Found: One Secret Baby (11 page)

“What is it? It’s like liquid music. I’ve never tasted anything like it before.”

He chuckled.

“Is it a ridiculously expensive French wine?” She wrinkled her nose and looked more intently at the ruby-red liquid.

“Just enjoy.” He sat on the end of the sofa nearest her chair and tried to decide on the right topic for small-talk.

“So, what was this update about the custody case you came here to give me?” Rosalie asked before he came up with one.

Okay, no small-talk.

“Charlie’s father is out of the picture.”

“I thought he was all along.”

“There was always a chance, a small one, but I made sure he understood once and for all it would cost him far more to pursue custody than he wanted to pay.”

He waited, for thanks maybe, but she took another sip of her wine and continued to stare out the window at the blinking city lights.

“Why did you ask me to marry you?”

The question seemed to startle her as much as it startled him.

“Because I want to be married to you.”

“You can’t. I mean, you might want to have sex with me, but you can’t want to marry a woman you hardly know.”

“I know you well enough to think it’ll work out okay. We can learn more about each other after we’re married.”

She gave a huff of laughter. “I still don’t buy it, Morgan. Why marriage?”

He stared into his glass, rolling the wine around in it while he rolled ways to avoid the question around in his head. In the end he decided to tell her the truth.

“It worked for my father and Lillian. She didn’t have much money of her own and had been so eager to get free from Paul Thompson she’d settled for less than she should have in their divorce. Plus, she needed a place to live where he couldn’t get at her. My father was a few years older, but they’d traveled in the same social circles all their lives. Since my mother left us, er, him, about the same time Lillian left Thompson, it made sense for them to get married to quiet the gossip on both fronts.”

Rosalie’s face showed clearly what she thought of such a dreary reason to get married. Still, all he could do was push ahead.

“I want to keep you in my life, and I don’t want you and Lillian to end up in court over Joey. If we get married and adopt him, Lillian will back off. Hence, marriage looks to be the logical solution in our case too.”

Rosalie went rigid and set her wine glass down. “Nice Spock imitation.”

Morgan laughed in spite of himself.

“It’s logical if you only consider what you want,” she agreed, “but did you ever consider what anyone else might want? Me, for instance.”

“You want to keep Joey.”

“And I want to keep my life.” She knotted her hands in her lap. “I spent a lot of years trying not to get lost in someone else’s needs. My mom wanted that for me too, but it was a perpetual battle for both of us. It took so much of my time to help her live her life.”

Finally she looked up at him, her eyes glistening.

“Now I’ve built my own life, why would I just want to be Joey’s mom and your lover? What happens after you lose interest in me?”

He cleared his throat. “I don’t plan to lose interest.”

Another small laugh, like breaking glass this time.

“My father didn’t plan on my mother’s illness, either. When she got too sick, he did what men do. He walked.”

“Women walk too,” Morgan countered before he could stop himself.

Rosalie started to protest, then remembered how many times she’d already tried to walk away from this man. And failed.

“I won’t marry you,” she told him. “If you can’t talk Lillian out of the custody suit, I’ll fight her and I’ll win. I don’t need you to keep him, any more than you need me to …”

He raised one eyebrow. “To have a satisfying sex life?”

“Something like that.”

A discreet noise from the doorway announced their dinner was ready. Morgan thanked the uniformed older woman and held out his hand to help Rosalie to her feet.

She shook her head and stood on her own. She’d be fine as long as he didn’t touch her, as long as her body had no chance to give in to the simmering heat between them.

The dining room didn’t have as spectacular a view, but it did have a small Monet centered on the wall at one end. An original, she’d guess, based on a lifetime of trips to the local museums and galleries with her mother.

Morgan held a chair out for her, then sat across the table from her.

“I hope you enjoy the meal.”

She more than enjoyed the food. She felt as if she’d fallen into some kind of culinary heaven. The thin slices of perfectly cooked beef were laid across a creamy polenta and drizzled
with red, white, and green sauces, each more sublime than the last. She managed to stifle most of her moans of delight, but couldn’t stop herself from closing her eyes occasionally in pure bliss.

The conversation did proper homage to the delicious meal. They talked about whatever came to mind—the Monet, local museums they were both familiar with, other cities they’d visited, or rather, he’d visited and she’d dreamed of visiting.

When he got up to take another bottle off the rack on the sideboard, she realized she’d let herself be seduced by the silky luxury of the wine and had more than her usual single glass.

“No more for me, thank you.”

He nodded and sat down as the caterer came to clear their plates.

Rosalie leaned back in her chair. “So, you came all the way to Los Angeles to tell me you’d taken Charlie’s father out of the hunt?”

He drained the last of his wine. “I also came to tell you that I want to keep you in my life. If not as my wife, at least as my ‘main squeeze’, I think Jill called it.”

“You mean your girlfriend?”
Your mistress?

“My lover.”

The words were a dash of cold water that sobered her instantly. Sobered her, and yet sent sweet tendrils of desire creeping through all the secret parts of her body.

Maybe an affair was the solution. If she knew from the start she couldn’t trust him to stay, maybe she could find a way to survive when he walked away. Or maybe not. She needed time and space to consider the possibility without Morgan’s distracting presence, without the sweet flames inside her body that made it hard to think at all.

The server reappeared from the kitchen with their dessert. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please.” Morgan looked across at Rosalie. “You?”

She never drank coffee at dinner, but this seemed like an excellent time to break the rule. She needed to be awake and alert to deal with Morgan. “Yes, please. Black.”

The dessert was more divine than the prime rib. What appeared to be a chocolate cupcake with fudge frosting turned out to be a mocha confection filled with raspberry-flavored whipped cream. They showed it proper respect by eating in a comfortable silence.

“Excellent meal,” Morgan told the server when she came to clear the table.

“Yes, delicious.” Rosalie sighed. “I should go home.”

“It’s early yet.” His voice was a purr as dark and rich as the coffee, as intoxicating as the wine. “We haven’t had much opportunity to talk to each other. Who knows, given the chance, you might even begin to like me.”

“I like you.” Too damn much. “But I still think maybe it’s better if you take me home.”

He came around and pulled her chair out. She stood and found him so close all she could see was his silk shirt and a vintage tie hand-painted by a famous rock star.

Her breath stopped, then came out in a gasp of … Surprise, she told herself.

She tried to back away, forgetting the table, and lost her balance. His hands, with those long, strong fingers, caught her by the shoulders.

A wave of sexual awareness washed over her and threatened to pull her into an undertow of sensations and emotions that might drown her. Rosalie looked up into Morgan’s eyes.

“Steady,” he said in the same seductive purr.

“I …” She shivered.

He took her in his arms and held her gently against the solid strength of his body clothed in the softness of fine wool and silk. She couldn’t remember when she’d felt so safe, so sheltered. With a sigh, she laid her head on his chest.

“Rosalie,” he laid his cheek on the top of her head, “please stay. Just for a while.”

She never wanted to move, much less leave. Unable, maybe unwilling, to put her emotions into words, she nodded.

He released her slowly, then took her by the hand.

His touch had as powerful an effect on her as she’d feared. It was like the magical moment when she found the exact piece of legal information she needed to be sure she’d win her case, multiplied by a thousand. Multiplied by a thousand, and spread through her whole body, a white light that lit her from within and made every bit of her tingly and more alive than she’d ever been before.

She should have left while she had the chance, but she couldn’t be sorry she’d stayed.

Morgan led Rosalie to the living room, not sure which of them was more nervous. He sat at one end of the sofa and tucked her under his arm. She settled there with another of those breathy little sighs, her head on his shoulder, her hand still in his.

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it, then rested it on his thigh. Unsure of what to say, he asked, “Why do you paint your toes, but not your fingernails?”

She snatched her hand away. “I don’t wear sandals to work.”

“Ah. Ever the professional. Good thing. Who knows what effect those sexy little toes of yours might have in court.”

“My toes are not sexy.”

He took her hand from her lap and kissed it again. “Let me be the judge of what’s sexy.”

He traced a line across her hand with his finger. Her breath hitched. He kissed the center of her palm. She gave a tiny gasp. He lifted one finger and nibbled at the tip. Her hand tensed, as if to pull away, but after a moment relaxed back into his.

Reminding himself to go slow, he kissed her hand again before he set it back in her lap. The gesture accomplished what he’d meant it to—she turned toward him.

Very slowly he lifted his hand to her chin and tilted her face up to his. Her eyes widened. He had to suppress a groan when her tongue slid out to lick her lips in silent invitation. Gently he lowered his mouth to hers.

Oh, yes! The shock of heat and hunger rocketed through him. Better, he felt it rocket through Rosalie’s body, too.

She went tense in his arms, but only to draw closer to him. Her hand went to his shoulder, teased the sensitive skin at the back of his neck. Her hips pressed hard against his leg in one wanton pulse before she could stop herself, and he smiled against her lips as a wave of tenderness swept over him that made it easier to rein in the demands of his own body and focus on her needs.

The heat of Morgan’s kiss flowed through Rosalie like warm honey, relaxing every muscle. She feared she might melt away entirely until he plunged his tongue into her mouth.

Languid enchantment was replaced with an explosion of pleasure and hunger. Her hands tightened on his neck, her chest pressed closer against his. She could feel the unfamiliar power of her femininity in the tremor of his hands, the roughness of his breath, the hardness of his body.

They floated sideways on a golden cloud of discovery and delight until they lay on the couch with him on top of her. She held her breath for a moment before she sank into the rightness of it. The rightness of him.

Morgan’s kisses became more urgent. The tugs and tension inside Rosalie’s core became more urgent too. One of his hands slid down her body to press her center more firmly into him.

She was glad his weight kept her from surrendering to the need to writhe under him in an attempt to reach for something shiny and special that hovered in the bright heat between them.

When his hand moved up to take hold of her breast she gasped out loud and felt the tiny huff of his laughter on her lips. She arched her head back in timeless invitation as his hand kneaded the sensitive flesh it held.

His groan rumbled against her chest. The sound sent an erotic tremor through her, magnified by caresses that touched all the right places, to open new doors of unexpected delight.

He caught her pebbled nipple between his fingers and the pleasure became so intense she almost had to pull away.

He must have sensed the hovering edge of pain because, with obvious reluctance, his lips left hers, traced a line of sparks down her cheek to her ear. She cried out softly when he nipped at the tender lobe. He sighed and lifted himself to his elbows over her.

“Shall we move this someplace a little more comfortable?”

“Um?” She forced her groggy mind to focus.

“We’d be more comfortable in the bedroom.”

“Yes.”

He shifted to sit beside her. Cool air and cold reality flowed into the space between them.

“No!” She took a deep breath. “I mean, yes, we’d be more comfortable there, but I don’t think …”

He smiled and moved closer again. “Don’t think.”

“Joey.” She struggled to clear her mind from the intoxicating effects of his nearness. “Jill.”

She took a gulp of air and pressed one hand against his chest. He sat up at once and smiled down at her.

“You’re right.” He took her hand and kissed it again, then glanced at the clock over the fireplace. “We need to get you home before your babysitter turns into a pumpkin.”

He helped her sit up and watched with a grin while she tried to put her clothes into some sort of order.

When she was sure her wobbly knees would hold her, she stood and gathered up her purse, to hold it like a shield in front of her.

They rode down to the garage in silence. She should have felt awkward—more than awkward—but she didn’t. She felt exhilarated, alive.

They talked about little nothings on the drive back to her house. Morgan didn’t seem to mind that she’d called a halt to their evening. He was as charming as ever, but the charm had a new air of intimacy that made it even more irresistible.

She hardly noticed where they were until the car pulled up in front of her house. She turned to say goodbye and found he’d leaned closer to her. Much closer.

She looked at the house to make sure Jill wasn’t watching, blinked, then looked again.

All the lights were off. A quick glance at the car’s clock showed it wasn’t Jill’s curfew yet. Had the babysitter gone to sleep on the sofa? Unlikely, when she had the chance to watch unlimited television. Where was she? More important, where was Joey?

“Joey!”

Rosalie opened the car door and raced mindlessly up the path.

Morgan caught up with her as she fumbled with the door keys and took them from her to unlock the door.

The moment she stepped inside she knew the house was empty, except for the cats asleep on the sofa, but she searched every room to be sure, Morgan silent in her wake.

Back in the front hall, heart pounding, stomach in full rebellion, she took out her cell and pushed Jill’s button.

“‘Lo,” a sleepy voice greeted her.

“Jill! Where are you?”

“Home. Asleep. Rosalie? What’s up?”

Cold, dark suspicion crept up Rosalie’s spine. Instinctively she turned her back to Morgan and bent over the cell, as if to keep him from hearing what came next. Oh, lord, what came next?

“Where’s Joey?”

“With his grandma. She came to pick him up, with the nanny, like you told her to, when you decided to spend the night …” The girl stopped. “But you wouldn’t do that, would you?”Rosalie felt her face go red at the memory of how close she’d come, but fear and anger swept every thought away, except one. Lillian had Joey.

“Did I screw up?” Jill asked in a small voice.

“It wasn’t your fault. Go back to sleep.”

Rosalie clicked off. She knew whose fault it was.

Anger swelled inside her as she turned toward Morgan.

“You son of a bitch!”

He jerked back in surprise.

“Don’t act innocent, you unspeakable jerk.”

“What happened?”

“As if you didn’t know. Lillian has Joey. Where the hell did she take him?”

Rage cascaded down Morgan’s body, washing away the worry over the kid that had all but paralyzed him. “You think I knew about this?”

“No, I don’t think you knew about this. I think you planned it. Why else would you put on the big seduction act? You gave yourself too much credit, as usual, and thought I wouldn’t find out that she’d taken him until tomorrow. Now, where’s Joey?”

“I don’t know.”

She took a step toward him and jabbed her finger inches from his chest. The urge to swipe her hand away trembled through him, but he ignored it.

“Don’t lie to me. Where did she take him?”

“Back to Boston, probably.” The implications of what Lillian had done hit him like a bucket of ice-cold water. “We’ve got to stop her.”

Rosalie’s cell phone was already in her hand.

“The police will find them.”

“You’d call the police on Lillian?”

“The woman kidnapped my son. Kidnapping’s a crime. Someone commits a crime, you call the police. You don’t have to go to law school to know that.”

He reached out and closed his hand over hers, surprised to find it ice cold. “You can’t.”

She jerked her hand away. “Why not? I want Joey back. Now.”

“I’ll get him back for you. Leave the police out of it. If I don’t have him back by morning, you can call them then.”

She rolled her eyes. “And look like a besotted fool who waited until it was too late to report a crime because some man told her he’d take care of it? No, thank you. She, and you, did the crime. You can both do the time.”

“How will that be better for Joey? Will it get him home any faster?”

She grimaced and turned off the phone. Relief made him take a step back.

“Please stop pretending you weren’t in on this.” The hint of tears in her voice softened the blow of her accusation. But not enough.

“You really believe I’d help Lillian do something this stupid?”

“You ask me out to dinner and play the seduction game, she walks off with Joey. Jill said she even brought a nanny with her. Sounds as if it was all planned out in advance.”

He took another deep breath. “Not by me. All I know is Lillian wanted to have dinner with me. I told her I had a dinner date with you. There was no mention, no sign, of a nanny.”

“How did Lillian find my address?”

“Maybe her lawyer dug it up. I don’t know.”

“You keep saying you don’t know, but you’re also pretty darn sure you can find them and bring Joey back.”

She wasn’t being rational. He’d never known what to do when logical arguments didn’t work. Arguments about why his mother shouldn’t leave, arguments about why Rosalie should believe him. Believe in him. The rage pushed him toward the door, but raw emotion wasn’t the answer. He’d learned that much.

“Why don’t you let me at least try?”

“Where do you think they are?” she asked in a small voice.

“They might be on their way back to Boston, but Lillian’s not the type to take the red-eye. Maybe we should sit down and …” Rosalie took three awkward steps and fell more than sat in one of the dining-room chairs. The cats came to stand silent guard at her feet.

He sat across from her, took out his cell, and punched in the familiar number. The phone at the other end rang three times before Lillian’s butler answered.

“Harkins? I need to know what day Mrs. Danby’s scheduled to leave Los Angeles.”

He shot a glance at Rosalie, who looked as if she’d fall apart at any moment. Lillian wouldn’t harm Joey, but Rosalie wouldn’t find that much comfort. She wanted her kid back. He didn’t blame her.

“I know it’s late there, Harkins, but this is urgent.”

As the anger ebbed, fear took over. Rosalie wrapped her arms around her waist and sat shaking while Morgan listened to the voice on the phone.

Too many strong emotions swirled around inside her. Too many awful images flowed through her brain. She fought to focus on Morgan’s words, on anything real and stable.

“Well, wake the whole staff, if you have to.” She shuddered at Morgan’s subdued roar, glad she wasn’t the person on the other end. “Someone must know her itinerary.”

He crossed one long leg over the other and jiggled his foot while he waited to have his orders obeyed.

If only she could think straight. But Joey’s absence was like a hole in the center of her body that sucked in all her energy and left room for nothing else.

Coffee. She should make coffee. She started to stand, but her legs wouldn’t hold her.

When she wobbled, Morgan took her hand in his free one to steady her. His touch didn’t sizzle, the way it had earlier, but sent a slow warmth though her as she lowered herself back into the chair.

She wasn’t alone. Tears flooded down her face. She pulled her hand free to wipe them away, then wished she hadn’t. She didn’t want him to see how shattered she was.

She didn’t feel so cold, so afraid when he held her hand, but that made no sense. He was obviously angry with her.

But he was still here to help her. Or to help Lillian.

She wished she could put two thoughts together without thinking about Joey, worrying whether he was okay.

Morgan straightened. “Thank you, Harkins. If it hadn’t been an emergency, I wouldn’t have bothered you.”

“What did you find out?” Rosalie’s heart hammered in her chest.

“They’re not due to leave until tomorrow.” He stood up and took out the car keys. “I’ll drive out to her hotel and have Joey back in an hour or two.”

“No.”

Now it was clear what needed to be done, everything was easier. She stood on solid legs, grabbed her purse, and headed for her bedroom.

“I’ll go with you. Just let me get a coat. I don’t want Joey alone with strangers any longer than he has to be.”

“Are you sure …?”

“Yes. The woman has my son.”

The drive to Santa Monica seemed endless. When they got to the hotel Morgan tossed the car keys to the valet and led her inside.

Despite the late hour, the brightly lit lobby was full of people talking, laughing. Didn’t they know someone had taken her child? She shook the reaction off. She’d felt the same way during the dark last days of her mother’s illness.

Morgan must have known Lillian’s room number because he headed through the crowd to the bank of elevators.

The close confines of the metal box made it impossible to ignore his tension—or his anger. Rosalie shivered.

She heard the muted sound of Joey’s wail the minute they stepped off the elevator. Her body tensed. Charlie’s face, his father’s face, flashed through her mind.

No, she reminded herself. But the mere idea made her grab Morgan’s arm. She didn’t realize how tightly until he twisted it to loosen her grip.

“Sorry,” she mumbled past the lump in her throat.

To her surprise, the door to Lillian’s suite opened as soon as Morgan knocked.

“You’re not room service,” Lillian snapped at him.

“No, but you
are
in the middle of committing a felony.”

Rosalie pushed past Morgan into the suite.

“Why is she here?” Lillian asked.

“Where’s the kid?” Morgan countered, but Rosalie didn’t wait for an answer.

She followed Joey’s wail across the room toward a closed door and threw it open.

On the other side, a sturdy young woman in a gray uniform stood by a crib with Joey in her arms. He wriggled and kicked so hard, Rosalie didn’t see how the woman could hold on.

When she saw Rosalie, the nanny cooed, “Who’s that?” over his protests.

Rosalie crossed the room and took the boy into her arms. The familiar weight, his little-boy smell were like magical gifts after all she’d been through in the last hour.

“Oh, sweetie.” She hugged him close. “Are you okay?”

He stopped crying and laid his head on her shoulder. “Mama.”

She froze, unable to breathe, her heart too big for her chest. He’d never called her “Mama” before.

“Yes, Joey, I’m here.”

“Mrs. Danby tried to get him to call her Mama, but he wouldn’t.” The nanny’s relief was obvious. “That’s when I figured out there might be a custody issue here. I didn’t know whether or not to call 911.”

Rosalie kissed the top of Joey’s head, almost drowning in relief. Now he was quiet, she heard the low, angry rumble of Morgan’s voice in the next room. He didn’t yell, but his tone still made her glad she couldn’t hear his exact words. She exchanged nervous glances with the nanny.

“Can you help me gather up Joey’s things?” Rosalie asked her.

The nanny nodded and began to gather the toys he’d thrown around the room.

“Joey?” she said. “Mrs. Danby called him Charlie.”

Rosalie groaned and held the child closer.

By the time the nanny had everything organized, Joey was asleep. Rosalie managed to get him strapped in the shiny new car seat without waking him. All she heard now from the next room were Lillian’s sobs. Rosalie and the nanny exchanged another nervous look.

“Maybe I should call someone to carry him downstairs for you,” the nanny suggested.

“I’ll carry him.” Morgan stood in the doorway.

He seemed older, the lines in his face clearer, his eyes dim.

“I’ve arranged another room in the hotel for you,” he told the nanny, “and pre-paid a shuttle to the airport in the morning. Here’s my business card with your airline reservation number on it, and my cell, so you can call me if you have problems with Mrs. Danby. Call me, too, if you don’t receive the money she owes you within a week. You can use me for a reference. I’m sorry you got dragged into this.”