The Bachelor’s Bride
Audra Adams

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Acknowledgments

Special thanks to two special men… Jim Reid, for lending his name and his inspiration…

-and-

Frank Banas, for teaching me the difference between “separate” and “spread.”

Contents

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Epilogue

Prologue

Everything was white. The walls were white, the curtains billowing out from the dark, open windows were white, the bed was very white, its sheets, its satin comforter, the netting hanging from the ceiling. All pristine, blemishless.

White.

She cradled her head in her arm as she laid back against the smooth pillow. A brilliant moon bathed the room in pale light. Her eyes were wide open and she watched him approach her, slowly, steadily, a cigarette in his hand. He, too, was dressed in white, a casual summer suit and half-buttoned shirt.

He smiled, and she smiled back at him. She didn’t move as he sat on the edge of the bed. His eyes roamed her face, her body, caressing her. They were green, like emeralds with a fire ring of blue around the outer rims. She said something and he laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling, making him look far less forbidding than before.

He put out the cigarette in the white ashtray, leaned forward and kissed her. She let him. He felt wonderful. His lips were cool as they brushed against hers. He pulled back and stared at her, the smile gone, and in its place was another look, not the forbidden one, but something different.

Desire.

She’d seen it before in a man’s eyes, of course, but never like this. This was intense, and a blip of fear invaded her belly. Or was it excitement? She raised her hand to his face to brush away a strand of very blond hair, and he turned into her palm. His skin was warm, dry, smooth.

He moved closer, his face only inches away from hers. “I want to make love with you,” he whispered.

“Yes...” she answered with a long hissing sound that he cut off as his mouth descended once again.

He parted her lips with his tongue this time and swept inside her mouth with the power and finesse of a tempest at sea. She had never been kissed like this, had never felt a mouth this hot, this wet, this controlling. She could only follow his lead, do his bidding, and she did, willingly.

His hands touched her, moving up her arms ever so slowly to her collarbone and onto the tops of her breasts. He played there for a moment until the straps of her sundress fell from her shoulders. With a slight tug, he had it to her waist, baring her breasts to his burning gaze.

He flicked his fingers against her nipples, the peaks so sensitive, they hardened immediately under his ministrations. He smiled again, murmuring words of praise that twisted her insides with their meaning.

She closed her eyes as his mouth replaced his fingers, and once again she was taken by surprise by the heat of him. Her body arched. He ran his hands down her sides, lifted her dress and caressed the insides of her thighs with featherless movements of his fingertips.

“Open,” he said, his head pillowed on her breast, his breath fanning her sensitive skin.

Obediently she spread her legs, anxious for him to touch her. But he took his time, teasing her as he ran a fingertip into the elastic band of her panties, back and forth, pulling the material, stretching it until he managed to get past the barrier to the sweetness that lay beyond.

She called out when he touched her, and he raised his head to kiss her once again, taking her mouth whole, swallowing her moan as his fingers grew bolder. He dipped into her, stroked her. She felt her body melt against his fingers. She was wet, hot, needy.

And she wanted more. Her hands roamed inside his open shirt. She splayed her fingers across the expanse of his chest, running her fingernails through the soft tufts of hair, scratching her way down his body until she reached his waistband.

His fingers hesitated for the briefest moment before he continued the slow, steady, intimate stroking. He sat back and watched as her fumbling fingers unbuckled his belt, freed the fastening, and unzipped his pants. His eyes were intense as she ran her fingers over the length of him. He was smooth, hot and hard, a reward, she felt, for her persistence.

They stared into each other’s eyes as their hands, their fingers, continued to drive their bodies to the brink. She was the first to look away. She shut her eyes tightly as her body took control, pulsing to the rhythm of his stroking, building, climbing toward a light so blinding she felt she would fall into it.

“Now,” he said, and she did not argue.

Within seconds his body covered hers, and he was there. She had never been this full, this stretched, this consumed by a man. Her hips rose and fell in tandem with his movements. They danced the ancient dance of men and women in perfect harmony, so sweet, so pure, so wonderful that she could not stop the spasms of pleasure when they came. So she didn’t try. She rose to greet them, rejoicing in the way he made her feel, rejoicing in her own ability to feel this at all, rejoicing in his response as he tensed and followed her headlong into the burst of light.

After a long moment he raised himself up onto his elbows. His eyes were mesmerizing. They sparkled in the bright moonlight. Again he smiled, and the eyes crinkled. He kissed her nose, and she smiled, too.

She studied his face, so tanned and handsome with his high cheekbones, strong jaw and very blond hair falling down across his forehead. A nice face, a trustworthy face, a face she could love, she thought.

A face in a dream....

One

The dot was blue. She held it up to the light to double check. Just in case she’d made a mistake.

For the second time.

No. There was no doubt. It was blue all right.

Rachel Morgan slowly sat on the commode in the bathroom of her tiny studio apartment. She exhaled a long-held, overly hopeful breath. There would be no point in taking the test a third time. The results were sure to be the same.

She was pregnant.

The question was, how?

Her hands began to shake as she lost her adrenaline high. This couldn’t be happening, couldn’t be real. Rachel hadn’t had a serious relationship since she’d moved to New York City two years ago after her mother’s death and the breakup of her engagement to Tom. There was no one in her life—if you could call the mess she’d made of things to date a life. Biting her lip, she fought back tears.

Jobless. And now pregnant.

But again, the how came back to haunt her. She was a rational human being. There was no such thing as an immaculate conception—at least not that she knew of, not in this day and age, and not to someone as imperfect as she. So there had to be another explanation. Her stomach churned.

Which meant that The Dream had to be real.

The phone rang and she forced herself to rise and walk into the L-shaped room that served as her kitchen, living room and bedroom. She sat on the edge of her Murphy bed and lifted the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Rachel? Trudy. I’m glad I caught you. I may have a lead on a job. One of our suppliers is looking—”

“I’m pregnant.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“How?”

“Darned if I know. I’m sitting here trying to figure it out.” She didn’t mention the nausea or the shaking.

“Don’t move,” Trudy said. “I’ll be right over.”

A half hour later Rachel’s buzzer sounded. She pressed the button and leaned into it, then waited at the door until she heard the elevator ping. Opening the door, she rested against the jamb and watched her best friend in the entire world walk toward her.

A tall, slim, gorgeous redhead, Trudy Levin was a walking neurosis—ambitious, hyper, driven to succeed in the high-powered world of the cosmetics industry.

When Rachel had first arrived in the city two years ago, she had “hick” written all over her. They’d met on the subway when Rachel had gotten hopelessly lost going crosstown. Trudy, a rare Manhattan native, had rescued her, yapping on her heels like a mother hen. They’d been fast friends ever since.

“I don’t believe this,” Trudy said, brushing past Rachel as she hurried into the apartment. But then, Trudy didn’t walk, she hurried—everywhere.

Rachel made a slow turn and shut the door behind her.

“Lock it,” Trudy said, dropping her oversize bag onto a kitchen chair.

Rachel smiled and obeyed. Trudy was always ordering her around, mostly with warnings on how to survive in the big, bad city. Rachel knew she did it out of love, and found it no chore to deal with her friend’s paranoia.

“Now, tell me what happened.”

Rachel lifted the wand off the counter with more aplomb than she felt and held it out for Trudy’s inspection. “Blue.”

“I don’t believe it,” Trudy repeated.

“How do you think I feel?” Rachel said.

To cover her agitation, Rachel busied herself at the sink. She filled the teakettle with water, then placed it on the front burner. With a flick of her wrist, the flame erupted underneath.

“I’m hurt. Didn’t I tell you all about Jake when I met him? Didn’t I fill you in on every dirty detail of every date? Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing someone?” Trudy asked, a puzzled, pained expression on her face.

“Because I’m not.”

“Then who...”

Rachel shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“That’s impossible.”

“No, it’s true. I have no idea who the father is.”

Trudy walked over to Rachel. She gripped Rachel’s shoulders in her hands and turned her around so that they faced each other.

“Look at me.” Rachel complied, and Trudy’s voice softened when she noticed the tears threatening. “Honey, I know you’re a country girl and all that, but even you know that this isn’t something you pick up from a toilet seat at a department store.”

Rachel attempted a smile. “I know...”

“Then who—”

The teakettle began to whistle and Rachel lifted it off the burner and extinguished the flame. She held the steaming pot aloft as she looked up at Trudy. “It must have been the dream.”

“Dream?”

“You remember, the one I told you about. The one I had when I was sick with the flu.”

“The White Dream?”

Rachel gave her a wry grin. “Yes. The White Dream.”

Trudy dropped into the chair. “Okay. Let’s figure this out.”

“Would you like a cup of tea?” Rachel asked.

“Yeah. Lemon and a half—”

“I know. A half packet of sweetener.”

Rachel set the small, two-seater table with napkins and spoons and prepared the mugs of tea. She looked up at Trudy, feeling herself steady a bit now that her friend was here, now that she had someone to share this with.

Once they were seated opposite each other and the first sip had been taken, Trudy leaned forward and patted her hand. “Now, tell me from the beginning.”

“I don’t remember the beginning. Just the end.”

“Then tell me the end.”

Rachel took a second small sip of the hot liquid. “It must have happened the night I got sick. Remember that?”

“Yeah,” Trudy said. “You came with me to the launch party for the new perfume. You had a bad cold.”

“And I was on antibiotics. I shouldn’t have gone out, but you insisted.”

“So it’s my fault.”

Rachel shook her head. “No, of course not. I just remember you insisting that I go. You wanted me to get out, meet people, maybe make a contact for a job.”

“Right. We stayed at the party until late. We were almost the last to leave. I remember it was so crowded at the armory I couldn’t find you. I walked the hall a hundred times, but you were nowhere to be found. It was like you disappeared.”

“I don’t remember any of that.”

“I found you out front, sitting on a stoop, with your head against the railing. You’d fallen asleep. When I woke you up, you were white as a ghost and felt sick to your stomach. We left right then. I hailed a cab and brought you up here and put you to bed. Do you remember any of this?”

“No. I just remember going with you to the party. I remember walking into the hall, having something to drink...some kind of punch—”

“The punch was spiked.”

Rachel stared into space. “I don’t know about that, either. The rest of the night is a blank.”

Trudy took her hand. Rachel noticed the concern in her face.

“Tell me about the dream,” Trudy said.

“It’s hard. It’s so jumbled.”

“Try.”

She took a breath and let it out slowly. “There was a man, and we...we were...”

“Having sex.”

“Yes.” Rachel blushed.

“In the white room?”

“Yes.”

“And when did you first have this dream?” Trudy asked.

“The first time was when I had the flu. I was sick for two weeks, and I just kept having the dream over and over again. Then it stopped.”

“And that was how long ago?”

“Six weeks.”

“How late are you?” Trudy asked.

“Six weeks.”

“Mystery solved.”

“Oh, Trudy. It can’t be true!”

“Honey, you disappeared for at least an hour that I know of, probably more. You must have left with someone. Now all we have to do is figure out who.” She tapped her finger to her lips. “Describe him to me. Maybe I can help.”

“He was dressed in white.”

“Great help,” Trudy said. “It was mid-June. All the men there were dressed in white.”

“He was tall. Blond.” She paused. “And he had green eyes.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere.”

Rachel shut her eyes, allowing the dream to swirl around inside her head, pulling it back from her memory. She felt a shiver inside. “He smoked. And had a great smile. His eyes crinkled—” she opened her eyes and pointed to the corners “—right here. He had a low voice, kind of Rod Stewart-ish.” She looked at Trudy. “Well? Anything?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. What else?”

“His mouth. He had the greatest mouth.”

“In what way?” Trudy asked.

Rachel looked away. “I don’t know how to describe it.” She stared at her friend and felt the heat of embarrassment rise to her face.

Trudy ignored it. “This is no time to be shy, Rachel. Try.”

“Hot.”

“Hot?”

“Yes, his mouth was...hot.”

Trudy tilted her head and pursed her lips. “You seem to be remembering more than you thought.”

Rachel studied her hands. “I guess I am.”

“Anything else?”

“Not that I can think of.” She bit her lip. “Wait, there is one more thing. He had a slight accent. Very slight. I couldn’t tell exactly what. English. Maybe French—”

“French Canadian.”

“What? You know who he is?” Rachel asked, excited.

“I’m not sure. But he sounds like someone I may know.”

“Who? For heaven’s sake, Trudy, tell me, who?”

“My boss.”

“Not Reid James!”

“Yes, Reid James. The nineties answer to Robert Redford.”

Rachel put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, my God. I thought it was a dream.”

Trudy looked down in the vicinity of Rachel’s stomach. “Apparently not.”

* * *

Reid wanted the meeting to be over. Now. He was beyond bored, teetering awfully close to comatose. Why did these people go on so? Why didn’t they just say what they had to say and leave?

He put a hand up to his chin and nodded in their direction, pretending to be listening, hoping that his response was appropriate. Of course, it wasn’t just these people who bored the hell out of him. It was everyone and everything in his life.

At thirty-five he’d seen it all and done it all...and then some. He had put together a multimillion dollar conglomerate of varied and sundry corporations in a ten-year frenzy of activity that earned him equal amounts of praise and criticism.

But now he was tired. And he was done. Let someone else—or a dozen someone elses—run the businesses. He wanted out. He’d been thinking about it for a long time now, ever since his mother had died three years ago. He’d proven all he’d had to prove to her, and to his father, too, who’d finally acknowledged his existence only after he’d made his first million.

But getting out, letting go, was easier said than done. The time never seemed right. There was always another meeting to attend, another crisis to face, another “fire” to put out.

Not anymore. His interest was nil. He was done, through. Finis.

He needed only one thing to let go completely—and that, he feared, was not so easy to find.

He needed another reason to go on living.

“Excuse me,” Reid said as he stood. His words stopped the speaker in midsentence, and out of deference to him, the room was silent. “I have to leave,” he said, and did.

He felt their eyes on his back as he made his way to the door, but of course, no one said a word. No one ever did anymore.

No one questioned him. No one challenged him.

He was omnipotent.

He strolled back to his office, in no real hurry to get there, stopping along the way to talk to employees who greeted him. He knew their names, each and every one of them from the mail boy on up. A name was something that was important to him. He’d had to fight for what should have been his from birth, and when he finally had the right to use it, he gave it up, opting instead for a play on the name he’d been given by the nuns in the orphanage.

His back straightened as he walked, recalling all too well the perfect posture drilled into him by the saintly but tough-as-nails Ursuline Sisters.

Charlotte Mercier, his executive assistant, sat at her desk in his inner sanctum. She effectively ran the office now, answering his mail, signing his name to letters. He trusted her implicitly and would have no qualms about handing the reins over to her if he ever left. Whenever he mentioned the possibility, she pretended to be shocked by the thought of it, but he had no doubt that she could handle the responsibility.

She glanced up at his approach and handed him a stack of pink slips with phone calls to be returned. He leafed through them, quickly dropping the majority back on her desk for her to handle or dispose of. This exercise was just a formality. He returned very few calls anymore. Charlotte expertly picked through them, putting aside those she would return, and trashing those she would not.

One did catch his eye. “When did Mazelli call?” he asked.

“About a half hour ago.”

He nodded. Eddy Mazelli was someone who did interest him. Eddy was a private investigator who’d been recommended to him as the best in the business. Problem was that in the six weeks since he’d signed on, the man had come up empty.

Not that he’d had much to go on.

Frustration gnawed at Reid like a cancer. He hated not being in control, but this was one situation where that had never been the case. Not from the first.

He wished he could get that night out of his head, but he couldn’t. Maybe it was because it had been such a long time since he’d been with anyone like her. Scratch that. He’d never been with or even known anyone like her. The time they’d spent together had been surreal. She’d been so relaxed, uninhibited, funny, soft, feminine, lovely, hot, sexy, and...something else...loving. Things he’d never had nor expected from a woman.

It had scared the holy hell out of him.

They’d made love, and it wasn’t so much that they’d done anything different or out of the ordinary. No, it wasn’t the way they’d made love, but what had happened between them as they’d made love.

Reid had lost himself in her. He’d heard about such things happening, of course, but it had never happened to him, not in all the years with any of the women he’d bedded. Never.

So the fear came first, but it was quickly followed by exhilaration, and later, much later, by this frustration that had gripped him since and not let go.

She’d disappeared. He’d left her for only a few moments to get a drink, and when he’d returned she was gone. Poof! Up in smoke. As if she’d been a dream.

But she was no dream. Her scent had clung to his pillow for days afterward and, silly man that he was, he’d fought with his housekeeper not to change the sheets, acquiescing only when the woman threatened to quit.

No. It had been all too real, and it—she—had consumed his thoughts, his nights, his days ever since.

“Get Mazelli on the phone for me,” he said to Charlotte, and walked toward his office.

“Trudy Levin is in there waiting for you,” Charlotte said as she lifted the receiver.

“What does she want?” Reid asked, hand on the doorknob.

Charlotte shrugged. “She wouldn’t say. Only that she had to see you. Important.”

He nodded. “Okay. I’ll see her. Get Mazelli.” He opened the door.

“Oh, and she has a woman with her.”

Charlotte’s voice followed Reid as he entered his office. The room was large, taking up the better quadrant of the top floor of the office building that he owned. It was bright, with all the draperies pulled back to allow the maximum amount of sunlight inside. He’d picked the room purposely for that, one of his greatest weaknesses being the sun on his face.

Trudy stood and turned to him as he entered. She smiled. “Hi, Reid.”

He smiled, too. He liked her. She was one of his best employees. Smart. Loyal. Ambitious. All the things he liked to think he was.

He took a step closer to his desk. “Trudy. What can I do for you?”

And then his eye caught sight of a dark-haired woman standing by the corner window. Her hand was entwined with the material of the drapery as she admired the view. At that moment she turned and looked at him over her shoulder. Reid squinted against the light that framed her face like a halo.

Recognition came like a fist to his solar plexus.

“Rachel.” It was a harsh whisper.

Trudy sighed, just loud enough to divert his attention for an instant. “I see,” she said, “there’s no need for an introduction.”

Two

“You know my name?”

Reid took a step closer. “Only that it’s Rachel. Nothing more.”

She looked the same to him, the only difference being her mood. The first time she’d been smiling, carefree, loose. Now she was nervous, uptight, strung out. But the eyes were the same, a soft gray rimmed in a black so dark it matched the color of her hair.

The buzzer sounded and Charlotte’s voice filtered through the intercom. “Mazelli on line one.”

As if to insure that she wouldn’t disappear again, Reid kept his eyes riveted on Rachel as he walked to his desk and lifted the receiver.

He pointed to her. “Don’t move,” he said, then pressed the button for line one. “Yes.” He tapped his fingers on the leather blotter on his desk and listened for a short time. “Fine. Send me a bill.” He looked up at Rachel, and their eyes locked. “Yes. That’s right. I no longer need your services.”

Reid cradled the receiver. He remained stone-still, staring at Rachel as if she were a phantom. Rachel stared back. Trudy coughed. “Maybe I should introduce you,” she said. “Rachel Morgan, Reid James.”

“Hello,” Rachel said softly.

“Hello? That’s all you have to say to me? After what you’ve done?”

Rachel looked to Trudy then back to Reid. “I—I don’t understand. What have I done?”

Reid stood for a moment, mouth agape. He realized what he must look like and purposely shut it.

“This is a joke, right?”

Rachel shook her head slowly. “No.”

Turning to Trudy, Reid said, “Would you mind leaving us alone for a little while?”

Trudy hesitated. “I don’t know if I should. She’s not used to your rages, Reid. You look like you’re ready to kill someone.”

“Go along, Trudy, and don’t worry. I gave up killing women years ago.”

Trudy shook her head and gave him a patronizing grin. “Maybe I should stay.”

“No. There are things I need to say that are private.”

“I think I know what they are,” Trudy said.

“Do you?” Reid said with an arch of his brows. “That’s interesting, because I don’t.”

His fury was simmering, evidently close to the surface. Trudy glanced at Rachel. She was shaking.

“It’s all right,” Rachel said to her friend, her voice trembling. “Go. Please.”

Trudy walked to the door. “All right. But I’m waiting right outside. Scream if you need me.” She paused with her hand on the doorknob and turned to look at Reid. “That goes for either one of you.”

When she was gone, Reid stepped from around his desk. He walked over to the sitting area and placed his hand on the back of a Queen Anne chair.

“Sit,” he said softly, and when she didn’t move right away, added, “Please.”

It was not a word he used often, if at all, and it didn’t roll off of his tongue easily, but he didn’t want to scare her away. Not again. If that’s what he had done the first time. He didn’t know, and that was the problem. He had to know who she was and what had happened. Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he wasn’t about to blow this opportunity, this tremendous stroke of good luck, and lose her again.

“Please,” he repeated, and this time she complied, moving toward him, then around him before sitting in the chair.

He sat on the couch across from her with only the width of the coffee table separating them.

Rachel placed her hands on her knees, palms down. “Can you tell me what happened that night?” she asked.

Reid arched his brows. “I was going to ask you that question.”

Rachel shook her head. “I don’t know. I thought it was all a dream up until now.”

“A dream?”

“Yes... You see, I became quite ill after. The flu or some such virus. Whatever the case, I was in pretty bad shape. I passed out the night of the party, and I’m afraid I don’t remember very much about it. Trudy said you were the host.”

“Yes... Our new perfume launch party at the armory. We met there,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “We talked...”

“Yes?”

Was she for real? Did she actually think that he would believe she didn’t remember any of this?

“We left together.” Rachel’s eyes widened. She leaned forward, urging him on with a nod of her head. “We walked for a while,” he continued, “and ended up by my place. Do you remember any of this?”

“No,” she said softly. “What happened then?”

“And then you came with me upstairs.”

“To your apartment?”

“At first.”

“And after?”

“To my bedroom.”

Rachel’s gaze dropped to her hands. She felt the heat rise to her face.

“Look at me,” he said, and she lifted her eyes. “You really don’t remember?”

“No. I was on antibiotics. I had something to drink. The punch, I think—”

“The punch was almost all vodka.”

“That’s what Trudy said. I don’t know if the combination of the two had something to do with it, but I blacked out the rest of the evening.”

“You seemed perfectly all right.” He paused. “More than all right.”

“But I wasn’t.”

“You don’t remember making love—”

“No...yes...but only afterward. I thought it was a dream.”

“You said that. What made you change your mind?”

Rachel blew out a breath to steady her nerves. She was trembling so badly she had to sit back in the chair and grip the armrests to stop herself from visibly shaking.

“Something’s happened.”

“What’s happened?” he asked.

“I’m pregnant.”

Reid stared at her. He didn’t think anything could shock him more than her unexpected appearance. But she’d topped that. And then some. He kept his expression neutral, no easy feat when his heart was thumping so hard in his chest he thought the buttons on his shirt would pop.

“And you’re here to claim that I’m the father?”

“There’s no other explanation,” she said.

“I could think of a few.”

Rachel’s hands formed into fists. She had to remain in control. This was difficult enough without her losing it. Of course he would be skeptical. Who wouldn’t be? Yet he had a right to know, whether he believed her or not.

She licked her lips. “I know what you’re thinking—”

“You haven’t the faintest idea what I’m thinking,” he said with a raw politeness that bordered on contempt.

“Yes, I do. You think I’m after money or something. Well, I’m not. I don’t want anything from you.” She stood. “When Trudy and I finally figured out what must have happened, I asked her to bring me here. I thought you had a right to know. No more, no less.” Rachel eased herself away from the chair and headed for the door. “I won’t bother you anymore.”

“Stop right there,” he said.

“I’m not one of your underlings, Mr. James, you can’t order me around.”

“Come back.” When she didn’t move, he gritted his teeth and added, “Please...”

Rachel looked across the room into crystal green eyes. The intensity of his gaze was overpowering and it propelled her forward. She stopped a few feet from him. “I have nothing else to say to you,” she said.

“Well, I have some things I’d like to say to you, if you don’t mind.”

“Go ahead.”

Reid moved away from the couch. His mind was reeling. With the ease and grace of a man used to getting his own way all the time, he walked over to his desk. He lifted a gold cigarette case off the mahogany top and flipped it open, extracting one and slipping it between his lips.

“Cigarette?” he asked, then added, “No. I forgot. You don’t smoke. Tried it once when you were sixteen and made yourself sick.”

Rachel’s chin came up as a chill ran down her spine. She had told him things about herself. Details about her life. Yet all she had from him came through Trudy and what she’d read in the papers. All secondhand.

Except, that is, for the child she carried.

A wave of weakness overcame her and she swayed. “I’d like to sit down,” she said in a small voice, and moved toward the leather chair in front of his desk.

“How about some coffee? Or tea?” he asked.

“Tea would be wonderful.”

Reid pressed the intercom and placed the order with Charlotte.

“You don’t look well,” he said, concern in his voice.

“I’m fine. Just a little dizzy.” She looked up at him. “Normal, I’m told, under the circumstances.”

He gave her a curt nod and lit his cigarette. He took a long drag into his lungs as Charlotte brought in a cup of tea on a tray. She carried his finest china service, the one reserved for important guests, foreign dignitaries and the like. Reid caught his assistant’s eye and questioned her with a glance. She smiled, a Mona Lisa smile that said she knew too much.

Damn Trudy. He’d better nip this bit of news in the bud or the entire building would know about it before five o’clock quitting time.

“Thank you,” Rachel said as she accepted a cup from Charlotte.

“You’re welcome, dear,” Charlotte said. “If you need anything else, just call.”

“That will be all, Charlotte,” Reid said, dismissing her.

She smiled again as she left, and Reid gave her an imperceptible shake-of-the-head warning before returning his attention to the woman across from him.

As Rachel doctored the tea, Reid studied her through a haze of smoke, his eyes hooded, his brain racing. He attempted to conjure up that night once again, more pragmatically this time, without the warm, fuzzy feeling that always seemed to engulf him whenever he thought of her.

That day had been hell. By five o’clock he’d had a raging headache, and the last thing he’d wanted to do was to make the obligatory appearance at the perfume launch party. But he’d relented and agreed to attend. He’d milled around the room several times, shaking hands, making nice to all the media people. The place was packed to capacity, invitations having spawned invitations like rabbits in a warren. They’d rented the armory for the event, which was only blocks from his town house, and the temptation to cut out early was too great to ignore. He had been just about to do that when he’d spotted her.

Like a scene out of an old movie, the hoards of people had faded into the background as their eyes met across the room. Without much thought, he’d changed direction and walked over to her. She’d smiled, and the pounding in his head had seemed to subside. They’d talked party talk, and she’d made him laugh. No easy feat under the best of circumstances, but that night of all nights it had seemed almost miraculous.

He’d asked her to get some air, go for a walk, and she’d accepted. Moving slowly through the crowd, they’d managed to leave without anyone noticing. The night was warm, humid, and after a block or two their clothing had stuck to them. He hadn’t planned it, but they’d ended up near his town house. He’d invited her up for a cool drink, and she’d accepted.

The memories swirled around him as he gazed across the desk at her sipping her tea. She glanced at him over the rim of the cup.

The warm fuzzies returned. He couldn’t remember the rest of the evening without them. She’d been so...real. They’d talked as if they’d known each other all their lives. When she’d commented on the decor, he’d taken her on a tour of the town house, ending up in his top-floor bedroom. She’d teased him about the size of his bed, and he’d jokingly told her to test it out. With lazy informality, she’d stretched out on his bed, luxuriating in the feel of his white satin sheets.

It was then that their eyes had met once again and the same tug that had pulled him to her at the party had brought him to sit on the edge of the bed.

She’d been so unselfconscious that it had seemed like the most natural thing in the world to lean forward and kiss her.

And then he’d lost it. All sense of time, place, reality...control. They’d made love with such freedom, such comfort, it had seemed as if they’d been at it for years.

Which was why he couldn’t forget it.

And if it had been that special for him, it had to have been that way for her, as well.

Which was also why he wasn’t buying her claim that she couldn’t remember any of this.

Was it all an act? He couldn’t know, not yet. Not until he’d had a chance to check her out. But she knew Trudy Levin and that was a plus in her favor. Trudy had been with him a long time, and he trusted her completely.

But he’d been this “baby” route before. He’d reached a plateau in life where he was fair game to all around him. When he was in his twenties, he’d been wrongfully slapped with a paternity suit, and while he was able to medically prove the woman wrong and win the case, it had been an expensive and embarrassing undertaking.

Since then he’d become twice shy when it came to relationships. In the last several years, despite newspaper items to the contrary, there had been fewer and fewer women in his life, to the point where he spent a good part of the year alone. And when he chose otherwise, he was particularly cautious, almost to the point of paranoia when it came to using protection. And such had been the case with Rachel.

But condoms didn’t always work—his parents could attest to that—and for that he owed her the benefit of the doubt.

“Better?” he asked as she placed the teacup on the tray.

“Yes. Much.” She looked up at him. “What did you want to ask me?”

“If what you say is true—”

“It is.”

“Then, I suppose I’m asking what you intend to do.”

Rachel toyed with the delicate handle of the teacup. “There are options...choices,” she said softly.

“Yes. Have you made any decision yet?”

She shook her head slowly. “No.” She looked up at him. “I haven’t.”

They stared at each other for the longest time, all those troubling questions with no satisfactory answers hanging in the air between them.

Reid squashed the cigarette in an ashtray. “I’d like to be included in that decision-making process, if I may?”

“Then you believe me?”

He sat back in his chair. “Not necessarily.”

“Then why bother? When I walk out of here today, you don’t ever have to see me again. I promise not to involve you in any way.”

“There is always the possibility that you are telling the truth,” he said. “If that’s the case, Rachel, have no doubts, I will be involved. I take my responsibilities seriously.”

“I’m not your responsibility. I can take care of myself.”

“We’ll see about that,” he said.

“Are you going to investigate my background, Mr. James?” she asked sarcastically.

He stood. “As a matter of fact, I am, Rachel. And, oh, let’s dispense with the formalities. A little late for that, don’t you think? Call me Reid.” He paused and pinned her with his eyes. “You did that night...over and over again.”

Rachel’s throat went dry. She swallowed. “I don’t remember.”

Reid came to her, and she looked up at him. His face was intense, his eyes as green as a meadow in spring. Placing one hand on each armrest, he effectively trapped her in the chair.

“Then let me refresh your memory.”

His mouth came down on hers. Rachel remained absolutely still with no thought of resistance. Her eyes fluttered closed as his lips touched hers. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, she parted her lips for him. And as night follows day, his tongue swept into her mouth, met hers, mated, and danced a lovers’ dance.

The first thing that registered in Rachel’s mind was the heat. She remembered that with crystal clarity. Then his scent washed over her, his taste, and a flash flood of memories engulfed her. A powerful twinge of desire unfurled in her belly as his heat drifted down through her mouth into all the vital parts of her body.

Her pulse accelerated to an alarming rate. Her head lolled back against the chair and he followed, opening his mouth wider, deepening the kiss, taking as much as she was willing to give. More.

Reid felt like an alcoholic denied drink for too long, freed at last to have a taste, just this one and no more. His heart and head pounded in tandem as he drank his fill. She whimpered, and the sound vibrated into him, his mouth, his heart, his soul.

His arms began to tremble from exertion and something else he didn’t dare name, and the fear returned.

He released her.

They stared at each other, their faces only inches apart, their breathing labored as if they’d been running.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, uncharacteristically apologizing, not knowing why, only feeling the need to do so.

Rachel touched her swollen lips with her fingertips. “Why did you do that?” she asked.

His hands in fists, Reid took a step back from her and shook his head as if to clear it, more for himself than to answer her question.

He half turned and looked at her. “I had to see if your dream had just been my imagination.”

Rachel nodded, knowing what he meant, understanding that he needed verification that they had, indeed, been together, been more to each other than casual acquaintances at a party. The baby notwithtanding—it still didn’t seem quite real enough to her yet—like he, she’d needed some proof now, some tangible evidence that the dream had, indeed, been real.

And if nothing else, the kiss had proved that.

To both of them.

He’d kissed her, but she’d known how to kiss him back. She’d known exactly how to respond to him. It wasn’t something that happened instinctively with a first kiss. That knowledge only came with practice, and consciously, or unconsciously, Rachel had known what he’d wanted from her and how to give it to him.

A knock sounded and Trudy stuck her head in the door. “Are you two all right?” she asked.

“Yes,” Reid said, walking back around his desk. “We’re fine.”

“May I come in?”

“Please,” Rachel answered.

Her gaze locked with Reid’s. Her eyes told him their talk had ended. His said yes...for now.

“If that’s all...” Rachel said to him as she stood.

“May I call you?” he asked.

“I...” Rachel looked to Trudy, then back to Reid. “Yes, if you wish.”

“I do.”

“Fine.”

“I’ll go home with you,” Trudy said, then turned to Reid. “Unless you need me for something?”

Reid shook his head. “No,” he said as he walked the two women to the door, opened and held it for them.

Rachel turned to him, feeling ridiculously awkward. She held out her hand. “Goodbye...Reid.”

“Thank you for coming,” he said politely, and shook her hand.

His hand said one thing, his eyes another. Rachel wondered which message was for her. Perhaps both, she mused, and gave him a tentative smile as she left.

Reid stood in his doorway staring into space long after Rachel and Trudy departed. Charlotte studied him, waiting for him to say something. When he didn’t, she resumed typing. The sound galvanized him and he pushed himself to move.

“Charlotte,” he said as he turned to reenter his office. “Get Mazelli back on the phone.”

* * *

Rachel’s visit to the doctor confirmed what she already knew to be true. She spent the first week of August thinking. Options, she’d told Reid. Choices. There were many in this day and age, but for some reason, she felt hers were limited.

She was thirty years old. Not old, but not young, either. A perfect age, really, to take on the responsibilities of motherhood. If she had married Tom, this would have been just about the time they would be starting their family. But she hadn’t married Tom. She hadn’t married anyone. And there was no one on the romantic horizon.

A fleeting image of Reid James skipped through her mind and she quickly dismissed it. He didn’t believe her, and she hadn’t the will or the energy to convince him. Besides, she was fed up with having to work at making people want her...love her. And even if she had, Reid James would be the least likely candidate.

In her mind’s eye she could still see the headline of the magazine article about him that Trudy had given her: New York’s Most Eligible Bachelor. She winced. And he thought she wanted money from him. Ha! If she’d been that type of person, a quick call to the tabloids would bring her thousands. But that kind of notoriety was the last thing she wanted or needed.

No, there was no one but her in this picture, and whether or not Reid James wanted to be part of the decision-making process, first and last, the choice was hers.

She wanted the baby. It was really as plain and simple as that.

The other choices were not so simple. She still had most of the money her mother had left her, but it wouldn’t last long without a job. As much as she loved New York, it was an expensive place to live, even if she did approach Reid for help.

And that she wouldn’t do. Something deep inside warned her that if she allowed him in, he could, quite possibly, take over not only her life but the baby’s, as well. Living in the afterglow of Reid James’s spotlight didn’t appeal to her, and it wasn’t at all what she wanted for her child. She cherished her independence too much for that, and to keep it, her best choice would be to return to Ohio to live with her father.

Her stomach tightened with the thought. His remarriage only two months after her mother’s death had driven a wedge between them. Though they’d reconciled and had come to terms with each other, there was still a certain amount of tension between them that would make it difficult for her to go back home.

Rachel sat on the edge of her bed and cradled her head in her hands, trying not to remember the harsh words she and her father had exchanged the day of his remarriage. She’d harbored so much resentment of his callous behavior, it had all burst forth that day, ruining everything, or so he’d said.

But she hadn’t been able to stop herself. Her mother had suffered for two years before her death, and Rachel had willingly nursed her. She had always known that her mother and father’s marriage was not one made in heaven, but her mother’s sickness had brought out the worst in her father. He couldn’t deal with the illness that hung over the house like a shroud, so instead, he’d spent as little time as possible there, leaving the burden of care to Rachel.

Not that she’d minded. She’d loved her mother with a fierce loyalty that had lasted until she’d breathed her final breath, and beyond. But Rachel had paid a price for that devotion. Tom’s initial patience with pushing back the wedding date wore thin as one year became two, and finally he, too, found someone else to give him the attention he craved.

The day after her mother’s funeral, he’d broken the news to her. He’d met someone else. He was in love and going to marry her. Rachel remembered the blow of her mother’s death and Tom’s desertion like a one-two punch at a heavyweight match. The final straw was when her father introduced her to his lady-friend, and told her that he and the woman were marrying and moving into their home.

Her mother’s home.

It was all too much for Rachel. She’d exploded the day of his marriage, and the screaming fight that ensued left them both angry and shaken. At the time, the rift had seemed irrevocable as far as Rachel was concerned. She’d moved out that same day, staying with an old school friend and her husband until she could make arrangements to move away.

New York had been a big, sprawling refuge, a place to lose herself, a place to hide. But she’d found that hiding was not enough for her. She’d been sure her mother was watching over her when she’d landed the first job in the garment industry for which she’d applied. She’d apprenticed to a cloth designer, building on her fashion schooling, learning the fabric trade. She’d found an apartment, met Trudy, and had her life running on an even keel for the first time in a very long time.

And then the bottom fell out. She lost her job when the parent company made what they called “necessary cutbacks.” Since she had been the last hired, she was the first fired. That was four months ago. She’d pounded the pavement ever since in hopes of landing a new job, substitute waitressing at the corner coffee shop during the lunch hour to supplement her meager inheritance.

Though her pride bristled at the thought of crawling back home, she knew that was her best course of action. At least if she wanted to have the baby. And she did. That was the only thing of which she was absolutely sure.

So the decision was made.

The buzzer sounded and Rachel rolled off the bed. Trudy had promised to stop by after work and bring take-out. Not that Rachel was the least bit hungry, but she knew if she didn’t eat, Trudy would lecture her, and she would have to agree. She was, after all, now eating for two.

She hit the button and set the table with silverware and napkins as she waited for Trudy to arrive. As the knock sounded, Rachel opened the door to her friend standing with a shopping bag full of Chinese food.

“Did you buy out the restaurant?” Rachel asked with an indulgent smile.

“No, I didn’t buy out the restaurant. I just bought enough for you to have some leftovers. I know you won’t cook for yourself.”

“You’re impossible,” Rachel said.

Trudy patted her cheek as she placed the shopping bag on top of the table. “But you love me anyway.”

They sat down to eat, and Trudy smiled, her mouth stuffed with lo mein. “Don’t we get along great?” she asked.

“Wonderfully,” Rachel said as she toyed with the fried rice.

“You know,” Trudy began, “we’d be great together.”

“Together?”

“Yeah. Living together.”

“What are you talking about?” Rachel asked.

“You. Me. Living together at my place.”

“Oh, Trudy—”

“No, really. We could do it. I work all day. You could help me out keeping the place neat and all.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You barely have enough room for yourself.”

“That’s not true. There’s that little alcove. We could put the crib in there. You could sleep in my room.”

“And what about Jake?”

“What about him?”

“Your relationship is just heating up. How is he going to fit into all this?” Rachel asked with a shake of her head. “Really, Trudy. Three’s a crowd. And once the baby comes, it’ll be four.”

“So? We’ll have a parade! Come on, we can do it.”

Rachel shook her head. “No.” She leaned forward and put her hand over Trudy’s, not even trying to fight the tears that filled her eyes. “You are the best friend I’ve ever had in my entire life. Thank you for the offer, but no. I’ve already made up my mind what to do.”

“And that is?”

Rachel pulled back her hand and looked down at her dinner. She didn’t answer right away. She couldn’t bring herself to say the words, as if once she did, she would be bound by them.

“Well?” Trudy prompted.

Rachel lifted her eyes and met her friend’s concerned stare. “I’m going back home.”

“You can’t. You’ll hate it there.”

“I’ve already called the airlines.”

“But have you called your father?”

“No. But I will. Tomorrow.” She looked at Trudy’s disapproving face. “I have no other choice.”

“Yes, you do.”

“What? Tell me what other choices I have?”

“Reid.”

Rachel shook her head adamantly. “No.”

“Why not? He’s got more money than God. He can help you out, get you a job, set you up—”

“No. Don’t even think it. I won’t take money from him. Not now, anyway. Maybe later. When the baby’s older. For college.”

“Why? For heaven’s sake, tell me, why?”

Rachel gave up on eating. She stood and scraped the remainder of the food off her plate into the trash. “Because I’d be putting myself—the baby—up for sale. I’d feel obligated to him. Not to mention the publicity. Can you imagine what the newspapers would do if they found out about this? New York’s most eligible bachelor and moi. I could see the headlines now.”

“You’d live through it.”

“But I don’t want to live through it! I want to have my baby in peace and quiet. I don’t want to become part of any Reid James media circus. I couldn’t do it, Trudy, even if he offered.” She paused. “He hasn’t, has he?” she asked.

Trudy shook her head slowly. “No, but I know he would if—”

“If I asked him? Oh, Trudy, can’t you see how that would make me feel?”

Trudy got up from the table and came over to Rachel. She put her arm around her. “Why are you being so stubborn? He can do things for you.”

“I think he’s done enough for me already, don’t you?”

“That’s not fair,” Trudy said. “He’s really a great guy. A little rough around the edges, but that’s to be expected based on his background.”

“What about his background?”

The phone rang. Rachel drew a deep breath and let it out slowly as she walked over to answer it by the bed. She lifted the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Rachel? How are you?”

It was Reid. Rachel sank onto the edge of the bed and mouthed his name to Trudy. “Fine. I’m fine.”

“I hope you don’t mind my calling. Trudy gave me the number.”

“No. No, I don’t mind your calling.”

“Hell, no,” Trudy said out loud. “We were just talking about you.

Rachel shushed Trudy with a wave of her hand. “What can I do for you?”

“I’d like to meet with you...talk to you.”

Rachel shut her eyes and pressed her lips together for a moment. “I’ve already made my decision, Reid.”

He hesitated. “And...”

“And I’m going to keep the baby.”

If she thought it really mattered to him, Rachel could have interpreted a note of relief in his intake of breath.

“I’m glad.”

“Are you?” she asked.

“Yes. Very. Will you meet with me?”

“I don’t know for what, Reid.”

“To discuss how we’re going to handle this.”

“We aren’t handling anything. I’ve decided to go back home.”

“Home?”

“To Ohio.”

“Oh. Is that definite?”

“Yes. All the arrangements are made,” she lied.

Reid was silent for a long time. Rachel could almost feel the steam from his temper seeping through the phone. Her heart began to pound.

Finally he said, “I see. Well, then, I guess this is—”

“Goodbye.” Rachel finished his sentence for him.

She hadn’t thought this would be so hard. She didn’t really know him at all. For all intents and purposes he was a stranger. Except for the outcome of their night together, they would probably have never met again. He’d only been a face in a dream to her, but meeting him again, seeing the dream come to life, walk, talk, touch her, was unbalancing to say the least.

He was real, and they had shared something special. She felt something for him she couldn’t even put a name to.

The lump in her throat was growing larger and more prohibitive by the second. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could continue to speak, so she thought it best to end this conversation as soon as possible.

“I have to go.”

“Okay...” he said softly. But when she didn’t hang up, he added, “Rachel? Are you still there?”

“Yes...” she squeaked.

“Will you let me know...when, and all...”

“Yes. Of course. Goodbye, Reid.”

And this time she did hang up, cradling the phone and gripping the receiver long after the connection was broken.

“Well, that’s that,” Trudy said with a faint tinge of disapproving resignation.

“Yes,” Rachel said. “It’s over.”

Three

It wasn’t over. Not as far as Reid was concerned. Not by a long shot.

Rachel Morgan couldn’t possibly believe that she could enter his life, drop this kind of bombshell in his lap, and then shoo him away like an annoying fly on a hot summer day.

He stared at the phone on his desk for the longest time after cradling the receiver. He’d stayed late at the office with no desire to go home and return to the scene of the crime, so to speak. He wanted to wallow for a while, a bit of self-indulgence he’d made it a point never to give in to anymore, but for some reason needed to sink down into right now.

So she was going home, she said. To Ohio, no less. Not that he had anything against Ohio. He had a very nice, profitable business there. He even visited now and then. But Ohio was not where he lived. He was here. In New York. And this is where he wanted her to be.

Especially now. Especially since she’d decided to keep the baby.

He couldn’t believe how pleased—no, overjoyed—he was by her decision. Or how apprehensive he had been about what that decision might be. He didn’t really know what he would have done if she had chosen otherwise, but he would have done something.

He wanted her in his life. In whatever capacity she’d accept, and that was the bottom line. He needed to come up with a strategy to accomplish that, and that would take some planning. But he was good at planning. He’d lived his whole life setting and reaching goals, most of them deemed by others to be impossible. This would be no different.

He would set her up. An apartment on the Upper West Side maybe. Something near the park so that they could take the baby there on nice days. He’d get her a nanny, or better yet, a nurse, too. The best of care for his son...or daughter. Whatever. It didn’t matter. The child was his. No report from Mazelli was going to refute what he knew in his heart to be so.

Right or wrong, good or bad, Rachel Morgan and Reid James had made a baby that night.

He wasn’t a religious man, and he didn’t believe in fate. You made your own luck. But too much had happened, too many things had had to fall into place for this to be dismissed as coincidence.

So something had brought them together that night. Be it God, or the fates, or the stars in the universe, something beyond and more powerful than them had decreed that this should be, and his gut instinct told him that there had to be a reason for it.

He’d always trusted his gut instinct, even when logic had said no, even when people had thought him crazy, and never, ever, had he been wrong. He wasn’t wrong now, either. Rachel and he had made a baby and, ego aside, he was meant to be part of the child’s life.

So that meant one thing.

She wasn’t going to live in Ohio.

And he’d have to work on the way to stop her.

He mulled over his options. He didn’t know much about her, but what he did know told him she wouldn’t take well to the authoritarian approach. No, she’d have to be gently persuaded, perhaps with a healthy dose of reality and logic.

But she had a tender side, too. His insides twisted with the memory of the warmth she was capable of. She said she didn’t remember any of it, but he did, and that would have to do for now.

Reid tapped his index finger against his mouth as he contemplated his next course of action. His private line rang and he picked it up.

“Yes?”

“Mazelli, here. I’ve got something for you.”

“That was fast.”

“Once I had her name, it was a breeze, Mr. J. She’s no mystery.”

Easy for you to say. “Tell me.”

“Thirty. Typical small-town background. School, church, you know the drill. Mother dead two years. She’d been sick a long time. Rachel nursed her to the end. Father remarried—”

“When?” Reid asked.

“Couple of months after the mother died.”

“Interesting.”

“Yeah. Real heartbroken guy.”

“Anything more?”

“She was engaged to a Tom Walcott. Sold insurance. He broke it off and married someone else. Got a kid now.” Mazelli paused. “From the dates, it looks like he left her around the time her mother died.”

“Another sweetheart,” Reid said, a picture beginning to form in his mind.

“Also,” Mazelli continued, “she came to New York after that. Worked for Forster Fashions for a year and a half, then got laid off. She’s currently unemployed except for a part-time deal with a local restaurant.” When Reid was silent, Mazelli added, “The lady’s had a lot of tough breaks.”

“It would seem so. Anything else?”

“Nah. Just the usual. Address, phone number, credit rating—”

“Give me the address.” Mazelli obliged.

“One other thing. She charged a one-way airline ticket to Ohio.”

“For when?”

“The last Friday in August.”

Reid marked his desk calendar. “That’s the Friday of Labor Day weekend.”

“Yep.”

“Thanks. You do good work, Mazelli.”

“Call me anytime, Mr. J.”

“You got it.”

Reid hung up and stared at the address he’d scribbled across the white pad. Ripping off the sheet of paper, he folded it and stuffed it in his shirt pocket. He lifted his jacket off the back of his chair and put it on, unconsciously straightening his tie and tugging at his French cuffs as he headed for the door.

The end of the month. That didn’t leave him much time. But he worked under pressure all the time, and if nothing else, it spurred him on all the more.

He left Charlotte a note. He wouldn’t be in tomorrow. Perhaps not the day after that, either. A feeling of elation washed over him with the realization that he’d found what he’d been looking for—a damned good reason for him to take a break from the business, a new challenge, something exciting, important.

A reason for living.

A baby and...

Rachel.

* * *

Everything was packed. When Rachel surveyed the meager display of boxes, she became even more depressed than she already was. When she’d first arrived in New York it had been smarter—and cheaper—to rent furniture for a while. The “while” became much longer than she’d ever imagined, and she’d never gotten around to purchasing anything worth taking.

The rental company had picked up the few pieces that had been part of her life these two years, leaving only these boxes filled with her personal items. Not much to show for her time here, she thought. So, apparently, did the moving company she’d hired. They were piggybacking her belongings with another family’s, and she was more or less at their mercy.

So there she sat, on a box in the middle of her empty studio apartment waiting for the movers to arrive. She had planned to spend her last night in New York with Trudy, but she’d had to push up her departure date unexpectedly. She would have to leave this afternoon to accommodate her father’s schedule. She and Trudy had had to make do with a tearful goodbye on the telephone this morning.

Most of all, she would miss her friend. Trudy represented all that was right about the city Rachel had adopted as her home. How would she survive without her wit and her wisdom? Rachel smiled to herself, remembering Trudy’s last words. “Don’t forget. You always have a home here with me.”

But Rachel knew that once she left, she’d never return, not even for a visit. She wouldn’t be able to handle it. Her stomach churned anew with the realization that in a few hours she would be back in her father’s house.

It’s funny, she thought, sometime during the two years she’d been away, the house she’d grown up in had ceased to be hers or even her mother’s. It had become her father’s house. Her father’s and his wife, Sally.

It had been so hard making that phone call...

Shaking herself out of her reverie, Rachel bit her lip. You’re making the right decision, she repeated to herself for the hundredth time.

She checked her watch. She still had time, but not much. Mentally, she shrugged. Even if the movers didn’t arrive before she had to leave, she had arranged to have her super let them in.

The buzzer sounded, and with a sigh of relief Rachel rose and hit the entrance button. She opened her front door to allow them to enter, then made a quick and final foray around the large L-shaped room to check for the umpteenth time that she had packed everything.

Bent over a box, she heard the knock. “Come on in,” she said. “Everything’s ready to go.”

“Rachel?”

She spun around at the sound of his voice. Reid stood in the doorway, dressed casually in low-riding jeans and a blue sport shirt, one hand on the knob, one foot over the threshold.

“Reid! What are you doing here?”

“May I come in?”

“Yes, of course.” She straightened, running her fingers through her hair to smooth it back in place. “Moving day,” she said with a sheepish grin and a hand motion toward the boxes.

“So I see.” He shut the door behind him and moved more deeply into the room. “I’ve come in the nick of time.”

“Nick of time? To what?”

“To persuade you not to go.”

When Trudy had called to advise him that Rachel was leaving today and not Friday as originally planned, he’d jumped into his clothes and called for his car. Though he knew if he missed her he could just as easily follow her to Ohio, common sense told him that he would stand a better chance if he pleaded his case before she set foot on the plane. Once she was back home it would be more difficult to get her to return.

More difficult, but not impossible.

Rachel smiled. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that. My plane leaves in—” she checked her watch again “—two hours.”

“The plane can take off with or without you, Rachel.”

“But it won’t.”

“Won’t you at least hear me out before you leave?”

Rachel shut her eyes for a long moment. “Please don’t do this, Reid. I’ve said all I have to say to you over the phone. This is difficult enough without you confusing the issue at the eleventh hour.”

“Perhaps the fact that it’s difficult is telling you something.”

“Such as?”

“That you shouldn’t go.”

Rachel shook her head. “There are no other options.”

“Yes, there are. You’ve chosen not to pursue them.”

“You mean, you.”

“Yes, me.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not taking any money from you. I’m not...the baby’s not for sale.”

“I would never presume to think that. There are other ways, Rachel. Not money. Help. So that you don’t have to go back to your father with your tail between your legs.”

“How do you know about that?”

“I don’t. I guessed.”

“You had me checked out, didn’t you?” she asked.

“Yes, I did. Things haven’t been easy for you, have they?”

Unbidden tears tightened her throat and she fought for control. She stared at him. His eyes were an all-business green, cold, hard, deliberate. Why was he doing this?

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, the words tumbling out of her mouth.

“Because I want you to stay.”

“What you mean is, you want the baby.”

“Same thing.”

“Not to me.”

Reid’s jaw tightened and he pinned her with his eyes. The words hung in the air as the buzzer sounded again. Rachel didn’t move right away, mesmerized by his presence and his intense look. It buzzed again.

“I’d better get that.” She walked around him and hit the button, then turned back to him. “The movers are here.”

“Cancel them.”

“I can’t—”

“Yes, you can.”

She shook her head. “No.”

Reid came up to her and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Give me a chance to talk you out of this.”

“The plane—”

“All right. My car is downstairs. I’ll take you to the airport. If I can’t change your mind before the plane takes off, I’ll come back and personally arrange to have your belongings transported to Ohio. Deal?”

“Why would you—”

“The meter’s ticking, Rachel. All I’ve got is two hours to convince you to stay. Give me at least this, won’t you?”

The knock saved her from answering. A gruff voice sounded on the other side of the door. “Movers.”

Reid’s gaze locked with hers. She didn’t protest when he pulled her back from the door and opened it. He took it for her acquiescence.

“We won’t be needing you anymore,” he said to the burly man standing in the hall.

“What? I got an order here says I have to pick up—”

“Yes, well, the order’s canceled.” Reid reached into his pocket and pulled out a billfold. Extracting one of the larger denominations, he handed it to the mover. “For your trouble.”

The man looked at the bill, then at Reid. “Suit yourself,” he said, then marched back toward the elevator mumbling to himself.

Reid shut the door and turned to face Rachel.

“Now you’ve done it,” she said. “The way things were I already had to wait a week for my things. Now who knows when I’ll see them again.”

“I promise you’ll have everything within a week if I have to rent a truck and drive to you myself.”

Rachel turned her face from him, his eyes too penetrating for her to withstand right now. He was seeing too much with those eyes. Seeing things she didn’t want to admit even to herself.

She hadn’t realized how fragile she was until he’d appeared. She had thought she was handling this move so well. Why even the difficult phone call to her father had gone okay, with Sally being very congenial and friendly, and her father’s voice soft and welcoming.

She’d thought she had reconciled herself to her decision to go home. She was no longer hesitant about leaving, had even convinced herself that it might be fun living back in her old room, seeing everyone again.

But she hadn’t counted on Reid showing up and dredging up all her reservations she’d done her best to bury.

“I have to leave,” she said, feeling trapped here in this small apartment with him and her misgivings.

Reid picked up her two suitcases. “I’ll take you to the airport.”

She nodded, following him out the door, locking it behind her. Rachel glanced at the key in her hand and was about to pocket it, then changed her mind. “Here,” she said to Reid. “Take this. You’ll need it to ship my stuff.”

“I’ll take it, but I won’t need it,” he said.

Her smile was puzzled. “You seem so sure you’ll get your way.”

Reid put a hand to her back and ushered her toward the elevator. “I usually do.”

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