his eyes said he was very serious.

  He picked up a miniature globe and spun the sphere. Asia, Europe, America flew round in a blur of bright colors. “I must say, I’m not wholly convinced you’ll be happy giving up your lifestyle. God knows, I wouldn’t be.”

  Self-righteous heat scorched her cheeks. “No problem for you.” Her smile was thin. “Stay single.”

  His lips twitched as if she’d said something amusing. “I don’t see marriage as an issue, necessarily.” He set the globe down. “But children need a stable home life.”

  “Then I suggest you be extra careful about contraception.”

  The air between them condensed and crackled before he grinned and assured her, “Always.”

  His hip slid off the desk and he drew up to his full intimidating height while Jenna remembered his mother—wiry hair, vacant expression, a vague smell of whiskey whenever she spoke. If Gage didn’t want the responsibility of having a family, she shouldn’t be surprised. He’d been sorely deprived of role models. Jenna’s own reasons for remaining single were something else entirely.

  “We were talking about your niece,” he said in a meaningful tone. “I have a way to get you what you want.”

  His cool eyes sparkled and she was reminded again of the lawless rebel she’d once known. Then, as now, he’d rippled with the promise of a thousand possibilities. At seventeen, almost eighteen, she’d been entranced by it.

  Feeling that same tug, she leant further back against the doorjamb. “Just so we’re on the same page, kidnapping’s not an option.”

  He didn’t crack a smile. “What I propose isn’t completely honest, but it’s far from a federal offence.”

  Now she was intrigued.

  Weighing the pros and cons, she searched his eyes and finally murmured, “I’m listening.”

  “Wherever possible, judges like to comply with last wishes. But you are this baby’s blood relative.”

  Her shoulders sagged. She’d been through all that. “Dad’s lawyer said that’s not enough. And the longer Meg stays with Leeann, the less likely the courts will be to uproot her.”

  “But if you had a suitable place of your own, as well as the legal brains and money to push forward and make an immediate request…”

  She frowned. Waited.

  “And…”

  “You need a secret weapon,” Gage said, “that will shoot you ahead in the guardianship stakes.”

  “A miracle?”

  The scar on his top lip curved up. “A husband.”

  Two

  “You’re suggesting I get married?” Jenna’s hand went to her forehead and she coughed out a laugh, a baffled sound. “I’m sorry. This is taking a moment to absorb but…what would my marrying accomplish?”

  Gage’s gaze skimmed her shoulder-length dark-blond hair. The soft curl was pretty, but he preferred her hair long, framing a face he’d remembered as saucy, not tearstained.

  “For a start,” he explained, “a marriage license would tell the court that you’re serious about settling down. It would also imply that the child would enjoy the benefits of having a father.”

  He’d often wondered how different his life might have been had he known positive paternal guidance. Chances were he wouldn’t be absurdly rich. Then again, he wouldn’t have needed money as a substitute for other, less definable things. Things he’d once wanted to give Jenna but knew now he could never provide.

  “Isn’t that rather drastic?” she asked.

  Gage inhaled her perfume, a scent that reminded him of crushed berries—wild and sweet—then he cocked his head. “I thought these were drastic times.”

  He looked at her expectantly, but her troubled gaze held far more suspicion than hope.

  Hell’s fire
, the last thing he wanted was Jenna’s distrust, even if he well understood it. Twelve years ago he’d vanished like a thief in the night. The time for excuses was long past. But he’d come here today with a plan to help make it up to her. Oh, not entirely—not even close. But maybe, hopefully, enough.

  He had it on good authority that Darley Realty, the residential development company her father had founded twenty-five years ago, was in dire financial straits. Gage also knew that Jenna’s father had intended to change his will; in the event of his death, the vast majority of Raphael’s assets were to pass on to his daughters, not his wife. With Amy gone now, too, Gage had assumed Jenna would be the major beneficiary.

  He’d come today to offer to buy Darley Realty for a generous price. He’d wanted a speedy transaction, the idea being Jenna could continue her hassle-free life without learning about the company’s problems and consequently suffering any unnecessary sense of embarrassment or gratitude over his offer. He’d had little doubt that Jenna would accept; her profession was writing, and her life was overseas. But apparently Raphael hadn’t had time to change his will before the accident. And it seemed that Jenna couldn’t care less about the money. After her loss, she had her heart set on one thing and one thing only.

  A baby.

  Not easy given the circumstances, but he’d learned that almost anything was possible. He’d make it his mission: before he walked away a second time, he would see Jenna happy. He would give her what she wanted most. Then maybe he could close that book—bury that ghost—and at last get on with his life, conscience clear.

  She edged toward the middle of the room, hands clasped at her waist. “Say you’re right. Where am I supposed to find this husband?”

  He tipped an imaginary hat. “At your service.”

  She smiled. “Now you are playing games.”

  His earlier years had been about survival, pretending offhanded acceptance when mostly he’d been drowning with weights tied around both feet. These days he called the shots. With every breath, he intended to keep it that way. If Gage Cameron played games, it was only ever by his own rules.

  “Will you at least listen to my plan?”

  “Fine.” She nodded. “Go ahead.”

  “First we’ll make it known to Leeann that we’re reunited lovers.”

  Her slim nostrils flared. “First lie.”

  Not through any lack of desire on his part. But success was bred through a combination of flexibility, critical timing and restraint of emotion. Now he was a master. Now he always won.

  “We’ll announce our engagement,” he went on. “As soon as possible, we’ll marry and file a petition for guardianship of Meg. The judge will see that the baby won’t need to worry financially—”

  “Meg wouldn’t need to worry about money with Leeann as a guardian either.”

  “You said you’d listen,” he chided.

  Given the way her fingers wound around and strangled each other, she might want to slap him for suggesting any part of this. Instead she nodded again and he strolled toward her.

  “Our petition,” he continued, “will state that you’re not only a blood relative but are also the mother’s twin sister. We’ll dig up an expert or two who will testify that you’re the natural choice to replace the child’s biological mother. They can list the benefits the baby would enjoy with regard to face as well as scent recognition. As identical twins, yours and Amy’s would be similar.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “How on earth do you know about such things?”

  “I read it somewhere.” Since he’d known Jenna, the subject of twins had fascinated him. He’d be happy to recite some eye-opening facts he’d mentally filed away regarding studies on twin science; he bet she’d be interested. “Another advantage is age. You’re fifteen years younger than Leeann.”

  Her eyebrows knitted. “That sounds like discrimination.”

  “Statistics will bear out the probability that you’ll be around longer, which equates to more stability for Meg.”

  “More stability,” she murmured, understanding. “I see.”

  “Plus you’ll have the unswerving support of a marital partner…a past associate of the family.”

  Her eyes glistened, probing his as she soaked it all in. She’d become far more beautiful than he’d ever imagined. In her female prime, she was lush and challenging, unlike the first time when she’d been young, eager and way off-limits. Her father had been right about one thing: his young blood had run hotter, faster, back then. If he hadn’t left that night…

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked.

  He willed his gaze to track up from the beating hollow of her throat. “You want your niece.”

  “I could tell the greengrocer that. He’s not going to propose.”

  How to explain?

  He tugged an earlobe. “Your father…”

  “My father would roll over in his grave at the thought of us marrying. You know that as well as I do.”

  The knife twisted in his gut but he didn’t flinch. A poker face was a strategist’s best friend. “When we first knew each other, no doubt. But money changes a lot of things, including people’s opinions.”

  “It doesn’t change the past.”

  He knew the questions that shone from the depths of her eyes: Why did you leave? Why didn’t you have the decency to tell me?

  Would she believe that he’d had no choice? Twelve years ago, for the first time in his life, he’d made the smart choice instead of the rogue one. As a consequence, he’d discovered who he was—who and where he needed to be. Free, alone and reasonably happy. He was wise enough now not to wish for more.

  He edged around her unspoken question. “If I’d said goodbye, I wouldn’t have wanted to go.”

  God knows, that was true.

  Her lips hardened to a flat line. “Here’s a cliché that works. I was young and foolish. I thought you cared. It might be even more foolish to believe that you care to this extent now.”

  “You think I’d offer something like this then walk away?”

  Her eyes held his. “Yes, I do.”

  “I give you my word.”

  “Honor was never your strong suit.”

  But she was forgetting…once when he could have taken her, a virgin, he’d left her alone. Hell, his mother had come from a nice family too until his father had ripped it out from under her and left her with an addiction as well as an infant she couldn’t care for.

  He inhaled deeply.

  All that was done with, buried. Dead. Obviously so was this discussion.

  “Then I take it your mind is made up,” he stated with a smile that held no offence. When all was said and done, there wasn’t a reason in the world she should trust him. Regrettably it seemed too much had happened and too much time had passed to change that now.

  “My deepest condolences on your loss,” he said, “and best of luck with your niece.”

  But when he turned away, she caught his arm. Even through his jacket sleeve, the evocative warmth burrowed into his flesh, causing his skin to tighten and heat. Angling back, he studied her red-rimmed eyes and saw the same charged awareness that he felt, as well as thinly veiled fear.

  Her throat bobbed on a swallow. “I’m just not certain this is the way.”

  “What other way is there? You’ve already said that kidnapping’s out.”

  It took a moment for her to return his crooked smile. But he didn’t miss the fine sheen erupting on her hairline.

  Finally she blew out a breath and her hold on his arm slid away. “What would this…marriage entail?”

  He faced her full on. “Being seen together. Buying a ring. Setting a date.”

  “What about your work?” Her eyes dulled with skepticism. “Do you have time for this kind of charade?”

  “I do have several important business transactions coming up, but, as I said, I’ll be in Sydney for a few weeks. I’ll try to limit my travel after that to keep the pretence up. And once you have guardians
hip of the child, and there’s no chance of things unraveling, we can go our separate ways.”

  She rubbed her palms down the sides of her jeans. “Do you actually believe we can convince people that our engagement is real?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Her eyebrows lifted. “Because in business you’re used to bluffing?”

  Because since I laid eyes on you again, all I can think about is taking you in my arms and kissing you senseless.

  His thoughts might have shown on his face since she blinked several times and a blush crept from her cleavage all the way up the column of her throat.

  He rapped his knuckles against his thigh and crossed back to the desk.

  One step at a time.

  “We’ll need to show the world,” he explained, “that we’ve fallen in love. That we’re committed to each other.”

  He collected a silver framed photo next to the globe and clenched his jaw.

  What a waste. Amy had been a nice girl; too nice for his tastes. It had always been Jenna who’d caught his interest, the teenager with a wiggle in her walk and a sense of right on her side. Once upon a time he’d honestly hoped they would marry. If only things had been different…

  He pushed if onlys from his mind, set the frame down, and met Jenna’s gaze again.

  She seemed to be sizing him up. “And what precisely do you get out of all this?”

  He merely smiled. “I get to help an old friend.”

  “That’s not a very good answer.”

  “It’s the only answer I have.”

  “You mean it’s the only one you’re prepared to give. Forgive me if I’m a little skeptical of your motives.”

  “What other motives could there be?”

  She pressed her lips together as if they’d gone dry. “You wouldn’t expect us to…I mean…you’re not thinking that…”

  An adrenaline surge threw his heartbeat into a cantor. “You’re asking if we’ll need to embrace…to kiss?”

  Make love?

  He crossed back and invaded her personal space until her neck arced slowly back. Gazing down into her eyes, he enjoyed a deep stir of desire—the same as long ago, yet somehow deliciously different.