Suddenly, his voice deep and husky, Hunter asked, “Are you awake?”
“I’m awake.”
“I’ve been thinking about all the ways we have to get ready. Do you want to redo one of the guest bedrooms?”
“That would be nice. I’ve noticed lots of adorable children’s wallpapers.”
Stroking her hair, he asked, “How much notice will you give the gallery that you’re leaving?”
She tilted her head back. “The baby isn’t due for almost eight months. It’s a little early to think about that.”
“You’re going to keep working?”
“Sure. Why shouldn’t I?”
“You need to take care of yourself, Eve.”
She knew he was thinking about her miscarriage, and she was, too. A stark fear shot through her. What if she miscarried again? What would happen to their marriage then? But she had to think positively. She had to hope for the best.
“I like working at the gallery, Hunter. With you gone for such long hours, it gives me something to do. I need to feel productive, just as you do.”
“Promise me if it gets to be too taxing, you’ll quit.”
“I promise.”
“Once the baby’s born, I’ll cut back on my hours. I want to be a ‘real’ father.”
She wished he was around more now. When he wasn’t, she had doubts he’d ever let her get close. She often went into the room with her father’s paintings, asked him if she’d done the right thing by marrying Hunter, and let grief-filled tears fall. Sometimes she thought she heard her father’s voice telling her to give Hunter time.
Time.
She wished she and Hunter could spend more of it together. But the purpose of this marriage, as Hunter saw it, was to have children and give them a good life. What he didn’t realize was that, to make the rest of their world secure, children needed two parents who loved each other.
The headquarters for Morgan’s Office Products was located in Aurora, a suburb of Denver. Hunter had telephoned John Morgan this morning to tell him what he’d discovered about Otis Farley and his company, and John had asked him to speak to Larry personally. It wasn’t something Hunter relished doing, but his father never asked him for favors and this seemed like a small one. Now Hunter hoped to catch Larry off guard so he’d listen to what he had to say.
The Morgan’s Office Products complex was situated on a small parcel of land in an unobtrusive building covered with brown siding. Hunter smiled at the receptionist, who knew him, and told her he was there to see his brother and he’d go on back. She nodded agreeably. Hunter passed the suites of the account managers and the sales force. Knowing his father was meeting an old friend for lunch today, Hunter passed his office and stopped before Larry’s.
He rapped, and his brother called, “Come in.”
Larry’s desk was cluttered with papers, and so was every other available surface in his office. The computer was on and he was making notes on a legal pad. When he looked up and saw Hunter, he frowned.
“Are you here to see Dad?” Larry asked. “He’s off for the afternoon.”
“Actually I came to see you.” Hunter stepped into the office and closed the door.
Larry noted it and his eyes narrowed. “Is this business or personal?”
“Does it matter?” Hunter asked lightly, trying to keep the usual tension from cropping up between them, trying to keep peace.
“I’m busy,” Larry snapped.
Hunter nodded. “I can see that.”
“Don’t look down your nose at me, Hunter. Just because my office isn’t as plush as yours doesn’t mean I don’t get my share of work done. In fact, I probably do more.”
The hostility in Larry’s voice always surprised Hunter. He constantly hoped it wouldn’t be there. He constantly hoped something would change between them. But that hope had died over the years and now he just tried to be civil.
“I didn’t come here to compare our workloads. I wanted to discuss the merger you’re planning.”
Defensive before, now Larry straightened his shoulders, and his mouth became a tight, firm line. Finally he asked, “Did Dad ask you to talk to me?”
“He asked me to look into Otis Farley and his company.”
Larry stood. “I don’t appreciate either one of you trying to second-guess me.”
Hunter stayed seated and stayed calm. “Dad’s concerned, that’s all.”
“Concerned? I don’t think so. He knows I’m capable of handling his business. I’ve been practically doing it all for the past five years. Now suddenly I want to turn it into something bigger and better, and he runs to you.”
“I didn’t come here to argue with you, Larry. Dad asked me to look into Otis Farley’s background, so that’s what I did. Farley attempted to merge with companies twice last year, and both times the deals fell through.”
“That happens,” Larry said, as if it were elementary.
“Yes, it does. But the year before that, the stock buyback plan he initiated also fell through and several members of his board resigned. I don’t think you’re dealing with a stable organization.”
“I don’t give a fig in hell what you think. This deal has nothing to do with you. It’s my future and my success that’s involved, and I want you to keep your nose out of it. Did you tell all this crap to Dad?”
“He asked me what I found out.”
“And you couldn’t wait to give him tidbits that mean absolutely nothing. Listen, Hunter, I’m not going to let you make me look bad. I’m not going to let you ruin a deal that could set me and my family up for life. If you want to play private investigator, fine. Do it on your time and with your clients. Just stay clear of what I’m trying to accomplish here.”
The things Hunter had discovered about Otis Farley had sent up red flags. He didn’t have anything concrete, just rumors, situations that by themselves meant nothing. But intuition had told him he smelled a rat. Yet if Larry wouldn’t listen to him, there wasn’t anything more he could do.
Standing, he buttoned his suit coat and went to the door. “Dad asked me to tell you what I’d learned. I have. If you want to ignore the warning signs, there’s nothing I can do about that.” Then he opened the door and left his brother’s office.
Hunter hurried down the hall eager to leave the building that for years had reminded him that his father had chosen Larry to be the Morgans’ banner carrier. John Morgan had never discussed or asked Hunter if he wanted to be part of the family business. Maybe it was Hunter’s own fault for staying secluded when he was a teenager, concentrating on sports and studies, telling himself he didn’t care if he didn’t fit in anywhere. He’d written for college catalogs on his own, and one day had shown them to his parents, telling them he intended to be a lawyer. What if, instead, he had told John Morgan he wanted to work beside him in the family business?
Then there would have been even more tension with Larry, which would have raised the rivalry between them to unbelievable levels. Hunter hadn’t thought that would be good for anyone.
Now as he left the building, the worry in his father’s voice as he’d talked about his life’s work disturbed Hunter. Even though he knew he should, he couldn’t let this go. Rumors and failed deals weren’t enough to make Larry listen. But what if Hunter got some kind of concrete proof? What if Otis Farley’s books didn’t match his financial reports? What if he engaged in business practices that undercut the company’s reliability?
Hunter thought about a friend of his, Simon Albright, who did consulting work to businesses for security reasons. Maybe Simon could get Hunter something on paper, something that Larry couldn’t dispute, something that undeniably showed him this merger was bad for Morgan’s Office Products.
With new resolve, Hunter strode across the parking lot to his car. He had to do everything he could to save his father’s company for him because maybe if he did…
He’d feel like a “real” son.
On his way back to his office, Hunter thought abo
ut the child Eve was carrying and a broad smile turned up his lips. At the same time, he was passing a shopping center and saw the toy store. Impulsively, he turned on his signal and decided to go in.
An hour later, he carried two large bags into his new home and called, “Eve?”
Coming out of the kitchen, she stopped when she saw him. “I just tried to call you at your office. Slade, Emily, Mark and Amanda are coming for a visit next week.”
“That’s great. I can’t wait for you to meet them. I know you’ll like them.”
“I hope I can get everything ready in time.”
“What’s to get ready?”
“Hunter! We’re having guests. I have to make sure we have enough guest towels, that the rooms are clean, plan our meals…”
“Whoa,” he said, putting one bag on the low coffee table in the family room. “Slade and Emily won’t expect you to go to a lot of trouble, and they won’t sit back and let you do everything. And as far as meals go, we can always eat out.”
“You’ve told me that Emily’s quite a homemaker. I want to make sure everything’s just right.”
Hunter tipped Eve’s chin up and kissed her. “It will be,” he murmured. Maybe coming home in the middle of the afternoon wasn’t such a bad idea. “We could go upstairs and look at what I bought,” he said in a low voice.
“We could,” she drawled. “But if we do, the cake I have in the oven will probably burn.” She peeked into the bag still in his arm, but when she lifted out a fluffy white teddy bear, she wasn’t smiling.
“It looks as if you’ve been shopping.”
“The store called out to me on the way home.” As he emptied the rest of the bag onto the table, rattles, a ball and a stuffed green dinosaur spilled out. “I couldn’t resist. And you know what? I think we ought to go shopping for baby furniture tonight.”
“I work tonight,” she said quietly. “I was making a cake so we could have it with strawberries and whipped cream when I get home.”
“You could call in sick,” he suggested, half seriously, half not.
“No, I can’t, Hunter. There’s no one to cover for me.”
“Then why don’t we go shopping for furniture now?”
“After the cake comes out, I have to take a shower and get dressed. Besides, we shouldn’t shop for furniture until after we redo the room.”
Was she stalling him for some reason? “What’s the matter, Eve?”
“Nothing’s the matter.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
Her face paled. “I’m not lying, Hunter. I just…” She waved her hand over the coffee table and the toys there.
“I just don’t know if this is a good idea. I don’t know if shopping for anything right now is a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“What if…” She hesitated a moment. “What if I have another miscarriage?”
Ever since she’d told him she was pregnant, he’d felt ten feet tall. He’d felt as if his life was coming together. “You won’t.”
“Hunter…”
“Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“No!”
“Did you make an appointment with a doctor?”
“Yes. I called someone your mother recommended, and I’m going in next week.”
“Then why are you worried?”
“Because if it happened once, it can happen again.”
“It won’t happen again. It might not have happened the first time if you’d contacted me, if you’d taken care of yourself.”
“Hunter!”
There was a hurt look in her eyes, but he couldn’t deny the way he felt. He couldn’t deny the fact that he blamed her for the miscarriage.
“The doctor told me that the miscarriage happened because it wasn’t meant to be,” she said defensively.
“That was a platitude,” he fired back, finally letting the bitterness out.
She took a step back away from him. “You know better than a doctor?”
“I know that he was trying to make you feel better. You’d rather believe it was fate than something you did.” He couldn’t keep the resentment from his voice. “This time I want you to take care of yourself. I want you to eat right, get plenty of rest, and if your job interferes with your health, I think you should quit.”
She shook her head and insisted, “My job isn’t interfering with my health. It’s giving me something worthwhile to do. You know how I love art. You know how I love working with paintings and sculptures.”
He remembered the other evening when he’d found her standing in the room surrounded by her father’s art collection. She’d been crying, and he’d supposed it was because she missed her dad. He’d walked away without letting her know he was there.
“You can appreciate art from here. I don’t like your driving home alone at night.”
As the buzzer sounded on the stove, Eve looked over her shoulder. “I have to take the cake out.”
She still looked hurt, and he didn’t know what to do with the anger that he felt about her losing their baby. He still didn’t believe she’d tried to contact him. He didn’t believe she’d wanted that baby half as much as he had.
Gathering up the toys, he pushed them back into the bag. “I’ll put these upstairs in one of the guest rooms until you’re ready to shop for furniture. How long do we have to wait, Eve? Three months? Five months? Seven months? What’s the magic number?”
The timer kept up its insistent buzzing.
“Let’s at least give it a few months. The first trimester.”
Avoiding looking at her, he said, “Fine. The first trimester it is. Maybe I should go along with you to the doctor’s next week. Then we can both have all our questions answered.”
He didn’t wait for her to agree or to protest. He was going to make damn sure she took care of herself, that they did everything necessary to ensure this pregnancy would be a healthy one.
Lifting the bags, he headed for the stairs.
On Saturday afternoon the baseball glanced off Mark’s bat, skidded by Slade, who was pitching to his son, and came toward Hunter. Hunter scooped it up with his glove and called, “Great hit, Mark.”
The eight-year-old ran over to Hunter. “Is it okay if I go in for a drink, Uncle Hunter? I’m awfully thirsty.”
It was a hot day and the three of them had been playing ball for the past half hour. “Sure, go ahead. If you want a snack, I’m sure Eve can find a chocolate chip cookie or two.”
Slade told Mark, “Just remember to say please and thank-you.”
Mark nodded and ran into the house.
Hunter studied his twin. He and Slade were fraternal twins, but they looked alike except for their hair color. Slade’s was brown. “He’s a great kid,” Hunter said, as they walked toward the patio.
“He sure is. He teaches me something new every day, and now you have that to look forward to.”
The thrill of becoming a father practically overwhelmed Hunter, and he’d told Slade and Emily about it soon after they’d arrived. But the thrill was tempered by a tinge of fear that everything would not go well in Eve’s pregnancy. “I can’t wait.”
Slade took the baseball from Hunter’s hand and tossed it lightly up into the air. Then he took a long look at his brother. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on between you and Eve?”
He wasn’t sure himself what was going on. Things had been tense for the past week, ever since the afternoon he’d come home with the toys. That night they’d realized seven-month-old Amanda would need a place to sleep, and Hunter had bought a portable crib that he had told Eve they could use downstairs after their baby was born. She hadn’t objected.
“We didn’t marry for the usual reasons,” he admitted.
Slade waited for him to explain.
“Eve and I knew each other five years ago. I asked her to marry me and she said no. But after her father died a few months ago, she discovered his will had an unusual provision. She wouldn’t inherit his
estate unless she married within a year. She came to me and asked me if I’d marry her. I decided we could both get something we wanted. She’d get her inheritance, and I’d get a family.”
After turning the baseball around in his hand, Slade walked to the edge of the flagstones, stepping into the shade of the latticework there. “So you two have a history.”
“Yes.” Then Hunter told Slade that Eve had gotten pregnant five years ago and miscarried.
“You don’t seem as happy as a new bridegroom should be. Now I can see why.”
“I thought this would be easier,” Hunter confessed. “I thought looking forward and not back could get us both what we wanted.”
“Maybe you have to forgive what’s back there before you can move forward.”
Hunter didn’t have time to think about Slade’s advice, let alone respond, because the back door opened. Eve came out with a tray holding two glasses of lemonade and a dish of chocolate chip cookies.
“Can you use something to drink?”
Smiling at her, Slade answered, “Sure can. You’re taking good care of us.”
Emily and Slade had arrived three days ago and Eve had insisted on cooking for them every night. She’d also planned a party for tomorrow and invited the Morgan clan. Setting the tray on the glass patio table, Eve told Slade, “I’m enjoying it.”
Slade glanced down at the dish of cookies. “I’m going in to wash up before I dig in to them. Be right back.”
Breaking the silence that had settled between the two of them more often than not lately, she said, “You’re good with Mark.”
“He’s a terrific kid.”
“Emily told me he started calling Slade Dad right after their wedding.”
“The two of you seem to be hitting it off,” Hunter remarked.
“I like Emily a lot, and I admire her. She ran that ranch by herself before Slade came along. She told me how Slade helped deliver Amanda.”
Just the Husband She Chose Page 10