She’d made it. Over two thousand miles. On her own.
Laurel smiled, one of the few real, teeth-baring smiles that had graced her lips in almost four months. If she didn’t feel dizzy from the exhaust fumes of the Tri-met bus pulling away from the curb in downtown Portland, she would spin around and celebrate.
Making the trip from Chicago and arriving in one piece was a huge accomplishment. A success she should be proud of. If only there hadn’t been so many failures…
A mist dampened her face. Laurel hadn’t expected rain in late July, although Oregon was known for its wet weather. She quickly wiped the water away. She refused to let anyone think she’d been crying. Her days of tears and feeling sorry for herself were over. She had too much to do and too little time to wallow in self-pity.
Raising her chin, Laurel took a step toward the building in front of her. Somewhere inside the cement-and-glass fortress was Brett Matthews.
Brett.
Laurel’s stomach cartwheeled and then did a flip. Not an easy feat considering the circumstances, but the sight of the building where he worked made her anxious and nauseous.
Nickel-sized raindrops exploded from the darkening sky, splattering on the cement. So much for a light afternoon shower. A few more minutes and she’d be soaked to the skin. Time to get inside. She couldn’t afford to catch a cold or worse.
After a quick adjustment of the tote bag on her shoulder, she rolled her suitcase along the slick sidewalk, careful to keep the luggage steady. Her two bags contained everything she owned, everything left from a life that no longer existed.
But Laurel wouldn’t look back, only forward.
She wanted to make a fresh start, pave a new future. All she needed was the chance.
A chance she needed Brett Matthews to give her.
The glass doors opened automatically. She stepped inside the high-rise, shook off the water, and glanced at the building directory. It only took a moment to spot Brett’s company, Matthews Global Investments.
I’m here. I’m really here.
Full of purpose and resolve, she hurried to the elevator.
As the floors whizzed by, she combed her fingers through her wet hair. It desperately needed a cut—something she hadn’t done in months.
No doubt she looked like something the cat dragged in. She smoothed the wrinkles from her blouse. Not much she could do about the soiled hem of her pants or her scuffed shoes.
The only things intact were her fingernails. Her mother would be proud Laurel hadn’t bitten them to the quick. Instead, she’d spent the long bus ride filing them to perfection in between restless naps and daydreams. Not exactly a professional manicure, but her weekly visits to the salon were over. No more highlights or brow waxing or…
Ding. The elevator doors opened at her destination—the twelfth floor. As she stepped out, she found herself in a lobby, staring at the name Matthews Global Investments displayed in platinum lettering on the wall behind a reception desk.
“Welcome to MGI.” The smartly dressed receptionist smiled. “May I help you?”
No time to prepare herself. Not even time for a calming breath, much less time to turn around. Laurel hesitated but only for a moment. “I’m here to see Brett—I mean, Mr. Matthews.”
“Your name?” the receptionist asked.
“Laurel Worthington.”
The woman scanned her computer monitor before eyeing Laurel. “Do you have an appointment?”
“No.”
“May I ask what this is pertaining to?”
Laurel swallowed. “I, uh…”
As the receptionist waited expectantly, Laurel felt lightheaded under the scrutiny. A kernel of panic lodged in her chest. She hadn’t thought this out enough, but she had to say something to guarantee she would be allowed to see Brett. She had to see him. “I’m his wife.”
The receptionist’s expression went from detached to stunned. “His wife?”
Oh, no. Had Laurel really said that? Heat rushed to her cheeks. “Ex-wife, actually.”
Adjusting her headset, the receptionist snapped her jaw closed. She pushed a button on her phone. “Danielle, Mr. Matthews’s ex-wife is here.”
Visibly interested, the receptionist waited for what seemed an eternity before speaking again. “I’ll send her on.”
Yes. Brett was going to see her. Excited, Laurel balled her hands. Now, to remain calm. Stick to her plan. Say what she’d come to say.
“Go through the double doors. His assistant, Danielle, will show you to his office. You may leave your luggage here.”
Laurel didn’t want her suitcase out of her sight, but she didn’t seem to have a choice. “Thank you.”
As she reached the doors, she tried to regain her composure. The doorknob felt cold beneath her palm. Holding on to it a moment longer than necessary, she let the coolness chase away the heat of her embarrassment.
Ready or not. Laurel opened the door.
“Hi.” A perky blonde wearing a navy dress with matching pumps greeted her. With her fashionable necklace and stylish earrings, she was dressed for success. “I’m Danielle Taylor, Brett’s assistant. I don’t mean to be personal, but are you really his ex-wife?”
“Uh, yes.” Laurel caught a whiff of Danielle’s jasmine-scented perfume, wondering how personal Brett was with his charming assistant. Not that it was any of her business. “I’m Laurel Worthington.”
“Nice to meet you.” Danielle smiled. “He never told us he’d been married.”
Laurel wasn’t surprised. Men had a way of forgetting her. Her ex-fiancé, Charles Kingsley, had. “Our marriage was”—a joke, an adventure—“brief.”
Danielle led her down a hallway past several doors and conference rooms. The stunning decor was what Laurel expected of Brett and his company. From the thick sapphire-blue carpet to the gleaming cherry desks, the subdued elegance and rich atmosphere left no doubt about the success of the business. She envied the way Brett had built MGI on his own.
Danielle stopped in front of an office with Brett’s name on the mahogany door.
Laurel inhaled sharply. She wanted to touch the letters. Imagined her own name engraved there.
“Please make yourself comfortable. Brett is in a meeting and will be with you shortly,” Danielle explained, showing her in. “Would you like a cup of coffee, water, or a soda?”
“No, but thank you.”
“If there’s anything you need, please let me know.” Danielle closed the door.
I need my life back. I need my head examined. I need Brett.
Laurel swallowed a sigh, sat on a leather wingback chair, and tapped her toes. Wanting to get this over with, she stared at the door, willing it to open.
How long would his meeting last? Moving her gaze around the room, she did a double take at his desk.
Brett’s office surprised her. Not the decor but the order. Everything on his desk was in its perfect place, from the files and laptop to his pencils and pens. Not one piece of paper was out of alignment. No yellow sticky notes anywhere.
She hadn’t expected Brett to be so neat and tidy. Not when he’d left a trail of his clothes strewn on the floor as he’d made his way to her in the honeymoon suite they’d shared on their wedding night. Not when he’d skillfully removed her wedding gown and not so gracefully chucked it across the room. Not when the bathroom had appeared as if a tornado had ripped through after a Jacuzzi for two.
But their marriage had only been for one night.
One short, but oh-so-glorious night.
If only the feelings had been real…
Upon waking the next morning, she’d realized she’d mistaken the warmth and security of his arms for something more than a stolen moment. Given her situation, being swept away by him had been easy to do when she’d been wanting an escape from her problems, but that didn’t change the facts. Exchanging vows and wearing a gold band didn’t mean he wanted her for more than a night.
So what if he’d been tender, generous, and giving? So what if he’d made her feel safe, cherished, and loved? So what if she still saw his smile when she closed her eyes at night?
Those things meant nothing in the light of day. What she and Brett had shared had been nothing more than a fantasy. No matter how much she wanted to believe in love at first sight and finding a romance to last a lifetime, love couldn’t exist between two people whose only common bond was a few hours spent in bed together.
Even if those hours had been the most incredible of her life.
What she was here to accomplish had nothing to do with a make-believe marriage or the magical night spent with Brett. It had to do with the future.
Her future.
Brett Matthews might be a stranger, but he was the only one who could help her.
Seconds passed like hours. She touched her stomach, wishing she’d brought something to eat and could nap. But this wasn’t the time to be hungry or tired. She had to be strong.
The door opened. “Laurel?”
Brett’s voice sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine. Although they had only known one another briefly, a familiar—comforting—feeling washed over her as he stepped inside his office and closed the door.
The sight of him made her head spin, and her mouth go dry. She was reacting like a teenager, not a twenty-five-year-old woman, yet she couldn’t help herself. The ends of his deep brown hair curled slightly and brushed his collar, making her want to twirl her fingers through his hair one more time. He’d been clean-shaven in Reno, but now he had a neatly trimmed beard. The look suited him.
He wore navy slacks, a long-sleeved white dress shirt, and a tie covered with endangered animals. She’d seen him in a tuxedo, and she’d seen him naked. Laurel struggled to put this new image of Brett Matthews, successful financial advisor and author, into perspective.
He was more attractive than she remembered. Maybe not movie-star gorgeous, but he was handsome and one-hundred-percent male.
She wanted to throw her arms around Brett and ask him to make everything okay, but she knew better. Laurel needed his help, but she could only rely on herself.
“Hi.” It was all she could manage to say.
He frowned. “Did you have to tell them you were my ex-wife?”
No “hello,” no “how have you been,” no “I’ve been thinking about you.” Not even a smile or a hint of a grin. “It slipped out. I was afraid they wouldn’t let me see you.”
“I’m going to have a tough time explaining this.”
“Sorry.” But she hadn’t come this far to be sent away. They’d been married—though not for long—so she hadn’t exactly lied.
He studied her. “I thought you’d be with Henry and the squad, touring the vineyards of Bordeaux.”
Laurel no longer belonged to the squad. She’d lost track of most of them and their travels over the past few months. Friendship only went so far in certain circles. Many had blocked her on social media and their cell phones. Only Cynthia, Ryland, and Henry had returned Laurel’s texts before her cell phone service was cut off. “I, um, decided to pass.”
“Maybe next year.”
She shrugged, even though next year she’d be lucky if she could afford a bottle of red table wine. “You never know.”
“No, you don’t.”
Brett leaned against his desk and raised an eyebrow, bringing attention to a small scar above it that gave him a dangerous, bad-boy look. Maybe that was why she’d found him so appealing in Reno. A bad boy on the outside, a teddy bear on the inside.
“What brings you to the Rose City?” he asked.
She’d rehearsed this moment a million times. Taking a deep breath, Laurel concentrated on his milk-chocolate eyes. Eyes that belied the strength in his jaw now hidden by his beard and ruggedness of his nose. A nose that must have been broken at least once. His appearance suggested he would be more comfortable hiking in the mountains or riding on a horse than making billions in the stock market and telling others how to do the same.
“I—I came to see you.” She forced out the words.
“Really. After all these months?” He sounded surprised, and not in a good way.
Laurel nodded, trying not to hunch and hide. She’d expected a warmer welcome.
“It’s been, what? Almost four months since Reno?” His tone was razor sharp. “All that time without getting in touch—no e-mail, phone call, or letter.”
How dare he? She grimaced. “Those things work two ways.”
His jaw tensed.
“Besides, we never said we’d keep in touch,” she added, trying to lessen the growing tension between them.
He held his chin high. “Yes, they do, and no, we didn’t.”
Laurel expected he might be upset, but this angry man was nothing like the one she’d shared a bed with on their honeymoon night. Still, he was her only hope. She had nowhere else to turn. “I planned to, but when I got back to Chicago…”
My life fell apart. Worse than I could have ever imagined.
Laurel stared at the carpet. This conversation wasn’t going the way she’d planned. She wanted to tell him the truth—that she and her mother had been and still were sinking faster than the Titanic—but she couldn’t. Pride wouldn’t let her admit what had happened, what her own stupidity had allowed to happen.
How could Laurel explain just when she’d thought things couldn’t get any worse, her world imploded? That she found herself not only responsible for herself, but…
She met his eyes. “Family matters required my full attention.”
Not the whole truth but not a lie, either.
Brett’s gaze bore into her soul. She shivered. Not since their wedding night, when she’d stood before him offering the only thing she had to give—herself—had she felt so vulnerable.
“I’m sorry I didn’t contact you sooner,” she admitted.
“I’m sure you are.” He folded his arms across his chest. “So?”
The accusation in those two letters made her stiffen, but she hadn’t come all this way for nothing. She met his steady gaze. “What?”
“Which are you going to tell me about first? Being broke or being pregnant?”
♥ ♥ ♥
Laurel’s wide, topaz-blue eyes told Brett he’d surprised her. Good. He’d wanted to do that, but her genuine shock took away any pleasure he might have received.
“Y-y-you knew?” she asked. “How?”
As if a noose had tightened around his neck, his throat constricted. He’d been feeling this way ever since learning the truth about Laurel Worthington from a private investigator a month ago, and then having the man follow her ever since. “I heard a few rumors, so I checked them out.”
“I… I don’t understand.” She wet her lips. “You knew I was pregnant, but you never tried to get in touch with me? Find out if…”
Every single nerve ending stood on end, wanting to know the answer to the question he needed to ask. One that had been on his mind nonstop since finding out about her pregnancy.
“Is it mine?” His tone was harsher than he’d intended, but he couldn’t control his emotions. Not around her.
At the flash of hurt in her eyes, Brett knew the truth, but he still wanted to hear her say the words.
She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Why didn’t you ‘check it out’ yourself?”
At least she hadn’t lost her spunk. The silver-spoon set never did, not even when they hit rock bottom. That trait must be something that came along with their trust funds. He was happy she still had a spine, however fragile she appeared. After what she’d been through…
He hardened his heart against the thought.
Brett couldn’t afford to let down his guard, to allow emotions to override logic, not even for an instant. Because with Laurel, that was all it took. An instant of weakness to bring a man to his knees. He’d been that man the night of their honeymoon, and he’d played right into her hands. A tough lesson to learn, but one he wouldn’t allow to happen again.
“Is it mine?” he repeated.
“Yes.” She met his gaze straight on, daring him to contradict her.
A baby. His baby.
Hearing about her pregnancy from a secondary party had been one thing. Having her sit in his office and confirm the gossip was another. He felt as if his head might explode.
As reality sank in, he tried to summon a protest to keep her from realizing how deeply the truth affected him. His chest tightened. He struggled to breathe.
A father.
He was going to be a father.
A thrill shot through him. He would get the chance to right the wrongs of his own childhood. Give his baby all he’d lacked growing up.
Brett had decided what he wanted to do—had planned to go and see her in Chicago as soon as the current work crisis had been resolved—but those plans seemed inadequate and inappropriate now. His lawyer had warned Brett that Laurel would want him to support her in the manner to which she was accustomed.
Writing her a blank check had seemed like the best way to ensure he was a part of the baby’s life. But Brett didn’t want to be a weekend dad. That wasn’t good enough for his child or him.
But before he remedied the situation, he needed a few answers.
He took a breath to calm himself. “How did this happen?”
Her are-you-kidding-me expression almost made him smile. “Brett, you know—”
“We used protection,” he fired back, cutting her off. Yes, he’d been overcome with desire for her, but he wasn’t stupid enough not to use birth control.
Laurel flushed. “Nothing is foolproof.”
He gritted his teeth. “Did you want this to happen?”
“I…” She stared at the carpet before raising her gaze to his. “No, but my world was falling apart. Maybe subconsciously, I was searching for a way to keep things together.”
Subconsciously?
She couldn’t have planned her salvation any better, and he couldn’t have been a more willing participant.
Be careful what you wish for…
In Reno, he hadn’t known she wasn’t the woman of his dreams. She wasn’t wealthy, refined, and connected. Not any longer. She was nothing more than a fraud.
“The baby is yours,” she insisted. “You’re the only one I’ve ever been with.”
Despite her previous engagement, he’d suspected she’d been a virgin on their wedding night due to her lack of experience and the way she’d reacted to him. But she’d been so strong and sure of herself that he hadn’t wanted to dampen the mood—the romantic fantasy—so hadn’t called her out. The PI also hadn’t discovered any lovers before or after her trip to Reno, only a former fiancé who kept his distance from her.
“I believe you,” Brett said.
She tilted her chin as if she couldn’t care less whether he believed her or not. “I suppose I should thank you for that.”
“Don’t bother.”
Her expression didn’t change. “If that’s what you want.”
Old money through and through. She might not have a penny to her name, but the wealthy attitude remained. What a fool he’d been. She’d been so sweet—his blushing bride. Being with her had made him feel as if he belonged, and he hadn’t wanted to let go. Imagining their “marriage” to be real, to be permanent, had been so easy to do.
When they’d reached the hotel room, the pretending should have stopped. But as he’d carried her over the threshold of the honeymoon suite, taking her to bed had seemed like the next logical—the most natural—step to take. She had wanted that, too.
Now she was pregnant.
Broke.
And his responsibility.
He had to give her credit. For someone who’d lost everything, she appeared remarkably unchanged. Her wet hair resembled molasses rather than the caramel he remembered, but the color brought back memories of the heart-shaped tub they’d shared. He forced the unwelcome image from his mind.
She didn’t look pregnant, but he couldn’t tell much with her seated. The changes, if any, were subtle. The bottom of her wrinkled shirt covered her waist and stomach. The buttons on her blouse strained slightly over her chest. He wanted to touch her belly to convince himself a baby—his baby—grew inside.
Anger darkened her eyes. “See something that interests you?”
He shrugged. “Have you located Daddy Worthington…or is he still living it up in the Caribbean on what’s left of your inheritance?”
“Your rumors were right on target.” She clasped her hands together and then placed them gracefully on her lap. “He seems to have disappeared.”
“Along with his barely legal plaything—all of nineteen, I believe?”
Laurel frowned. “Why are you doing this? Being so mean? What did I do to deserve—”
“Why did it take you so long to tell me about the baby?”
She stared, her features composed. Ever the heiress. “My mother needed me. There were debts to settle, things to sell.”
Excuses. None of which he bought. Not when she carried his child.
Brett stood, giving him even more of a height advantage with her sitting. Maybe being on his feet would stop his insides from twitching. “I’d say notifying me about the baby was as important as any of those other things.”
She flinched. Her hands fisted until her knuckles went white. “Did you forget how to use a phone? You knew I was pregnant. Why didn’t you contact me?”
Laurel’s voice carried her anger and frustration, but he didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure what to say.
When he’d returned from Reno, he’d picked up the phone more times than he wanted to admit, but he couldn’t bring himself to call her because she knew how to contact him. As the months slowly passed without a word, he’d realized the obvious. Laurel had thought she was too far above him to call. It had happened before. But after hearing mutual “friends” joke about her finances and pregnancy, he’d hired a private investigator in Chicago.
Since then, he’d received daily reports on her activities. After learning her mother had lost the family estate due to foreclosure and Laurel had sold her condo, he’d been ready to step in until he found out she was heading via bus to Portland.
To him.
The PI had ridden with her the entire journey to ensure she arrived safely on his doorstep, but the guy had lost her when she’d gone into the ladies’ room at the bus station and missed her exiting.
“I figured you’d contact me if you needed something,” Brett said finally.
“How diligent of you.” She sounded unimpressed and hurt.
“Seems we’re both at fault.” He rubbed his beard. “But your timing is interesting considering the recent article on me in Forbes and my book hitting the New York Times list.”
Her expression hardened. “How dare you imply—”
He rolled his eyes at the indignation on her face. “A Worthington to the end, aren’t you? Even though the Worthington name is worthless thanks to your father and his reckless style of living and loving.”
“You make it sound so…sordid.” She sighed. “Okay, the situation is sordid, but what’s it to you?”
His gaze snapped to hers. “You’re the mother of my child.”
She stared down the length of her perfect nose. “Thank you for acknowledging the child as yours.”
Her “I’m-better-than-you” attitude made him want to toss Laurel out of his office. But he couldn’t. She was carrying his baby. Penniless. Life in ruins. He clenched his hand. “You were my wife.”
“Our marriage was annulled, so we weren’t really married. I shouldn’t have called myself your ex-wife.”
He still couldn’t believe two total strangers could have ignited so much passion and longing, yet parted company without so much as a hug or a handshake. “How about my one-night bride?”
“How about we don’t define it?” She pressed her lips together.
“Fine.”
Leaning her head back, she rubbed her neck. “Look, if I had anywhere else to turn…”
Here we go. What a pathetic joke. He forced himself not to laugh.
Now she wanted him. When she didn’t have two nickels to rub together, she would settle for someone like him. His jaw clamped.
Never had he imagined working so hard to build a successful life for himself, only to marry someone in a position far worse than he’d ever been in. He wasn’t happy about what he needed to do, but it was too late for regrets. He’d been a willing partner on their wedding night.
Thanks to a roll of the dice, life as he knew it was over. But that wasn’t their innocent baby’s fault. Unless he took certain steps, the past was about to repeat itself. He wouldn’t fail his child the way his own father had failed him. Brett had to do the right thing…the only thing.
He had to marry Laurel.
His child needed a father; his child needed a family.
Before Brett offered marriage, however, he wanted her to ask for his help. Beg for it. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want…a job.”
“Right.” He saw right through her lie. “You traveled halfway across the country to ask me for a job?”
“And to tell you about the baby.” She bit her lip. “Telling you I was pregnant over the phone wouldn’t have been proper.”
She was worried about etiquette now? “What else do you want?”
Her lower lip quivered. “Medical insurance to cover the pregnancy.”
He’d fallen for her lies in Reno. Never again.
Brett waited for her to say something else. She didn’t. “That can’t be all.”
Her forehead wrinkled. “Why not? What more could I possibly need?”
His money. A band of gold on her finger. More of his money.
Walking away wasn’t an option. He wasn’t his father, so that left Brett with no other choice. He was in this for the long haul.
His gaze locked with hers. “That’s really it?”
Laurel nodded.
If she wanted to play it this way, he was game. “Fine, I’ll give you a job with a full benefits package. You’ll supervise a small staff, organize and host events, and perform philanthropic duties with various organizations throughout the city. You’ll receive a top-notch health and dental plan. I’ll toss in a clothing allowance and a car.”
“Sounds perfect.” Her eyes sparkled. “What’s the position?”
“My wife.”