[House of Morgan 01.0 - 03.0] Boxed Set

by Victoria Pinder

  A smile broke out on her face as she read ten thirty. Her stomach rumbled with nerves again. With an intake of breath, she let her heart lift in her chest. She quickly left the shop, and raced toward the coffee shop a few blocks away. The small café had a chalkboard with all the drink options, and the waiters all wore green aprons. She sniffed the air. The pastries were freshly prepared. The room was airy, clean, fresh, and bright. Colt had picked a good place.

  She stood in line. In her younger years, she'd preferred to stay here than go home. She always chose the seat in the back that overlooked the window patio to see who would drive in, in case someone from her father's world found her.

  Vicki became jumpy again. She had no time for reminiscing. She played with the edge of her designer no-sleeves pale pink work blouse, and waited at the cashier. Once the woman nodded, she ordered a decadent cold frappe, something she'd hadn't ordered since her teenage years, and a bagel. She was early, so she'd grab their old seat, if it was available.

  Her palms were sweaty as she added her receipt to her wallet, and told herself she needed to be smart. Her daughter was safe and alive. Colt Collins hadn't dismissed her and threatened court. He'd been willing to listen, and she had to be prepared. The boy she knew was sweet and fair. She gulped. The man she saw the other day was hard-bodied and capable of anything. She sighed and refused to let her mind wander into the "what if" questions that flashed in front of her eyes. He'd hear her out.

  A pain stabbed her in the gut. If she had trusted him and not her father, her life would be so different today.

  At the window, she stared at the clear blue sky. Everything was so bright today. Slowly, she rolled her shoulders back and then straightened out her pencil skirt. A Morgan on a mission must always smile and hide her intentions. The rest of the world might believe that the Morgans were respectable, but those who knew her, John, or Peter knew the truth. The House of Morgan was a facade. Her grandfather and father had stolen Collins land years ago for oil and transformed the money into a banking empire. As a child, she's always wondered about her mother, and she'd not do that to Clara. Clara deserved better.

  A black pick-up truck parked, but Vicki knew it wasn't Colt. The waitress brought her drink and bagel. Everything in her life was wrong.

  Vicki's shoulders tightened and her neck pinched.

  Overhead, the bells chimed, and she scanned the counter. Goosebumps grew on her arm as she smelled orange trees mixed with the forest. Colt wasn't inside, but then she saw his blue truck turning into the parking lot. She sat straighter. This was real. She swallowed as her breathing became more shallow. She rolled her shoulders and tried to sip her drink.

  Her body was on overdrive as he stepped out of his truck and walked toward the shop. She straightened her necklace. Colt Collins was an honorable sort and would join her any second. In high school, Collins had a brilliant mind and kind heart. Then he joined the Marines, and Vicki had no doubt he excelled there too.

  The waitress came over and asked, "Can I get you anything else?"

  Vicki swallowed. "No, I'm good. My friend just parked."

  The waitress with the curly hair shrugged. "He is the sexiest man I've seen all day."

  Vicki coughed. No man she ever met came close to Colt. His dark hair, brown eyes, and now all those hard muscles. He had somehow added to perfection. "He's a good man, and he'll order his drink at the front."

  "I'm on my way, then. Won't have you waiting for someone that sexy." The waitress departed, and Vicki ran her hand through her hair. If she intended to be reasonable, then she needed to stay calm. His deep voice wafted through the air, and her body was on high alert.

  She stroked her throat and picked at her bagel. She sighed, and then straightened in her seat to stop her fidgeting. Motherhood had been stolen from her. She crossed her legs, and swallowed.

  Tonight, she would call her lawyer from her brother's company, Grumpkins, and tell him to dig up more information on how their father had accomplished this. She'd use her family name to hire an army of lawyers, if she had to get Clara in her life.

  Colt walked toward her now, and she met his stare.

  Her skin stayed sensitive. She rubbed the back of her neck, picked up the cup, and took a sip in an effort to calm down.

  Serenity filled her nostrils for that one second until her skin grew goosebumps and that woodsy smell invaded. Without a word, he sat across from her. Her heart raced faster and faster now, so she opened her mouth and told him flatly, "You're late."

  "The sitter showed up a few minutes late. I came as soon as I could." Colt's voice had grown deeper and hotter. Her hands shook as she gripped her coffee mug. Then she met his gaze, so she stood to break the spell she was under.

  He stood as well, and blocked her view of the rest of the cafe. "Sit, Victoria."

  "Vicki is fine." The butterflies in her stomach didn't stop when she took in the sight of him. Six foot three. All muscles, and those brown eyes of his that she'd never forgotten. But the scowl on his face told her plenty, and she scanned for the exit for escape. "I am nervous."

  "You're going to jump out of your skin, woman. Sit down. I don't bite." Colt slowly slid into the bench across from her, and she sat slowly. Her toes and knees bounced, but she tried to sit still. She jittered, and it wasn't from the coffee.

  The waitress returned, and brought Colt his coffee in a mug. Calmness began to return to Vicki's skin, and she stared at the table until the waitress left. Then she whispered, "I've not been here in a while. I don't have a chance to come out to the country now that Alice lives in the city."

  "Yeah, Alice told me she misses this place too."

  The shakiness and nerves weren't mature at all. Get a hold of yourself, she yelled in her mind. Colt wasn't her enemy. He kept their daughter safe. She gripped the bottom of her chair as she tentatively glanced into his eyes. "I've been helping with the wedding plans."

  He leaned across the table and pushed his coffee cup to the side. "One would think you weren't just named Miami's Prettiest Bachelorette last week."

  "You saw that?"

  "Yeah."

  She pressed her lips together. "That kind of thing doesn't matter to me."

  He sipped his coffee cup and stared at her like she was an alien creature. "It used to matter to you."

  Her chest lost some of its tightness. "Not anymore. Colt, until yesterday, I thought Clara was dead."

  His eyes widened and he scooted his seat back a little. She stayed still. Then he shook his head. "Bull. You didn't care and gave her away, signing my name on those papers like I consented. I fought for a year that my signature was forged to get child services off my back."

  "I didn't forge anything. I wouldn't do that." She had to say the right words. She swallowed. She had to get him to believe her. She kept eye contact and leaned over the table. "You were off fighting battles in war. You weren't here, and I don't know what happened—"

  He leaned closer to her on the table. "My mother found our daughter in the hospital, and you never went to the nursery."

  Her jaw ticked. "And you slept with the brunette the day you met in basic training."

  "That's the stupidest thing I heard. All I could think about at the time was you."

  Her defense system needed serious work. She needed the story of how he'd ended up with Clara. Vicki had to be there for her daughter too. She blinked and met his gaze. "The doctors told me she died. How did your mother find Clara?"

  He sipped his coffee and then massaged his chin. "She worked at the hospital. Someone tried to change her schedule. She didn't want to change, and switched with another nurse. Our daughter was brought into the nursery. She was told who the mother was, and called me at boot camp."

  She crossed her arms. "That story has massive holes, Colt. I would never give up my daughter."

  He sat straighter. "You did whatever your father asked of you."

  "Never that.” Again, he leaned forward, and his open unblinking stare made her believe that he d
idn't believe a word. She swallowed. "Why did he call this meeting?"

  His cheeks reddened. "Alice believes every word you fed her, and she begged me." Then he scooted away again. She lowered her gaze. He said, "You walked away from our daughter. You said you were dead, and then you return to Miami as some long-lost princess. So don't give me this act, expecting me to believe a word you say."

  "It's not an act." Tears rolled down her cheek. Her own father had staged her funeral and let people believe she had died rather than explain she had run away from him. When she had found out, she had saw no reason to correct anyone. She’d been sad. She blinked. Now she didn't need to fight with Colt, but if this was all he could say, then she'd have to hire a team of lawyers. "I thought she was dead."

  He massaged his chin again, and his lips curled. "Why didn't you pick up the phone and tell me you were pregnant?"

  Her entire body heated. "You were sleeping with another woman."

  "That's the second time you've said that nonsense." His Adam's apple bobbed. "You had years to tell me. My family isn't poor, and neither is yours. You weren't knocked up by a no one, Vicki."

  Her head cleared. "I'm thankful she had you."

  He gazed at her forehead. "Clara's my daughter, my responsibility. You shouldn't get to walk back into her life, throw happy smiles, and pretend you're glad to see her. Not when we both know in six months or in a day, you'll grow bored of her and leave."

  "I'm not like that." She raised her head and remembered how she'd made her point with him years ago, even as he lost. She stuck her bottom lip out and stared at his lips. "Colt, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. I'd rather be on your side, but I will sue you. My brother Peter will fund me. Can you let this go or not?"

  He wrinkled his nose and stared into her eyes. "You would throw money at me like it matters."

  "I don't want to fight with you." She ran her hands through her hair, as her spirits soared. She didn't dare let him see that she wasn't upset. She kept her entire body still, and lowered her gaze. Then she reached out and grabbed his hand. "Please, Colt. I want to know my daughter. Think what you want of me, but I'd never hurt her. I was a stupid teenage girl, but that's not who I am anymore."

  She peeked through her eyelashes and he stayed quiet. He hadn't stormed off, but his gaze appeared cold and dead. "I must be stupid."

  Her heart leapt out of his chest. She swallowed and refused to get ahead of herself. "Colt, I should have run to you when I found out I was pregnant. You always gave off this protective feeling in my heart. Not following that is how I let my father win."

  He crossed his arms, and his succulent brown eyes beckoned her. She sucked in her bottom lip as he told her, "I can't ever let anyone hurt Clara."

  She nodded. "I'd never hurt her."

  He rubbed his forehead and nodded back at her. "If you're telling me the truth, then it's wrong if I fight you. But I don't know if I trust you either."

  Her lips parted, though she didn't say anything at first. "Please, Colt. I want my daughter."

  "She's never had or needed her mother. She has her family, her roots. And I'm getting married in a few weeks."

  Colt's marriage sounded like a bad dream. Vicki shifted in her seat. "You can't expect me to walk away, not if I know she's alive."

  "Even if it's for the best? You couldn't let your daughter live the only life she's ever known."

  "If our situations were reversed, would you walk away if you found out you had a daughter after being told she died?"

  His scratched his chin. "No."

  "Good." She pushed her hair behind her ears. "Then don't expect that of me."

  He dropped his arms to his side. "Yet my job is to protect our daughter."

  "Ours is the right word." She sipped her drink to try to seem normal. "I'm not out to hurt her. Not having a mother is worse. I never knew mine, and the wondering still haunts me."

  "I don't know about that." He rubbed his neck, and his gaze grew softer. "I'll need you to prove your claim."

  Her stomach went hard as rocks. "How?"

  He sipped his coffee and opened his hand on the table, palm up. "Let's try this out. We'll pretend you're the babysitter for a while. I needed to hire one, and Clara knows I'm picking someone out until school starts."

  Vicki's feet rocked under the table. "I'm her mother. I'll change my schedule at work and be there."

  His sexy brown eyes didn't blink. "You don't understand."

  "Understand what?"

  He stared at her, and the intensity made her stomach churn. Then he took a deep breath. "You're not to tell Clara you're her mother. Not yet. Not until I'm sure she's safe from you."

  Her mouth fell open again. "That's not fair."

  He stayed absolutely still. "It's the best deal I can offer. I want to trust you, but I need to be sure you won't hurt her."

  Her ears thrashed with her heartbeat. "When do we tell her about me?"

  He swallowed. "When I say so."

  She chewed her bottom lip. Colt was giving her a chance to know Clara, without a legal nightmare. Vicki nodded. "Okay."

  He unfolded his hands on the table. "Can you come to the house tomorrow and stay for the day?"

  "Yes." Her smile could not be stopped, and so what if her laugh had tears of joy in it? "I can come tomorrow." She threw caution to the wind, stood, walked around the table, and hugged his shoulders. He still smelled of oak with a hint of orange, but all manly testosterone. A moment later, he wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her. Heat rushed through her. Her shoulders were less tense, until he let her go. Then she adjusted her shirt and straightened her spine. "I'm sorry."

  Her cheeks heated, and she feared her face went red. She stilled.

  He pressed his hands in his pockets. "That's how we created Clara, with you hugging me. None of those tricks will work now."

  "It was more than a hug, Colt." Her eyes narrowed, and she let her shoulders relax now.

  His body tensed. "Talking about this is a bad move."

  "You're right. I'm happy you're giving me a chance."

  He reached for his wallet and found a business card. Without a word, he handed it to her. She read it. "I remember where you live."

  His shoulders tightened and he tugged at his ear. "Come in the morning. Clara will be up, anxious to meet her new sitter."

  Tomorrow was too far away. She took a deep breath. She'd learn patience, and in the meantime, she had her way into the house and to her daughter. Her heart soared. "Who is watching her now?"

  "The same person who protected her for years—her grandmother. My parents are going condo hunting this weekend, and won't be back home for a while." He fixed his shirt and stood to leave. "Don't disappoint Clara. She's a good girl."

  She'd prove to him and herself that family mattered to her. He held open the café door for her. This plan of his was a start. Colt Collins would be wowed with how amazing Vicki and Clara were together. He wouldn't know what hit him. No one was going to tear her away from her daughter again. She'd have her family back.

  Chapter 4

  Six thirty in the morning might be too early.

  Victoria walked on the sidewalk as the sprinklers took care of the complex lawns. She jumped out of the way of the water, but nothing could stop her. Today she spoke to her daughter. Her throat barely contained a few giggles.

  She hopped in her car with her backpack full of memories to show Colt. Sonograms, her diary with unsent letters, the pictures she had of him at boot camp, hospital records, the death certificate she'd received, and the baby video she'd made during her pregnancy had all come out of the closet last night. When she hit the main road down south toward Homestead, she left the ocean and Collins Avenue and headed toward the turnpike. Homestead was a drive, but this early there would be no traffic.

  Possibly. In Miami, anything might be on the road.

  As the scenery changed to more farm areas, she sang along with the radio.

  In her bag, she reached in
and squeezed the stuffed teddy bear she'd bought. With luck, Clara wasn't too big.

  Her head bopped to the music as she passed the sign for the exits she hadn't seen since high school. Life was simple then. She hopped off the expressway. If she stopped at a coffee shop and bought him a Café Cubano, Colt might appreciate her gesture.

  And she'd slow down to give them time to wake up.

  At six fifty, she turned off the engine in his driveway and stared at the coffee and her digital clock. She never drove fast. How did she get here this quickly? Colt had let her come without a fight, but the lights weren't on inside the house.

  She'd have to wait, but wasn't sure if she stayed in the car or sat on his porch.

  She bit her lower lip and stared at the screened-in porch. With a roll to her shoulder, she unlocked the door and slipped out. She stared at the window and then lights came on. Colt must be awake. She gulped and stepped forward, but her heels sank into the mud. She closed her eyes and tried to shake her Prada shoes free. Her calves moved fine, and she tried to lift her toes to take another step, but the next step had the same problem. She was stuck.

  She winced. He lived on a farm. She should have worn sneakers.

  "You never learned."

  Her ears heated just as her face did. She turned and gazed at Colt as he leaned against the door. Every cell in her body came alive as he sauntered over to her. His muscles blocked the moon setting in the distance as he came closer, and he set off a furnace inside of her. Colt reached around her waist and picked her up. Heat rose in her body, even as she lost her high heels to the mud. He ran his hands up her thigh, but then he dropped her on his front step. She rocked on her bare feet and held tightly to the two cups of coffee she had.

  "Colt, thank you." She fixed her blouse and wobbled to balance on her naked feet. He reached her back and anchored her. She almost tipped over, then met his eyes. "I'd like my shoes back."