Your Baby Or Mine?

by Marie Ferrarella

  Maxwell placed his large hands against the table and pushed himself away. “What say we leave before they pass some ordinance against smoking in a parking lot?”

  Alec didn’t have to be asked twice. He was on his feet even before Maxwell was. At last. Alec had begun to think that the brunch was never going to be over. Ordinarily, he enjoyed talking about his work. In their own way, his designs, his programs, were just as much a part of him as Andrea was. They were his creation, his children, and he wanted to assure their futures so that, ultimately, he could assure her future. Nothing was more important to him than Andrea.

  But right now his mind wasn’t on the future. It was on the past. The very immediate past. And a pair of lips that had seared their imprint into his very soul, marking him as surely as if a branding iron had been applied. Nothing that happened here in the restaurant, monumental though it was for the company and for him, even began to dim that effect.

  Maxwell clamped a hand on Alec’s shoulder in a gesture of camaraderie. Rex was bringing up the rear, having stopped to sign for the meal. He caught up to them at the door. Maxwell waited until they were all out, well clear of the entrance before he produced three cigars, each wrapped in cellophane.

  It reminded Alec of Native Americans passing around the peace pipe after a council. In a way, he supposed it might be fitting, seeing as how Maxwell, who hailed from Arizona, was one quarter Navajo on his mother’s side and fiercely proud of it.

  Rex pocketed his charge card and accepted the cigar, looking at it a little uncertainly.

  Maxwell turned toward Alec. “You smoke, boy?” At sixty-three and a millionaire several times over, Maxwell felt entitled to call any man who appeared the least bit younger than him “boy.” Because of his friendly manner, and habit of freely spreading money around, no one took offense.

  Alec felt Rex eyeing him. In a potential state of misery, Rex undoubtedly wanted company. Friendship had its limits. Alec had no desire to feel his brunch repositioning itself in his stomach. Shaking his head, he declined the offered cigar. “No, I don’t.”

  Maxwell pressed the cigar into his hand anyway. “Then just smell it.” He ran his own slowly under his nose and inhaled deeply, like a man on the threshold of ecstasy. “The subtle scent tempts.” Taking off the cellophane, he looked at Alec. “Like a fresh-faced woman giving you the eye. It’s not an experience to be rushed into, but savored.”

  Like kissing Marissa.

  Alec pushed the thought from his mind. A kiss was a kiss and that was the end of it. Especially since he was never going to make that mistake again.

  Maxwell bit off the tip, then slowly inhaled the cigar’s dormant aroma again before he lit it. He raised a brow to Rex.

  The latter mimicked him, removing the tip and then presenting the cigar to him to be lit. Rex did his best not to appear as miserable as he felt. One of them had to join Maxwell in this ritual.

  Under normal circumstances, Alec would have gladly hung around to see if Rex actually turned green. He’d known Rex for ten years now, ever since he and Joe Forrester had formed Bytes and Pieces, and in all that time, he had never seen Rex take so much as a single puff of anything.

  It would have been interesting to watch him now, but he was anxious to leave. “You won’t be needing me anymore?” The question was addressed to both Rex and Maxwell.

  Rex looked uncertain. His background wasn’t nearly as technically oriented as Alec’s was. And he did lack some of the man’s enthusiasm when it came to the actual programs.

  But Maxwell waved Alec on his way. “No, I’m through with questions for today. Go on home to her, boy.”

  He hadn’t said anything about Andrea to the man. How did he know? “Her?”

  The bewildered look on Alec’s face only made Maxwell laugh. “There’s a woman on your mind, boy. Nothing makes a man fidget like a woman. I’m old. I know the signs. Don’t think I haven’t seen you sneaking peeks at your watch. Go on home to her,” he repeated, grinning.

  He saw Rex eyeing him curiously. Rex’s wife, Myra, had already tried, unsuccessfully, to lure him over for dinner twice with the sole intention of fixing him up with one of her single friends. He’d turned the invitation down both times.

  “There is a woman,” Alex admitted. “Or a woman in training, actually. She’s a year old,” he explained when Maxwell raised one thick gray eyebrow. “My daughter Andrea.”

  Maxwell shook his head, not about to accept Alec’s denial. “No.” He puffed slowly, watching a ring rise lazily into the air from his lips. “That ain’t the one who’s got you itchy to get going. I can see it in your eyes.” Shifting his attention back to the smoke rings, he allowed the subject to drop.

  Alec frowned. The man was talking nonsense. Cigar smoke had obviously gotten into Maxwell’s eyes. He just wanted to get home to his daughter, that was all. He’d spent too much time away from her this week. He shook Maxwell’s hand. “Nice doing business with you, Mr. Maxwell.”

  “Same here.” He clamped his teeth around the cigar, shaking Alec’s hand with both of his. “I’ll be seeing you, boy.”

  Alec nodded at the men, backing away. He could see his car from here. It was parked several aisles over. Getting out would be a lot easier than getting in. The lot had emptied since he’d arrived.

  “I’ll see you at the office tomorrow,” Rex called after him.

  Alec turned around. “I was hoping to work out of the house tomorrow. I’ve got some catching up to do.” On several fronts.

  With Maxwell’s backing, production was going to go into high gear. He needed Alec’s input. “Half a day,” Rex promised. “We’ll split the difference.”

  Better than nothing, Alec supposed. “Which half?”

  Maxwell nudged Rex. “Take the bigger one. Ask for morning.” Mornings had a habit of bleeding into the afternoon, taking a chunk out of it before anyone knew it was happening.

  “Morning,” Alec reluctantly agreed.

  He was happy for Rex, happy for himself, as well, he insisted. It looked as if they were about to play hardball with the big guys at last. Every large company, Rex was fond of saying, had been a small one once. And they had been small long enough. This was what he had been working toward all along.

  So why wasn’t he happier about it? Why was there this nameless, antsy feeling waltzing through him? Because he couldn’t understand it, he dismissed it He had a daughter to get home to.

  He glanced at his watch as he got in behind the wheel. Two o’clock. Four and a half hours to wine and dine the man. But at least the rest of the day was his. He could finally go home.

  But first, he had to make one stop on the way.

  Both children had been even more energetic than usual. Marissa was grateful for the diversion. If she was busy, she couldn’t think and if she couldn’t think, she couldn’t dwell on this morning.

  The hell she couldn’t. It kept popping up, fresh in her mind, like toast in a defective toaster slot that refused to stay down no matter how hard you pressed the lever. It hounded her throughout cleanup and all the little games she had played with the kids. It refused to let her have any peace, replaying itself over and over again in her mind. Each time she relived it, her breath would back up in her lungs, and her pulse would race, just as it had when he had kissed her. When she ran her tongue along her lips, she could still taste him.

  If only he hadn’t seemed as if he’d wanted to break and run when he had backed away. But then, it had probably frightened him as much as it had her.

  “The way to face up to your fears,” she said aloud to the two children, “is to meet them head-on. I only hope your daddy knows that,” she told Andrea.

  Marissa looked up at the sound of the doorbell. Alec hadn’t told her that he was expecting anyone. And it couldn’t be him, unless he’d forgotten his key.

  Picking up each child one at a time, she deposited them into the playpen. “You stay put, you hear?” she said over her shoulder as she went to the door.

&nbs
p; “S’ay puu,” Christopher echoed behind her.

  “Right, stay put,” Marissa agreed. “The legendary peephole,” she murmured to herself at the door. Remembering her promise, she looked through it. There was a well-dressed, somewhat impatient-looking woman standing on the other side of the door. The doorbell rang again. Marissa winced as the sound cut right through her. She opened the door before the woman had another chance to press the bell. “Yes?”

  The lady, a stately looking woman with hair the color of muted flame, slowly took measure of her. Her eyes, a vivid green, looked as if they missed nothing.

  “May I help you?” Marissa asked.

  The woman swept past her, royalty entering commoner grounds. “Is Alec in?”

  “No, I’m afraid he’s out.”

  The woman turned around. A smile faintly whispered along her lips. “Just as well. Then we can get acquainted without interruption.”

  Marissa noted a resemblance around the eyes and the set of the mouth. This had to be Roberta.

  It was turning out to be one hell of an emotionally wrought day. First Alec scrambled her brain, then his mother arrived to pick over it. If she survived this, she could survive anything. “Mrs. Beckett?”

  Roberta was obviously pleased at being recognized. “How did you know?”

  “You have his eyes.”

  “He has mine.”

  Marissa conceded the point. “He has yours. Right this way, please,” Trying to make the best of it, Marissa led the way into the family room. Andrea and Christopher sounded as if they were engaged in a tug of war.

  When it rained…

  Alec recognized the car as he turned onto his street. A vivid blue Mercedes sedan. It was parked, slightly askew, in his driveway.

  Roberta.

  She could never park worth a damn. What was she doing here? It wasn’t her habit to just come by for a visit. If she wanted to see him, she summoned him. Like a queen commanding an audience.

  Was there something wrong with Andrea?

  It wasn’t until he had parked his car and was hurrying to the front door that he remembered Marissa didn’t have his mother’s number. There was no way she would have called Roberta if she couldn’t reach him.

  So why was Roberta here?

  Alec wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he walked in. Probably Marissa’s suitcases, packed and standing in the hallway. Roberta had that effect on women. She made them want to flee. Anyone younger than she was, was instantly the enemy, to be vanquished one way or the other. And Roberta had a rapier tongue that was more than equal to the job.

  Prepared for anything, Alec entered the house, looking around. The sound of childish babble and womanly voices led him to the family room.

  He held his breath.

  Marissa had mercifully changed from the body-hugging outfit she’d had on previously into shorts and a T-shirt. Not much of an improvement, he thought, but some.

  To his amazement, Marissa looked completely at ease. Maybe Roberta hadn’t had time to go for the jugular yet.

  “Hello, Roberta. What are you doing here?” Walking in, he picked up his daughter and gave her a hug before setting her down on the floor again.

  “Well, there you finally are,” Roberta said, as if he were a delinquent nine-year-old who had been due home hours ago. “Is that any way to greet your mother?”

  Alec saw the amused look in Marissa’s eyes. She was amused rather than intimidated. His admiration for her grew.

  “Sorry, I was just surprised to see you. And as for where I was, I was working, Roberta.” Dutifully, he brushed a kiss on the cheek she presented to him. Her kiss was bestowed on the air beside his cheek.

  Nothing changed, he thought.

  “On a Sunday?” She narrowed her eyes in disapproval. “Isn’t there something written about resting on Sunday?” She looked at Marissa for confirmation.

  Marissa merely raised her shoulders and let them drop again. There was no way she was getting in the middle of this.

  Alec caught the gesture and wondered what was going on. Were the two women actually getting along? Seeing as how one of the women was his mother, it didn’t seem possible. Roberta didn’t get along with women, she tolerated them. Sometimes.

  He perched on the edge of the sofa arm, alert for the first signs of attack. Marissa would be no match for her once Roberta got rolling.

  “Not if you have a rich backer to please.”

  “And did you succeed?” Marissa spoke for the first time.

  He looked relieved to be addressing her instead of his mother, she thought. “Rex is actually smiling.”

  By the way he said it, Marissa took it to mean that this was not the norm for Rex. Whoever that was. She wondered if Alec was aware of the fact that he had left out a great many details about his job. She had only the sketchiest idea what he actually did. He wasn’t free with information.

  His mother, on the other hand, had been, whether she realized it or not. The short visit had filled in several gaps for her. The picture of a man who had been raised to believe that there was no such thing as love was beginning to emerge. That was why seeing him with his daughter was particularly touching. He loved his daughter. And he’d loved his wife. Marissa only had to hear him mention her name to know that.

  Alec turned his attention to his mother. He still had no idea what she was doing here. “What does bring you out, Roberta?”

  Long, dark lashes swept along the hauntingly high cheekbones that had cost her a fortune to attain. She studied her nails for a moment before answering. Roberta didn’t believe in polite smoke screens. “I came to see if the woman you hired measured up.”

  Oh, God. “Roberta…” Alec began warningly.

  Roberta ignored him, as she had done for most of his life. “I told Melissa here—”

  “Marissa,” he corrected before Marissa had the opportunity.

  Roberta inclined her head, accepting the correction, and continued. “That men don’t know how to conduct proper interviews. All they want is help. It’s up to us women to see if certain standards are met.”

  Since when? Alec crossed his arms in front of him, looking down at his mother. What was she up to? “I thought your only standard was that the nanny be breathing.”

  “Don’t be droll, Alec. You haven’t the talent for it.” She tossed her head, tilting her chin up, knowing that was her most flattering pose. She splayed her hand dramatically over her Armani-covered breast. “Just because I was never Carol Brandy—”

  “Brady,” Alec put in.

  “Doesn’t mean that I don’t care about Andrea.” Her eyes shifted toward Marissa. “I wanted to find out just what sort of a person you had hired to take care of her.”

  He didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or just plain angry at this intrusion. Roberta had picked a hell of a time to play grandmother.

  “Roberta,” Alex began, his voice tight, “could I see you for a minute?”

  Roberta made no effort to get up. “You see me now, dear.”

  His eyes narrowed. He had no idea what kind of game Roberta thought she had in mind, but Marissa wasn’t about to play it. “I mean, in private.”

  “Later.” She waved him away, looking at Marissa. “When I’m through.”

  He could see the way she was sizing Marissa up. She was no match for his mother. No woman was. He had to find a way to get Roberta to sheath her claws before they sliced Marissa. Alec had no intentions of standing by and seeing her hurt.

  “Why the sudden interest, Roberta?” he pressed in an attempt to divert her attention to him. “You never conducted impromptu interrogations before.”

  “Interviews, darling, not interrogations. I do wish you’d use your words properly. And before, the nannies you hired always came through agencies that screened them properly. That’s not the case now, is it? This is a tedious job, I grant you, but someone has to do it.” She sighed, indicating that she would bear up to the burden. “We were almost finished when you arrived.” She
turned toward Marissa. “Just a few more questions, if you please.”

  Okay, maybe this wasn’t so bad after all, Alec reasoned. Marissa looked none the worse for it. Maybe he was worrying needlessly.

  “Have you ever been arrested?”

  Alec shot to his feet. Boy, when he was wrong, he was really wrong. “Roberta!”

  This time, it was Marissa who raised her hand to silence him. She could take care of herself, although she had to admit that having Alec come to her defense was rather touching. She couldn’t remember the last time something like that had happened.

  Marissa’s eyes were on Roberta’s. She gave no indication that she was going to look away. Or be intimidated. “No.”

  Roberta purposefully looked at Christopher. “Have you ever been married?”

  “Roberta, I don’t think—”

  “Yes.” Marissa’s voice was calm.

  Roberta took in a long breath before asking, “What happened?”

  “Roberta, you’ve gone too far,” Alec said sharply. “That is none of your business.”

  Roberta looked appalled that her son should speak to her that way, or that he thought that anything was beyond her right to know. “Of course it is. What if he left her because she was abusive?”

  For almost thirty years she’d hardly bothered with him and she had to pick now to try out for the role of Donna Reed. “You’re being ridiculous.” Alec looked at Marissa, praying that Roberta hadn’t insulted her enough to make her want to leave. “Marissa, I’m sorry about this—”

  Marissa’s eyes darkened, not at the question, but at the memory. “My husband left because he didn’t want a child. Because he couldn’t share his heart with someone small and helpless.” She pressed her lips together, looking at Christopher. If Antonio had had his way, Christopher would have never been born. And the best part of her would have never existed. “Someone who needed him.”

  Intrigued, perhaps even moved though she’d be the last to admit it, Roberta looked into Marissa’s eyes. Her expression was unfathomable as she studied the younger woman. “But you can.”