Книга - The Rags-To-Riches Wife

The Rags-To-Riches Wife
Metsy Hingle


He hadn't known the name of the woman he danced with at the masquerade ball.Not even after their one night of passion. For millionaire Jack Cartwright never expected to see her again. Then he received a letter informing him of his "secret" lover's name and threatening to expose the fact that working-class Lilly Miller was expecting Jack's child.He was not going to submit to blackmail. And if that meant marrying Lilly, a virtual stranger…let the wedding bells ring.












METSY HINGLE

The Rags-To-

Riches Wife








For Melissa “MJ” Jeglinski

A very special lady, an even more special friend


Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to

Metsy Hingle for her contribution to the

SECRET LIVES OF SOCIETY WIVES miniseries.




Contents


Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

About the Author

Coming Next Month




Prologue


Coming tonight had been a mistake. She didn’t belong here, Lily Miller told herself as she stood at the door of the ballroom and stared at the elegantly dressed men and women. From the looks of the crowd and the amount of diamonds on display, every member of Eastwick, Connecticut society had turned out for the black-and-white ball. And she certainly didn’t belong with them.

She should leave now before she started crying and made a fool of herself. But she couldn’t leave yet—not without telling Bunny Baldwin. After all, it had been Bunny who had insisted Lily attend the masquerade ball in the first place. Bunny had even gone to the trouble of providing her with a proper gown to wear to the fund-raising event.

Remembering the gown, Lily smoothed the skirt with her gloved fingertips. The strapless black confection with the tulle petticoat was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. It was a dress for a princess. Only she wasn’t a princess. She was no one—not even someone’s daughter. Fighting back tears, Lily tried not to think of the detective’s phone call an hour ago, informing her that he’d hit another dead end in the search for her mother.

Face it, Lily. If the woman had wanted you, she never would have left you in that church all those years ago. It’s time to stop wasting time and money searching for someone who doesn’t want you, who never wanted you.

“Dance with me.”

Lily blinked, then found herself staring up into the blue eyes of a tall, dark-haired stranger. He was dressed in a tuxedo and wearing a black mask, and for a moment she wondered whether he was real or if she had imagined him. “Pardon?”

“Come dance with me,” he said and extended his hand.

“Thank you, but I’m not—”

“How can you say no when they’re playing our song?”

“Our song?” Lily repeated and recognized the first chords of “Music of the Night” from Phantom of the Opera. “How can we have a song when we don’t even know one another?”

“Why don’t we change that?” he said and, taking her hand, he led her to the dance floor.

Lily didn’t resist. And the moment he took her into his arms, it was as though a magical web engulfed her. All the pain seemed to dissolve. All she could see were those unwavering blue eyes, looking at her as though she were the only person in the world. All she could feel was the warmth of his body pressed against hers, the heat of his breath on her neck. There was something exciting yet safe about the masks. With the mask, she wasn’t unwanted, unloved Lily Miller. With the mask, she was a woman who was desired, a woman for whom there was no past, no future, only now.

One dance spun into another and another and another still. And when he led her outdoors onto the terrace and kissed her, she didn’t feel the chill in the air. All she felt was the strength of his arms, the hunger in his kiss.

“It’s almost midnight. The ball will be over soon,” he whispered.

“I know.”

“I don’t want the night to end.”

“Neither do I,” she admitted and he kissed her again. He tasted of champagne. He tasted of desire and every nerve in her body sang beneath the feel of his mouth.

“Then don’t let it,” he told her. Reaching into his pocket, he removed a hotel key card. “I’m staying in the hotel tonight. Room 503. Meet me.”

Nervous, Lily reached for the gold locket at her throat, the disc bearing the initial L, that she’d been wearing when the nun had found her in the church. Only the locket wasn’t there. She’d taken it off after the detective’s call, she remembered. And for the first time in her life she didn’t have her locket to hold on to, to remind her that she was reliable, sensible Lily Miller.

“Will you come?” he asked.

Taking the key card, she said, “Yes.”




One


Her secret was safe, Lily Miller reminded herself again as she stared past the sea of mourners to the casket. A crack of thunder sounded overhead and clouds darkened the Eastwick skyline, causing the mid-May temperatures to dip below the fifty-degree mark.

“Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust,” the minister began.

Tears welled in Lily’s eyes and she reached into her coat pocket to retrieve a tissue. Dabbing at her eyes, she thought of the woman she had come to mourn—Lucinda “Bunny” Baldwin, the darling of Eastwick, Connecticut, society, the editor of the titillating Eastwick Social Diary and the woman who, oddly enough, had been her friend. How was it possible that she was dead, the victim of a heart attack at age fifty-two?

Lily thought back to the last time she had seen Bunny—only two days ago. She had been so vibrant, all excited about some juicy new tidbit of gossip that, no doubt, would have appeared in one of her upcoming issues of the Diary.

“We commend the soul of our sister, Lucinda, to You, Lord,” the minister continued.

Guilt tugged at Lily as she remembered Bunny’s knowing looks during the past few months. It had been because of those knowing looks that Lily had tried to avoid crossing paths with the other woman for weeks now. But two days ago her luck had run out. Bunny had arrived early for the Eastwick Cares board meeting and she had been unable to avoid her any longer. When Bunny had started to question her about the night of the black-and-white ball, she’d realized that Bunny had figured out the truth, that she knew her secret. Lily had even feared that it was her secret that Bunny planned to expose in the pages of the Diary. She had been prepared to beg Bunny not to say or print anything, only she’d never gotten the chance. The other board members of Eastwick Cares had begun to arrive and she’d been forced to leave or risk being seen by Jack Cartwright. Yet, as she’d hurried away, she had wished for some way to ensure Bunny’s silence—at least until she could decide what to do.

Be careful what you wish for.

The old adage popped into Lily’s head. She had gotten her wish. She had wanted Bunny’s silence and now she had it. Her secret was safe. But at what cost? Overwhelmed by feelings of guilt, Lily squeezed her eyes shut for a moment.

“May she live on in Your presence, O Lord,” the minister prayed.

Opening her eyes, Lily focused her attention once again on the minister and the service being conducted at the front of the gravesite. “In Your mercy and love, forgive whatever sins she may have committed…”

Lily shifted her gaze to the woman standing to the minister’s right, quietly crying into her handkerchief. She recognized her immediately—Abby Talbot, Bunny’s daughter. She noted the tall, intense-looking man with his arm around Abby and assumed it was Abby’s husband, Luke. She had never met the man, but according to Bunny he traveled a great deal, something that had bothered Bunny. Lily studied Abby. Though she had met her only once, she had liked the other woman. In truth, she had been taken aback by the pretty blond socialite’s warmth. She hadn’t expected someone of Abby Talbot’s social standing to be so welcoming to someone who lacked not only money and a pedigree, but any family whatsoever. Yet, Abby had treated her as an equal. A wave of compassion engulfed Lily as she witnessed the young woman’s grief. She’d known from Bunny’s comments that the two of them had been close. She couldn’t even begin to imagine Abby’s pain at losing her mother so suddenly.

Thinking of Abby’s loss brought home her own. She had lost a friend. While she and Bunny might not have been bosom buddies, and while she had never understood the older woman’s penchant for gossip, the two of them had been friends. And that friendship had been born out of their shared desire to help the underprivileged. Bunny had been fervent in her support of Eastwick Cares with both her time and her money.

But she hadn’t limited her generosity to those who fell under the umbrella of the non-profit agency on whose board she served. No, Bunny had extended that generosity to Lily. She had treated her with kindness, and not just as an employee of Eastwick Cares. In many ways, she’d treated her almost like a daughter or, at the very least, a special friend. No one else had ever come closer to making Lily feel like a fairytale princess. Certainly not when she’d been a child shuffling in and out of the foster-care system. Then again, she hadn’t exactly believed in fairy tales, Santa Claus or the tooth fairy. By the age of six, she had learned that life wasn’t anything like the fairy tales. And while most of the families who took her in were kind, she wasn’t a part of their family. She didn’t belong. She never had. It was a lesson she’d learned quickly. As a result, she had never expected things like fancy clothes or party dresses. Those were for dreamers and silly young girls. She had never been either of those things.

But for some inexplicable reason Bunny Baldwin had been determined to have the grown-up Lily Miller experience the fantasy she’d never known as a girl—attending a party all dressed up in a beautiful gown and feeling as though she belonged. Bunny hadn’t chosen just any party. She’d chosen Eastwick Cares’ major fund-raiser—the black-and-white ball.

As if it had been only yesterday, Lily’s thoughts drifted back to that day last December when Bunny had marched into her office and proclaimed that she had to attend the ball. All Lily’s protests had fallen on deaf ears. Bunny had insisted that her employment as a counselor for the agency required she be there to assist at the event. That had obviously been one of Bunny’s white lies—as Lily had discovered within ten minutes of her arrival at the ball. For some reason, Bunny Baldwin had cast herself in the role of fairy godmother to Lily’s Cinderella. It was the only explanation for the society doyenne tricking her into attending the event and even presenting her with an elegant gown to wear. Oh, Bunny had claimed the dress was something that she’d found in the back of her closet. But she had recognized the quality of the beautiful black gown, Lily admitted, though it wasn’t until she was in the powder room the evening of the ball that she had learned from one of the other women that the gown she was wearing was a vintage Dior.

Another bellow of thunder sounded overhead, jarring Lily from her memories. As the weather continued to deteriorate, Lily huddled in her coat and instinctively placed a hand on her stomach. She should leave now, she told herself. She had already taken a risk just by going to the church, she reasoned. Why push her luck? Every member of Eastwick society had turned out to pay their respects. And the Cartwright family certainly ranked among the city’s elite. No doubt Jack Cartwright had been there among the hundreds of mourners who had filled the church. For all she knew, he was among the small throng who had gathered at the cemetery for the burial. So far, she had managed to avoid him. But what if he saw her? What if Jack recognized her as the mystery woman he had slept with the night of the ball?

Even now, more than five months after the masked ball, she couldn’t believe her behavior had been so out of character. But then, she had hardly been herself that evening, Lily reminded herself. Just thinking about that day and how great her expectations had been when she’d awakened that morning sent another pang of disappointment through her.

She should have known better than to get her hopes up. If she had learned nothing else in her twenty-seven years it was never to expect something simply because she wanted it. Doing so had proven time and again to be a surefire path to disappointment. Yet, she had done just that. She had been so sure that this time it would be different. The detective she’d hired finally had a solid lead. She had believed that at long last she would have the answers she’d been searching for most of her life—who she was, where had she come from, why had she been left at the church all those years ago. Most importantly, she had believed she would finally know the identity of the woman whose soft voice and gentle hands were the only memories she had of her origins.

Only the lead hadn’t panned out. She hadn’t learned anything more about who she was or why she had been abandoned in the church with only a note saying her name was Lily and a gold locket around her neck. Lily reached for the locket that, once more, was on a chain around her neck. She closed her fingers around it and felt the familiar sting of disappointment. She had been more than disappointed that night. She had been devastated. Hitting another dead end when she’d believed she was so close had left her reeling.

She should never had gone to the ball that night—not in the emotional state she’d been in, Lily realized with the wisdom that comes with hindsight. But she hadn’t wanted to disappoint Bunny after she had gone to the trouble of providing her with the gown. Nor had Lily wanted to jeopardize her job by failing to show up. So she had gone—only to discover she wasn’t needed after all. Then, just when she had been about to leave, he was standing in front of her—the tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed stranger—asking her to dance. She had needed something, anything to block out the ache that consumed her. And once she was in his arms, all the pain, all the anguish of disappointment had faded.

There had been only him. The strength of his arms. The warmth of his smile. The feel of his mouth on hers. For one night, she had ceased to be sensible, dependable, predictable Lily Miller who had never done anything remotely reckless in her life. For one night, she had allowed herself to experience passion instead of just reading about it. For one night, she had followed her heart instead of her head. And because she had, she was pregnant and expecting Jack Cartwright’s child.

“Grant her eternal rest, O Lord…”

Shaking off the memory, Lily took a breath, then released it. She scanned the faces of those gathered. Not surprisingly, many of them were familiar—members of Eastwick society, local dignitaries and politicians. Quite a few of them she’d met through her position at Eastwick Cares. Others she knew from the news or social columns. Then she saw him—the tall, dark-haired man standing two rows back from the minister. Her pulse quickened. Even without seeing his face, she knew from the set of his broad shoulders and the conservative cut of his hair that it was Jack Cartwright.

Of course, she hadn’t known it was him at the ball. If she had known that the dashing man with the Tom Cruise smile behind the mask was the newest nominee to the Eastwick Cares board, she might have refused his request to dance. She certainly never would have accepted the key to his hotel room. But she hadn’t known it was him. Or maybe she hadn’t wanted to know. She’d wanted to believe that wearing masks and not exchanging names meant that she could steal those hours of happiness without consequences.

She had been wrong.

Yet, she didn’t regret what had happened, Lily admitted. How could she when the result was that she was going to have a baby? Smoothing a hand over her stomach, she felt a flutter of excitement as she realized that in just under four months, she would be able to hold her baby in her arms. She wanted this child, had from the moment she’d discovered she was pregnant. After being alone all these years, she was finally going to have a family.

You are loved, my baby. You are wanted. You will always be loved. You will always belong.

Silently, she repeated the vows she had made to her unborn child the moment she had learned the baby was growing inside her. And as much as she already loved her child, she struggled once again with her decision to remain silent.

Was she doing the right thing by not telling Jack he was going to be a father? she wondered. But how was she supposed to tell one of Eastwick’s wealthiest and most sought-after bachelors that the stranger he’d spent one night with was pregnant with his child? The answer eluded her—just as it had for nearly five months now.

Or was she simply avoiding the answer rather than risk rejection? She could handle rejection, Lily told herself. But her baby…her baby was another story. She didn’t want her child, even at this stage in his or her life, to be unwanted.

As though sensing her gaze, Jack turned and looked in her direction. He scanned the crowd of mourners as though searching for someone and then his eyes met hers. For the space of a heartbeat, she couldn’t move. She simply stared into those blue eyes. Suddenly his eyes darkened, narrowed, and she realized he had recognized her.

“May her soul and the souls of all the faithfully departed rest in peace….”

Lily didn’t wait for the minister to finish, she simply turned and fled.



Jack Cartwright stared in disbelief. There she was—the mystery woman from the ball. He’d begun to think he’d dreamed that night, that there had been no beautiful redhead, that there had been no passionate hours spent in his hotel room, that there had been no woman with ghost-blue eyes and skin as soft as silk. But she hadn’t been a dream. She was real. And she was getting away.

“Jack, where are you going?” his mother demanded in hushed tones as she clutched the sleeve of his jacket. “The reverend’s not finished the service.”

Beneath the net veil of Sandra Cartwright’s hat, Jack noted the disapproval in his mother’s eyes. It couldn’t be helped, he told himself as he spied the redhead in the dark coat walking briskly toward the cemetery gates. “I’m sorry. I have to go. There’s someone I have to see.”

“But, Jack—”

Ignoring his mother’s protest and the questioning look his father cast his way, Jack began to maneuver his way toward the rear of the crowd. “Excuse me. Sorry. Excuse me,” he repeated in a low voice as he shouldered his way past friends, business associates and acquaintances.

“…and may perpetual light shine upon them.”

Moments later, a chorus of “Amen” rang out and then the crowd began to surge forward while he continued in the opposite direction. “Sorry. Pardon me,” he said as he bumped elbows and dodged hat brims. After he’d finally made his way to the edge of the moving throng, he rushed down a grassy slope toward the cemetery’s entrance where she had exited. When he reached the wrought-iron gates at the entrance, he searched the street in both directions. But he was too late. She was gone, vanished—just as she had vanished from his bed that winter night while he had slept.

Dammit.

He jammed his fingers through his hair. She’d gotten away—again. And he still didn’t even know her name, let alone how to find her.

“Jack? Jack Cartwright, is that you?”

Jack recognized the husky purr of Delia Forrester behind him. Gritting his teeth, he turned to face Frank Forrester’s trophy wife. He didn’t like the woman, hadn’t liked her from the moment the seventy-year-old Frank had shown up at the Eastwick Country Club and introduced the statuesque blonde as his new bride. He considered himself broad-minded enough not to prejudge Delia because of the thirty-year age difference between her and Frank, Jack admitted. After all, he’d witnessed the success of Stuart and Vanessa Thorpe’s May-December marriage during the last years of Stuart’s life. Nor did he pay heed to the rumors about Delia spending Frank’s money as though it was water. What he did hold against Delia was the fact that the woman had come on to him—and she’d done it practically under her husband’s nose. He didn’t trust Delia and, for the life of him, he didn’t understand why Frank did. “Hello, Delia,” he said and cast another glance down the street, hoping to catch a glimpse of his mystery woman again.

“I thought that was you I saw leaving the service in such a hurry.” She looked down the street in the direction where his attention was focused. “Looking for someone?”

“I thought I saw someone I knew and I was hoping I’d be able to catch her.”

“What’s her name?” she asked and placed a hand on her hip, drawing attention to the way the shiny black all-weather coat had been cinched at the waist. He couldn’t help wondering how the woman walked in the killer heels she had on. She tossed her platinum-blond hair back in a way he suspected was supposed to draw his interest, and stared at him out of brown eyes that were dry and clear, not a bit of smudged mascara in sight. She licked her lips, making the blood-red lipstick glisten. “Maybe I know her.”

Jack considered that for a moment and couldn’t help noting the marked contrasts between his mystery redhead and Delia. The chances of Delia knowing his mystery woman were slim to none. “I doubt it. She doesn’t move in your circles.”

“Well, I’m sure she’ll be sorry to have missed you. I know I would.”

Choosing to ignore the overture, Jack asked, “Where’s Frank?”

She sighed. “He’s waiting in the car. You know how weak he’s been since his heart attack and since it looked like it might rain, I didn’t think it would be a good idea for him to be out in this damp air.”

“How considerate of you.”

“I was trying to be,” she said, a wounded look in her eyes.

Regretting his sharp tone, Jack told himself he wasn’t being fair. Maybe he had misjudged the woman, he reasoned. After all, from all accounts Delia had seemed to pay considerable attention to Frank since his heart attack. “You were right to have Frank wait in the car. The damp air probably isn’t good for him.”

“That’s what I told Frank. Unfortunately, being an invalid isn’t easy for him. It’s not easy for me either.” She lowered her gaze a moment, then looked back up at him. “Frank’s not the man he was before his heart attack. There’s so many things that he can’t do now.”

“Then I guess he’s lucky to have you to help him,” Jack told her and decided he hadn’t misjudged Delia after all.

“That’s what Frank says, too. And I don’t mind. Really, I don’t. But every now and then it feels so overwhelming,” she continued and took a step closer. “It makes me wish I had someone that I could lean on, someone who would take care of my needs for a change.”

“Maybe you should get a nurse to help you with Frank,” Jack suggested, ignoring the obvious invitation. He took a step back. “I’m sure Frank’s doctor could recommend someone.”

Temper flashed in Delia’s eyes, but it was gone so quickly Jack wondered if he’d imagined it. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly trust Frank’s care to anyone else—not after that close call he had. Why, I don’t know what I’d do if something happened and I lost my Frank.”

“Somehow I think you’d manage. But hopefully you won’t have to because Frank will be with us for a long, long time.”

“Of course he will,” she said. “But enough talk about Frank and my problems. What I want to know is if the rumors are true? Are you really planning to run for the state senate?”

Jack frowned. “Where did you hear that?”

“Never mind where I heard it. Is it true?”

He supposed it had been foolish of him to think that word wouldn’t get out, Jack told himself. He had been approached by a group of business leaders and asked to run for the soon-to-be-vacated seat. As yet, he hadn’t made up his mind. He still wasn’t sure he was ready to take on the demanding task of a campaign and life in the public eye—which was why he hadn’t wanted the news to get out. “I haven’t decided whether to run or not,” he answered honestly. “But I am considering it.”

Delia brought her hands together. “Oh, but you have to run, Jack. You’d make such a wonderful senator. Everyone thinks so,” she said with a smile. “And of course you know you can count on my support.”

“Thanks,” he told her.

“You must let me host a party for you.”

“I appreciate that, but, as I said, I haven’t decided to run yet,” he told her just as thunder boomed overhead. Grateful for the interruption, he noted the crowd beginning to disperse as the sky darkened and rain scented the air. “I should go pay my respects to Abby and Luke before the rain hits. Give my best to Frank.”

Delia turned up the collar of her coat and glanced at the threatening skies. “You might want to wait until you get to Abby’s.” She paused. “You are going to Abby’s house, aren’t you?”

“For what?”

“The after-service reception. At a time like this, Abby needs the support of all of her friends. I’m bringing a layer cake.”

“I see,” he said, surprised. He wouldn’t have pegged Delia as a friend of Abby’s. After all, everyone in Eastwick knew that Abby was part of the Debs Club—the name the members of the country club had given the group of women who met regularly for lunch at the club. As far as he knew, Delia wasn’t a part of that circle.

As though reading his thoughts, Delia said, “Just because I’m not part of the Debs Club doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad for Abby. I do. After all, I know what it’s like to lose a parent. I lost both of mine when I was a teenager.”

“I’m sorry,” he said when he saw tears filling her eyes. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s all right,” she said and dabbed at her eyes with a lacy handkerchief. “I don’t like to talk about it.” She sniffed and shoved the handkerchief into the pocket of her coat. “I’d better go. Frank’s waiting for me. But you should go to the Talbots. Maybe your lady friend will be there.”



She wasn’t there, Jack decided after spending the better part of an hour moving from room to room in Abby and Luke Talbot’s home. She wasn’t there, but practically everyone else was. Half the members of the Eastwick Country Club were there. So were most of the politicians, the newspaper editor and the entire board of Eastwick Cares. As he scanned the room in search of his mystery woman, he noted Luke Talbot excusing himself from a group and disappearing down the hall. He couldn’t help but note the way Abby’s eyes followed her husband.

A hand came down on his shoulder. “Jack, my boy, I’ve been looking for you.”

Turning, Jack stared at his father. At sixty-eight, John was the picture of health. He kept his six-foot frame just under two hundred pounds. The tan he’d acquired from his weekly round of golf at the country club accented his silver hair and gray eyes. He suspected his father’s recent retirement from the law firm accounted for his relaxed demeanor. “Hey, Dad.”

“You looked like you were in a bit of a hurry when you left the funeral service. Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine.”

His father eyed him skeptically. “You sure there’s no problem at the office? Because if there is, you know I’ll be happy to help out.”

“Relax, Dad,” Jack told him, knowing that his father had not found it easy to turn over the reins of the law firm he’d founded, even though he had wanted the freedom of retirement. “Everything at the office is fine. I just saw a friend at the service that I’d been trying to reach for a while.”

His father arched his eyebrow. “Did you catch up with her?”

“I never said it was a woman. But no, I missed her.” Not wanting to give his father the chance to question him further about who she was, he said, “You said you were looking for me. Did you need something?”

“Your mother wanted me to tell you that she brought a spinach quiche. It’s one of her new recipes and she wants you to be sure to try it. It’s in the dining room.”

Jack grimaced. His mother was a lousy cook. When he’d been growing up, the lady had managed to burn, undercook and virtually ruin more meals than his stomach cared to remember. Unfortunately, she loved to cook and neither he nor his two sisters nor his father had ever had the heart to tell her how truly awful she was at it. Thankfully, their housekeeper Alice did most of the cooking. But his mother continued to astound them with new recipes. “Is it as bad as her liver mousse?”

“Nothing’s as bad as her liver mousse,” his father said dryly. “Come on, she’s looking this way.”

Jack followed his father into the dining room and was directed toward the quiche. Reluctantly he placed a serving on his plate. Looking up at his father, he asked, “Aren’t you having any?”

His father smiled. “I had some last night. Now it’s your turn.”

“I hope my stomach will forgive me,” Jack muttered and shoveled a bite of the quiche into his mouth. The egg-and-spinach mixture seem to expand inside his mouth and he forced himself to swallow it.

“Here,” his father said and handed him a glass of water.

Jack washed it down, then shuddered. While his father chuckled, Jack took the remainder of the serving and dumped it in the trash. After wiping his mouth with a napkin, he told his father, “You’re a better man than I am. I don’t know how you do it.”

“It’s called love, son. Mark my words. Someday you’re liable to find yourself eating something that tastes like dirt. But you’ll do it with a smile because it makes the woman you love happy.”

“Hopefully I’ll marry someone who can cook.”

His father shrugged. “Maybe you will. But then, I never married your mother for her cooking ability.”

No, Jack thought. His parents had married for love. It was something that had always amazed him, how after forty years of marriage they were still in love with one another. He, on the other hand, had had numerous relationships in his thirty-three years and had even gotten engaged a few years ago until he and his bride-to-be had realized they were better off as friends than as husband and wife. But he had never come close to experiencing with anyone the kind of connection his parents shared.

Suddenly he recalled a slim redhead with ghost-blue eyes. He had felt something with her that night, something strong and powerful, something that went beyond the physical attraction and incredible sex. It was as though some invisible force had drawn him to her that night. And obviously, she’d felt it, too.

“Jack?”

“Sorry, Dad,” he said, shaking off the memory. “What was that?”

“I said Tom Carlton asked me if you’d give any more thought to running for Petersen’s seat in the senate when he retires.”

“I’m considering it. But I just don’t know if I’m right for the job.”

“I don’t see why you wouldn’t be,” his father told him. “You’re a fine attorney, son. You’re smart and savvy enough to work with those politicians and get things accomplished. Most importantly, you’re honest and you care about people. Just look at what you’ve been able to do since you joined the board of Eastwick Cares. Everyone’s raved about the program to battle illiteracy.”

“It was a joint effort. There are a lot of good people on that board and working for Eastwick Cares.”

“Bunny, God rest her soul, told your mother it was your idea.”

It was true, but he and the other members had all contributed to making the program happen. “Even if it was, sitting on the board of a non-profit agency and sitting on Capitol Hill are two different things. I’m not sure I want to make that kind of commitment and jump into the political fish bowl.”

“Well, you’re going to have to decide soon. Petersen has just over a year left to serve before he retires and people are already lining up to toss their hat into the ring for his seat. Running a campaign is expensive and the sooner Carlton and his group know who their candidate is, the better.”

“I told Carlton I’d give him my answer by the end of the month.” And Jack knew he would have to make a decision soon.

His father slapped him on the back. “Whatever you decide, your mother and I are behind you.”

“Thanks, Dad. I appreciate that.”

His father nodded. “I better go find your mother.”

“And I need to get back to the office.”

“Make sure you call your mother and tell her something nice about that quiche.”

“I will,” Jack promised and as his father went in search of his mother, he headed for the door. In the foyer, he retrieved his gray raincoat from the closet and stepped outside onto the veranda.

The rain that had threatened earlier was now coming down steadily. Too bad his umbrella was sitting in the car, he thought, as he slipped on his raincoat. After turning up the collar, he slipped his hands into the pockets and his fingers brushed a piece of paper. Frowning, Jack pulled out a buff-colored sheet of paper that had been folded in half. He unfolded it and began to read the unsigned message typed in large bold letters:

WHAT WOULD THE GOOD CITIZENS OF EASTWICK THINK IF THEY FOUND OUT THAT THEIR CANDIDATE FOR THE SENATE WAS ABOUT TO BECOME AN UNWED FATHER?

UNLESS YOU WANT EVERYONE TO KNOW YOUR DIRTY LITTLE SECRET, YOU’LL PLACE $50,000 IN SMALL BILLS IN A SHOPPING BAG AND LEAVE IT IN EASTWICK PARK UNDER THE BENCH ACROSS FROM THE FOUNTAIN BY NOON TOMORROW. IF YOU FAIL TO DELIVER THE MONEY OR NOTIFY THE AUTHORITIES, YOU CAN FORGET THE SENATE NOMINATION.




Two


Stunned, Jack didn’t notice that the rain was coming down harder. He didn’t notice that the pink-and-white blossoms from the mountain laurels lay scattered beneath the shrubs or that the branches of the white oak bowed beneath the weight of the downpour. He didn’t even notice that on the other side of the door was a house filled with people. His entire focus was on the note he held in his hands. He reread it, and, as he did so, shock gave way to anger.

He was being blackmailed!

Or at least that’s what the person who’d written the note had intended. Turning the sheet of paper over, he studied it, looked for something that might indicate who the author was. But he found nothing.

It didn’t matter who had written it, he told himself as he crushed the note in his fist. Whoever had done so had made two very big mistakes. The first mistake was thinking that he would ever succumb to extortion and the second mistake was the allegation itself. The charge was flat-out ridiculous. He hadn’t fathered any child and no one was expecting his baby. Aside from the fact that he wasn’t involved with anyone, he hadn’t even been with a woman since last year. Not since…Jack went still.

Not since the night of the black-and-white ball.

Suddenly, images flashed through his mind. Images of a moonlit room, of a woman with silken skin and ghost-blue eyes.

Was it possible? Could she be pregnant?

No. She couldn’t be. They might not have known one another and, granted, the sex had been explosive, but at least they’d had the good sense to use protection. Then he remembered that last time they’d made love….



“You have the softest skin,” Jack whispered as he lay in the bed beside her. He drew his finger down her back. She felt like satin—only warmer and with the faint scent of roses and something else. It was a scent he could easily get used to, wanted to get used to, he realized. But they had agreed at the outset that what happened between them tonight ended tonight. The masks they’d worn at the ball had made the evening both intriguing and exciting. They were strangers. Yet the physical attraction had been palpable. He still couldn’t believe he’d given her his room key—or that she’d come. Her insistence that they not reveal their identities had seemed like a good idea at the time. There had been something dangerous and appealing about not knowing who the woman was behind the mask. Only now, he wasn’t sure he should have agreed because the more time he spent with her, the more sure he was that he didn’t want things between them to end. He pressed a kiss to her spine and when she shivered, he asked, “Ticklish?”

“No,” she said, her voice a breathy whisper.

He slid his arm around her waist and drew her body closer, fitting her against him. No, he definitely didn’t want tonight to be the end. Easing the sheet down, he kissed her bare shoulder and, when she trembled, desire stirred inside him again. It had only been an hour since he’d last made love to her. And already, he wanted her again. But this time, he wanted more than just her body. He wanted her. “I know we agreed not to exchange information, but maybe we should rethink that.”

“No,” she said, her body tensing.

“Why not?”

“Because it would mean going back to the real world. And I don’t want to go back to that world. At least not tonight. Tonight I don’t want to think of anything outside this room.”

Moved by the desperation in her voice, he turned her over so that he could see her face. He trailed a finger along her cheek, saw something haunted in those blue eyes. “All right. Tonight there is no world outside this room,” he told her. “But at least tell me your name. I can’t keep calling you Red.”

“I like you calling me Red,” she told him. “No one’s ever called me that before.”

“But I—”

She sat up and pushed him back onto the bed. “Shh. No more talking,” she told him and then she took the lead. She kissed him on the mouth, deeply, thoroughly. Then that hot, moist mouth of hers moved south. She kissed his neck, his chest, and moved lower. When she pressed her lips to his belly, his gut tightened. He reached for her.

Wondering what spell this siren had cast on him, Jack took her mouth, explored her body as she had explored his. Never in his life had he wanted a woman this way, a want that felt dangerously close to need. When he could stand it no longer, he reached over to the nightstand for the condom.

“No, let me,” she said, her voice breathless. She ripped the foil package open with her teeth, sending desire slicing through him again. He lay back against the pillow and watched her as she slowly eased the condom over the length of him. The sensation was exquisite. So was the look of wonder on her face. He’d known she’d had little experience the first time they’d made love. There had been an innocence and an abandon in her response that had told him this night was something as out of the ordinary for her as it was for him. For a moment, he wondered why she had come to his room. What was it in that real world that she’d wanted to escape?

And then he couldn’t think anymore because she was lowering herself onto him. Jack caught her hips, let her set the tempo. She moved back and forth, back and forth, increasing the pace with each movement.

“I…I can’t,” she gasped.

“Yes, you can,” he urged, holding back his own pleasure, wanting to give her more. She gasped again and when the orgasm hit her, her muscles contracted around him. With each sound she made, each movement, he felt his own climax growing closer. When he could wait no longer, Jack flipped her over onto her back and buried himself in her once more.

And then the condom broke.



“Cartwright? Cartwright, are you all right?”

Jack reeled himself back to the present and found Luke Talbot standing in front of him, eyeing him skeptically. Shaking off the memory, he shoved the crumpled blackmail note into the pocket of his raincoat. “I thought I’d wait for this rain to slack up some before I made a run for it,” he explained.

“I just came out to get some air,” Talbot told him.

But given the look of annoyance on the other man’s face, Jack wondered if that was the truth. He sized Talbot up, estimating him to measure an inch or so below his own six feet two inches. The man had what his football coach in college would have called a wiry build, but there was no mistaking that he kept himself fit. There was nothing remarkable about the brown hair and eyes, but the man always seemed to be watching. Just as he was watching him now. “I spoke with Abby earlier, but I didn’t get to tell you how sorry I am about your mother-in-law.”

“Thanks. It’s been pretty rough on Abby.”

“That’s understandable, given the circumstances,” Jack offered.

Talbot reached into his coat pocket and retrieved a cell phone which had obviously been placed on vibrate. He frowned as he looked at the number. “Excuse me, I need to take this call.”

“No problem. I think I’ll make a run for it,” Jack told him and stepped off the veranda and into the rain to head to his car.

And as the rain slapped him in the face, Jack thought once again to that night last December. She’d been gone when he’d awakened the next morning. Despite making several inquiries, no one seemed to know who his mystery woman was. Obviously, the woman had known Bunny Baldwin. He closed his fist around the note in his pocket. Using the remote, he unlocked the door to his car and slid behind the wheel. After starting the engine, he wiped his hand down his face in an attempt to dry it. Then he slicked back his wet hair and stared out at the rain. She’d made it clear that she’d wanted no relationship beyond that night, he reminded himself. It was the reason he hadn’t made a serious effort to find her.

Until now.

Sorry, Red. The rules of the game have just changed.



Lily dug through the files in her desk drawer. Finally she located the one for which she’d been searching and snatched it from the pile. As she shoved it into her briefcase, she glanced up at the clock and groaned. Twenty minutes past five. The board meeting for Eastwick Cares started in ten minutes and she didn’t want to be anywhere near this office when it did. She should have been out of here long before now, she admitted. But when Kristen, one of the teens she’d been counseling, had shown up needing to talk, Lily hadn’t been able to refuse. As a result, she’d cut it too close this time. The board members would be arriving any second.

Since seeing Jack Cartwright at Bunny’s funeral three days ago, she’d been edgy. He had recognized her. Of that much she was sure. As a result, she hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that the other shoe was about to fall. She locked the file drawer, then switched off her desk lamp. Grabbing her keys and purse with one hand and her briefcase with the other, Lily hurried toward the door. She had just pulled the door closed behind her when she heard the distinctive chime of the elevator. Six flights or not, the stairs would be safer, she reasoned and headed for the stairwell in the opposite direction.

“Miss Miller! Miss Miller, wait!”

Lily heard Kristen calling out to her, as well as the chatter of several people who had evidently exited the elevator with the girl. She wanted to ignore Kristen and leave. Otherwise, she’d run the risk of Jack seeing her. But how could she ignore a child who had come to her for help? She couldn’t, she admitted. Stopping, she turned around.

“Geez, Miss Miller, didn’t you hear me?” Kristen asked.

Lily walked back to the girl who had come halfway down the corridor to catch her. “I’m sorry. My mind was on something else. Did you need something?”

“I think I forgot my book bag in your office.”

“Well, let’s go see if we can find it,” she said and headed back to her office where she unlocked the door and turned on the light.

“There it is,” Kristen claimed, indicating the couch where she had sat during their session. The lime-green pack rested on the floor on the opposite side of the sofa. Kristen retrieved the backpack and slung the strap over one shoulder, then turned back to face her. “I’ve got an exam tomorrow that I need to study for and all my notes are in here,” she said patting the bag. “I don’t know what I would have done if you’d already left.”

“Then I’m glad you caught me in time,” Lily replied as she left the office with the teenager.

The elevator dinged its arrival again. “There’s the elevator. You going down?”

“Not yet,” Lily said, still hoping she could escape without seeing Jack.

“See you next week then,” the petite brunette told her and rushed toward the elevator’s opening doors. The elevator began to empty and Kristen stepped inside. “Thanks,” she murmured to someone still inside the elevator, holding the door open for her. “Bye, Miss Miller. And thanks again.”

“Good bye,” Lily called out, and when he exited the elevator she could have sworn she heard it—the other shoe dropping. Because, just as she had feared for months, the man standing outside the elevator staring at her was Jack Cartwright. Unable to move, she simply stood and watched the shock in his blue eyes turn to fury as they moved from her face to her belly and back again.

He walked toward her. His voice was low and dangerous as he said, “Hello, Red.” He paused then glanced at the nameplate on her office door. “Or should I say, ‘Hello, Lily Miller’?”

She nodded, not sure she could even speak when her heart felt as though it were in her throat.

“When is the baby due?” he asked, his expression grim.

“In four months. But—”

“Which means that I’m the father,” he said. “And if you’re having any thoughts about saying the baby’s not mine, you can save yourself the trouble because I’ll demand a paternity test and we both know what the results will show.”

“I wasn’t going to lie,” she told him and placed a protective hand on her stomach. “I just wanted you to know that getting pregnant…it…it wasn’t something I’d planned.”

“Neither was the condom breaking,” he responded. “Why did you tell me you were on the pill?”

“I didn’t. I told you that I was safe because I thought it was a safe time. You just assumed I meant I was on the pill,” she explained and felt the color rush to her cheeks. “It’s no one’s fault. It was an accident, Jack—”

His head snapped up and he pinned her with his eyes. “So you do know who I am.”

“Yes. But not at first. Not until later that night in the hotel room when you took off your mask,” she admitted.

“You knew even then? And yet you didn’t want me to know who you were. Why is that, Lily? Why keep up the pretense? Was it all some kind of joke for you?”

“No! No, it wasn’t a joke,” she told him, not wanting him to believe she had used him. “That night…that night I wasn’t myself. I didn’t want to be me. So when you asked me to dance and we decided to follow the rules of the masquerade ball and not reveal our identities, I didn’t have to be me. It seemed…it seemed so harmless,” she offered because she didn’t know how to tell him that she’d been lost and hurting that night and he had made her feel whole again. “Going to your room that night…it’s…it’s not something I would normally do.”

“Asking a strange woman to my hotel room isn’t exactly the norm for me, either,” he told her, his voice sharp. “So why not be honest? Why not tell me who you were? Why keep pretending?”

“Because I was afraid if I told you who I was, you would stop. And I didn’t want you to stop,” she told him honestly.

Something flared in his eyes. But whatever he’d planned to say never made it past his lips because a door down the hall opened.

“Cartwright, the meeting’s about to start,” Doug Walters, one of the other board members, called out.

“Go ahead and start without me,” he said, never taking his eyes off her.

“We’re taking nominations for Bunny’s seat,” Walters answered.

“Go to your meeting,” she told him before he could respond.

“We need to talk.”

“I know.” While one part of her was relieved that he finally knew the truth, another part of her was nervous about what he might do. His family status wasn’t lost on her. While being an unwed mother might cause a ripple or two for her, the news that Jack was the baby’s father was sure to be a scandal for the venerable, respected Cartwright family.

“Cartwright?” Walters called out again.

“Go ahead. I’ll be here when you’re done and we’ll talk.”

He hesitated a moment, then said, “All right. But if you’re thinking about running away like you did at the cemetery the other day, just remember I know who you are now. And there’s not a place on this earth where you can hide that I won’t find you.”

And as she watched Jack walk away, Lily knew he meant every word. Even if she had someplace or someone to run to, she had no doubt that he would find her. But she had no one—only her baby—so she turned and reentered her office to wait for him.



“What do you think about Abby Talbot taking her mother’s place on the board?” Jacqueline Kent suggested.

“She’s not even thirty. That’s kind of young to be sitting on this board,” Doug Walters pointed out.

“True. But she’s bright and personable and she’s been very supportive of Eastwick Cares. Besides, it might be nice to have some young blood on this board,” Mrs. Kent responded. “Look what a great addition Jack has been.”

The discussion continued around him, but Jack’s thoughts remained on Lily. He’d heard her praises sung from the moment he’d joined the board. The incomparable, efficient Ms. Lily Miller was adored by the teens she counseled and her reports were always neatly typed, complete and available for the board meetings, even though the lady herself never was. Now he knew why. She’d been avoiding him. Not only avoiding him, but keeping from him the fact that he was going to be a father.

A father.

He was still having difficulty wrapping his head around that idea, he admitted. But he didn’t question for a moment that the child was his. He knew that it was. As she’d told him, spending the night with a stranger hadn’t been a normal thing for her—just as it hadn’t been normal for him.

“What do you think, Jack?” Doug Walters asked.

“Sorry, Doug. What was that?”

“What do you think about Abby Talbot taking Bunny’s place on the board?”

“I think it sounds like a good idea. From what I understand, she’s a smart businesswoman. She’s been supportive of Eastwick Cares and I think it would be a nice way to honor her mother for her years of service to the agency.”

“All right, then. Why don’t we take a vote?” Walters said.

By the time the votes were cast and the remainder of the agenda covered, nearly two hours had passed. When Jack exited the board room and headed down the hall to Lily’s office, he half expected to find her gone.

But there she was, seated on the couch with her eyes closed and her head resting against the back cushion. She was asleep, he realized. And since she obviously hadn’t heard him enter, he took the time to study her. Until now, he had only his memory of her—the way she’d looked when he’d first seen her at the ball, a vision wrapped in black satin. The way she’d looked in his room with the firelight reflecting off her hair. The way she’d looked in his bed with her back arched, her skin flushed and her body tangled with his. So many times during the past few months, he told himself that he’d been wrong. She couldn’t possibly be as beautiful as he remembered.

He’d been wrong. She was even more beautiful now. Dark red hair fell in soft waves to frame her face. The face was a perfect oval, her features delicate, the mouth that had made love to him and cried out in pleasure was even more tempting than it had been all those months ago. Dark lashes covered the ghost-blue eyes that had haunted his dreams. The dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose that saved her from being too perfect made her all the more beautiful to him. But it was the bulge in her stomach and the knowledge that she carried his child that made his chest tighten.

She opened her eyes and stared up at him. Within moments, the lazy slumber dissipated and the wariness was back. She straightened. “I’m sorry. I must have dozed off. I seem to be doing a lot of that lately,” she said.

She did look tired, he realized, and there were faint shadows under her eyes. Suddenly concerned about her and the baby, he began spitting out questions. “Have you told the doctor? What does he say? Is it normal?”

“Yes, I’ve told the doctor. And she says it’s perfectly normal.”

Realizing that he sounded like some panicked idiot instead of a grown man, Jack sat down in the wingback chair across from her. He released a breath and looked over into her worried eyes. “Sorry about that. This has all been a surprise for me.”

“I understand. I was the same way at first, panicking over everything. But I’ve had a while to get used to it.”

“Too bad I can’t say the same thing,” he replied, angered anew that she’d kept the pregnancy a secret from him. “Why didn’t you tell me about the baby? Didn’t you think I had a right to know that I was going to be a father?”

“Of course you do. And I was going to tell you.”

“When? When the baby was graduating from college?”

“I wanted to tell you,” she insisted and he didn’t miss the way she was plucking at the sleeve of the jacket she wore.

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because I didn’t know how,” she fired back.

“The simple truth would have worked just fine. All you had to do was say that the night we slept together resulted in a child.”

“You’re right, and I apologize,” she said, her voice softer, her expression calmer. She tilted her chin up, straightened her shoulders. “I should have told you. And now that you do know, you should also know that I intend to keep the baby.”

It had never crossed his mind that she wouldn’t, Jack realized. He also realized that she could just as easily have placed the child up for adoption, and if she’d listed the father as unknown, he would never even have known he had a child.

“But just because I’m keeping the baby doesn’t mean I expect anything from you. I don’t. I made the decision on my own and I plan to accept full responsibility. So you don’t have to worry that I’ll make any demands.”

“That was a nice little speech, Lily. Tell me, how long have you been practicing it?” he asked and surprised himself that he managed to sound so calm when inside he was furious.

“I…A while,” she finally said.

Leaning forward, he made sure his eyes were level with hers, and he said, “Whether or not you expect anything from me is irrelevant. I’m that baby’s father and as its father, I not only intend to take financial responsibility for him or her, I also intend to be a part of the child’s life.”

“I see,” was all she said.

It was apparent that he’d thrown her for a loop. But had she really expected him simply to walk away from his responsibility to the baby? To her?

“I’m sure we’ll be able to work something out with visitation,” she offered. “Lots of families do it. Of course, we’ll have to wait until the baby’s older. Then we can set up a schedule where we swap holidays and extra time in the summers.”

“I don’t think you understand what I’m saying, Lily. I intend to be a part of this child’s life from day one—not four or five years down the line.”

“But surely you realize a baby needs to be with its mother,” she insisted and he could hear the thread of alarm in her voice.

“It needs its father, too. I have no intention of being a part-time father, one of those men who has visitation every other weekend and alternates holidays. I want to be a part of it all—the late-night feedings, the first steps. Everything.”

Lily pushed to her feet. “I won’t let you take my baby from me,” she told him, her voice firm, defiance in her eyes. “I don’t care who your family is or how much money you have, I’ll fight you. I’ll fight you with every breath in me before I let you take my baby.”

“It’s our baby, Lily. Our baby.”

She folded her arms protectively over her abdomen. But her eyes never wavered as she spat out, “I mean it, Jack. I’ll fight you every step of the way. I won’t let you take the baby from me.”

Standing, he walked over to her. He had a good six inches on her and knew he could be intimidating. Hadn’t he been told time and again that his strong physical presence was as big an asset in the courtroom as was his skill as a lawyer? But if she was intimidated, Lily didn’t show it. She held her ground, stood with him toe-to-toe. With her claws drawn and her eyes sparking fire, she reminded him of a cornered mama cat, fighting to protect her kitten. And he couldn’t help but admire her for it. “Do you really think I’m such a heartless monster? That I would take our baby from its mother?” he asked.

She eyed him warily. “But you said you wanted to be there for everything.”

“And I do,” he said and touched her cheek. “A baby needs a mother and a father.”

“I don’t understand. The baby can’t be with both of us all the time.”

“Sure it can. All we have to do is get married.”




Three


“You can’t be serious,” Lily told Jack, unable to believe the man had actually suggested that they marry.

“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.”

“Then you’re either crazy or you’re a fool,” she said and moved away from him. She retreated behind her desk, wanting the sense of normalcy and control that it represented.

“Why? Because I want to give our baby a real home with both of its parents? It sounds pretty reasonable to me.”

“But we don’t know anything about each other.”

He walked over to the desk and took the seat directly across from her. “That’s easily fixed. Ask away. What do you want to know about me?”

“Jack…”

“All right, I’ll start. My full name is John Ryan Cartwright, IV, but I’ve been called Jack since I was in diapers. I’m single, never been married. My parents are Sandra and John Cartwright. I have two sisters, Courtney and Elizabeth. My Cartwright ancestors were English Puritans from Massachusetts who were among the first settlers in the state. On my mother’s side my claim to fame is Nathan Hale as an ancestor,” he said.

“Jack, this isn’t necessary,” she informed him, because just listening to him drove home how truly unsuitable they were. She didn’t belong in his world, never would.

“It is necessary because we’ve created a child together, a child who’s going to need both of its parents. If the only way to achieve that is by the two of us learning about each other, then I want you to know everything there is to know about me.”

Seeing the determined look on his face, Lily didn’t waste her breath trying to reason with him. Once he was finished, she would try to make him see that marriage was not a viable option.

“Now let’s see, where was I? You already know that I’m a lawyer with the firm of Cartwright and Associates which was founded by my great-great-great grandfather. I became the firm’s managing partner last year when my father retired. I serve on the board of Eastwick Cares. I also serve on the boards of two other nonprofit agencies because I believe one person can make a difference and that by giving back to the community we make that difference. I own my home and have a boat that I like to take out on Long Island Sound whenever I get the chance. I gross roughly $250,000 a year from my law practice and have a stock portfolio that produces another six figures. My favorite food is spaghetti. My favorite dessert is bananas Foster.” Rising, he came around the desk to where she stood. He brushed his knuckles along her cheek. “And I have a real weakness for redheads with skin like silk.”

Lily closed her eyes a moment and, just as she had done that night in December, felt herself grow weak at his touch.

“Marry me, Lily. Make a home with me for our baby.”

He made it sound so simple. Get married, raise their baby together.

“It is that simple,” he told her.

Only then did Lily realize she’d spoken aloud. Needing to break the hypnotic pull he seemed to have on her, she stepped back and crossed her arms. “You’re wrong. It isn’t simple,” she insisted. And she couldn’t afford to make the mistake of believing it was. She’d done that far too often growing up. She wouldn’t do it now. Not when she had her baby’s happiness at stake.

“Why not?”

“Because we come from entirely different worlds.”

“If you’re talking about the money—”

“I’m not,” she said. “But it is a factor. For starters, I don’t own my home. I live in a rental apartment. My annual salary is substantially less than yours. I have a modest savings account and a small IRA account, but no stock portfolio. I have a five-year-old car and a bike, but no boat.”

“Those are material things. They’re not important.”

“It’s not just the monetary differences, Jack. You have ancestors you can trace back for generations. You have parents, sisters, a family. You know who you are, where you came from,” she said, trying to explain. “Do you know how far back I can trace my ancestors? Twenty-seven years ago—to me. I do know that my name is Lily because that’s what the note pinned on my blanket said and there’s an L engraved on this locket that I was wearing,” she said, lifting the gold locket. “As for the name Miller, it was the name of the street where the church I was left in was located.”

“Lily, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be,” she said and turned away, not wanting to see pity in his eyes, not wanting him to see the tears threatening in hers. “Surely you can see now that the idea of us marrying, even if it is for the baby’s sake, is ridiculous.”

“Why? Because you don’t have some pedigree? Do you really think that I’m that shallow? That I would judge you on the basis of something as inconsequential as where you were born and who your parents were?”

“I’d hardly call not knowing who you are or where you came from inconsequential. For all we know, I could be the daughter of an ax murderer.”

“Or the daughter of a king,” he countered.

But kings didn’t leave their babies. And wealthy, handsome men from prestigious families didn’t marry orphans who not even their mothers had wanted.

She felt him come up behind her. “So maybe I don’t know where you were born or who your family is, but you know what I do know?” He rested his hands upon her shoulders. “I know that you’re kind and caring. I know that as a counselor, you’ve made a difference in the lives of dozens and dozens of kids. I know that because of you a lot of the kids who’ve come through that door have a chance to make it, because counseling them isn’t just a job to you. You care about them.”

Since she’d become pregnant, her emotions had been on a roller coaster. Tears which she’d seldom shed even at the darkest times in her life were now always just a look or a word away.

“I also know that while you may not have planned this baby, you already love it and that you’ll do what’s right for it.” He turned her to face him, tipped her chin up with his fingertip. “And the right thing is for us to get married. To provide a real home and family for our baby.”

“But we can do that without getting married,” she insisted.

“How? By shuffling him or her from your apartment to my house? What kind of life is that for a child? What our baby needs is security, Lily—and I don’t mean just financially. Our baby needs a real family and a real home with both parents there to tuck him in at night, to have both of us there when she wakes up from a bad dream. Don’t you want our baby to have those things?”

“Of course I do,” she told him. Being part of a real family had been the one thing she’d wanted all of her life. It had been what she’d put on her list for Santa. It had been what she’d wished for each time she’d blown out the candles on a birthday cake. And it had been the one thing she had never had. That she still didn’t have.

“We can never give our baby those things as single parents.”

She knew he was right. Yet a part of her couldn’t help but feel disappointed. “What about love?” she asked and lowered her gaze. The one thing she had always believed was that when she did marry, it would be to someone she loved and who loved her in return. “Marriage is more than sharing a house with someone. What chance would a marriage between us have when we don’t love one another?”

“Who says we need to love one another? We like and respect each other. We’re going to share a child. And we already know that we’re sexually compatible. There are a lot of very successful marriages that are based on a great deal less.”

Lily jerked her eyes upward. She had been so focused on what a marriage between them would mean to their baby that she hadn’t considered what it would mean to her, to him. “You mean you would want this to be a real marriage?”

He smiled at her and Lily felt that fluttering in her stomach just as she had that night at the ball when he had looked at her the first time. “I don’t see why it shouldn’t be. I intend to honor our vows and would expect you to do the same. Since I don’t think either of us plans to lead a life of celibacy, it only makes sense that we would share a bed.”

“I guess you’re right,” she said because everything he said made sense.

“I am. You’ll see.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “And I think the sooner we get married the better.”

A wave of panic hit her. “But what about your family, your friends? What will they think? What will people say?”

“They’ll think I’m a lucky guy,” he assured her.

Or maybe they would think he’d lost his mind. Perhaps they both had because she was going to marry Jack Cartwright. She only hoped neither of them lived to regret it.



She was as skittish as a colt, Jack thought as he looked across the seat of his car to Lily. Her hands were clenched, her body stiff and she’d had him stop twice during the thirty-minute drive for bathroom breaks. She’d claimed it was a hazard of being pregnant, but he suspected a big part of it was nerves.

Not that he could blame her. He had surprised himself when he’d blurted out that they should get married. But within minutes of doing so, he’d realized it was the right thing to do. He’d known right away that Lily had way too much pride to allow him to take care of her and the baby financially. So he hadn’t even bothered suggesting it. Besides he had meant what he said—a kid really did need both parents. And while he might not have planned on becoming a father in quite this way, now that it was happening, he wanted to be a real father in every way. That meant providing his child with the same love and security he’d known as a child. And the only way to do that was for him and Lily to become man and wife.

Once he’d made that decision, he had approached her objections as he did an opponent in the courtroom. One by one he had shot those objections down. He hadn’t exactly played fair, he admitted. When she’d told him about her family—or lack thereof—he could only imagine how painful and lonely it must have been for her growing up. So he had used her own feelings about family against her and gotten her to agree to marry him. And before she could change her mind, he’d set things into motion—first by hustling her to the courthouse the next day to get a marriage license and now by taking her to meet his parents.

Jack thought about the ring in his pocket. She’d claimed she didn’t need an engagement ring when he’d suggested they shop for one. He’d never seen her wear anything except the gold locket. And while it was possible she was one of those rare women who didn’t covet jewelry, after checking into her background he suspected few people had thought to give Lily shiny baubles. He also doubted that she would consider jewelry as one of the basic necessities in life. He wanted her to have the ring. He’d even planned to give it to her when he’d arrived at her apartment to pick her up for the trip to his parents’ home. But one look at her and he could see she was a bundle of nerves. So he’d decided to wait.

“Are you sure I’m dressed okay?” she asked.

“You look beautiful,” he assured her. It was true. The silky skirt skimmed her still-trim hips and gave him a glimpse of those killer legs. The apricot-colored sweater top gently curved over her breasts and the large-grapefruit-sized bump in her belly. Were it not for that bulge, he would never have known she was pregnant.

“Is it much farther?” she asked.

“About ten minutes,” he said. “Do you need me to stop again?”

“No. I can wait.”

When he saw her plucking at her skirt, he reached over and caught her hand. “Try to relax. It’s just brunch.”

“I know.”

But he knew the prospect of brunch with his parents and sisters had made her anxious. He assumed it was nerves that accounted for her allowing him to continue holding her hand for the remainder of the drive. “This is it,” he said as he approached the gates to his parents’ home. After he’d punched in the code, the gates swung open and he drove along the landscaped driveway leading to the house.

“It’s beautiful. And big.”

“Not big enough when you have two younger sisters,” he said, hoping to ease the rush of nerves he detected. “All I can say is thank heavens for the mudroom. It’s the one place I could go and not worry about being invaded by females.”

She smiled. “I’m trying to picture you as a boy dodging your sisters.”

“Trust me, it wasn’t easy,” he told her and pulled the car to a stop in the circular drive. Quickly, he got out and opened the passenger’s door for Lily. He offered his hand, and once again she took it.

“Thanks,” she said.

When the front door opened, he squeezed her fingers and whispered in her ear, “Whatever you do, don’t eat anything my mother cooked.”

Before she could respond, his mother was there. “Lily, I can’t tell you how glad I am to meet you. I’m Sandra, Jack’s mother.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs. Cartwright,” she began.

“It’s Sandra, dear,” his mother told her and ignoring Lily’s proffered hand, she hugged her instead.

“Sandra, don’t smother the girl,” his father said as he appeared at the door. “I’m John Cartwright.”

“Mr. Cartwright,” Lily said and looked relieved when his father merely took her hand in both of his.

“Son,” he said, acknowledging him with a nod. “You’d both better come inside before your sisters and Alice attack this poor girl on the doorstep.”

“Yes, yes, come in,” his mother told her. “I do hope you’re hungry, Lily. Alice has whipped up a fabulous brunch for us and I made my famous liver mousse.”

Jack leaned close and whispered to Lily, “Remember what I told you. Stay away from the liver mousse.”

But Lily didn’t stay away from the liver mousse. Jack bit back a wince as he watched her eat another spoonful, then reach for her water glass again. “Be sure to save room for dessert,” Jack told her. “Alice makes the best strawberry shortcake in Connecticut.”

“It’s true,” his sister Courtney chimed in. “She uses real whipped cream.”

“It sounds delicious,” Lily said.

“Jack tells us you’re a counselor for Eastwick Cares,” his mother said. “He says that you work with the troubled teens in the program.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She looked up, relief in her eyes as Alice whisked away the liver mousse. “Thank you.”

“Lily’s really amazing with those kids,” Jack said. “The number of teens who stay in school and stick with the program has nearly doubled since she’s been there.”

“It’s the kids who do the work,” she informed him. “All I do is listen.”

“Your family must be very proud of you,” his mother responded.

“Lily doesn’t have any family,” Jack informed his mother and wanted to kick himself for not telling his mother to steer clear of the subject.

“What Jack means is that I’m an orphan. I never knew who my parents were.”

“I’m so sorry, dear. I didn’t know. Jack.” She said his name sharply. “You should have said something to us. Now I’ve gone and embarrassed this dear girl.”

“I’m not embarrassed, Mrs. Cartwright, and please don’t feel you need to apologize or feel sorry for me. The truth is, I’ve always believed I was pretty lucky because I’ve never had to worry about living up to anyone’s expectations but my own.”

“She’s right,” Courtney said. “Is it too late for me to be an orphan?”

Everyone laughed and Jack was relieved to have some of the tension ebb.

“Well, once you and Jack are married, you’ll be a Cartwright and we’ll be your family,” his mother said.

“Are you going to take the name Cartwright or keep your maiden name?” his sister Elizabeth asked.

“Actually, I haven’t really thought about it,” Lily replied.

“I think when I get married I’ll keep my own name,” Courtney declared.

“In my day, a woman took her husband’s name,” his mother said.

“Whatever Lily decides will be fine with me,” Jack told them, wanting to end the discussion.

“So, Lily, have you and Jack decided on a date and place for the wedding yet?” Courtney asked.





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