His Billion Dollar Baby Page 2

  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 va
luable 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.

  Chapter Three

  Gwen stomped into work, still seething over Carter’s vicious remarks. Who did that bastard think he was, anyway? He didn’t know the first thing about her, yet he jumped to conclusions about her motives. Well, he had another thing coming. The last thing she wanted was his family’s money. She’d survived foster hell and put herself through college, then graduate school. Although a far cry from rich, she was doing just fine. Her baby might not grow up in the splendor of River View, but it would have the basics and it would be loved, which was a lot more than she could say for her own upbringing.

  In truth, Carter’s comments had done more than just raise her bile. They’d dredged up long-held promises she’d made to herself, vows she hated to admit that she’d broken. For as long as she could remember, she’d sworn that when she was a mother, she’d do better than just provide her child the bare minimum. Her child would have a warm, loving and supportive family, and though life wouldn’t be opulent, there would be plenty of extras. Her child wouldn’t rely on thrift-store hand-me-downs and food pantry donations. Gwen was determined to break the cycle of her past, but now, because of one night of crazy, impetuous lust and poor planning, the tiny miracle inside her wouldn’t have that family or financial security. She’d be a single mother struggling to raise a child on her own, just like her own mother before her nervous breakdown.

  Emerson Cordry, her best friend and co-worker, crept up from behind and snapped her backside with a towel. “Hey, doll face. How’d it go? Did you stick it in?” He waggled his trimmed eyebrows.

  She groaned at his innuendo. He never missed an opportunity to make a sexual reference. Coming from any other man, Gwen might have thought his endless double entendres were a clumsy come on, but Emerson’s dedication to all things Ryan Gosling proved his devotion to men.

  Ordinarily, his comment would have made her laugh, but this wasn’t an ordinary day. “Seriously? It was a funeral. Show a little respect.”

  He feigned a pained face. “Believe me, I’m in mourning. Ben was a beautiful man.”

  She breezed into one of the patient changing rooms and slid the curtain closed in his face, confident that Emerson wouldn’t go anywhere. He couldn’t resist their sparkling banter. Tossing her duffle bag on the bench, Gwen kicked off her high heels and unbuttoned her dress, then slid it off her shoulders and wiggled the tailored skirt over her hips.

  Sighing, she agreed. “Yes, he was beautiful.” But there was no sense in dwelling on the past. She had to think about her child’s future. “I’m sure Sebastian wouldn’t appreciate hearing you talk about another guy that way, however.” Emerson’s boyfriend was possessive with a capital P.

  “No, he wouldn’t, but what he can’t hear won’t hurt him,” Emerson laughed. “So, spill it. How’d the covert mission go?”

  “Not so covertly.” Gwen quickly filled him in as she fished a pair of athletic pants from her bag and shimmied into them. They were one of the best perks of being a physical therapist. Who wouldn’t love wearing comfy workout clothes all day? The waistband on this pair was still loose, but lately they’d begun to feel snug around the middle. It wouldn’t be long before she’d have to go up a size—or gasp—resort to the horror of maternity workout pants. If there was such a thing.

  “So did they freak?” Emerson asked, pulling open the curtain.

  Sitting on the bench, she tugged on her anklet socks and put on her sneakers. “Not his mom. She actually seemed kind of happy about it.” She thought of Judith’s invitation to move in. “Maybe a little too happy. But his brother, he’s a different story.”

  Emerson grinned like a cat eyeing a canary. “Benny had a brother?” His tone implied what he was really asking: was Ben’s brother hot, and was there any chance he was gay?

  “Settle down, Studley. I’m fairly sure Carter’s straight. And after our little chat, definitely not worth your energy trying to turn him. He’s a grade-A asshole. The polar opposite of his brother.”

  “Ooh, spicy. You know how much I love family drama.” He spent his weekend afternoons glued to reality TV reruns filled with housewives, high-end real estate brokers, and fashion designers.

  Carter’s words flashed back, roiling her gut. “He hated me the second he found out I was pregnant. As if this baby was a nefarious plan to steal their family money and worm my way into River View.”

  Emerson grabbed his chest as if he was about to have a coronary. “Hold the phone. River View, as in the Anderson family’s Potomac estate, River View?”

  Gwen shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so. Their house is pretty gigantic.”

  “Damn, Benny was rolling in Benjamins. I never would have guessed.” Emerson roared with laughter. “No wonder his brother thinks you’re in it for the money. Don’t you know who the Andersons are?” He stared at her as if it was as obvious as the towel still clutched in his hands. “Ever heard of Rocky ‘The Rocket’ Anderson, the Super Bowl MVP quarterback?”

  Her brow knit
. “Um, nope.” She’d only started watching football a few years ago. There were a lot of older players she’d never heard of. Foster kids don’t get out to a lot of football games.

  “How about ‘Work It Gear’?” He pointed to the polypropylene thin fleece jacket that peeked out of her duffle bag.

  That rang a bell. In fact, since it was sold in pretty much every sporting goods and department store, gym, and yoga studio she’d ever been to, it rang a few thousand bells. Her jaw dropped. “His family owns Work It Gear?”

  No wonder Carter was so suspicious. It was a billion dollar corporation. Thousands of people probably tried to mooch off of them every day. That explained the private army at the funeral. And his fears about her. Well, that settled it. It didn’t matter how destitute she might become, she’d never take a dime from them. Ever.

  Emerson laughed. “Yeah, and about half the property in Potomac and downtown Rockville. And they just donated the new athletic building to the University of Maryland. Damn girl, you picked the right baby daddy.” He snapped his fingers and sang, “Jackpot!”

  Stung, Gwen rose to her feet and planted her hands on her hips. “How can you say that? You know it’s not even remotely true.” Tears welled in her eyes, the likely result of too much stress, too little food, and one too many snipes from Carter. “I’ve got treatment plans to write.” Spinning on her sneakers, she headed out of the changing room.

  “Aw, come on. I was just teasing,” Emerson called.

  But staying another second would reduce her to a blubbering, pregnant idiot. Better to shove her situation from her mind and focus on work. “I’ll be fine. I just need some time to myself.”

  An hour later, with about half her files complete, Gwen’s cell phone rang. The number wasn’t familiar. “Hello?” She asked, half afraid it was Carter calling to heap on some fresh abuse.