Diana Whitney - Baby Of Convenience

Laura followed his gaze. “My best guess is that the kittens are about one week old. Maggie disappeared for several days, and when she finally returned, it was obvious that she was no longer pregnant. I’ve been following her for days to find her birthing nest.”

“I see.” He studied the mother cat’s methodical grooming of her brood for a moment. “I’m certainly no expert on feline behavior, but I was under the impression that most animals chose a location in which they feel safe and comfortable for such an, er, auspicious event.”

“Yes, well, I’m afraid poor Maggie feels neither safe nor comfortable in our temporary living quarters. You see, we had to…I mean, we chose to move from an apartment in the downtown district to share a mobile home with a friend.”

Chose to move. A clever euphemism for eviction, which didn’t escape the astute Royce Burton’s notice if the knowing gleam in his eye was any clue.

“At any rate, the accommodations are rather cramped, and my friend has two older children who didn’t mean to torment Maggie, although she understandably had little tolerance for them, given her delicate condition.”

He nodded politely. “These temporary living quarters, might they be included in the mobile home park to the south of the grounds?”

Presuming he was referring to his own expansive property when he used the word grounds, Laura nodded. “It’s just temporary,” she repeated lamely. “Until we can find something that suits our needs.”

Something that was basically free, since she was currently unemployed. She’d had the audacity to slap the roving hand of her supervisor, and had been summarily dismissed from her job as a discount store clerk. At the time she’d worn her termination as a badge of honor. Now she saw it only as having sawed off her own breathing appendage. It wasn’t as if she had the luxury of pride now. She had a child to consider, a child whose mother was unemployed and teetering on the brink of bankruptcy.

Royce regarded her. “Sharing such modest living accommodations with another family must be difficult for you and your husband.”

“I’m divorced.” Laura’s reply was issued with more firmness than intended.

Instantly Royce’s eyes cooled in disapproval. “I see. And your friend, is he also divorced?”

“As a matter of fact, she—” Laura stressed the gender-specific pronoun and was satisfied by his guilty cringe “—is happily married, although her husband is on a temporary work assignment out of town.”

He issued a curt, apologetic nod. “Forgive the errant presumption.”

“As I said, the living arrangements are purely temporary. Unfortunately, there is hardly enough room for the people, let alone six animals.”

“May I presume that you are financially unable to secure alternative living quarters?”

That was an understatement. “The truth is that even if I found a job tomorrow it would be months before I could save up enough money to make a deposit on a larger place.”

Laura couldn’t fathom why she was telling him this, but the words nonetheless streamed out as if this powerful and put-upon individual was actually interested in the life story of a virtual stranger.

A thin laugh slipped from her lips, high-pitched and embarrassingly desperate. “I know this isn’t your problem. You can’t possibly care about my little trials and tribulations. It’s just that I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do about Maggie and her babies.”

“Aren’t there shelters for this kind of occurrence?”

Laura was horrified. “I could never put Maggie’s babies in an animal shelter.”

“Why not? That’s what they are there for.”

“They are there to take pets that nobody wants, and if they can’t find homes for them, to put them humanely out of their misery.”

From the corner of her eye she saw Royce stiffen, and was relieved to note that he didn’t detest cats enough to be immune to the horror of euthanizing healthy animals because nobody wants them.

Laura pressed her advantage. “There’s no way to find good homes for the kittens until they’re old enough to leave their mother. I mean, their little eyes aren’t even open yet.” She paused, swallowed hard. “Meanwhile, I clearly have a bit of a problem.”

“Clearly,” Royce agreed.

As Laura was mentally formulating what to say next, Marta descended the stairs carrying a frosty crystal pitcher of orange juice.

Obviously unhappy, the woman thumped the pitcher on the table, then glanced toward the corner and spotted the feline family. “Oh, Mother of God!” she shrieked. “What are those creatures doing here?”

Royce favored her with a bland stare. “At the moment, they are having lunch.”

“Box them up at once,” Marta sputtered. “Get them out of here before their hairy filth spreads into the rest of the house.”

“Oh, I don’t think that will be much of a problem,” Royce said pleasantly. “The animals will be confined to the cellar. Ms. Michaels will, of course, be allowed access at any time she deems necessary to feed them and care for their needs.”

It took a moment for Laura to decipher the significance of what had just been said.

Marta, however, reacted instantaneously. “It’s unconscionable to permit these vile creatures to remain inside your living quarters. They may be diseased, infested with parasites. It’s an abomination.”

“I suspect we’ll manage to muddle through this crisis without creating a global plague.” Royce stepped to the oak tasting table and poured two glasses of juice, handing one to Jamie, who snatched it with such excited haste that the sticky liquid sloshed on Laura’s clothing.

“What of my duties?” Marta asked. “I cannot perform my work efficiently if I am constantly interrupted.”

A covert glance confirmed the older woman’s obvious revulsion as juice ran down the toddler’s chin to soak into his tiny striped T-shirt. Obviously this was not a woman who tolerated untidiness in any form.

Royce didn’t seem particularly perturbed either by the messy process of quenching a toddler’s thirst or the potential interruption in Marta’s duties. “Then I suggest,” he told her mildly, “that you supply Ms. Michaels with a key so she may come and go without disturbing you.”

Marta went absolutely white. “You can’t be serious.”

He gave her a quiet look that rocked her back a step. “Have you known me to joke?”

Deflated, the woman merely shook her head.

“Excellent.” He turned to Laura, regarding her with a casual dispassion that didn’t quite match the probing intensity of his eyes. “I trust the arrangements meet your approval, Ms. Michaels?”

It took a moment to locate her voice, a moment during which Laura steadied the toddler’s grasp as he greedily gulped his juice. “Your offer is exceptionally generous,” she said finally. “I’m deeply grateful.”

“Then it’s settled.” With a brusque nod, he spun on his heel, ascended the curving stairs and disappeared with the incensed Marta right on his heels.

Laura could hardly believe her good fortune. A man who supposedly abhorred cats had just offered her not only the unfettered use of his wine cellar as a feline nursery, but was also allowing her free access to provide the care Maggie and her kittens would require.

Spirits soaring, Laura was convinced that the spate of bad luck that had so relentlessly plagued her was finally at an end.

In truth, it was just beginning.

The group of tailored financiers gathered in the leather-bound study, droning on about cash-flow projections and capital investment forecasts.

Royce tried to concentrate on the figures. Decisions made here would affect lives, thousands of lives.