Читать книгу A Bravo Christmas Reunion - Christine Rimmer - Страница 8

Chapter Three

Marcus,

I don’t know where to start. So I guess I’ll just put it right out there. If you’re reading this it’s because you’re a father. I’ve just had your baby and this letter has been mailed to you because the baby is born and doing fine. The sticker on the envelope should tell you whether it’s a boy or a girl.

I’m so sorry. I know you’re furious with me about now. I don’t blame you. I should have told you before I left Seattle, but…well, I just couldn’t make myself do it.

So you’re learning this way. In a letter.

Try not to hate me too much.

Try not to hate me too much….

Marcus read that sentence over twice. And then a third time.

After that, he loosened his tie. Then he dropped back across the hotel room bed and stared at the attractively coffered ceiling and thought how she was wrong: he didn’t hate her. True, what he felt for Hayley right then wasn’t pretty. It was fury and frustration and a certain wounded possessiveness all mixed up together.

But hate? Uh-uh. He wished he did hate her. It would make everything so much simpler.

He raised the letter and read the rest. She’d listed the address and phone number of the hospital she would be using. And also the information he already had—her own address and number.

She wrote at the bottom:

Try to understand. I realize this isn’t what you wanted. I swear I was careful. I guess just not careful enough.

Hayley

That was it. All of it. It wasn’t much more information than he’d already had.

He balled up the letter, raised his arm and tossed the thing into the corner wastebasket. Slam dunk.

What the hell to do now?

He was due back in Seattle tomorrow, for a series of meetings, the first of which he had on his schedule for 11:00 a.m. His company was poised for a big move into the Central California market. They were high priority, those meetings.

But then again, so was the kid he’d just found out he was having.

And so was Hayley. She needed him now, whether her pride would let her admit that or not.

Still flat on his back across the bed, he grabbed his PDA off the nightstand and dialed—with his thumb, from memory. She answered on the second ring.

“’Lo?” Her voice was husky, reminding him of other nights, of the scent and the feel of her, all soft and drowsy, in his bed.

“You were already asleep.” He didn’t mean it to come out sounding like an accusation, but he supposed that it did.

“Marcus.” She sighed. “What?”

“I’m flying out at 6:00 a.m. tomorrow. I’ve got meetings in Seattle I can’t get out of.”

“You’ve always got meetings you can’t get out of. It’s fine. I told you. I don’t expect—”

“I’ll clear my calendar in the next couple of days. Then I’ll come back.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Yeah. I do. We both know I do. I’ll see you. Thursday. Friday at the latest. If you need me before then, call me on my cell. You still have the number?”

A silence, then, “I have it.”

“When’s the baby due?”

“January eighth.”

“You’re not working, are you?” He heard rustling, pictured her sitting up in bed, all rumpled and droopy-eyed, her hair tangled from sleep. “Hayley?”

Reluctantly, she answered, “Yes. I’m still working.”

“You shouldn’t be. And now you’ve finally told me about the baby, you don’t need to be. I’ll make arrangements right away.”

“Give me money, you mean.” She sounded downright bleak. She’d damn well better not try refusing his money. “I’m managing just fine. I like working and I feel great and I’m going to stay on the job until—”

“Quit. Tomorrow.”

“Uh. Excuse me. But this is my life you’re suddenly running. Don’t.”

“I’m only saying—”

“Don’t.”

He had no idea where she worked, or what she did there. His own fault. He’d just had to play it noble seven months ago, which meant only allowing the detective to get the basic information.

So that now he was forced to ask, “Where do you work, anyway?”

“I’m an office manager. For a small catering company. There’s the owner, the chef, the dishwasher and me. We’re in a storefront off of K Street. Around the Corner Catering. We do a pretty brisk business, actually. We’re hooked up with a staffing agency so we offer full service. Not only the food, but the staff, from setup to cleanup.”

“A caterer. You work for a caterer.”

“Yeah. Is that a problem for you?”

“It’s high-stress work and you know it. Chefs are notorious for being temperamental. You’re having a baby. You shouldn’t be in a stressful work environment. You should—”

“Don’t,” she said for the third time.

He let it go. Later, when he got back, they could discuss this again. He’d get her to see this his way—the right way. “I’ll be gone two days. Three at the most.”

“You said that.”

“No, I said I’d be back Thursday or Friday. On second thought, I should be able to make it sooner. Wednesday, I hope.”

“All right. Wednesday, then. Is that all?”

He hated to hang up with all this…tension between them. He should say something tender, he supposed. But nothing tender occurred to him. “We’ll work this out. You can count on me.”

“I know that.”

“Don’t worry.”

“I…won’t,” she said softly after a moment. Then, almost in a whisper, “Good night, Marcus.” Then a click.

He put the device back on the night table and laced his hands behind his head. A kid. It still didn’t seem possible. A child had never been part of his plans.

But plans changed. And sometimes allowances had to be made.

“His assistant called me at work an hour ago,” Hayley told Kelly when the sisters met for lunch the next day. “Her name is Joyce. She sounds very…efficient.”

“That’s good, right?” Kelly forked up a bite of Caesar salad.

Hayley turned her glass of Perrier in a slow circle. “I mean, not young, you know?”

Kelly swallowed and frowned, puzzled. “Not young…like you?”

Hayley turned her glass some more. “It shouldn’t matter, that he hired someone older to replace me.”

“But you’re glad he did.”

Hayley tried to deny it—and couldn’t. “I suppose I am. Even though, since I left, he’s been going out with a bunch of beautiful women.”

“Oh, really?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“How do you know that?”

“I still get Seattle magazine. I saw a picture of him in a tux.” She gazed wistfully down into her überpricey glass of bubbly French water. “He looks amazing in a tux. It was some opening of something. He had a drop-dead gorgeous blonde on his arm. He looked so…severe. And dangerous. And handsome—did I mention handsome?”

“Often.”

“Practically broke my poor little heart all over again.”

“Jerk.”

“No. He’s not a jerk. He’s…just Marcus, that’s all. He was true to me when we were together. As a matter of fact, he’s not real big on the bachelor lifestyle. But then, when we broke up, well, he would have considered it a point of honor, to prove to himself that he was over me.”

Kelly shook her head. “Did I already say the word jerk?”

“You did. And I said he’s not. He’s just…well, you’d have to know him.”

Her sister wisely withheld comment. They ate in silence for a few minutes. Finally, Kelly spoke. “So the two of you got together…?”

“Six months after he hired me, when his divorce became final.”

“He was married?”

“To his childhood sweetheart. But she dumped him and ran off with some European guy. I was just burning hot for him. And I was lying in wait for those final divorce papers to come in the mail. Then I seduced him. It’s a plain, shameless fact.”

Kelly chuckled, “My bad baby sister.”

“Oh, yeah. I was so sure I could show him what real, true love could be.” Hayley shook her head. “So much for that.” She bit into her grilled chipotle chicken sandwich and chewed slowly. The last month or two, with the baby taking up so much space in there, eating fast meant heartburn later.

“So what did his new, older assistant have to say?” Kelly buttered a sourdough roll.

“She was just telling me a platinum card was on the way, wanting to know where I banked so she could arrange for a giant-sized wire transfer of funds.”

“Money,” Kelly said thoughtfully. “Well, it comes in handy, you gotta admit.”

“It sure does. I suppose I should be more grateful, huh?”

Kelly chuckled. “Oh, hell no. He should be grateful, to have a beautiful, smart, capable, loving woman like you as the mother of his child.”

“I’ll tell him you said that.”

“Do.”

“He’s just a little messed over, that’s all. From the awful childhood he had, from his marriage that didn’t last forever, after all. I should embroider myself a sampler and hang it on the wall….”

“Saying?”

“‘There’s no saving a messed-over guy, so you’re better off not to even try.’” Hayley chuckled, a sound devoid of humor. “Hey. It rhymes.”

“Pure poetry.”

“Kelly?”

“Umm?”

“Do you think I’m messed over? You know, from the way I grew up?”

Kelly shrugged. “Maybe a little. But we all are, I’m sure. You, me, big brother Tanner—and all the other poor, lost souls who had crazy, bad Blake Bravo for a dad. Think about it.” Blake had married a lot of women. And given them children. Each woman had thought she was the only one. And they all found out much later, after the notorious Blake finally died and it was all over the national news, that there were other wives. Several. Some no doubt were yet to be found—along with the children they’d borne him. “None of us ever knew our father,” Kelly continued, “even the ones who saw him now and then. Because he wasn’t the kind that anybody really knows. And then, we all had mothers with emotional issues. That’s a given. Remember Mom.”

“God. Mom. Yeah.” Lia Wells Bravo had been frail both physically and emotionally, the perfect target for Blake Bravo’s dangerous brand of charm. One by one, she put the children he gave her during his infrequent visits into foster homes. Lia told all three they had no siblings. And though she wouldn’t take care of them herself, she refused to give them up for adoption.

“It’s just a sad fact,” Kelly said. “Anybody who’d fall in love with a man like Blake Bravo would have had to be at least a little bit out of her mind.”

“You’re not exactly reassuring me, you know.” Hayley sipped her Perrier.

“Sorry…”

“It’s so depressing, just thinking about Mom. I hate that I never understood her. And now she’s gone, I probably never will.” She looked down at her sandwich and knew she ought to eat more of it. “Did I mention that Marcus’s childhood was terrible, too?”

“You did. Have you met his parents?”

“They’re both long dead. His mother died when he was a kid, some kind of accident. Marcus was never really clear on what happened to her, exactly. His father was a drunk and Marcus despised him. He got millions when his dad died. Marcus put it all away, hasn’t touched a penny of it. He has it set up so it funds a bunch of charities. The whole Kaffe Central thing? He built that himself. Starting from a corner coffee shop in Tacoma where he went to work as a manager straight out of college.”

“Kaffe Central. You said it’s like Starbucks, right?”

Hayley leaned across the table. “Never,” she commanded darkly, “compare the Kaffe Central experience to Starbucks.” And then she grinned. “But, yeah. Helpful, skilled baristas. Quality coffee. Lattes to die for, whipped up just the way you want them. Amazing ambience—special, but…comfortable. Selected bakery treats.”

“Wi-Fi?”

“As a matter of course. Oh, and it’s a progressive company, too. Good working conditions, good salaries, everybody gets stock options, good benefits including health insurance. And from what Marcus said, you’ll have one in your neighborhood soon. They’re opening several shops here in the Sacramento area.”

“Can’t wait—and he sounds…like a complex man.”

“He is. And determined. Way determined. Now he knows about the baby, he’s going to be pushing me to do things his way. And I mean everything.”

“Marriage?”

Hayley laughed. “Are you kidding? After what his ex, Adriana, did to him, Marcus has sworn he’ll never get married again.”

“But now that he’s going to be a dad…”

“Not Marcus. No way, not even with a baby coming. He may push for full custody, though.”

Kelly scoffed. “But I thought you said he didn’t even want kids.”

“He didn’t. But now it’s happening, it’s all going to be about doing the right thing, whatever he decides the right thing may be. He can be…cold. Distant. There’s an emotional disconnect there that can be way scary. But he does have an ingrained sense of fair play. So my guess is he’ll probably be willing to share custody.”

“Big of him.”

“But he’ll want me to move back to Seattle, you watch. And he’s already been on me to quit work immediately.”

“Don’t let him scare you. We can sic Tanner on him.” Their older brother was a private investigator. Strong. Silent. Smart. Possibly as determined as Marcus. And extremely protective of his sisters and his niece.

“Even Tanner isn’t going to be able to keep Marcus Reid from doing it all his way.”

“But you will,” said Kelly. “You’re tough and smart, Hayley Bravo. Nobody pushes you around. You survived our poor, screwed-up mom and the foster care system with a positive attitude and a heck of a lot of heart. You’re going to be just fine—and your baby, too.”

“Say that again.”

“It’ll work out. You’ll see.”

Hayley took another bite of her sandwich and fervently hoped that her sister was right.

She found Marcus sitting in one of the wicker chairs by her front door when she got home from work that night. He wore a pricey gray trench over a beautiful charcoal suit and he looked as if he’d just stepped off the cover of GQ.

She met those ice-green eyes and felt an unwilling thrill skate along the surface of her skin. In spite of everything—her stomach out to here, her wounded heart, and the threat he posed to the destiny of her child—the man could steal her breath away with just a look.

“It’s after six,” he muttered, those eyes of his looking dangerous and shadowed, the Christmas lights that twined the railing casting his sculpted cheekbones into rugged relief. “What kind of hours are you working, anyway?”

“Nice to see you, too.” She unlocked the front door and pushed it inward, then stepped back to gesture him in ahead of her.

He rose with a certain manly, regal grace that made her want to do sexy things to his tall, lean body, things she shouldn’t want to do to him after the way he’d turned her down months ago—things she probably couldn’t do in her current condition.

“Are you all right?” He was scowling. “I don’t like it. You on your feet all day with the baby coming any minute now.”

“I’m not due for almost a month. And I’m hardly working on my feet. I’m at a desk, thank you very much. Tonight, we had two events—a cocktail thing and a small dinner party—on the schedule, so I stayed a little late to give a hand with the last-minute details.” As usual, there had been yelling on the part of the chef, Federico. Sofia, the owner, had yelled back. And it all came together beautifully in the end, just as it always did.

“Caterers,” he grumbled. “I know how they are. Damn temperamental. Lots of shouting, everything a big drama.” Okay, so he had Sofia—and Federico—nailed. No way she was copping to it. “It can’t be good for the baby, for you to be in a stressful environment like that.”

“You’re repeating yourself.”

“This issue bears repeating.”

“It’s not good for the baby if I get pneumonia, either.” She pulled her coat a little closer against the evening chill. “But still, you seem determined to keep me standing out here all night.”

He said something under his breath—something unpleasant, she had no doubt—and then, at last, he acquiesced to enter her apartment. Close on his heels, she turned on the light and shut the door.

They faced each other across the cramped entry area.

“You’re back early….” She forced a smile, feeling suddenly strange about all this: the two of them, the baby, all the ways he’d denied her seven months ago, the secret she’d kept that she had no right to keep, a secret as pointless as it was wrong.

Because, in the end, here he was again. Back in her life. Determined to look after her and the baby whether they needed looking after or not.

“I took a few days off,” he said with a scowl.

“You never take days off.”

“First time for everything.”

“I thought you had…meetings.”

“I did. I made them quick. I cleared my calendar. For tomorrow and the next day.” His eyes held a flinty gleam and the determined set to that sensual slash of a mouth told her that he had plans. Plans concerning her and the baby and their future. Plans that he would implement within the next forty-eight hours—whether she liked them or not.

Hayley kept her smile in place. “Your coat?” He shrugged out of it. She hung it up, along with her own. “A drink?”

“No. Thanks.”

Seeking a little good cheer—as well as an excuse to put some distance between them—she went to the tree. Dropping to an awkward crouch, she plugged it in. The Christmas lights came on, so happy and bright. Festive.

In all the years of her lonely childhood, there had always been a tree: in the group home, where she went between families. And in the various foster homes. And there was always at least one gift for her under each of those trees. So that she’d come to think of Christmas as something special, something magical and glowing in an otherwise drab life lived out in a series of other people’s houses. Christmas was colorful, and optimistic, with joyous music that brought a fond tear to her eye.

Funny, but Kelly said she felt just the same way about the holidays….

“Come on.” Marcus was there, standing above her. He held down a hand. She put hers in it, shocked at how good it felt—to touch his long, strong fingers again….

Oh, she would have to watch herself. She was just a big sucker when it came to this man.

He pulled her heavy body upward and she let him, leaning into him a little—but not too much. And as soon as she was upright, she stepped back, away from the delicious temptation to press herself and their baby against him, to find out if he would put those lean arms around her, if he’d cradle her close and put his lips to her hair.

She asked, “Have you eaten?”

“It’s not necessary for you to—”

“Not the question. Did you have dinner?”

“No.”

“I made spaghetti last night, before you…dropped in. There’s plenty left. I’ll just heat it up and do the salad. Have a seat. The remote’s right there on the arm of the couch. Watch the news. It won’t take long….”

He stared at her for several seconds. She wondered what he might be thinking. Finally, with a shrug, he went over to the couch and sat down.

A short time later, she called him to the kitchen. He turned off the news and came to join her at her tiny table. They ate mostly in silence. She found her small appetite had fled completely. Dread was taking up what little space there was in her stomach. Still, she forced herself to put the food in her mouth, to slowly chew, to grimly swallow. The baby needed dinner. And really, so did she.

When they were through, Marcus got up and cleared the table while she loaded the dishwasher and wiped the counters. Then they went to the living room. He took a chair and she sat on the couch.

Her pulse, she realized as she sank into the cushions, had sped into overdrive. Her palms had gone clammy. And her stomach was aching, all twisted with tension. The baby kicked. She winced and put her hand over the spot.

“Are you sick?” He frowned at her. She shook her head. “Just…dreading this conversation.”

“You’re too pale.”

“I’m a redhead. My skin is naturally pale.”

“Paler than usual, I mean.”

“Can we just get on with it? Please? Tell me what you want and we can…take it from there.”

“I don’t want to upset you.”

She folded her hands over her stomach. “I’m fine.” It was a lie. But a necessary one. “Just tell me what you have in mind. Just say it.”

“Hayley, I think…” The words trailed off. He looked at her through brooding eyes.

“What? You think, what?” She fired the question at him twice—and as she did, somehow, impossibly, she knew what he was going to tell her, what he was going to want from her. It was the one thing she’d been beyond-a-doubt certain he wouldn’t be pushing for.

But he was. He did. “I think we should get married. All things considered, now there’s a kid involved, I think it’s the best way to go here.”

Married. The impossible word seemed to hover in the air between them.

Now that there was a baby, he wanted to marry her….

She unfolded her hands and lifted them off her stomach and then didn’t know what to do with them. She looked down at them as if they belonged on someone else’s body. “Married,” she said back to him, still not quite believing.

“Yes.” He gave a single nod. “Married.”

She braced her hands on the sofa cushions and dared to remind him, “But you don’t want to be married again. Ever. You know you don’t. You told me you don’t.”

Did he wince? She could have sworn he did. “It’s the best way,” he said again, as if that made it totally acceptable—for him to do exactly what he’d promised he would never do.

Okay, now. The awful thing? The really pitiful thing?

Her heart leaped.

It did. It jumped in her chest and did the happy dance. Because marrying Marcus? That was her dearest, most fondly held dream.

From the moment she’d met him—that rainy Monday, two months out of Heald’s Business College and brand-new to Seattle, when he interviewed her for the plum job of his executive assistant—she’d known she would love him. Known that he, with his piercing, watchful eyes and sexy mouth, his wary heart that was kinder than he wanted it to be, his dry sense of humor so rarely seen…

He was her love. He was the one she had been waiting for, dreaming of, through all her lonely years until that moment.

Marriage to Marcus. Oh, yeah. It was what she’d longed for, what she’d hoped against hope might happen someday.

Because she loved him. She’d known from the first that she would. And within weeks of going to work for him, she was his. Completely, without reservation, though he refused to touch her for months.

She waited. She schemed.

And then his divorce became final. She went to his house wearing a yellow raincoat, high heels, a few wisps of lingerie and nothing else.

At last, they were lovers. No, he didn’t love her. Oh, but she loved him.

God help her, she sometimes feared that she would always love him. And her love…it was like Christmas to her. It was magic. And bright colored lights. It was that one present with her name on it under a new foster mother’s tree.

“Hayley?” His voice came to her. The voice of her beloved. Dreamed of. Yearned after—and yet, in the end, no more hers than all the foster families she’d grown up with.

She pressed her lips together, shook her head, stared bleakly past him, at the shining lights of her tree.

“Damn it, Hayley. What do you want from me? You want me to beg you? I’m willing. Anything. Just marry me and let me take care of you. And our baby. Let me—”

“Stop.” The sound scraped itself free of her throat.

He swore. A word harsh and graphic. But at least after that, he fell silent.

She met his eyes. “What if there was no baby, if I wasn’t pregnant…?”

“But you are.”

“Work with me here. If I wasn’t. Would you be asking me to marry you now?”

A muscle danced in his jaw. “I would, yes. I love you.”

The lie was so huge, she almost smiled. And the knot that was her stomach had eased a little. She felt better now. She knew she could hold out against him, against her impossible dream that he would someday find his way to her, that at last he would see she was the only one for him.

But he hadn’t found his way to her, not in his secret heart. And he never would.

“Marcus. Come on. You’re lying.”

“No. I’m not.”

“Please. This is not going to work.”

“The hell it won’t. I came here to see you, didn’t I, showed up at your door last night? And I had no damn clue about the baby then.”

Okay. Point for him. But hardly a winning one.

She challenged, “You’re telling me you came here because you realized you couldn’t live without me?”

“That’s right.”

“You didn’t want to go another day without me at your side? You came here intending to ask me to marry you, after all, to beg me to give our love another chance and be your bride at last, to make you the happiest man on earth, make all your dreams come true?”

He looked at her steadily. It was not a pleasant look. “Damn you, Hayley. I want to marry you now. Why does it matter what I would have done if you hadn’t been pregnant?”

“Is that a real question?”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you really want to know why it matters?”

“Yes. I do.”

“All right. It matters because in all my life, except for the sister and brother I found in June at my mother’s deathbed, I’ve never had anyone to really call my own. I’ve worn other people’s hand-me-downs, lived in other people’s houses, been the extra kid, the one who didn’t really belong. The one who never had a home of her own.”

“I’m offering you—”

“Wait. I’m not finished. What I’m trying to say is that I had no choice, about the way I grew up. But I do have a choice now. When I get married, I’m going to finally belong to someone. Completely. Lovingly. Openly. And the man I marry will belong to me.”

“I will belong to you. I’ll be true to you, I’ll never betray you.”

“Well, of course you wouldn’t. You’re not the kind to cheat. Except in your secret heart.”

“That’s not so.”

“It is. You know it is. You’ll never belong to me, Marcus. You belong to Adriana. You always have and you always will.”