Audra Adams - The Bachelor's Bride

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.