Nicola Marsh - Inherited - Baby

‘In that case, let’s hope this all turns out for the best. For everyone’s sake.’

The astute gleam in Matt’s eyes did little to calm Riley’s nerves. He had major misgivings about this whole mess: about Joe’s will, his helpless nephew and the woman left to raise him.

He needed to know more.

He needed to help.

It was the least he could do after the part he’d played in his brother’s death.

MAYA STEPPED FROM the bath and quickly wrapped her dripping body in a towel from habit. Joe had hated the changes giving birth had wrought on her body: the stretch marks, the new distribution of weight, a changed body shape in general and he’d told her so on a regular basis. She’d learned to cover up in front of him, to hide her shape beneath baggy clothes, all in the effort to feel better about herself.

But then, nothing had stopped Joe’s nasty streak when he’d been on a roll and unfortunately, ever since she’d given birth to Chas, he’d been on one continuous ‘make Maya pay’ quest.

Tying the towel turban-style around her long blonde hair—in desperate need of a trim—she slipped into her favourite pink towelling robe and fuzzy fuchsia Princess slippers. Ironic, considering she couldn’t be further from a princess if she tried, but the minute she’d seen the funky slippers she’d had to have them. Spending all day in jodhpurs and grubby T-shirts gave a girl a complex and she often had the urge to buy the most ridiculously feminine items.

Though the baby monitor was silent, she peeped into the nursery, unable to get enough of her gorgeous little boy even when he was sleeping. He looked so peaceful lying on his tummy, bottom in the air, snoring ever-so-softly. A little angel without a care in the world—and she had every intention of seeing it stayed that way. She’d put up with Joe’s appalling treatment for the sake of her son. Now that Joe had gone, she would do anything to protect Chas from harm. Anything.

She tiptoed into the room, inhaling the faintest hint of baby powder, her eyes adjusting to the near-darkness broken by a tiny teddy bear night-light, loving every precious moment of being a mum to this little boy. Whether asleep or awake, Chas was the centre of her world and if she thought she’d loved horses, it was nothing to the overwhelming love of motherhood. It frightened her in its intensity yet she was powerless to resist it.

‘Ma-ma,’ Chas cried out softly, wriggling down further in the cot, thrashing from side to side till he got comfortable again.

She held her breath, not wanting to wake him, desperate for a full night’s sleep herself. The funeral had been tougher than she’d imagined and all she wanted to do was have a hot chocolate, fall into bed and pray that she’d sleep. Real rest had eluded her for months now courtesy of the tense, uncomfortable co-existence she’d slipped into with Joe.

Kissing her finger, she gently placed it on Chas’s cheek and tiptoed from the room, heading for the kitchen and the comfort of warm cocoa. However, she barely had time to fill the kettle before there was a soft knock at the door.

No one visited her. Her mum was in a special accommodation home and the people she worked with were just that, work acquaintances. She didn’t socialise, she didn’t have friends, so who was bothering her at eight-thirty on the night of Joe’s funeral?

Almost dead on her feet, she ignored whoever it was and flicked on the kettle, spooning several heaped teaspoons of cocoa into a mug. However, the knock came again, louder this time. Rather than have the unwelcome visitor wake Chas, she padded to the door and opened it a fraction.

‘What are you doing here?’

Her response sounded sharper than she intended and Riley stiffened, a tiny frown appearing between his brows.

‘I just wanted to make sure you were okay. After today…’ He trailed off and for a guy at the top of his field, one of Australia’s number one stockbrokers, he appeared uncertain.

Guess she had that effect on the Bourke men. Once the initial spark had faded, Joe had been uncertain of everything where she’d been concerned: uncertain if she was the woman for him, uncertain if she was wife material, uncertain if he wanted anything to do with her and her child as he’d insisted on calling Chas.

‘I’m fine,’ she snapped, the pain of Joe’s attitude towards Chas stabbing her anew.

Riley pinned her with a glare, the intensity behind the steady blue-eyed stare making her squirm. What was it about this guy that made her feel helpless? She’d been that way ever since he’d bustled into the apartment a few hours after Joe’s death, taking charge of arrangements, snapping orders into his mobile phone, delegating jobs like a king. Introverted in her grief at the time, she’d let him take charge.

He appeared smarter, stronger and bigger than everything around him, capable of handling anything and more. In a way, he intimidated her. He’d intimidated her when they’d first met but then she’d been so ga-ga over Joe that night at the ball she’d barely noticed his serious—though just as cute—older brother.

Cute. What a joke. Nothing about Riley was cute. With his dark hair, piercing blue eyes and tall, athletic frame, striking would be more appropriate. Even sexy, though she couldn’t equate the words sexy and Riley in her mind in the same sentence right now.

‘You sure about that? You don’t sound fine to me.’

He hadn’t budged and, by the determined expression on his face, he wouldn’t till she convinced him she really was okay.

Sighing, she unchained the door and swung it open. ‘I am, but I can see you’re not leaving in a hurry so you may as well come in and have a cuppa with me.’

‘Not the most gracious of invitations but you’re right, I’m not leaving here till I know you’re okay.’

‘What are you doing for the next twenty years then?’ she muttered under her breath.

Thankfully, Riley chose to ignore her sarcastic comment and followed her into the kitchen, his presence dwarfing the tiny chrome and black space.

‘What’ll you have?’

‘Coffee is fine,’he said, grabbing a carton of milk out of the fridge and a clean mug off the sink, looking more at home in the kitchen than Joe ever had.

Stop it! Stop comparing him to Joe.

She blinked, almost surprised at her inner voice chastising her like that. For a girl who’d hardly noticed Riley when they’d first met, she was certainly making up for lost time and making unfavourable comparisons between the brothers to boot!

Joe had been cocky, brash and fun-loving.

Riley was serious, thoughtful and responsible.

Joe had hogged the limelight and adored being the centre of attention.

Riley faded into the background, preferring to take control from the sidelines.

Joe had some hang-up with winning.

By all counts, Riley was a winner; his reputation in the business world spoke for itself.

However, there was one area where the brothers couldn’t compare.

Joe had said he loved her, though she’d discovered that wasn’t true.

Riley obviously tolerated her for the sake of Chas. She’d seen it after Joe’s death and earlier today at the funeral: the curiosity, the censure, the pity.

And she hated it.

He probably thought she was a pathetic basket case but at least he’d been there for her, for Chas, at a time when she’d needed him the most. Which was more than she could say for anyone else in her lifetime, including her mother.

‘How did the wake go?’ she asked, more out of something to fill the growing silence than any burning need to know.

Riley’s lips compressed into a thin line. ‘People stayed as long as the finger food and alcohol kept coming. A few blokes retold some of Joe’s tall tales. That’s about it.’