Chapter Two

Gwen sank to the floor and quickly swept up her belongings, shoving them into her purse without a care for their order.

“Holy shit,” Carter whispered as he rubbed his clean-shaven jaw.

Rising to her feet, she searched for the right words. “I…I can explain,” she stammered.

Carter stood frozen, a stunned statue of a Homeric god in an expensive business suit.

“Let’s discuss this later, dear,” Judith said, patting Gwen’s wrist and mercifully putting her out of her misery. “Follow the procession to the house after the funeral. We’ll talk there.” Her face was calm, maybe even happy, but Gwen couldn’t tell for sure. For all she knew, Judith was enraged and about to blow.

Nodding, Gwen shuffled through the hall, past a stone-faced guard into the viewing room and took a seat at the back. She hadn’t planned to stay and attend the funeral. It would’ve been easier if they’d thrown her out in shock and anger.

Even without looking, she felt the weight of Carter’s stare from across the room. It was as if he was boring a hole through her skull. Perhaps it was his relentless glare or her abject humiliation before the Andersons, but her stomach suddenly rumbled with queasy unease. Of course, it could also be the tiny baby flip-flopping in her womb.

Oh, God, please no. This wasn’t the time for a morning sickness attack. They’d begun a little later than for most women, when Gwen was ten weeks pregnant. Her period had always been unpredictable, and frankly, sexual encounters occurred so infrequently she didn’t notice she’d skipped a couple cycles. It wasn’t until her stomach started acting up six weeks ago that she went to the doctor and got the shocking diagnosis. Now, at Ben’s funeral, she was afraid she was on the verge of another epic bout. Breathing deep, in through her nose and out her mouth, Gwen willed away the sour sensation. Sneaking a small package of saltine crackers from her purse that she’d swiped earlier from the diner, she discretely nibbled on the corner. She had to settle her stomach. If it were remotely possible, she’d like to make less of a spectacle of herself.

…

After the funeral at Arlington National Cemetery, Gwen steered her forest green Civic behind the long line of cars headed to the Anderson house. Since it was mid-morning, the bulk of the normal Washington, D.C., traffic was light and the drive to Potomac, Maryland, was relatively quick.

They made a series of turns, then headed down a long, tree-lined and slat-fenced drive. Two miles later they crossed under an iron gate inscribed with the words River View, and approached what had to be the Andersons’ house. Holy mother of mansions, it looked more like a fancy English estate or hotel. Calling it a house was like saying Mount Everest was a hill. Had Ben really lived here? It didn’t seem possible. He was the type of guy who seemed more comfortable in a barracks than an estate.

The head car, a Bentley limousine, pulled up the circular driveway and stopped in front of the vast double doors. At first, Gwen had assumed it was the funeral director’s car, but now she suspected it was the Andersons’. Because, really, no one who lived in this house could ride in anything other than a Bentley.

Gwen nestled her comparatively tiny car into an empty spot and debated whether to go in. She watched as Judith stepped out first, followed by Carter, who helped lift his father into his wheelchair.

It wasn’t too late to drive away and never contact them again. But they knew her name and where she worked. Hell, their security force had probably run her license plate, too. There was no escape. She was going to be a mom. And these people were her baby’s relatives. She had to be strong and face this. Besides, it wasn’t like she wanted anything more than to give them the details about the baby. What they did with that information was up to them. If they didn’t want anything to do with Ben’s child, that was their decision. But at least she’d give them the choice. It was the right thing to do.

That realization calmed her. She was the one in the driver’s seat, not them. Actually, they should be the ones who were nervous. She didn’t have to let them see her child.

Her confidence restored, Gwen climbed out of the car. She fell in line behind the other mourners and strode across the gravel, then climbed the wide stone steps to the mansion’s double doors.

A housekeeper in a black and white uniform greeted them at the door. After directing the other guests to an adjacent great room, she spoke to Gwen. “Mrs. Anderson is waiting for you in the library.”

“Thanks,” Gwen answered, trying to contain her awe of the museum-quality tapestries that hung in the grand foyer. The largest flower arrangement she’d ever seen sat on a round table in the middle of the space, infusing the air with its sweet perfume.

The housekeeper led her through a series of elaborately decorated rooms and halls to a richly appointed library. Judith sat on a sofa, a white shih-tzu dog slung across her lap. Carter leaned against a desk, his arms crossed and expression tight.

“Please have a seat.” Judith’s voice was bright.

Gwen perched on the edge of the sofa opposite Judith. Clearing her throat she said, “Things didn’t go exactly as I planned earlier, and I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize, dear,” Judith said.

“I’d like to explain,” she began.

Something between a scoff and a grunt leapt from Carter’s throat. “This ought to be good.” He looked like a simmering pot whose lid was about to blow.

Judith cut in. “First things first. I am correct that the photos in your purse are of my fledgling grandchild?”

Gwen smiled, her hand reflexively stroking her tummy. “Yes.” She nodded. “It was taken about a month ago. I’m almost four months along now, into my second trimester. Statistically speaking, once you get this far, it’s a keeper.”

“Lucky for you,” Carter said. “You wouldn’t want to lose that golden ticket of yours, now would you?”

“What?” Gwen turned toward him. His expression was so cruel it was ugly.

“Carter, that’s enough.” Judith’s voice was firm.

“Wait, what do you mean? A golden ticket?” Gwen asked.

He uncrossed his arms and gestured to the grand library. “What do you think I mean? That kid—if it’s even Ben’s—is your ticket to the big time. An opportunity to grab a piece of his inheritance and trade in that little shitbox car of yours.”

She rose, her cheeks burning. “Who do you think you are? You don’t know a thing about me.”

He grunted. “I know it’s awfully convenient that you picked today of all days—the day we buried my brother—to drop this little bomb on my family.”

Setting her hands on her hips, Gwen shot back, “Frankly, it’s not at all convenient, but it’s a fact and one I’ve got to deal with.” Bile worked its way up her throat, making her want to spit.

Judith stood and the shih-tzu leapt to the floor. “Please, sit, we’ve got a lot to talk about. I was hoping you’d consider moving into River View.”

Her mind spinning, Gwen peeled her eyes from Carter to focus on Judith. Had the Anderson matriarch just suggested that Gwen live here? Among perfect strangers who’d only just learned of her existence a few hours ago? Why on earth would she do such a thing? Sure, River View was big enough to house an encamped army, and its inhabitants could probably go days without seeing each other, but Gwen already had a home. And a sweet, little old landlady who needed her company and depended on the paltry rent she paid.

Carter laughed. “Mother, don’t be ridiculous.”

“There’s nothing ridiculous about wishing to be close to my grandchild,” Judith snapped.

“There is, if that grandchild is encased in the womb of a con artist,” he retorted.

Carter’s words seared like a lash from a whip, causing Gwen to suck in a sharp breath of air. “I didn’t come looking for charity, and I certainly won’t be insulted. I came here because it was the honorable thing to do, to explain that Ben had fathered a child. But I can see now it was a giant mistake.” Head throbbing, she spun on her heels and stalked out of the room, trying not to trip on the Persian rug.

…

Carter watched as the enchanting scammer stormed out, then paused at the end of the room, clearly not remembering the way to the front door. At the hall, she turned left, which he knew led to a butler’s pantry. A moment later she doubled back and passed the library threshold, this time headed the right way out.

Despite his anger, he almost chuckled. There was something undeniably endearing, though unmistakably womanly, about her. He’d thought that the moment he laid eyes on her outside the viewing room. When he should have been focused on the loss of his only brother, she’d caught his eye as she walked across the lobby. He’d been transfixed by her shiny auburn hair, bright green eyes, and the smattering of freckles that dotted her nose. They hinted at the feisty Irish ire that clearly bubbled just below the surface. And then there were the shapely curves that filled out her blue dress and the long, toned legs beneath. Not to mention her scent—an intoxicating mixture of peaches and sweet cream—that filled the air. She’d been the lone shaft of sunlight in the somber funeral home.

But then she’d gone and ruined it with her sordid announcement.

Well, he had news for her. She was out of her depth. Not only because she was obviously unaccustomed to navigating enormous mansions like River View, but because she must not have anticipated how difficult it would be to pull off her little scheme.

She was no Deandra. His ex-wife had a PhD in advanced gold digging. After her, little Ms. Gwen “Oops-I-Got-Knocked-Up” Radley looked like a kindergartener who still lugged around a binky. His five-year-long tussle with Deandra had prepared him for any battle and taught him lessons he wouldn’t soon forget. If Gwen thought he or his family would fall for a similar stunt again, she was sorely mistaken.

His mother crossed her arms. “I hope you’re pleased with yourself.”

Carter smiled. “Actually I am.” He loosened the knot on his tie. “If only because I stopped you from moving a charlatan into our home. You should be thanking me.”

Her nostrils flared slightly, a clear indication she was pissed. Nearly always unflappable, Judith Anderson rarely showed signs of strain, but now she looked about as angry as when he’d run off to marry Deandra without a pre-nup. “I most certainly will not. You may have cost me something far more valuable than any of the riches your father ever amassed.”

He groaned. “Oh, come on, Mother. You can’t be serious. Don’t tell me you fell for her act.” Never mind that he, too, had been drawn in by her, but only at the outset. “We haven’t even verified that she’s pregnant. For all we know she’s a grifter angling for the big score.”

She crossed her arms. “Do you think she’s faking her pregnancy?”

“Probably not. But who’s to say it’s Ben’s? He never mentioned having a stateside girlfriend while recovering from his knee injury.” Carter walked to the bar and poured himself a scotch. He wasn’t normally a drinker, but today of all days, he’d make an exception. “How do we know it isn’t someone else’s?”

She scoffed. “Your previous experience is clouding your judgment. Surely Gwen realizes we’ll insist on a paternity test.”

He shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe she’s not smart enough.” He swallowed a mouthful of scotch. The rich, oaky flavor burned his throat in the best way possible, easing the pain of admitting he was deluding himself. Who was he kidding? Gwen was no dope. Despite his distrust, he had to confess he’d sensed a deep brilliance behind her eyes. Those dazzling emerald eyes. He shook his head, forcing the image from his mind. “Or, maybe she thinks we’re dumb enough to simply take her at her word.”

“She doesn’t strike me as stupid. In fact I’m guessing she’s quite quick. She was certainly intelligent enough not to put up with your guff.” His mother had always been a good judge of character. Hence, her immediate and visceral hatred of Deandra. He despised how right she was.

“Having a backbone doesn’t make you smart.” Though, he had to admit her response was pleasantly surprising. Deandra would have proclaimed her innocence, then found a way to manipulate him into seeing her point of view.

“Perhaps not, but I’ll tell you one thing. You’d better get used to her, because one way or another, I intend on bringing her into our little fold.”

He clanked his glass on the bar. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I’ve just lost one son. I won’t shun my grandchild.”

“Mother, taking her in won’t bring Ben back.” Carter’s voice tightened as his grief swelled. “It’s cruel of her to dangle a baby in front of us, as if it could replace him. It can’t. Nothing ever could.” His brother’s face flashed in his mind. Ben—his sweet, crazy, warrior little brother. It was impossible to accept he was gone.

“Don’t you think I know that?” Judith clutched her chest as if he’d just plunged a blade through her heart. “My son is in the ground.” Her lips quivered as she swallowed a sob. “We owe him this.”

Assuming it was his child. Exasperated, Carter tried to make her see logic. “But, Mother—”

She raised her hand to cut him off. “But nothing. Someone’s got to preserve this family. It’s not like you can be counted on to further it.”

Fury boiled in his gut. He gripped the crystal tumbler so tightly a hairline fissure cracked its etched, glassy surface.