Some scandals even money can’t hide; so these men had marriage on their minds!

Society Wives: Secret Lives

Three heart-warming romances from three

favourite Mills & Boon authors!

Society Wives: Secret Lives

The Rags-To-Riches Wife

Metsy Hingle

The Soon-To-Be-Disinherited Wife

Jennifer Greene

The One-Week Wife

Patricia Kay

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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The Rags-To-Riches Wife

Metsy Hingle

About the Author

METSY HINGLE is the award-winning, bestselling author of series and single-title romantic suspense novels. Known for creating powerful and passionate stories, Metsy’s own life reads like the plot of a romance novel—from her early years in a New Orleans orphanage and foster care, to her long, happy marriage to her husband, Jim, and the rearing of their four children. She recently traded in her business suits and fast-paced life in the hotel and public-relations arena to pursue writing full-time. Metsy loves hearing from readers. For a free bookmark, write to Metsy at PO Box 3224, Covington, LA 70433, USA, or visit her website at www.metsyhingle.com.

For Melissa “MJ” Jeglinski.

A very special lady, an even more special friend.

Prologue

Coming tonight had been a mistake. She didn’t belong here, Lily Miller told herself as she stood at the door of the ballroom and stared at the elegantly dressed men and women. From the looks of the crowd and the amount of diamonds on display, every member of Eastwick, Connecticut society had turned out for the black-and-white ball. And she certainly didn’t belong with them.

She should leave now before she started crying and made a fool of herself. But she couldn’t leave yet—not without telling Bunny Baldwin. After all, it had been Bunny who had insisted Lily attend the masquerade ball in the first place. Bunny had even gone to the trouble of providing her with a proper gown to wear to the fund-raising event.

Remembering the gown, Lily smoothed the skirt with her gloved fingertips. The strapless black confection with the tulle petticoat was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. It was a dress for a princess. Only she wasn’t a princess. She was no one—not even someone’s daughter. Fighting back tears, Lily tried not to think of the detective’s phone call an hour ago, informing her that he’d hit another dead end in the search for her mother.

Face it, Lily. If the woman had wanted you, she never would have left you in that church all those years ago. It’s time to stop wasting time and money searching for someone who doesn’t want you, who never wanted you.

“Dance with me.”

Lily blinked, then found herself staring up into the blue eyes of a tall, dark-haired stranger. He was dressed in a tuxedo and wearing a black mask, and for a moment she wondered whether he was real or if she had imagined him. “Pardon?”

“Come dance with me,” he said and extended his hand.

“Thank you, but I’m not—“

“How can you say no when they’re playing our song?”

“Our song?” Lily repeated and recognized the first chords of “Music of the Night” from Phantom of the Opera. “How can we have a song when we don’t even know one another?”

“Why don’t we change that?” he said and, taking her hand, he led her to the dance floor.

Lily didn’t resist. And the moment he took her into his arms, it was as though a magical web engulfed her. All the pain seemed to dissolve. All she could see were those unwavering blue eyes, looking at her as though she were the only person in the world. All she could feel was the warmth of his body pressed against hers, the heat of his breath on her neck. There was something exciting yet safe about the masks. With the mask, she wasn’t unwanted, unloved Lily Miller. With the mask, she was a woman who was desired, a woman for whom there was no past, no future, only now.

One dance spun into another and another and another still. And when he led her outdoors onto the terrace and kissed her, she didn’t feel the chill in the air. All she felt was the strength of his arms, the hunger in his kiss.

“It’s almost midnight. The ball will be over soon,” he whispered.

“I know.”

“I don’t want the night to end.”

“Neither do I,” she admitted and he kissed her again. He tasted of champagne. He tasted of desire and every nerve in her body sang beneath the feel of his mouth.

“Then don’t let it,” he told her. Reaching into his pocket, he removed a hotel key card. “I’m staying in the hotel tonight. Room 503. Meet me.”

Nervous, Lily reached for the gold locket at her throat, the disc bearing the initial L, that she’d been wearing when the nun had found her in the church. Only the locket wasn’t there. She’d taken it off after the detective’s call, she remembered. And for the first time in her life she didn’t have her locket to hold on to, to remind her that she was reliable, sensible Lily Miller.

“Will you come?” he asked.

Taking the key card, she said, “Yes.”

One

Her secret was safe, Lily Miller reminded herself again as she stared past the sea of mourners to the casket. A crack of thunder sounded overhead and clouds darkened the Eastwick skyline, causing the mid-May temperatures to dip below the fifty-degree mark.

“Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust,” the minister began.

Tears welled in Lily’s eyes and she reached into her coat pocket to retrieve a tissue. Dabbing at her eyes, she thought of the woman she had come to mourn—Lucinda “Bunny” Baldwin, the darling of Eastwick, Connecticut, society, the editor of the titillating Eastwick Social Diary and the woman who, oddly enough, had been her friend. How was it possible that she was dead, the victim of a heart attack at age fifty-two?

Lily thought back to the last time she had seen Bunny—only two days ago. She had been so vibrant, all excited about some juicy new tidbit of gossip that, no doubt, would have appeared in one of her upcoming issues of the Diary.

“We commend the soul of our sister, Lucinda, to You, Lord,” the minister continued.

Guilt tugged at Lily as she remembered Bunny’s knowing looks during the past few months. It had been because of those knowing looks that Lily had tried to avoid crossing paths with the other woman for weeks now. But two days ago her luck had run out. Bunny had arrived early for the Eastwick Cares board meeting and she had been unable to avoid her any longer. When Bunny had started to question her about the night of the black-and-white ball, she’d realized that Bunny had figured out the truth, that she knew her secret. Lily had even feared that it was her secret that Bunny planned to expose in the pages of the Diary. She had been prepared to beg Bunny not to say or print anything, only she’d never gotten the chance. The other board members of Eastwick Cares had begun to arrive and she’d been forced to leave or risk being seen by Jack Cartwright. Yet, as she’d hurried away, she had wished for some way to ensure Bunny’s silence—at least until she could decide what to do.

Be careful what you wish for.

The old adage popped into Lily’s head. She had gotten her wish. She had wanted Bunny’s silence and now she had it. Her secret was safe. But at what cost? Overwhelmed by feelings of guilt, Lily squeezed her eyes shut for a moment.

“May she live on in Your presence, O Lord,” the minister prayed.

Opening her eyes, Lily focused her attention once again on the minister and the service being conducted at the front of the gravesite. “In Your mercy and love, forgive whatever sins she may have committed …”

Lily shifted her gaze to the woman standing to the minister’s right, quietly crying into her handkerchief. She recognized her immediately—Abby Talbot, Bunny’s daughter. She noted the tall, intense-looking man with his arm around Abby and assumed it was Abby’s husband, Luke. She had never met the man, but according to Bunny he traveled a great deal, something that had bothered Bunny. Lily studied Abby. Though she had met her only once, she had liked the other woman. In truth, she had been taken aback by the pretty blond socialite’s warmth. She hadn’t expected someone of Abby Talbot’s social standing to be so welcoming to someone who lacked not only money and a pedigree, but any family whatsoever. Yet, Abby had treated her as an equal. A wave of compassion engulfed Lily as she witnessed the young woman’s grief. She’d known from Bunny’s comments that the two of them had been close. She couldn’t even begin to imagine Abby’s pain at losing her mother so suddenly.

Thinking of Abby’s loss brought home her own. She had lost a friend. While she and Bunny might not have been bosom buddies, and while she had never understood the older woman’s penchant for gossip, the two of them had been friends. And that friendship had been born out of their shared desire to help the underprivileged. Bunny had been fervent in her support of Eastwick Cares with both her time and her money.

But she hadn’t limited her generosity to those who fell under the umbrella of the non-profit agency on whose board she served. No, Bunny had extended that generosity to Lily. She had treated her with kindness, and not just as an employee of Eastwick Cares. In many ways, she’d treated her almost like a daughter or, at the very least, a special friend. No one else had ever come closer to making Lily feel like a fairytale princess. Certainly not when she’d been a child shuffling in and out of the foster-care system. Then again, she hadn’t exactly believed in fairy tales, Santa Claus or the tooth fairy. By the age of six, she had learned that life wasn’t anything like the fairy tales. And while most of the families who took her in were kind, she wasn’t a part of their family. She didn’t belong. She never had. It was a lesson she’d learned quickly. As a result, she had never expected things like fancy clothes or party dresses. Those were for dreamers and silly young girls. She had never been either of those things.

But for some inexplicable reason Bunny Baldwin had been determined to have the grown-up Lily Miller experience the fantasy she’d never known as a girl—attending a party all dressed up in a beautiful gown and feeling as though she belonged. Bunny hadn’t chosen just any party. She’d chosen Eastwick Cares’ major fund-raiser—the black-and-white ball.

As if it had been only yesterday, Lily’s thoughts drifted back to that day last December when Bunny had marched into her office and proclaimed that she had to attend the ball. All Lily’s protests had fallen on deaf ears. Bunny had insisted that her employment as a counselor for the agency required she be there to assist at the event. That had obviously been one of Bunny’s white lies—as Lily had discovered within ten minutes of her arrival at the ball. For some reason, Bunny Baldwin had cast herself in the role of fairy godmother to Lily’s Cinderella. It was the only explanation for the society doyenne tricking her into attending the event and even presenting her with an elegant gown to wear. Oh, Bunny had claimed the dress was something that she’d found in the back of her closet. But she had recognized the quality of the beautiful black gown, Lily admitted, though it wasn’t until she was in the powder room the evening of the ball that she had learned from one of the other women that the gown she was wearing was a vintage Dior.

Another bellow of thunder sounded overhead, jarring Lily from her memories. As the weather continued to deteriorate, Lily huddled in her coat and instinctively placed a hand on her stomach. She should leave now, she told herself. She had already taken a risk just by going to the church, she reasoned. Why push her luck? Every member of Eastwick society had turned out to pay their respects. And the Cartwright family certainly ranked among the city’s elite. No doubt Jack Cartwright had been there among the hundreds of mourners who had filled the church. For all she knew, he was among the small throng who had gathered at the cemetery for the burial. So far, she had managed to avoid him. But what if he saw her? What if Jack recognized her as the mystery woman he had slept with the night of the ball?

Even now, more than five months after the masked ball, she couldn’t believe her behavior had been so out of character. But then, she had hardly been herself that evening, Lily reminded herself. Just thinking about that day and how great her expectations had been when she’d awakened that morning sent another pang of disappointment through her.

She should have known better than to get her hopes up. If she had learned nothing else in her twenty-seven years it was never to expect something simply because she wanted it. Doing so had proven time and again to be a surefire path to disappointment. Yet, she had done just that. She had been so sure that this time it would be different. The detective she’d hired finally had a solid lead. She had believed that at long last she would have the answers she’d been searching for most of her life—who she was, where had she come from, why had she been left at the church all those years ago. Most importantly, she had believed she would finally know the identity of the woman whose soft voice and gentle hands were the only memories she had of her origins.

Only the lead hadn’t panned out. She hadn’t learned anything more about who she was or why she had been abandoned in the church with only a note saying her name was Lily and a gold locket around her neck. Lily reached for the locket that, once more, was on a chain around her neck. She closed her fingers around it and felt the familiar sting of disappointment. She had been more than disappointed that night. She had been devastated. Hitting another dead end when she’d believed she was so close had left her reeling.

She should never had gone to the ball that night—not in the emotional state she’d been in, Lily realized with the wisdom that comes with hindsight. But she hadn’t wanted to disappoint Bunny after she had gone to the trouble of providing her with the gown. Nor had Lily wanted to jeopardize her job by failing to show up. So she had gone—only to discover she wasn’t needed after all. Then, just when she had been about to leave, he was standing in front of her—the tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed stranger—asking her to dance. She had needed something, anything to block out the ache that consumed her. And once she was in his arms, all the pain, all the anguish of disappointment had faded.

There had been only him. The strength of his arms. The warmth of his smile. The feel of his mouth on hers. For one night, she had ceased to be sensible, dependable, predictable Lily Miller who had never done anything remotely reckless in her life. For one night, she had allowed herself to experience passion instead of just reading about it. For one night, she had followed her heart instead of her head. And because she had, she was pregnant and expecting Jack Cartwright’s child.

“Grant her eternal rest, O Lord …”

Shaking off the memory, Lily took a breath, then released it. She scanned the faces of those gathered. Not surprisingly, many of them were familiar—members of Eastwick society, local dignitaries and politicians. Quite a few of them she’d met through her position at Eastwick Cares. Others she knew from the news or social columns. Then she saw him—the tall, dark-haired man standing two rows back from the minister. Her pulse quickened. Even without seeing his face, she knew from the set of his broad shoulders and the conservative cut of his hair that it was Jack Cartwright.

Of course, she hadn’t known it was him at the ball. If she had known that the dashing man with the Tom Cruise smile behind the mask was the newest nominee to the Eastwick Cares board, she might have refused his request to dance. She certainly never would have accepted the key to his hotel room. But she hadn’t known it was him. Or maybe she hadn’t wanted to know. She’d wanted to believe that wearing masks and not exchanging names meant that she could steal those hours of happiness without consequences.

She had been wrong.

Yet, she didn’t regret what had happened, Lily admitted. How could she when the result was that she was going to have a baby? Smoothing a hand over her stomach, she felt a flutter of excitement as she realized that in just under four months, she would be able to hold her baby in her arms. She wanted this child, had from the moment she’d discovered she was pregnant. After being alone all these years, she was finally going to have a family.

You are loved, my baby. You are wanted. You will always be loved. You will always belong.

Silently, she repeated the vows she had made to her unborn child the moment she had learned the baby was growing inside her. And as much as she already loved her child, she struggled once again with her decision to remain silent.

Was she doing the right thing by not telling Jack he was going to be a father? she wondered. But how was she supposed to tell one of Eastwick’s wealthiest and most sought-after bachelors that the stranger he’d spent one night with was pregnant with his child? The answer eluded her—just as it had for nearly five months now.

Or was she simply avoiding the answer rather than risk rejection? She could handle rejection, Lily told herself. But her baby … her baby was another story. She didn’t want her child, even at this stage in his or her life, to be unwanted.

As though sensing her gaze, Jack turned and looked in her direction. He scanned the crowd of mourners as though searching for someone and then his eyes met hers. For the space of a heartbeat, she couldn’t move. She simply stared into those blue eyes. Suddenly his eyes darkened, narrowed, and she realized he had recognized her.

“May her soul and the souls of all the faithfully departed rest in peace…. “

Lily didn’t wait for the minister to finish, she simply turned and fled.

Jack Cartwright stared in disbelief. There she was—the mystery woman from the ball. He’d begun to think he’d dreamed that night, that there had been no beautiful redhead, that there had been no passionate hours spent in his hotel room, that there had been no woman with ghost-blue eyes and skin as soft as silk. But she hadn’t been a dream. She was real. And she was getting away.

“Jack, where are you going?” his mother demanded in hushed tones as she clutched the sleeve of his jacket. “The reverend’s not finished the service.”

Beneath the net veil of Sandra Cartwright’s hat, Jack noted the disapproval in his mother’s eyes. It couldn’t be helped, he told himself as he spied the redhead in the dark coat walking briskly toward the cemetery gates. “I’m sorry. I have to go. There’s someone I have to see.”

“But, Jack—“

Ignoring his mother’s protest and the questioning look his father cast his way, Jack began to maneuver his way toward the rear of the crowd. “Excuse me. Sorry. Excuse me,” he repeated in a low voice as he shouldered his way past friends, business associates and acquaintances.

“… and may perpetual light shine upon them.”

Moments later, a chorus of “Amen” rang out and then the crowd began to surge forward while he continued in the opposite direction. “Sorry. Pardon me,” he said as he bumped elbows and dodged hat brims. After he’d finally made his way to the edge of the moving throng, he rushed down a grassy slope toward the cemetery’s entrance where she had exited. When he reached the wrought-iron gates at the entrance, he searched the street in both directions. But he was too late. She was gone, vanished—just as she had vanished from his bed that winter night while he had slept.

Dammit.

He jammed his fingers through his hair. She’d gotten away—again. And he still didn’t even know her name, let alone how to find her.

“Jack? Jack Cartwright, is that you?”

Jack recognized the husky purr of Delia Forrester behind him. Gritting his teeth, he turned to face Frank Forrester’s trophy wife. He didn’t like the woman, hadn’t liked her from the moment the seventy-year-old Frank had shown up at the Eastwick Country Club and introduced the statuesque blonde as his new bride. He considered himself broad-minded enough not to prejudge Delia because of the thirty-year age difference between her and Frank, Jack admitted. After all, he’d witnessed the success of Stuart and Vanessa Thorpe’s May-December marriage during the last years of Stuart’s life. Nor did he pay heed to the rumors about Delia spending Frank’s money as though it was water. What he did hold against Delia was the fact that the woman had come on to him—and she’d done it practically under her husband’s nose. He didn’t trust Delia and, for the life of him, he didn’t understand why Frank did. “Hello, Delia,” he said and cast another glance down the street, hoping to catch a glimpse of his mystery woman again.

“I thought that was you I saw leaving the service in such a hurry.” She looked down the street in the direction where his attention was focused. “Looking for someone?”

“I thought I saw someone I knew and I was hoping I’d be able to catch her.”

“What’s her name?” she asked and placed a hand on her hip, drawing attention to the way the shiny black all-weather coat had been cinched at the waist. He couldn’t help wondering how the woman walked in the killer heels she had on. She tossed her platinum-blond hair back in a way he suspected was supposed to draw his interest, and stared at him out of brown eyes that were dry and clear, not a bit of smudged mascara in sight. She licked her lips, making the blood-red lipstick glisten. “Maybe I know her.”

Jack considered that for a moment and couldn’t help noting the marked contrasts between his mystery redhead and Delia. The chances of Delia knowing his mystery woman were slim to none. “I doubt it. She doesn’t move in your circles.”

“Well, I’m sure she’ll be sorry to have missed you. I know I would.”

Choosing to ignore the overture, Jack asked, “Where’s Frank?”

She sighed. “He’s waiting in the car. You know how weak he’s been since his heart attack and since it looked like it might rain, I didn’t think it would be a good idea for him to be out in this damp air.”

“How considerate of you.”

“I was trying to be,” she said, a wounded look in her eyes.

Regretting his sharp tone, Jack told himself he wasn’t being fair. Maybe he had misjudged the woman, he reasoned. After all, from all accounts Delia had seemed to pay considerable attention to Frank since his heart attack. “You were right to have Frank wait in the car. The damp air probably isn’t good for him.”

“That’s what I told Frank. Unfortunately, being an invalid isn’t easy for him. It’s not easy for me either.” She lowered her gaze a moment, then looked back up at him. “Frank’s not the man he was before his heart attack. There’s so many things that he can’t do now.”

“Then I guess he’s lucky to have you to help him,” Jack told her and decided he hadn’t misjudged Delia after all.

“That’s what Frank says, too. And I don’t mind. Really, I don’t. But every now and then it feels so overwhelming,” she continued and took a step closer. “It makes me wish I had someone that I could lean on, someone who would take care of my needs for a change.”

“Maybe you should get a nurse to help you with Frank,” Jack suggested, ignoring the obvious invitation. He took a step back. “I’m sure Frank’s doctor could recommend someone.”

Temper flashed in Delia’s eyes, but it was gone so quickly Jack wondered if he’d imagined it. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly trust Frank’s care to anyone else—not after that close call he had. Why, I don’t know what I’d do if something happened and I lost my Frank.”

“Somehow I think you’d manage. But hopefully you won’t have to because Frank will be with us for a long, long time.”

“Of course he will,” she said. “But enough talk about Frank and my problems. What I want to know is if the rumors are true? Are you really planning to run for the state senate?”

Jack frowned. “Where did you hear that?”

“Never mind where I heard it. Is it true?”

He supposed it had been foolish of him to think that word wouldn’t get out, Jack told himself. He had been approached by a group of business leaders and asked to run for the soon-to-be-vacated seat. As yet, he hadn’t made up his mind. He still wasn’t sure he was ready to take on the demanding task of a campaign and life in the public eye—which was why he hadn’t wanted the news to get out. “I haven’t decided whether to run or not,” he answered honestly. “But I am considering it.”

Delia brought her hands together. “Oh, but you have to run, Jack. You’d make such a wonderful senator. Everyone thinks so,” she said with a smile. “And of course you know you can count on my support.”

“Thanks,” he told her.

“You must let me host a party for you.”

“I appreciate that, but, as I said, I haven’t decided to run yet,” he told her just as thunder boomed overhead. Grateful for the interruption, he noted the crowd beginning to disperse as the sky darkened and rain scented the air. “I should go pay my respects to Abby and Luke before the rain hits. Give my best to Frank.”

Delia turned up the collar of her coat and glanced at the threatening skies. “You might want to wait until you get to Abby’s.” She paused. “You are going to Abby’s house, aren’t you?”

“For what?”

“The after-service reception. At a time like this, Abby needs the support of all of her friends. I’m bringing a layer cake.”

“I see,” he said, surprised. He wouldn’t have pegged Delia as a friend of Abby’s. After all, everyone in Eastwick knew that Abby was part of the Debs Club—the name the members of the country club had given the group of women who met regularly for lunch at the club. As far as he knew, Delia wasn’t a part of that circle.

As though reading his thoughts, Delia said, “Just because I’m not part of the Debs Club doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad for Abby. I do. After all, I know what it’s like to lose a parent. I lost both of mine when I was a teenager.”

“I’m sorry,” he said when he saw tears filling her eyes. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s all right,” she said and dabbed at her eyes with a lacy handkerchief. “I don’t like to talk about it.” She sniffed and shoved the handkerchief into the pocket of her coat. “I’d better go. Frank’s waiting for me. But you should go to the Talbots. Maybe your lady friend will be there.”

She wasn’t there, Jack decided after spending the better part of an hour moving from room to room in Abby and Luke Talbot’s home. She wasn’t there, but practically everyone else was. Half the members of the Eastwick Country Club were there. So were most of the politicians, the newspaper editor and the entire board of Eastwick Cares. As he scanned the room in search of his mystery woman, he noted Luke Talbot excusing himself from a group and disappearing down the hall. He couldn’t help but note the way Abby’s eyes followed her husband.

A hand came down on his shoulder. “Jack, my boy, I’ve been looking for you.”

Turning, Jack stared at his father. At sixty-eight, John was the picture of health. He kept his six-foot frame just under two hundred pounds. The tan he’d acquired from his weekly round of golf at the country club accented his silver hair and gray eyes. He suspected his father’s recent retirement from the law firm accounted for his relaxed demeanor. “Hey, Dad.”

“You looked like you were in a bit of a hurry when you left the funeral service. Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine.”

His father eyed him skeptically. “You sure there’s no problem at the office? Because if there is, you know I’ll be happy to help out.”

“Relax, Dad,” Jack told him, knowing that his father had not found it easy to turn over the reins of the law firm he’d founded, even though he had wanted the freedom of retirement. “Everything at the office is fine. I just saw a friend at the service that I’d been trying to reach for a while.”

His father arched his eyebrow. “Did you catch up with her?”

“I never said it was a woman. But no, I missed her.” Not wanting to give his father the chance to question him further about who she was, he said, “You said you were looking for me. Did you need something?”

“Your mother wanted me to tell you that she brought a spinach quiche. It’s one of her new recipes and she wants you to be sure to try it. It’s in the dining room.”

Jack grimaced. His mother was a lousy cook. When he’d been growing up, the lady had managed to burn, undercook and virtually ruin more meals than his stomach cared to remember. Unfortunately, she loved to cook and neither he nor his two sisters nor his father had ever had the heart to tell her how truly awful she was at it. Thankfully, their housekeeper Alice did most of the cooking. But his mother continued to astound them with new recipes. “Is it as bad as her liver mousse?”

“Nothing’s as bad as her liver mousse,” his father said dryly. “Come on, she’s looking this way.”

Jack followed his father into the dining room and was directed toward the quiche. Reluctantly he placed a serving on his plate. Looking up at his father, he asked, “Aren’t you having any?”

His father smiled. “I had some last night. Now it’s your turn.”

“I hope my stomach will forgive me,” Jack muttered and shoveled a bite of the quiche into his mouth. The egg-and-spinach mixture seem to expand inside his mouth and he forced himself to swallow it.

“Here,” his father said and handed him a glass of water.

Jack washed it down, then shuddered. While his father chuckled, Jack took the remainder of the serving and dumped it in the trash. After wiping his mouth with a napkin, he told his father, “You’re a better man than I am. I don’t know how you do it.”

“It’s called love, son. Mark my words. Someday you’re liable to find yourself eating something that tastes like dirt. But you’ll do it with a smile because it makes the woman you love happy.”

“Hopefully I’ll marry someone who can cook.”

His father shrugged. “Maybe you will. But then, I never married your mother for her cooking ability.”

No, Jack thought. His parents had married for love. It was something that had always amazed him, how after forty years of marriage they were still in love with one another. He, on the other hand, had had numerous relationships in his thirty-three years and had even gotten engaged a few years ago until he and his bride-to-be had realized they were better off as friends than as husband and wife. But he had never come close to experiencing with anyone the kind of connection his parents shared.

Suddenly he recalled a slim redhead with ghost-blue eyes. He had felt something with her that night, something strong and powerful, something that went beyond the physical attraction and incredible sex. It was as though some invisible force had drawn him to her that night. And obviously, she’d felt it, too.

“Jack?”

“Sorry, Dad,” he said, shaking off the memory. “What was that?”

“I said Tom Carlton asked me if you’d give any more thought to running for Petersen’s seat in the senate when he retires.”

“I’m considering it. But I just don’t know if I’m right for the job.”

“I don’t see why you wouldn’t be,” his father told him. “You’re a fine attorney, son. You’re smart and savvy enough to work with those politicians and get things accomplished. Most importantly, you’re honest and you care about people. Just look at what you’ve been able to do since you joined the board of Eastwick Cares. Everyone’s raved about the program to battle illiteracy.”

“It was a joint effort. There are a lot of good people on that board and working for Eastwick Cares.”

“Bunny, God rest her soul, told your mother it was your idea.”

It was true, but he and the other members had all contributed to making the program happen. “Even if it was, sitting on the board of a non-profit agency and sitting on Capitol Hill are two different things. I’m not sure I want to make that kind of commitment and jump into the political fish bowl.”

“Well, you’re going to have to decide soon. Petersen has just over a year left to serve before he retires and people are already lining up to toss their hat into the ring for his seat. Running a campaign is expensive and the sooner Carlton and his group know who their candidate is, the better.”

“I told Carlton I’d give him my answer by the end of the month.” And Jack knew he would have to make a decision soon.

His father slapped him on the back. “Whatever you decide, your mother and I are behind you.”

“Thanks, Dad. I appreciate that.”

His father nodded. “I better go find your mother.”

“And I need to get back to the office.”

“Make sure you call your mother and tell her something nice about that quiche.”

“I will,” Jack promised and as his father went in search of his mother, he headed for the door. In the foyer, he retrieved his gray raincoat from the closet and stepped outside onto the veranda.

The rain that had threatened earlier was now coming down steadily. Too bad his umbrella was sitting in the car, he thought, as he slipped on his raincoat. After turning up the collar, he slipped his hands into the pockets and his fingers brushed a piece of paper. Frowning, Jack pulled out a buff-colored sheet of paper that had been folded in half. He unfolded it and began to read the unsigned message typed in large bold letters:

WHAT WOULD THE GOOD CITIZENS OF EASTWICK THINK IF THEY FOUND OUT THAT THEIR CANDIDATE FOR THE SENATE WAS ABOUT TO BECOME AN UNWED FATHER?

UNLESS YOU WANT EVERYONE TO KNOW YOUR DIRTY LITTLE SECRET, YOU’LL PLACE $50,000 IN SMALL BILLS IN A SHOPPING BAG AND LEAVE IT IN EASTWICK PARK UNDER THE BENCH ACROSS FROM THE FOUNTAIN BY NOON TOMORROW. IF YOU FAIL TO DELIVER THE MONEY OR NOTIFY THE AUTHORITIES, YOU CAN FORGET THE SENATE NOMINATION.

Two

Stunned, Jack didn’t notice that the rain was coming down harder. He didn’t notice that the pink-and-white blossoms from the mountain laurels lay scattered beneath the shrubs or that the branches of the white oak bowed beneath the weight of the downpour. He didn’t even notice that on the other side of the door was a house filled with people. His entire focus was on the note he held in his hands. He reread it, and, as he did so, shock gave way to anger.

He was being blackmailed!

Or at least that’s what the person who’d written the note had intended. Turning the sheet of paper over, he studied it, looked for something that might indicate who the author was. But he found nothing.

It didn’t matter who had written it, he told himself as he crushed the note in his fist. Whoever had done so had made two very big mistakes. The first mistake was thinking that he would ever succumb to extortion and the second mistake was the allegation itself. The charge was flat-out ridiculous. He hadn’t fathered any child and no one was expecting his baby. Aside from the fact that he wasn’t involved with anyone, he hadn’t even been with a woman since last year. Not since … Jack went still.

Not since the night of the black-and-white ball.

Suddenly, images flashed through his mind. Images of a moonlit room, of a woman with silken skin and ghost-blue eyes.

Was it possible? Could she be pregnant?

No. She couldn’t be. They might not have known one another and, granted, the sex had been explosive, but at least they’d had the good sense to use protection. Then he remembered that last time they’d made love….

“You have the softest skin,” Jack whispered as he lay in the bed beside her. He drew his finger down her back. She felt like satin—only warmer and with the faint scent of roses and something else. It was a scent he could easily get used to, wanted to get used to, he realized. But they had agreed at the outset that what happened between them tonight ended tonight. The masks they’d worn at the ball had made the evening both intriguing and exciting. They were strangers. Yet the physical attraction had been palpable. He still couldn’t believe he’d given her his room key—or that she’d come. Her insistence that they not reveal their identities had seemed like a good idea at the time. There had been something dangerous and appealing about not knowing who the woman was behind the mask. Only now, he wasn’t sure he should have agreed because the more time he spent with her, the more sure he was that he didn’t want things between them to end. He pressed a kiss to her spine and when she shivered, he asked, “Ticklish?”

“No,” she said, her voice a breathy whisper.

He slid his arm around her waist and drew her body closer, fitting her against him. No, he definitely didn’t want tonight to be the end. Easing the sheet down, he kissed her bare shoulder and, when she trembled, desire stirred inside him again. It had only been an hour since he’d last made love to her. And already, he wanted her again. But this time, he wanted more than just her body. He wanted her. “I know we agreed not to exchange information, but maybe we should rethink that.”

“No,” she said, her body tensing.

“Why not?”

“Because it would mean going back to the real world. And I don’t want to go back to that world. At least not tonight. Tonight I don’t want to think of anything outside this room.”

Moved by the desperation in her voice, he turned her over so that he could see her face. He trailed a finger along her cheek, saw something haunted in those blue eyes. “All right. Tonight there is no world outside this room,” he told her. “But at least tell me your name. I can’t keep calling you Red.”

“I like you calling me Red,” she told him. “No one’s ever called me that before.”

“But I—”

She sat up and pushed him back onto the bed. “Shh. No more talking,” she told him and then she took the lead. She kissed him on the mouth, deeply, thoroughly. Then that hot, moist mouth of hers moved south. She kissed his neck, his chest, and moved lower. When she pressed her lips to his belly, his gut tightened. He reached for her.

Wondering what spell this siren had cast on him, Jack took her mouth, explored her body as she had explored his. Never in his life had he wanted a woman this way, a want that felt dangerously close to need. When he could stand it no longer, he reached over to the nightstand for the condom.

“No, let me,” she said, her voice breathless. She ripped the foil package open with her teeth, sending desire slicing through him again. He lay back against the pillow and watched her as she slowly eased the condom over the length of him. The sensation was exquisite. So was the look of wonder on her face. He’d known she’d had little experience the first time they’d made love. There had been an innocence and an abandon in her response that had told him this night was something as out of the ordinary for her as it was for him. For a moment, he wondered why she had come to his room. What was it in that real world that she’d wanted to escape?

And then he couldn’t think anymore because she was lowering herself onto him. Jack caught her hips, let her set the tempo. She moved back and forth, back and forth, increasing the pace with each movement.

“I … I can’t,” she gasped.

“Yes, you can,” he urged, holding back his own pleasure, wanting to give her more. She gasped again and when the orgasm hit her, her muscles contracted around him. With each sound she made, each movement, he felt his own climax growing closer. When he could wait no longer, Jack flipped her over onto her back and buried himself in her once more.

And then the condom broke.

“Cartwright? Cartwright, are you all right?”

Jack reeled himself back to the present and found Luke Talbot standing in front of him, eyeing him skeptically. Shaking off the memory, he shoved the crumpled blackmail note into the pocket of his raincoat. “I thought I’d wait for this rain to slack up some before I made a run for it,” he explained.

“I just came out to get some air,” Talbot told him.

But given the look of annoyance on the other man’s face, Jack wondered if that was the truth. He sized Talbot up, estimating him to measure an inch or so below his own six feet two inches. The man had what his football coach in college would have called a wiry build, but there was no mistaking that he kept himself fit. There was nothing remarkable about the brown hair and eyes, but the man always seemed to be watching. Just as he was watching him now. “I spoke with Abby earlier, but I didn’t get to tell you how sorry I am about your mother-in-law.”

“Thanks. It’s been pretty rough on Abby.”

“That’s understandable, given the circumstances,” Jack offered.

Talbot reached into his coat pocket and retrieved a cell phone which had obviously been placed on vibrate. He frowned as he looked at the number. “Excuse me, I need to take this call.”

“No problem. I think I’ll make a run for it,” Jack told him and stepped off the veranda and into the rain to head to his car.

And as the rain slapped him in the face, Jack thought once again to that night last December. She’d been gone when he’d awakened the next morning. Despite making several inquiries, no one seemed to know who his mystery woman was. Obviously, the woman had known Bunny Baldwin. He closed his fist around the note in his pocket. Using the remote, he unlocked the door to his car and slid behind the wheel. After starting the engine, he wiped his hand down his face in an attempt to dry it. Then he slicked back his wet hair and stared out at the rain. She’d made it clear that she’d wanted no relationship beyond that night, he reminded himself. It was the reason he hadn’t made a serious effort to find her.

Until now.

Sorry, Red. The rules of the game have just changed.

Lily dug through the files in her desk drawer. Finally she located the one for which she’d been searching and snatched it from the pile. As she shoved it into her briefcase, she glanced up at the clock and groaned. Twenty minutes past five. The board meeting for Eastwick Cares started in ten minutes and she didn’t want to be anywhere near this office when it did. She should have been out of here long before now, she admitted. But when Kristen, one of the teens she’d been counseling, had shown up needing to talk, Lily hadn’t been able to refuse. As a result, she’d cut it too close this time. The board members would be arriving any second.

Since seeing Jack Cartwright at Bunny’s funeral three days ago, she’d been edgy. He had recognized her. Of that much she was sure. As a result, she hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that the other shoe was about to fall. She locked the file drawer, then switched off her desk lamp. Grabbing her keys and purse with one hand and her briefcase with the other, Lily hurried toward the door. She had just pulled the door closed behind her when she heard the distinctive chime of the elevator. Six flights or not, the stairs would be safer, she reasoned and headed for the stairwell in the opposite direction.

“Miss Miller! Miss Miller, wait!”

Lily heard Kristen calling out to her, as well as the chatter of several people who had evidently exited the elevator with the girl. She wanted to ignore Kristen and leave. Otherwise, she’d run the risk of Jack seeing her. But how could she ignore a child who had come to her for help? She couldn’t, she admitted. Stopping, she turned around.

“Geez, Miss Miller, didn’t you hear me?” Kristen asked.

Lily walked back to the girl who had come halfway down the corridor to catch her. “I’m sorry. My mind was on something else. Did you need something?”

“I think I forgot my book bag in your office.”

“Well, let’s go see if we can find it,” she said and headed back to her office where she unlocked the door and turned on the light.

“There it is,” Kristen claimed, indicating the couch where she had sat during their session. The lime-green pack rested on the floor on the opposite side of the sofa. Kristen retrieved the backpack and slung the strap over one shoulder, then turned back to face her. “I’ve got an exam tomorrow that I need to study for and all my notes are in here,” she said patting the bag. “I don’t know what I would have done if you’d already left.”

“Then I’m glad you caught me in time,” Lily replied as she left the office with the teenager.

The elevator dinged its arrival again. “There’s the elevator. You going down?”

“Not yet,” Lily said, still hoping she could escape without seeing Jack.

“See you next week then,” the petite brunette told her and rushed toward the elevator’s opening doors. The elevator began to empty and Kristen stepped inside. “Thanks,” she murmured to someone still inside the elevator, holding the door open for her. “Bye, Miss Miller. And thanks again.”

“Good bye,” Lily called out, and when he exited the elevator she could have sworn she heard it—the other shoe dropping. Because, just as she had feared for months, the man standing outside the elevator staring at her was Jack Cartwright. Unable to move, she simply stood and watched the shock in his blue eyes turn to fury as they moved from her face to her belly and back again.

He walked toward her. His voice was low and dangerous as he said, “Hello, Red.” He paused then glanced at the nameplate on her office door. “Or should I say, ‘Hello, Lily Miller’?”

She nodded, not sure she could even speak when her heart felt as though it were in her throat.

“When is the baby due?” he asked, his expression grim.

“In four months. But—“

“Which means that I’m the father,” he said. “And if you’re having any thoughts about saying the baby’s not mine, you can save yourself the trouble because I’ll demand a paternity test and we both know what the results will show.”

“I wasn’t going to lie,” she told him and placed a protective hand on her stomach. “I just wanted you to know that getting pregnant … it … it wasn’t something I’d planned.”

“Neither was the condom breaking,” he responded. “Why did you tell me you were on the pill?”

“I didn’t. I told you that I was safe because I thought it was a safe time. You just assumed I meant I was on the pill,” she explained and felt the color rush to her cheeks. “It’s no one’s fault. It was an accident, Jack—“

His head snapped up and he pinned her with his eyes. “So you do know who I am.”

“Yes. But not at first. Not until later that night in the hotel room when you took off your mask,” she admitted.

“You knew even then? And yet you didn’t want me to know who you were. Why is that, Lily? Why keep up the pretense? Was it all some kind of joke for you?”

“No! No, it wasn’t a joke,” she told him, not wanting him to believe she had used him. “That night … that night I wasn’t myself. I didn’t want to be me. So when you asked me to dance and we decided to follow the rules of the masquerade ball and not reveal our identities, I didn’t have to be me. It seemed … it seemed so harmless,” she offered because she didn’t know how to tell him that she’d been lost and hurting that night and he had made her feel whole again. “Going to your room that night … it’s … it’s not something I would normally do.”

“Asking a strange woman to my hotel room isn’t exactly the norm for me, either,” he told her, his voice sharp. “So why not be honest? Why not tell me who you were? Why keep pretending?”

“Because I was afraid if I told you who I was, you would stop. And I didn’t want you to stop,” she told him honestly.

Something flared in his eyes. But whatever he’d planned to say never made it past his lips because a door down the hall opened.

“Cartwright, the meeting’s about to start,” Doug Walters, one of the other board members, called out.

“Go ahead and start without me,” he said, never taking his eyes off her.

“We’re taking nominations for Bunny’s seat,” Walters answered.

“Go to your meeting,” she told him before he could respond.

“We need to talk.”

“I know.” While one part of her was relieved that he finally knew the truth, another part of her was nervous about what he might do. His family status wasn’t lost on her. While being an unwed mother might cause a ripple or two for her, the news that Jack was the baby’s father was sure to be a scandal for the venerable, respected Cartwright family.

“Cartwright?” Walters called out again.

“Go ahead. I’ll be here when you’re done and we’ll talk.”

He hesitated a moment, then said, “All right. But if you’re thinking about running away like you did at the cemetery the other day, just remember I know who you are now. And there’s not a place on this earth where you can hide that I won’t find you.”

And as she watched Jack walk away, Lily knew he meant every word. Even if she had someplace or someone to run to, she had no doubt that he would find her. But she had no one—only her baby—so she turned and reentered her office to wait for him.

“What do you think about Abby Talbot taking her mother’s place on the board?” Jacqueline Kent suggested.

“She’s not even thirty. That’s kind of young to be sitting on this board,” Doug Walters pointed out.

“True. But she’s bright and personable and she’s been very supportive of Eastwick Cares. Besides, it might be nice to have some young blood on this board,” Mrs. Kent responded. “Look what a great addition Jack has been.”

The discussion continued around him, but Jack’s thoughts remained on Lily. He’d heard her praises sung from the moment he’d joined the board. The incomparable, efficient Ms. Lily Miller was adored by the teens she counseled and her reports were always neatly typed, complete and available for the board meetings, even though the lady herself never was. Now he knew why. She’d been avoiding him. Not only avoiding him, but keeping from him the fact that he was going to be a father.

A father.

He was still having difficulty wrapping his head around that idea, he admitted. But he didn’t question for a moment that the child was his. He knew that it was. As she’d told him, spending the night with a stranger hadn’t been a normal thing for her—just as it hadn’t been normal for him.

“What do you think, Jack?” Doug Walters asked.

“Sorry, Doug. What was that?”

“What do you think about Abby Talbot taking Bunny’s place on the board?”

“I think it sounds like a good idea. From what I understand, she’s a smart businesswoman. She’s been supportive of East-wick Cares and I think it would be a nice way to honor her mother for her years of service to the agency.”

“All right, then. Why don’t we take a vote?” Walters said.

By the time the votes were cast and the remainder of the agenda covered, nearly two hours had passed. When Jack exited the board room and headed down the hall to Lily’s office, he half expected to find her gone.

But there she was, seated on the couch with her eyes closed and her head resting against the back cushion. She was asleep, he realized. And since she obviously hadn’t heard him enter, he took the time to study her. Until now, he had only his memory of her—the way she’d looked when he’d first seen her at the ball, a vision wrapped in black satin. The way she’d looked in his room with the firelight reflecting off her hair. The way she’d looked in his bed with her back arched, her skin flushed and her body tangled with his. So many times during the past few months, he told himself that he’d been wrong. She couldn’t possibly be as beautiful as he remembered.

He’d been wrong. She was even more beautiful now. Dark red hair fell in soft waves to frame her face. The face was a perfect oval, her features delicate, the mouth that had made love to him and cried out in pleasure was even more tempting than it had been all those months ago. Dark lashes covered the ghost-blue eyes that had haunted his dreams. The dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose that saved her from being too perfect made her all the more beautiful to him. But it was the bulge in her stomach and the knowledge that she carried his child that made his chest tighten.

She opened her eyes and stared up at him. Within moments, the lazy slumber dissipated and the wariness was back. She straightened. “I’m sorry. I must have dozed off. I seem to be doing a lot of that lately,” she said.

She did look tired, he realized, and there were faint shadows under her eyes. Suddenly concerned about her and the baby, he began spitting out questions. “Have you told the doctor? What does he say? Is it normal?”

“Yes, I’ve told the doctor. And she says it’s perfectly normal.”

Realizing that he sounded like some panicked idiot instead of a grown man, Jack sat down in the wingback chair across from her. He released a breath and looked over into her worried eyes. “Sorry about that. This has all been a surprise for me.”

“I understand. I was the same way at first, panicking over everything. But I’ve had a while to get used to it.”

“Too bad I can’t say the same thing,” he replied, angered anew that she’d kept the pregnancy a secret from him. “Why didn’t you tell me about the baby? Didn’t you think I had a right to know that I was going to be a father?”

“Of course you do. And I was going to tell you.”

“When? When the baby was graduating from college?”

“I wanted to tell you,” she insisted and he didn’t miss the way she was plucking at the sleeve of the jacket she wore.

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because I didn’t know how,” she fired back.

“The simple truth would have worked just fine. All you had to do was say that the night we slept together resulted in a child.”

“You’re right, and I apologize,” she said, her voice softer, her expression calmer. She tilted her chin up, straightened her shoulders. “I should have told you. And now that you do know, you should also know that I intend to keep the baby.”

It had never crossed his mind that she wouldn’t, Jack realized. He also realized that she could just as easily have placed the child up for adoption, and if she’d listed the father as unknown, he would never even have known he had a child.

“But just because I’m keeping the baby doesn’t mean I expect anything from you. I don’t. I made the decision on my own and I plan to accept full responsibility. So you don’t have to worry that I’ll make any demands.”

“That was a nice little speech, Lily. Tell me, how long have you been practicing it?” he asked and surprised himself that he managed to sound so calm when inside he was furious.

“I. A while,” she finally said.

Leaning forward, he made sure his eyes were level with hers, and he said, “Whether or not you expect anything from me is irrelevant. I’m that baby’s father and as its father, I not only intend to take financial responsibility for him or her, I also intend to be a part of the child’s life.”

“I see,” was all she said.

It was apparent that he’d thrown her for a loop. But had she really expected him simply to walk away from his responsibility to the baby? To her?

“I’m sure we’ll be able to work something out with visitation,” she offered. “Lots of families do it. Of course, we’ll have to wait until the baby’s older. Then we can set up a schedule where we swap holidays and extra time in the summers.”

“I don’t think you understand what I’m saying, Lily. I intend to be a part of this child’s life from day one—not four or five years down the line.”

“But surely you realize a baby needs to be with its mother,” she insisted and he could hear the thread of alarm in her voice.

“It needs its father, too. I have no intention of being a parttime father, one of those men who has visitation every other weekend and alternates holidays. I want to be a part of it all—the late-night feedings, the first steps. Everything.”

Lily pushed to her feet. “I won’t let you take my baby from me,” she told him, her voice firm, defiance in her eyes. “I don’t care who your family is or how much money you have, I’ll fight you. I’ll fight you with every breath in me before I let you take my baby.”

“It’s our baby, Lily. Our baby.”

She folded her arms protectively over her abdomen. But her eyes never wavered as she spat out, “I mean it, Jack.

I’ll fight you every step of the way. I won’t let you take the baby from me.”

Standing, he walked over to her. He had a good six inches on her and knew he could be intimidating. Hadn’t he been told time and again that his strong physical presence was as big an asset in the courtroom as was his skill as a lawyer? But if she was intimidated, Lily didn’t show it. She held her ground, stood with him toe-to-toe. With her claws drawn and her eyes sparking fire, she reminded him of a cornered mama cat, fighting to protect her kitten. And he couldn’t help but admire her for it. “Do you really think I’m such a heartless monster? That I would take our baby from its mother?” he asked.

She eyed him warily. “But you said you wanted to be there for everything.”

“And I do,” he said and touched her cheek. “A baby needs a mother and a father.”

“I don’t understand. The baby can’t be with both of us all the time.”

“Sure it can. All we have to do is get married.”

Three

“You can’t be serious,” Lily told Jack, unable to believe the man had actually suggested that they marry.

“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.”

“Then you’re either crazy or you’re a fool,” she said and moved away from him. She retreated behind her desk, wanting the sense of normalcy and control that it represented.

“Why? Because I want to give our baby a real home with both of its parents? It sounds pretty reasonable to me.”

“But we don’t know anything about each other.”

He walked over to the desk and took the seat directly across from her. “That’s easily fixed. Ask away. What do you want to know about me?”

“Jack …”

“All right, I’ll start. My full name is John Ryan Cartwright, IV, but I’ve been called Jack since I was in diapers. I’m single, never been married. My parents are Sandra and John Cartwright. I have two sisters, Courtney and Elizabeth. My Cartwright ancestors were English Puritans from Massachusetts who were among the first settlers in the state. On my mother’s side my claim to fame is Nathan Hale as an ancestor,” he said.

“Jack, this isn’t necessary,” she informed him, because just listening to him drove home how truly unsuitable they were. She didn’t belong in his world, never would.

“It is necessary because we’ve created a child together, a child who’s going to need both of its parents. If the only way to achieve that is by the two of us learning about each other, then I want you to know everything there is to know about me.”

Seeing the determined look on his face, Lily didn’t waste her breath trying to reason with him. Once he was finished, she would try to make him see that marriage was not a viable option.

“Now let’s see, where was I? You already know that I’m a lawyer with the firm of Cartwright and Associates which was founded by my great-great-great grandfather. I became the firm’s managing partner last year when my father retired. I serve on the board of Eastwick Cares. I also serve on the boards of two other nonprofit agencies because I believe one person can make a difference and that by giving back to the community we make that difference. I own my home and have a boat that I like to take out on Long Island Sound whenever I get the chance. I gross roughly $250,000 a year from my law practice and have a stock portfolio that produces another six figures. My favorite food is spaghetti. My favorite dessert is bananas Foster.” Rising, he came around the desk to where she stood. He brushed his knuckles along her cheek. “And I have a real weakness for redheads with skin like silk.”

Lily closed her eyes a moment and, just as she had done that night in December, felt herself grow weak at his touch.

“Marry me, Lily. Make a home with me for our baby.”

He made it sound so simple. Get married, raise their baby together.

“It is that simple,” he told her.

Only then did Lily realize she’d spoken aloud. Needing to break the hypnotic pull he seemed to have on her, she stepped back and crossed her arms. “You’re wrong. It isn’t simple,” she insisted. And she couldn’t afford to make the mistake of believing it was. She’d done that far too often growing up. She wouldn’t do it now. Not when she had her baby’s happiness at stake.

“Why not?”

“Because we come from entirely different worlds.”

“If you’re talking about the money—“

“I’m not,” she said. “But it is a factor. For starters, I don’t own my home. I live in a rental apartment. My annual salary is substantially less than yours. I have a modest savings account and a small IRA account, but no stock portfolio. I have a five-year-old car and a bike, but no boat.”

“Those are material things. They’re not important.”

“It’s not just the monetary differences, Jack. You have ancestors you can trace back for generations. You have parents, sisters, a family. You know who you are, where you came from,” she said, trying to explain. “Do you know how far back I can trace my ancestors? Twenty-seven years ago—to me. I do know that my name is Lily because that’s what the note pinned on my blanket said and there’s an L engraved on this locket that I was wearing,” she said, lifting the gold locket. “As for the name Miller, it was the name of the street where the church I was left in was located.”

“Lily, I’m sorry—“

“Don’t be,” she said and turned away, not wanting to see pity in his eyes, not wanting him to see the tears threatening in hers. “Surely you can see now that the idea of us marrying, even if it is for the baby’s sake, is ridiculous.”

“Why? Because you don’t have some pedigree? Do you really think that I’m that shallow? That I would judge you on the basis of something as inconsequential as where you were born and who your parents were?”

“I’d hardly call not knowing who you are or where you came from inconsequential. For all we know, I could be the daughter of an ax murderer.”

“Or the daughter of a king,” he countered.

But kings didn’t leave their babies. And wealthy, handsome men from prestigious families didn’t marry orphans who not even their mothers had wanted.

She felt him come up behind her. “So maybe I don’t know where you were born or who your family is, but you know what I do know?” He rested his hands upon her shoulders. “I know that you’re kind and caring. I know that as a counselor, you’ve made a difference in the lives of dozens and dozens of kids. I know that because of you a lot of the kids who’ve come through that door have a chance to make it, because counseling them isn’t just a job to you. You care about them.”

Since she’d become pregnant, her emotions had been on a roller coaster. Tears which she’d seldom shed even at the darkest times in her life were now always just a look or a word away.

“I also know that while you may not have planned this baby, you already love it and that you’ll do what’s right for it.” He turned her to face him, tipped her chin up with his fingertip. “And the right thing is for us to get married. To provide a real home and family for our baby.”

“But we can do that without getting married,” she insisted.

“How? By shuffling him or her from your apartment to my house? What kind of life is that for a child? What our baby needs is security, Lily—and I don’t mean just financially. Our baby needs a real family and a real home with both parents there to tuck him in at night, to have both of us there when she wakes up from a bad dream. Don’t you want our baby to have those things?”

“Of course I do,” she told him. Being part of a real family had been the one thing she’d wanted all of her life. It had been what she’d put on her list for Santa. It had been what she’d wished for each time she’d blown out the candles on a birthday cake. And it had been the one thing she had never had. That she still didn’t have.

“We can never give our baby those things as single parents.”

She knew he was right. Yet a part of her couldn’t help but feel disappointed. “What about love?” she asked and lowered her gaze. The one thing she had always believed was that when she did marry, it would be to someone she loved and who loved her in return. “Marriage is more than sharing a house with someone. What chance would a marriage between us have when we don’t love one another?”

“Who says we need to love one another? We like and respect each other. We’re going to share a child. And we already know that we’re sexually compatible. There are a lot of very successful marriages that are based on a great deal less.”

Lily jerked her eyes upward. She had been so focused on what a marriage between them would mean to their baby that she hadn’t considered what it would mean to her, to him. “You mean you would want this to be a real marriage?”

He smiled at her and Lily felt that fluttering in her stomach just as she had that night at the ball when he had looked at her the first time. “I don’t see why it shouldn’t be. I intend to honor our vows and would expect you to do the same. Since I don’t think either of us plans to lead a life of celibacy, it only makes sense that we would share a bed.”

“I guess you’re right,” she said because everything he said made sense.

“I am. You’ll see.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “And I think the sooner we get married the better.”

A wave of panic hit her. “But what about your family, your friends? What will they think? What will people say?”

“They’ll think I’m a lucky guy,” he assured her.

Or maybe they would think he’d lost his mind. Perhaps they both had because she was going to marry Jack Cartwright. She only hoped neither of them lived to regret it.

She was as skittish as a colt, Jack thought as he looked across the seat of his car to Lily. Her hands were clenched, her body stiff and she’d had him stop twice during the thirty-minute drive for bathroom breaks. She’d claimed it was a hazard of being pregnant, but he suspected a big part of it was nerves.

Not that he could blame her. He had surprised himself when he’d blurted out that they should get married. But within minutes of doing so, he’d realized it was the right thing to do. He’d known right away that Lily had way too much pride to allow him to take care of her and the baby financially. So he hadn’t even bothered suggesting it. Besides he had meant what he said—a kid really did need both parents. And while he might not have planned on becoming a father in quite this way, now that it was happening, he wanted to be a real father in every way. That meant providing his child with the same love and security he’d known as a child. And the only way to do that was for him and Lily to become man and wife.

Once he’d made that decision, he had approached her objections as he did an opponent in the courtroom. One by one he had shot those objections down. He hadn’t exactly played fair, he admitted. When she’d told him about her family—or lack thereof—he could only imagine how painful and lonely it must have been for her growing up. So he had used her own feelings about family against her and gotten her to agree to marry him. And before she could change her mind, he’d set things into motion—first by hustling her to the courthouse the next day to get a marriage license and now by taking her to meet his parents.

Jack thought about the ring in his pocket. She’d claimed she didn’t need an engagement ring when he’d suggested they shop for one. He’d never seen her wear anything except the gold locket. And while it was possible she was one of those rare women who didn’t covet jewelry, after checking into her background he suspected few people had thought to give Lily shiny baubles. He also doubted that she would consider jewelry as one of the basic necessities in life. He wanted her to have the ring. He’d even planned to give it to her when he’d arrived at her apartment to pick her up for the trip to his parents’ home. But one look at her and he could see she was a bundle of nerves. So he’d decided to wait.

“Are you sure I’m dressed okay?” she asked.

“You look beautiful,” he assured her. It was true. The silky skirt skimmed her still-trim hips and gave him a glimpse of those killer legs. The apricot-colored sweater top gently curved over her breasts and the large-grapefruit-sized bump in her belly. Were it not for that bulge, he would never have known she was pregnant.

“Is it much farther?” she asked.

“About ten minutes,” he said. “Do you need me to stop again?”

“No. I can wait.”

When he saw her plucking at her skirt, he reached over and caught her hand. “Try to relax. It’s just brunch.”

“I know.”

But he knew the prospect of brunch with his parents and sisters had made her anxious. He assumed it was nerves that accounted for her allowing him to continue holding her hand for the remainder of the drive. “This is it,” he said as he approached the gates to his parents’ home. After he’d punched in the code, the gates swung open and he drove along the landscaped driveway leading to the house.

“It’s beautiful. And big.”

“Not big enough when you have two younger sisters,” he said, hoping to ease the rush of nerves he detected. “All I can say is thank heavens for the mudroom. It’s the one place I could go and not worry about being invaded by females.”

She smiled. “I’m trying to picture you as a boy dodging your sisters.”

“Trust me, it wasn’t easy,” he told her and pulled the car to a stop in the circular drive. Quickly, he got out and opened the passenger’s door for Lily. He offered his hand, and once again she took it.

“Thanks,” she said.

When the front door opened, he squeezed her fingers and whispered in her ear, “Whatever you do, don’t eat anything my mother cooked.”

Before she could respond, his mother was there. “Lily, I can’t tell you how glad I am to meet you. I’m Sandra, Jack’s mother.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs. Cartwright,” she began.

“It’s Sandra, dear,” his mother told her and ignoring Lily’s proffered hand, she hugged her instead.

“Sandra, don’t smother the girl,” his father said as he appeared at the door. “I’m John Cartwright.”

“Mr. Cartwright,” Lily said and looked relieved when his father merely took her hand in both of his.

“Son,” he said, acknowledging him with a nod. “You’d both better come inside before your sisters and Alice attack this poor girl on the doorstep.”

“Yes, yes, come in,” his mother told her. “I do hope you’re hungry, Lily. Alice has whipped up a fabulous brunch for us and I made my famous liver mousse.”

Jack leaned close and whispered to Lily, “Remember what I told you. Stay away from the liver mousse.”

But Lily didn’t stay away from the liver mousse. Jack bit back a wince as he watched her eat another spoonful, then reach for her water glass again. “Be sure to save room for dessert,” Jack told her. “Alice makes the best strawberry shortcake in Connecticut.”

“It’s true,” his sister Courtney chimed in. “She uses real whipped cream.”

“It sounds delicious,” Lily said.

“Jack tells us you’re a counselor for Eastwick Cares,” his mother said. “He says that you work with the troubled teens in the program.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She looked up, relief in her eyes as Alice whisked away the liver mousse. “Thank you.”

“Lily’s really amazing with those kids,” Jack said. “The number of teens who stay in school and stick with the program has nearly doubled since she’s been there.”

“It’s the kids who do the work,” she informed him. “All I do is listen.”

“Your family must be very proud of you,” his mother responded.

“Lily doesn’t have any family,” Jack informed his mother and wanted to kick himself for not telling his mother to steer clear of the subject.

“What Jack means is that I’m an orphan. I never knew who my parents were.”

“I’m so sorry, dear. I didn’t know. Jack.” She said his name sharply. “You should have said something to us. Now I’ve gone and embarrassed this dear girl.”

“I’m not embarrassed, Mrs. Cartwright, and please don’t feel you need to apologize or feel sorry for me. The truth is, I’ve always believed I was pretty lucky because I’ve never had to worry about living up to anyone’s expectations but my own.”

“She’s right,” Courtney said. “Is it too late for me to be an orphan?”

Everyone laughed and Jack was relieved to have some of the tension ebb.

“Well, once you and Jack are married, you’ll be a Cartwright and we’ll be your family,” his mother said.

“Are you going to take the name Cartwright or keep your maiden name?” his sister Elizabeth asked.

“Actually, I haven’t really thought about it,” Lily replied.

“I think when I get married I’ll keep my own name,” Courtney declared.

“In my day, a woman took her husband’s name,” his mother said.

“Whatever Lily decides will be fine with me,” Jack told them, wanting to end the discussion.

“So, Lily, have you and Jack decided on a date and place for the wedding yet?” Courtney asked.

“Not yet,” Lily said. “Everything has happened kind of fast.”

“I was thinking that next weekend would be good and unless Lily wants to have a church service, I thought we would just go to the justice of the peace.” He looked across the table at her. “Does that sound all right to you?”

“The justice of the peace sounds fine.”

“A justice of the peace? You can’t be serious, Jack,” his mother proclaimed. “A woman’s wedding day is one of the most important days of her life. I’m sure Lily doesn’t want to take her vows in some dark and dingy office. Do you, dear?”

“I really don’t mind,” Lily offered.

“It’s hardly a dark and dingy office, mother. The building underwent a million-dollar renovation just last year,” Jack pointed out.

“That’s beside the point. You and Lily deserve someplace more suitable.”

“It’s all right, Mrs. Cartwright—“

“It’s Sandra, dear. You must call me Sandra.”

“Sandra,” Lily repeated. “The justice of the peace’s office is fine with me. I really don’t want a lot of fuss.”

“Well, you deserve to be fussed over,” his mother declared. “And I simply won’t hear of you being married in any justice of the peace’s office. Your wedding day should be a memorable affair for both of you and we intend to make it one. We just have to figure out where to have it.”

“May and June are big months for weddings,” Courtney pointed out. “I’m sure all the good places are already booked. My friend Sue had to reserve the Eastwick Hotel for her reception a year ago.”

“Which is why we’ll go to the justice of the peace’s office,” Jack insisted.

“Nonsense,” his mother said and waved him off.

“Mother, why don’t we just have it here?” Courtney suggested. “We could hold it in the gardens.”

“That’s a wonderful idea, Courtney. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it,” his mother said. “Everything’s in bloom right now and the temperatures are mild. The garden would be the perfect setting for a wedding.”

“We can set up an arbor of roses and we should drape the guests’ chairs with white covers and bows,” Courtney suggested.

“Yes. Yes. And we’ll have a white runner for Lily to walk down the aisle—” his mother added.

“Before you start picking out wedding china for them, maybe you should ask Lily and Jack if this is what they want,” Elizabeth pointed out.

Jack mouthed the words thank you. He could have kissed his sister in that moment. At twenty-six, Elizabeth was seven years his junior. No one had been more surprised than him when the kid sister who’d gone off to college with her cheerleader’s pom-poms had returned home a serious young woman and enrolled in law school. It had also been a surprise when she’d chosen to work in the D.A.'s office instead of joining the family firm.

“Elizabeth’s right,” his father said.

“But, John—“

“Sandra, it’s up to them,” his father informed her. “Jack? Lily? How do you feel about having the wedding here?”

“It’s Lily’s call,” Jack answered and looked across the table at her.

“Please, Lily,” Courtney began from her seat beside Lily. She grabbed Lily’s hand and Jack recognized the look Courtney offered up to Lily. His baby sister had used that same sad-eyed look on him to get her way from the time she could walk. “Say you’ll do the wedding here, Lily. Please.”

“I hate to see everyone go to so much trouble,” Lily told her.

“It won’t be any trouble at all,” Courtney said. “Will it, Mother?”

“None whatsoever.”

“We can use Felicity Farnsworth. She’s a wedding planner,” Courtney explained. “She’s handling Emma Dearborn and Reed Kelly’s wedding for them and I heard Emma say at the club last week that she turned over all the details for the wedding to Felicity and that she’s doing a fabulous job.”

“That’s an excellent idea. I’ll call Emma’s mother and see if she can get Felicity today. We have a lot to do. I don’t think we can afford to wait until tomorrow to get started.” She looked over at Lily. “Lily, you’ll need to tell me what flowers you like and—“

“Hang on a second, Mother,” Jack said before things went any further. “I haven’t heard Lily agree to any of this yet.” He looked over at Lily. “What do you think? Are you okay about having the wedding here? Because if you’re not, all you have to do is say so.”

Lily looked around the table at the four pairs of eyes trained on her, then back to him. “I’m okay with it.”

“Good, then I’ll see if I can reach Mrs. Dearborn for Felicity’s number. In the meantime, you and I will need to work on a guest list and a menu,” his mother told Lily. “I’m thinking mini beef Wellingtons, a pasta station and maybe I could make some mini spinach quiches—“

“No,” Jack said in unison with his father and both of his sisters. The joint protest did what none of them singularly could have done. It stopped his mother cold.

“But you all loved my spinach quiche. What about you, Lily? Do you like spinach quiche?”

“I … um … I’m not really a spinach fan,” she said and dropped her gaze.

Jack smiled, proud of Lily and not at all surprised that she learned fast. “You heard Lily, mother. The bride doesn’t like spinach quiche.”

“Well, I could do a quiche Lorraine instead,” his mother suggested.

“Darling, you’re going to have far too much to do to bother with cooking,” his father told her. “Why don’t we let Alice and the caterers handle the food?”

She seemed to consider that a moment. “You’re probably right. We do have a lot to do and not much time to do it. Courtney, would you see if you can get Mrs. Dearborn on the phone for me? And, Elizabeth, could you get me a notepad and a pen?” She stood and placed her napkin on the table. “Lily and Jack, let’s go into the library and start making a list. John, would you tell Alice we’ll have coffee and dessert there?”

“Of course.”

The rest of them pushed their chairs away from the table and stood. Jack walked around the table to Lily. She had a glazed look in her eyes and he could only imagine how overwhelmed she must be. He reached for her hand and squeezed her fingers. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

“Sandra, why don’t you ladies go ahead and get started?” John said. “I’d like to have a word with Jack.”

Once his mother, Lily and his sisters had left the dining room, Jack waited for his father to return from the kitchen where he’d passed along the instructions to Alice. He hadn’t been surprised that his father wanted to speak with him. He had hit his parents with the news about Lily’s pregnancy and announced their plans to marry only the previous morning. Both of them had been shocked, but there had been no recriminations, no lectures—only their unconditional support and love. Yet he hadn’t missed the concern in his father’s eyes.

“Why don’t we go outside so I can smoke a cigar,” his father suggested when he returned to the dining room. “Your mother doesn’t like me smelling up the place.”

“Mother doesn’t like you smoking those at all,” Jack reminded him.

His father shrugged. “It’s my only vice.”

It was true, Jack thought. His father truly was a good man, an honest man who was devoted to his wife and family. It had been his father who had made him want to follow in his footsteps and study law. It had been his father who had taught him responsibility. And it was because of the lessons that John Cartwright had taught him that he’d known that marrying Lily was the right thing to do.

Once he’d lit his cigar, his father said, “Let’s walk a bit.”

Located on five acres, his parents’ home looked like what it was—a wealthy family’s estate. In addition to the five bedrooms and seven baths, the fourteen-thousand-square-foot house had every amenity: five fireplaces, a library, a billiard room, garden room and a gourmet kitchen. The place even boasted tennis courts, a pool and a pool house with a full kitchen, living room, bedroom and Japanese bath. Yet, his parents had managed to make the place a real home, welcoming and warm. He hoped Lily had found both his family and their home that way.

“Lily seems like a nice girl,” his father said as he puffed on the cigar.

“She is,” Jack told him. “She was pretty nervous about coming here today and meeting you. I think she expected you all to resent her for what’s happening. So I appreciate how kind you’ve been under the circumstances.”

“I don’t see any reason why we should resent her. She didn’t make this baby by herself.”

“No, she didn’t,” Jack said. He had to give his parents credit. Since he’d dropped the bombshell yesterday about Lily’s pregnancy and his intention to marry her, his parents had offered no recriminations or unsolicited advice. The only thing either of them had asked was whether he was sure the child was his. Once he had assured them it was, they had simply asked how they could help.

His father followed the path toward the small stream that ran along the property. Growing up, he had often walked this path with his father. It had been at the stream that his father had first told him the facts of life. It was here that his father had spoken to him about women and responsibility. It was at the stream that he had first told his father that he wanted to be a lawyer like him. Jack knew his father had wanted to come here for a reason. So he waited, knowing his father would tell him what was on his mind when he was ready.

“I had a call from Tom Carlton last night,” he began. “He said he landed another major backer for the Cartwright for Senate Campaign. All he’s waiting for is the word from you to announce your candidacy.”

“Yes, I heard. He left me a message,” Jack said, remembering the voice mails left at his office and his home. He had yet to call Carlton back.

“He was concerned because he hadn’t heard back from you and wanted to know how to get in touch with you. I told him we were expecting you today and I’d have you call him.”

“I’ll give him a call when we get back to the house.”

His father took another puff on his cigar. “You given any thought to how your marriage to Lily might affect your political plans?”

“I’m still not sure what my political plans are. But other than finding out Lily’s feelings on the subject of me running for office, I don’t see why my marriage has anything to do with it.”

“It shouldn’t,” his father told him. “But Connecticut is a conservative state. And Tom Carlton and his group are right at the top of the conservative train. They pride themselves on their heritage and strong family values. They like their candidates and their candidates’ families to fit the same bill. And as nice as I think Lily is, she might not be what they consider the proper wife for a senator. This unplanned pregnancy and quickie wedding might not sit well with them either.”

Jack scowled. “Then that’s their problem, not mine. Lily wasn’t born with a silver spoon in her mouth. She’s overcome enormous odds and made something of herself. So what you, Carlton or anyone else thinks of her suitability doesn’t matter. I’m not embarrassed by her background. I’m proud of her for not allowing it to hold her back. And nothing you or anyone else says will make me feel otherwise.”

“If it did, then you wouldn’t be the man I thought you were,” his father said.

“If you feel that way, then why the lecture?”

“Because I think you need to be prepared for people’s reaction to your marriage to Lily. There are a lot of small-minded people, even in Eastwick, who will think she trapped you into this marriage and that you’re ruining your political future.”

“The only opinions that matter to me are my family’s,” Jack told him.

His father nodded and they continued to walk in silence. Yet his father’s words reminded him of the blackmail note he’d found in his pocket a week ago. He’d dismissed it and would do so again, he admitted. But listening to his father’s warnings now made him wonder who the author had been. He’d learned from Lily that it had been Bunny Baldwin who had given her the ticket to the ball. As the publisher of the Eastwick Social Diary and a maven for gossip, he wouldn’t have put it past Bunny to have discovered that he was the father of Lily’s baby. But the blackmail note had shown up after Bunny was dead, and unless Bunny’s ghost had decided to shake him down for cash, it had to be someone else.

Maybe someone Bunny had told?

Jack frowned. The note had appeared while he was at Abby Talbot’s home. Abby was Bunny’s daughter and the pair had been close. It was conceivable that Bunny had told Abby. Despite the fact that Bunny had always spoken highly of this counselor named Lily Miller, the scandal would have been hard for Bunny to ignore. In fact, it was just the sort of dirt that filled the pages of the Diary.

He recalled how distraught Abby had been following her mother’s death. Too distraught to execute a blackmail plan, he reasoned. Besides, Abby simply didn’t strike him as a blackmailer. Her husband, Luke, was another matter. An image of Luke on the day of the funeral, slipping away and disappearing into another part of the house, coming outdoors to speak on his cell phone, came to mind. While the fellow was pleasant enough, there was something different about him—something that Jack couldn’t quite put his finger on. The man had always struck him as a loner, but it went beyond that. Luke Talbot was … secretive. Maybe Abby had repeated what Bunny had told her to Luke in pillow talk. For that matter, Abby could easily have mentioned it to the Debs Club.

Jack thought about the five women given the nickname by the country club years ago. They were a close bunch and they had all been at the black-and-white ball. If Bunny had told Abby about him and Lily, Abby could have easily mentioned it to her friends at one of their luncheons. He thought about the other four women now—Emma Dearborn, Mary Duvall, Vanessa Thorpe and Felicity Farnsworth. All of them had been at Abby’s house following the funeral. As he thought about the violet-eyed Emma Dearborn, he couldn’t see her as a blackmailer. The woman had her own money. She had a successful art gallery and she was engaged to Reed Kelly. Where was the motive? As for Mary Duvall, the one-time wild child of the Duvall family had undergone a metamorphosis since her grandfather David’s stroke. She’d become devoted to the older man—hardly the actions of a blackmailer.

That left Vanessa Thorpe and Felicity Farnsworth. Stuart’s death had left his much younger wife, Vanessa, set for life. He could see no reason for the petite blonde to resort to blackmail. And as for Felicity Farnsworth. He had heard she’d had financial troubles following her divorce a number of years back. But from all accounts her wedding-planning business was doing great. If the lady was the blackmailer, she certainly didn’t act like one.

“You think Lily knows what a hornet’s nest your marriage and her pregnancy are going to stir up?”

“She’s a smart woman. I’m sure she has an idea,” Jack told him.

“You’re probably right. But whispers and innuendos … they tend to be harder on a female. How do you think she’ll handle it?”

“She’s a strong woman. She won’t let a little gossip bother her.”

“I sure hope you’re right, son. Because the way I see it, she’s going to get the brunt of the talk and she’s the one who’s going to have to do most of the adjusting.”

“Marriage is going to be an adjustment for both of us,” Jack pointed out.

“True. But it’s going to be her life that has to change the most. She’s going to suddenly be a wife, a mother and have to take on the Cartwright mantle practically all at once. That’s a tough assignment for any woman.”

“I’m going to do everything I can to make the transition easier for her,” he assured his father. “But like I said, Lily’s a smart and strong woman. She’s not going to let a few wagging tongues bother her.”

“Take it from a man who’s seen his wife through three pregnancies, it doesn’t matter how smart or strong a woman is, when she’s carrying a baby, you’re dealing with a whole other woman.”

“I’ll remember that.”

His father fell silent. He said nothing for a long time as they continued to walk. But Jack knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t finished. Whatever else he had to say, he would do so in his own time.

John took another puff on the cigar and as they approached the stream, he asked, “I ever tell you about the first time I met your mother?”

“She said you met at a dance,” Jack responded.

“It was at the military ball actually. I was a college senior and captain of my ROTC unit and she came with her cousin, Bess. I thought I was pretty hot stuff back then. And the truth is, I was. I had more than my share of dates and was in no hurry to settle down,” he continued as they stopped on the bridge that spanned the stream. “Then I saw your mother. There she was standing in the doorway—this slip of a girl in a long white dress with hair the color of coffee and sparkling green eyes. I took one look at her and it hit me.”

“What hit you?”

“The Italians call it the lightning bolt. And I guess that’s as good a way to describe it as any. Because I felt this jolt to my system. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. And I knew right then and there that she was the one for me, that she was the woman I was going to marry.”

As he listened to his father, Jack couldn’t help thinking about his own reaction to Lily the first time he’d seen her. There had been something about her that he hadn’t been able to resist, too. And the truth was he hadn’t been able to forget her either. Even with the shock of learning about the baby, the pull was still there.

“Unfortunately, your mother didn’t feel quite the same way and it took me a while to convince her that I was the right man for her,” his father added.

“How did you manage that?”

“I gave her some space and time to figure out for herself what she wanted. Once I took off the pressure, she realized what she wanted was me.” He paused, looked at him. “I got the impression that Lily isn’t quite as sure as you are about this marriage.”

“She isn’t,” Jack admitted and the truth was that while he knew marrying was the right thing to do for the baby’s sake, he had his own misgivings. “But unlike you, I can’t give Lily the time to figure out that marriage to me is the right thing.” Because if he gave her time, he wasn’t at all sure she wouldn’t change her mind.

Four

Maybe Jack had been right. They should have simply gone to the justice of the peace’s office, Lily thought as she sat at the table in the Cartwrights’ library. How did something that sounded so simple become so complicated? Once Sandra Cartwright had reached Felicity Farnsworth, the wedding planner had offered to come right over with books, pictures and everything needed to plan her wedding.

Her wedding.

Lily’s stomach pitched. She still couldn’t believe she’d agreed to marry Jack. In truth, she still found it hard to believe that he’d asked her. No, not asked, she reminded herself. He’d all but insisted.

He might have insisted, but you agreed, Lily girl.

It was true. She had agreed—for the baby’s sake. She was doing it for the baby, she told herself, so that her child would have what she’d never had—parents, a family. Not just any family, she reminded herself. Her child would be a member of the Cartwrights.

They had not been what she’d expected, Lily admitted. When she’d first seen their home, she’d wanted to turn and run. She probably would have, too, had Jack not been there to stop her. Oh, she’d rubbed elbows with rich people before because of her job. She’d even visited a mansion or two for fund-raising. But she had never been a part of that world, never been welcomed into it with open arms—literally. She could still remember the shock of being hugged by the elegant Sandra Cartwright. She hadn’t expected that. No, she had expected Jack’s mother to be cool, to treat her as the unsuitable woman who was ruining her son’s life. But Sandra hadn’t. Nor had Jack’s father or sisters. In fact, they’d all been so nice to her that she’d been on the verge of blubbering—another side effect of her pregnancy.

“We’ll need to decide on what type of wedding cake you want,” Felicity said, breaking into her thoughts. “Do you have anything special in mind, Lily?”

“No, not really,” she told the voluptuous blonde who had breezed into the Cartwright home more than two hours ago with enough energy and enthusiasm to power a ship. Dressed all in black, Felicity Farnsworth had been as cheerful as the butterfly clips she wore in her hair.

“Not to worry,” Felicity said and flashed a smile that lit up her green eyes. She pulled out another thick binder from her arsenal and plopped it on the table. “Let’s see if we can find something in here that you like.”

“Ooh, that one’s lovely,” Sandra said.

“So is this one,” Courtney said enthusiastically. “And this one.”

“That one looks like a Barbie-doll cake,” Elizabeth said dryly.

Lily sat back and watched the exchange. There was something warm and endearing about the dynamics of the Cartwright family, the way they reacted to one another, the affection beneath the squabbles, the sense of belonging. They were a real family. She looked over at the twin fireplaces and the mantels filled with family photographs. More pictures fought for space on the desk and library shelves. Beyond the library, which spilled into the living room, she saw the baby grand piano, its gleaming top covered with more photos of Jack as a boy, at graduation, of Elizabeth at her sweet sixteen party, of his parents celebrating their anniversary, of the family gathered around the Christmas tree. Someday her baby’s picture would be there. Her baby would be a part of this family. Her child would belong. It was the reason she was doing this, Lily reminded herself again. She just wished that she didn’t have to mess up Jack’s life to make it happen.

“This one is beautiful,” Sandra Cartwright declared. “What do you think, Lily?”

Lily blinked at the sound of her name and realized all eyes were on her. She looked down at the book and there was the photograph of an elegant white wedding cake trimmed with sugar roses and real white tea roses. “I think Sandra’s right. It’s beautiful.”

“So do you want to go with this one?” Felicity asked.

“Yes,” Lily said and once again she was hit by the realization that she was getting married.

“Do you have any preference to the filling? Almond and butter cream are the most popular, but we can have the pastry chef do just about anything you like,” Felicity informed her.

“What about one of those cakes where every layer is different?” Courtney suggested. “Tiffany Aldrich had one at her wedding. The cake had six tiers and each one was a different flavor. I had a slice of the Italian cream and it was to die for.”

“Well, we can certainly do that if that’s what Lily wants,” Felicity announced. “Do you think you’d like the multi-flavored layers for your cake?”

“Six tiers sounds like a lot of cake,” Lily remarked as she looked again at the photograph of the rose wedding cake, which consisted of only three layers and a small bride and groom on the top.

“That depends on how many people you plan to have at the wedding,” Felicity explained. “Do you have an idea of the number of guests you expect?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it. I just assumed it would be small, Jack and me and his family, maybe a few friends.”

“But, Lily dear, surely you realize that Jack has a great many friends and associates, not to mention the friends of the family who would expect to be invited,” Sandra said. “Why, I think at a minimum we’ll have three hundred guests.”

“Three hundred!” Lily repeated and she could feel her stomach drop at the thought of all those people watching her.

“There’ll be no more than thirty,” Jack announced.

Lily swung her gaze to the doorway where Jack stood. He was wearing charcoal-gray slacks and a white shirt, having ditched his jacket and opened his shirt collar. And she had never been so happy to see someone in her life, Lily thought. His eyes never left her face and as he walked toward her the knot in her stomach eased. He stood behind her, placed his hands on her shoulders. He gave her a gentle squeeze and Lily could breathe again.

“Thirty?” Sandra Cartwright said aghast. “You can’t possibly be serious, Jack. Why, my garden club alone has thirty.”

“Your garden club isn’t going to be invited, Mother.”

“But, Jack—“

“Save it, Mother. Lily and I want something small and intimate with just family and a few friends. If you can’t do that, then we won’t have the wedding here. We’ll just go back to the original plan and get married in the justice of the peace’s office.”

“Lily dear, try to talk some sense into my thick-headed son,” Sandra said. “Explain to him that it would be an insult not to invite our friends to celebrate your wedding.”

“Actually, I’d rather we kept it small,” she admitted.

“But—“

“You heard the girl, Sandra,” John said as he joined them. “She and Jack don’t want to turn their wedding into a circus. And I can’t say I blame them. If they decide they want to have a big reception later, then we’ll throw them one.”

“Well, I can see that I’m outnumbered here,” Sandra said. She turned to Felicity. “Evidently we’ll need a cake to feed thirty.”

Felicity jotted down details in her notebook. “All right. Now that we’ve taken care of the wedding cake, we’ll need to decide on the groom’s cake. Most grooms like a chocolate cake, but we can do just about anything. Do you have any preference?” she asked Jack.

“Chocolate’s fine,” Jack told her.

“Great. Now what about the menu?”

Lily could feel herself starting to fade. Yet every muscle in her body was tense as Jack continued to rest his hands upon her shoulders. Suddenly she flashed back to that night in his hotel room. She’d been both nervous and excited when she’d first arrived at his room. She couldn’t remember how long she’d stood there waiting, debating whether or not to use the key. Sanity had returned for an instant and she’d turned around, prepared to go. Indecision had her still standing there when the door opened behind her. Jack had said nothing. He’d simply come up behind her and rested his hands on her bare shoulders. Then gently he’d turned her around, lowered his head and kissed her. And all thoughts of leaving had melted beneath the touch of his mouth.

“.we had talked about mini beef Wellingtons,” Sandra Cartwright was saying.

“Lily, do you want the beef Wellington?” Felicity asked.

“I tell you what,” Jack said before she could answer. “Mother, why don’t you and Felicity work up a menu? I’ve got a busy day tomorrow and I’m guessing Lily does, too. I’m sure whatever you decide will be fine with us. Right, Lily?”

“Right,” she said, grateful to him for arranging an escape.

He pulled the chair back for her, and Lily stood. “Just remember, no quiche, Mother. Lily and I are going to need you to help us with everything else.”

“All right,” Sandra said. “I’ll make the quiche Lorraine for you after the wedding,” she told her.

“Thanks,” Lily said. “I’ll look forward to it.”

Ten minutes later, after saying her good-byes and agreeing to speak with Felicity the next day, Lily was in Jack’s car driving through the iron gates.

“I’m sorry for leaving you to the wolves like that,” Jack told her. “Tom Carlton is an old family friend and he had some business to discuss with me before he left town. Unfortunately, it took a lot longer than I’d expected.”

“It’s okay,” she told him, because he seemed genuinely concerned. “I liked your family. They’re not at all what I expected.”

He glanced over at her. “Should I ask what you expected?”

“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t expect them to be so … so nice to me. I mean given who they are and who I am and … and the circumstances.”

His expression darkened. “They’re just people, Lily. As for the circumstances, you didn’t exactly make the baby on your own. We both did. If they were going to be upset with anyone, it would be with me.”

“But—“

“But they’re not upset. The truth is I think my mother is excited. She’s been wanting a grandchild for years. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve heard her complaining that her friends are all grandmothers two and three times over and she doesn’t have even one.”

“Yes, I think I did hear her mention something about that.” Which had surprised Lily. “And she wanted to know what colors I was going to do the nursery in.”

“Speaking of that, we haven’t talked about where we’re going to live. I know you have your apartment and I’m sure it’s nice. But it doesn’t look like it’d be big enough for three of us.”

He was being so tactful, she thought. She knew her one-bedroom apartment was small. She’d already put in a request for a two-bedroom in anticipation of the baby. But she had been hoping to get a house, something with a yard.

“My house has more room and I thought, at least for now, we could live there. Then if you want to find or build something else after the baby comes, we can do that.”

Talk of moving to Jack’s house brought everything home again. She was marrying Jack Cartwright. She was moving to his home. She could feel the panic setting in again.

“If you’d like, we can swing by the place and you can take a look at it, see if there’s anything you want to change.”

“That’s okay. I’m sure the house will be fine.”

“But don’t you want to at least see it first—“

“Maybe another time. I’m feeling a little tired.” And more than a little worried about whether she was making the right decision—not only for her and the baby, but for Jack, too.

At the sound of Lily’s sigh, Jack looked across the seat at her. She had her head tipped back and her eyes were closed. He didn’t doubt that she was exhausted. What had started out as a casual brunch had turned into a marathon of wedding plans. Of course, he probably should have known that once they had agreed to have the wedding at the house that the woman would turn into a drill sergeant. Sandra Cartwright was not one to do things in half measures. When he’d walked into the library and seen the glazed look in Lily’s eyes he’d known he had to get her out of there.

She’d been a real trooper, he thought as he took the car out onto the interstate. He’d known she’d been nervous, that she’d had misgivings about marrying him. He’d had a few misgivings of his own, he admitted. As his father had pointed out, marriage was tough under ideal circumstances. Their circumstances were anything but ideal. The consensus was that people should marry for love. His parents had. So had a couple of his friends. He and Lily didn’t love one another.

But there was something there—chemistry, attraction, and … and something more. In the four days since he’d spotted her outside the counselor’s office at Eastwick Cares and learned she was pregnant with his child, that something had grown inside him. He cared about her. And not just because of the baby, he admitted. From the way she’d looked at him when he’d come into the library, he wondered if she had felt it, too.

She gasped.

Jack jerked his attention over to Lily. When he saw her rubbing her hand over her stomach, he felt his heart stop a moment. “What’s wrong? Is it the baby?”

She looked over at him with those ghost-blue eyes. “Nothing’s wrong. And yes, it’s the baby. Our son or daughter is kicking again.”

Jack swallowed hard. He looked down at her belly and felt the full impact of her words. Their son or daughter. The life growing inside her was a real person. In four months’ time he would be holding his child in his arms. A tiny boy or girl whom he was responsible for. A tiny boy or girl who would call him Daddy. He looked up at Lily once more. “Does it hurt? The kicking, I mean.”

“I wouldn’t say it hurts. It’s more uncomfortable than anything. Although I have to admit, those kicks are getting harder as the baby gets bigger.”

He turned his attention back to the road. “Is there anything you can do for it?”

She laughed and Jack was struck at the lightness of the sound. It was the first time he’d heard her laugh, he realized. Even the night they’d spent together, she hadn’t laughed. There had been desire and passion and even some sadness he’d detected beneath her surface. But there had been no laughter. “Did I say something funny?” he asked, hoping to hear her laugh again.

“Being pregnant isn’t like the flu, Jack. The only cure is when the baby is born. But until then, ice cream seems to be the only thing that makes him or her settle down.”

“Ice cream? The baby likes ice cream?”

“I think so,” she said, a smile in her voice. “Or maybe it’s me. All I know is that when our little soccer player starts kicking, I haul out the carton of butter pecan ice cream and once I start shoveling it down, the kicking stops.”

Jack laughed. “So our kid likes butter pecan ice cream, huh?”

“Looks that way.”

“How does he or she feel about chocolate fudge?” he asked and flipped on his turning signal.

“I don’t know. Why?” she asked, sitting up straighter as he took the next exit.

“There’s this old-fashioned ice cream parlor not far from here. I thought we’d stop and let our little one decide if he or she is a butter pecan fan like Mom or a chocolate fudge fan like Dad.”

It turned out the baby liked butter pecan mixed with chocolate fudge. As far as he was concerned, the mixture was awful, Jack concluded as he turned onto the street leading to Lily’s apartment. Lily, on the other hand, had found the combination delicious. And he had felt as though he’d made it over a hurdle because she had been more relaxed with him. So he’d picked up a pint of each to take back to her apartment in the hope that the mood would continue. Once again, he thought of the ring in his pocket.

After pulling his car up to the curb of her apartment building and shutting off the engine, he went around and opened Lily’s door. He offered her his hand.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

“No problem,” he told her as he shut her door. He retrieved the bag with the ice cream from the floor of the back seat.

“I’ll take that,” she said. “You don’t have to come upstairs with me.”

Ignoring her, Jack shut the door. “My mother and Grandmother Cartwright taught me always to show a lady to her door.”

For a moment, he thought she was going to argue, but then she decided against it, evidently realizing he had no intention of being swayed. Opening the door to the brick four-plex, she preceded him into the building and up the stairs to the second floor. He’d already expressed his concern about her climbing the stairs and she’d assured him the exercise was good for her and the baby.

When he reached the door of her apartment, she unlocked it, then turned to face him. “Thank you, Jack. I really did like your family.”

“And they liked you,” he told her because it was true.

“Well, then I guess I’ll talk to you later.”

He held up the bag of ice cream. “I think I’d better put this in the freezer.”

“That’s okay, I can take that—“

“Lily, I want to come inside.” She had yet to invite him inside her apartment, meeting him at the door each time he’d arrived. He knew she was uncomfortable. He didn’t blame her. But at some point, they had to get past the awkwardness.

“I really am tired, Jack.”

“I promise not to stay long.” When she hesitated, he told her, “This time next week, you’re going to be my wife.” He stroked her cheek with his fingers. “I’m not expecting anything from you. I just think it would be a good idea if we at least reached a point where we don’t feel uncomfortable with one another before we get married.”

“I know you’re right,” she said. “But it’s not like we’re strangers.”

“No, we’re not. We were drawn to each other for a reason that night and we made a child together. If this marriage is going to work, we’re going to have to learn to trust one another.”

“I do trust you, Jack. I’m just worried about whether or not we’re doing the right thing by getting married.”

“We are,” he assured her and held up the bag of ice cream. “But if I don’t get this in the freezer soon, we’re going to have a whole other set of problems.”

“The kitchen’s right through there,” she told him. “Excuse me for a minute.”

No doubt the bathroom was calling again, he decided. While she was gone, he took the opportunity to study her home. The place was small, smaller than he’d suspected, he realized as he made the short trek to the kitchen and put the ice cream in the freezer. It was neat, clean and colorful. Lily liked bright colors. He hadn’t known that about her. But given the orange print curtains and the dish towels on the counter, the lady surrounded herself with brightness.

She also liked fresh flowers, he noted, spying the arrangement of daisies on the kitchen table and the roses on the coffee table in the living room. Like the kitchen, the living room was small, but bright and cheery. There were lots of homey touches—an afghan on the end of the couch, shelves of books ranging from the latest Sandra Brown thriller to technical books on psychology. There were groupings of candlesticks and books on art and gardening. She liked the Impressionists, he decided, as he checked out two Monet prints. She’d made the place a home.

The only thing that he found missing were photographs. Unlike his and his parents’ homes, there were no photographs scattered about the apartment. There were no snapshots of a young Lily on Santa’s knee. None of her smiling and showing a gap where she’d lost her first tooth. No pictures of a teenaged Lily dressed for the prom. The absence of any family photos told him more about her than anything else he’d learned via background checks and talks with her. It also caused a tightening in his chest for the young Lily who had grown up without the one thing every child deserved—a family. And along with his aching for her, he couldn’t help but feel admiration.

“I’m sorry to take so long,” she said as she returned to the room.

Jack turned at the sound of her voice. “No problem,” he told her and had to keep himself from going to her and taking her in his arms. “I was just checking out your artwork. I see you like Monet.”

“Yes. Degas, too. Someday I’ve promised myself I’m going to make it to Paris and spend a week in the Louvre.”

“You don’t have to wait for someday. We can go after the wedding next week. We are entitled to a honeymoon,” he said and walked over to her. He took her hands in his. “What do you say?”

“I … what about work? We can’t just take off.”

“I’ll clear my schedule and I’m sure you can get some time off from the agency. So, shall I book us some flights?”

“I don’t think so,” she said and tugged her fingers free. She walked across the room. “I wouldn’t be comfortable traveling now … not before the baby comes.”

“Then maybe we’ll go next spring. April in Paris is beautiful. And when it rains, you can smell the chestnut trees. How does that sound?”

“It sounds lovely,” she told him. “Would you like something to drink? I have water, iced tea and soda. I’m afraid I don’t have any wine.”

“Iced tea would be great.” When she disappeared into the kitchen, he slipped his hand into his pocket and fingered the ring box. She’d grown up without family, without having anyone she could rely on but herself. He didn’t ever want her to be alone again. He would be her family, he and their baby.

“Here we go,” she said as she returned to the room carrying a tray with two glasses, a pitcher, a dish of lemons and a bowl with sweetener.

“Here, let me get that,” Jack said, and, taking the tray from her, placed it on the table.

“I wasn’t sure if you liked sugar or sweetener. So I brought both.” She poured them each a glass and handed him his.

Jack took the glass from her and set it down on the table. “Lily, I don’t want tea.”

She paused, set down the other glass.

“Would you come sit for a minute?” he asked and patted the seat next to him on the couch.

She did as he asked. “Is there something wrong? Listen, if you’ve changed your mind about getting married—“

Jack placed his finger over her lips. “I haven’t changed my mind. I wanted to give you this.” He took the ring box from his pocket and opened it. She gasped at the sight of the antique emerald-cut diamond ring set in the platinum band.

Her blue eyes shot up from the ring to his face. “Jack, I told you I didn’t need an engagement ring.”

“I know you did. But this isn’t just any engagement ring. It’s been in my family for nearly two hundred years and it’s said that all the women who’ve worn this ring have enjoyed long, happy marriages.”

“Jack, I can’t—“

“It belonged to my grandmother and has been passed on to the oldest male descendant in each generation. My mother was an only child and I’m her male descendant, so it came to me, to give to my bride. Since you’re going to be my bride, I’d like you to wear it.”

“Jack, I can’t. It’s not right. This is meant to be worn by the woman you lo—“

“It’s meant to be worn by the woman I’ve asked to be my wife. I’m asking you to be my wife, Lily.” He took it from the box and held it out to her. “Will you wear it? For me? For our baby?”

For a moment, he thought she was going to refuse. Then she held out her left hand to him.

He slipped the ring onto her finger and it fitted as though it were made for her. Maybe there was something to the Irish mysticism on his mother’s side of the family, he thought, because the ring looked right on her finger. It felt right.

“It’s beautiful,” she told him as she stared at the ring. She met his gaze. “I promise to take care of it.”

“I know you will.”

“It’s getting late,” she said and stood.

“Right,” he said and walked with her to the door. “I’ll call you in the morning,” he told her and before she could say anything, he leaned in and kissed her. It was just a brush of lips, no open mouth, no hunger and passion. Yet long after he had left the building, got into his car and was heading home, he could still taste her on his lips.

Long after Jack had left, Lily continued to lean against the door. Bringing her hand to her mouth, she brushed her fingers along her lips where Jack’s lips had touched hers. Unlike the kisses they’d shared that night at the ball, this one had been gentle, loving. It had been a kiss of giving, of promise.

He was marrying her because of the baby, she reminded herself. As she lowered her hand, the diamond in the ring caught and reflected the light. Lifting her hand, Lily stared at it. He’d given her his grandmother’s ring.

His grandmother’s ring.

It didn’t mean anything. It was for the baby, she kept telling herself. But she couldn’t shut out Jack’s face, the way he had looked at her, his deep blue eyes filled with warmth, with caring. She closed her eyes to block out the image, but he was still there. She could hear his voice, his words echoing in her ears.

It’s said that all the women who’ve worn this ring have enjoyed long, happy marriages.

It belonged to my grandmother … to give to my bride….

I’m asking you to be my wife, Lily. Will you wear it? For me? For our baby?

Opening her eyes, she stared down at the ring again. She had wondered many times how she would feel on this day. A wonderful man, a man who was handsome, kind and generous, a man of integrity, had asked her to be his wife. He’d slid an heirloom ring on her finger and asked her to marry him.

She should be happy. Her baby was going to have everything she could ever have wanted for it—a loving father, a real family. Her child would never be lonely or alone.

She thought of all that the ring symbolized. It didn’t feel the way she had thought it would, Lily realized, and swiped at the tears sliding down her cheek. Instead of feeling happy, she felt sadder than she had in a long time.

How could you have been so foolish, Lily? After all these years how could you let yourself get sucked in by the fairy tale?

Because that was just what she had done, she admitted. Sensible, practical Lily Miller, the woman who had lived her life without blinders, the woman who never deluded herself, had done just that. She had thought that when this day happened, when a man placed a ring on her finger and asked her to be his wife, that the man who had put it there would have done so because he loved her.

Five

“While Johanna has made considerable progress since she first started counseling at Eastwick Cares, she continues to exhibit trust issues,” Lily said as she dictated notes from her last session. “These trust issues are most likely rooted in her sense of abandonment following her parents’ divorce.”

She’d seen it dozens of times, Lily admitted as she looked over her case notes. Too often when a couple divorced it was the children who came away with the most scars. She’d lost count of the times that children like twelve-year-old Johanna Stevenson blamed themselves. And as the family unit dissolved and the parents spent less and less time with their children in order to resume their own social lives, the children lost their sense of security. As a result, children like Johanna Stevenson felt unwanted, unloved and in the way.

Lily thought of her baby and knew she didn’t want her child ever to feel that way. It was the reason she and Jack had agreed to get married in the first place—to provide their baby with a family. Unlike her, her child would grow up knowing it was loved, feeling secure.

“Knock, knock,” Felicity Farnsworth said as she stuck her head inside the door. “Oh, good. I was hoping I’d catch you before you left for lunch,” she said and breezed inside carrying a white zippered dress bag.

“Felicity, I wasn’t expecting you,” Lily told her as she stood.

“I know you weren’t, but I left you a couple of messages and when I didn’t hear back from you, I figured you were too busy to come to me. So I decided to come to you instead.”

“I’m sorry. I did get your messages, but I’ve been kind of busy,” Lily offered even though that was only half true. She hadn’t called primarily because she felt like a fraud having Jack and his family going to so much trouble when the marriage wasn’t a real one.

“Not a problem,” Felicity told her, her green eyes lighting up her face. Once again dressed in black, she had a bright blue butterfly pin perched on her shoulder. A smaller version was anchored in her choppy blond hair. She smiled. “That’s why you hired me—to take care of all the details for you. And this,” she said, indicating the garment bag that bore the name of a bridal boutique, “is a very important detail.”

“Felicity,” Lily began. “Now’s not a good time. I have another appointment due in fifteen minutes.”

“Then I promise to be out of here in ten. I just need you to try this on and see if you like it. It’s your wedding dress.”

“But I don’t need a wedding dress.” The truth is she hadn’t given a thought to buying one. She had just planned on wearing the pale yellow linen suit she’d bought for Easter.

“Every bride needs a wedding dress. And since you’re too busy to shop for one, I picked out one I thought you might like.” She hung the bag on the back of the door and began unzipping it.

“Really, Felicity. This isn’t necessary. I hardly fit the picture of the blushing bride,” Lily reminded her, keenly aware of her protruding stomach.

“Nonsense,” Felicity told her. “If only virgin brides were allowed to wear wedding gowns, there would be very few wedding gowns sold,” she informed her and removed the dress from the bag.

It was beautiful, Lily thought as she stared at the ivory-colored silk gown. The style was simple. The off-the-shoulder neckline had small silken rosettes at each shoulder. The bodice was fitted, then formed an Empire-style waistline that fell to the floor and would conceal her swollen middle.

“I had to guess at the size,” Felicity said as she held the dress up to Lily. “Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” Lily said and ran her fingers along the fabric. Then she spied the tag sewn into the dress—Vera Wang—and sucked in a breath. She might not know a Vera Wang from a vintage Dior, but what she did know was that both were very, very expensive. “Felicity, I can’t possibly wear this.”

Felicity’s expression fell. “But I thought you liked it.”

“I do like it. In fact, I love it. It’s one of the most beautiful dresses I’ve ever seen. But I can’t afford it.”

“Oh, that,” she said, waving aside the comment. A smile spread across her face “It’s already been taken care of.”

Lily frowned. “What do you mean it’s been taken care of?” she asked, even though she suspected she knew—Jack had been the one to take care of it.

“Mrs. Cartwright had the bill sent to her.”

It didn’t matter whether it had been Jack or his mother, Lily thought. “I’m sorry, Felicity. I know she means well, but I couldn’t possibly let her pay for it. And since I can’t afford it, I’ll just wear something of my own.”

Felicity sobered. “Lily, I understand you wanting to pay your own way. Really, I do. I was married once and I went through some rough times financially when it ended. It took me a long time to get back on my feet and I had to do it on my own. So I know all about the need to feel independent and responsible for yourself.”

“So you understand why I can’t possibly accept the gown.”

“What I understand is that you’re marrying a very wealthy man and into a very wealthy family. The Cartwrights have a position within the Eastwick community. Whether it’s fair or not, people expect a certain level of style from them.”

Lily felt a tightening in her chest. “And I certainly don’t fit the profile of a wife for Jack Cartwright.”

“You do as far as he’s concerned. I think you could wear a fig leaf and that man would be happy. In fact, he might like it better if you came in a fig leaf.”

Lily laughed, as she was sure Felicity meant her to do. “A fig leaf I can afford.”

“But I’m not sure his family would be thrilled with the choice,” Felicity pointed out.

“So what am I supposed to do? Just let Sandra spend a fortune on a dress for me?”

“No. You’re supposed to let the mother of the man you’re going to marry feel that she did something special for you. I know it may seem superficial, but appearances are important to her. She wants to make you feel like you’re one of them. And this is her way of doing it. It’s important to her that she does this for you. It makes her feel like she’s a part of things, that she’s not losing her son.”

Lily could feel herself relenting. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about embarrassing Jack or herself by wearing something that was too common for the woman who was becoming Mrs. Jack Cartwright. “It really is a beautiful dress.”

“Yes, it is. And I think it’s perfect for you. But you don’t have to take my word for it. Why don’t you try it on and let’s see how it looks. For all we know you could be agonizing over whether or not to accept it as a gift for nothing because you might hate the way it looks on you.”

“I doubt that,” Lily said as she looked at the dress again.

“I brought a couple of different shoe styles in two sizes because I wasn’t sure if you were having any problems with swelling.”

Tearing her eyes from the dress, Lily glanced over and saw the shopping bag by the door. “I can’t believe you went to all this trouble.”

“It’s no trouble. It’s what I do and I have to confess I love it. Besides, your fiancé made me promise that I would make this wedding as stress-free for you as possible.”

“Jack asked you to do that?”

“Mmm-hmm. He said it took some arm-twisting to get you to agree to marry him and he wanted everything to be perfect for you.”

Lily swallowed, unsure what to say.

“Come on, let’s see how it fits,” Felicity said, and after locking the door, she took the dress from Lily and waited for her to undress. Felicity held the dress for Lily to step into. Once she had it on, the other woman pulled up the zipper and then began fussing with the rosettes above each shoulder. When she was satisfied, she stood back. “Oh, Lily,” she said, and brought her palms together. Her expression softened. “You look beautiful. And the ivory color, it looks wonderful against your skin. Do you have a mirror anywhere?”

“In the bathroom through there,” Lily said, indicating the door at the far side of the office.

“Then come, see for yourself.”

Lily went into the bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror. It was the dress. It was beautiful, and it made her look different. She didn’t even look pregnant because the design camouflaged her stomach. The off-the-shoulder neckline also exposed more of her than she was used to, including more cleavage, she realized, pressing her hand to her chest. She had never had a big bust and at best, her cleavage had been attained with the help of miracle bras. But her stomach hadn’t been the only thing that had grown since her pregnancy. And while she would never be as full-figured as Felicity, she definitely had more curves. “You don’t think it shows a little too much?”

“I think it looks perfect on you. Hang on, let me get the shoes.” She disappeared into the other room and came back with the shopping bag, then she took out a box that contained a pair of ivory satin pumps with kitten heels. “Let’s try these.”

Lily slipped her feet into the shoes. They fitted perfectly. The pointed tips peeked out from beneath the skirt.

“How do they feel?” Felicity asked as she stood.

“They feel great.”

“And they look wonderful with the dress.” She smiled again. “You’re going to make a beautiful bride, Lily. I can’t wait to see Jack’s face when he sees you walking down the aisle.”

Lily sobered. She met Felicity’s eyes in the mirror. “You don’t have to pretend. I’m sure you know this marriage isn’t a love match, and that the only reason Jack is marrying me is because I’m pregnant.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“What do you mean?” Lily asked as she slipped off the shoes and took off the wedding dress. She handed the gown to Felicity and retrieved her own clothes.

“I mean that I saw the way Jack was looking at you the other day and it wasn’t the way a man looks at a woman he’s marrying out of duty.”

“You’re mistaken.”

“Am I?” Felicity asked as she returned the wedding gown to the garment bag and zipped it closed. “I’ve been in this business for quite some time now and I’ve seen my share of weddings. Usually I can tell the couples whose marriage is being done out of duty or as a business merger from the ones who are marrying because they love one another. I would have sworn you and Jack were the latter.”

The knock at the door, signaling her next appointment, saved Lily from responding. But as she bid Felicity goodbye and ushered her next client in, she couldn’t help wishing that Felicity were right.

Jack waited impatiently at the front of the garden for the wedding ceremony to begin. Now he knew why people eloped, he thought. The stress leading up to the wedding was enough to cause a body to have a heart attack. Or maybe it was simply the fact that he didn’t quite trust Lily not to run. An eager bride she wasn’t. Despite her signature on the prenuptial agreement and the trusts he’d set up for her and the baby, he wasn’t going to be able to relax until he had that wedding band on her finger.

“I still can’t believe you’re getting married,” Scott Falcon told him in a low voice as he stood beside him to fulfill the duties of the best man.

“Believe it, because it’s happening,” Jack told him. He glanced at his watch and frowned. “Or at least it will be happening if they ever get the ceremony started.”

Scott chuckled beside him. “Never thought I’d see the day when a female tied you up in knots. This Lily must be pretty special.”

“She is,” Jack said. And she was. In the short time he’d known her, each day he’d learned something new about her that told him just how special she was.

“You do realize that by getting married you’re crushing the dreams of half the single women in Eastwick, not to mention the mothers who were hoping to snag you for their daughters?”

“Then it’s a good thing they’ve got your shoulder to cry on, isn’t it?”

Scott smiled. “Always happy to help out a friend.”

And he was a good friend, Jack thought. Pals since grade school, he and Scott had shared adventures, pranks and an occasional girlfriend over the years. Like him, Scott’s family had been among the first settlers in Connecticut and had amassed a sizeable fortune in real estate. A person could hardly walk down a street in Eastwick without seeing the Falcon logo somewhere on it. Scott had been among the very few people who had understood his decision to marry Lily and offered his support.

“Your mother and Felicity did a nice job,” Scott remarked.

“Yes, they did,” Jack responded. Somehow the two women had pulled it off. He didn’t know how much it had cost nor did he care. All that had mattered to him was that they’d put the wedding together in less than a week. He knew from his conversation with Lily that they had found her a gown and shoes. He also knew that Lily had been uncomfortable and reluctant to accept the expensive attire as a gift from his mother. That she had done so, he suspected, had been a concession on her part because she had feared embarrassing him. Of course, it had never crossed his mother’s mind that Lily might object to such a gift. As usual, Sandra had bulldozed ahead and set out to create the perfect wedding for him and Lily.

From the looks of things, she had succeeded. Even the weather had cooperated with his mother’s plans to hold the ceremony outdoors. The temperature was mild and sunshine had replaced the rain that had plagued Eastwick off and on for the past two weeks. He’d caught a peek of the sprawling patio on the south side of the house that had been transformed for the wedding reception. Twinkling lights had been strung from the trees. More flowers decorated the tables and entrances. Two ice sculptures had been placed on tables on either side of the patio. The six-tiered cake decorated with what looked like real flowers sat in the center of one table. He’d counted at least a dozen food stations, including three types of pasta, a prime rib station, grilled shrimp and salmon. Bars had been set up on either end of the patio and he could have sworn there was enough wait staff on hand for a hundredseat restaurant.

Yes, his mother and Felicity Farnsworth had outdone themselves, he thought as he looked around him. In addition to the reception area, they had managed to turn the garden of his parents’ estate into a small wedding chapel. Everywhere he looked there were peach and white roses and lilies. Vases and urns of the blossoms had been placed on the altar, on the piano, at the entrance to the gardens. A white runner formed an aisle between the three dozen chairs arranged in rows on either side. White ribbons with more roses and lilies anchored posts at the end of each row. From where he was standing, it looked as if every seat was filled. He shifted his gaze back to the altar where the minister stood waiting to make him and Lily man and wife.

He was nervous, Jack admitted to himself. Except for that one time years ago, he hadn’t given much thought to marriage. Not that he’d ruled it out. He hadn’t. He liked women. He liked everything about them—the way they looked, the way they smelled, the way they were strong and soft at the same time, the way they were different from men. He enjoyed women. And they seemed to enjoy him. He just hadn’t expected that when he decided to marry he’d find himself standing here wondering whether his bride was going to be a no-show.

When he had suggested he and Lily marry, it had seemed so simple. They had a baby on the way, a child that needed both parents. But now that the day was finally here, he couldn’t help worrying that he had pushed Lily too hard. Oh, he’d known she had reservations and he didn’t blame her. Marriage was a big undertaking and neither of them had had much time to prepare for it. But he was positive that marrying was the right thing for them to do. He’d meant what he’d told Lily. He wanted to be a real father in every way and that meant being a full-time father, not shuffling their child back and forth between its parents. No, he wanted his baby to have what he and his sisters had had—a loving home with both parents. And although the stigma that society had once imposed upon a child born outside of marriage no longer applied, he didn’t want his child or Lily ever to encounter cruelty from the small-minded individuals who would see the baby’s birth as a sin. He wanted to protect the baby and Lily and the best way to do that was through marriage.

But he couldn’t shake the feeling she was going to bolt. He knew she was having second thoughts—probably third and fourth thoughts—about going through with the wedding. It hadn’t taken a giant leap to recognize the signs. She had avoided him at every turn during the past week. Just getting her to look over the documents he’d had drawn up providing her and their baby each with a trust fund had taken some major arm-twisting. It had also bothered him that she had insisted on keeping her apartment until the lease ran out despite his offer to buy out the lease. He hadn’t pushed it because he was already worried about the stress she was under and didn’t want to do anything that would endanger her health or the baby’s. Maybe once the wedding was over and they were living under the same roof, she would grow more comfortable with him and the idea of them being married, he told himself.

“I heard Courtney moved back from New York,” Scott remarked.

Dragging his attention to his friend, Jack said, “Yeah. She came home a couple of weeks ago.”

“She going to stay?”

“I don’t know.” Jack looked over at Scott. Tall like him, Scott was the opposite of him in appearance. Where his own hair was dark and his eyes blue, Scott was blond and his eyes were brown. Like him, Scott had a real appreciation of women, had found himself in more than one woman’s marital sights and had become a master at escaping any serious commitment. He’d been a fixture at the Cartwright house when they’d been growing up and had shared in Jack’s own annoyance with his two younger sisters. Jack hadn’t given much thought to his baby sister’s return home and hadn’t realized Scott had either. So he asked, “What makes you ask?”

“No reason,” Scott said and looked away.

They fell silent and Jack’s thoughts returned once more to Lily. He looked at his watch again. As the minutes ticked by, he grew more and more anxious. “You got the ring?” he asked Scott.

Scott patted his pocket. “Right here.” He paused. “I’ve never seen you so nervous before. You sure about this, Jack?”

“I’m sure,” he told his friend, because he knew he was doing what was best for everyone. Now all they needed was the bride.

When the violinist began playing, Jack turned and looked at the end of the aisle where his sister Courtney stood under the arbor of flowers. Dressed in a peach-colored dress and holding a small bouquet of peach roses and lilies, she started down the aisle with a smile on her face. When Courtney was about midway down the aisle, his sister Elizabeth stepped under the arbor. Since Lily hadn’t been able to think of anyone to ask to be her maid of honor, his youngest sister had volunteered herself for the job. Lily, apparently not wanting Elizabeth to feel left out, had suggested both of his sisters serve as attendants. It was a decision that had pleased both his sisters and his mother—and him because he wanted Lily to feel that she was truly a part of his family now. Once his sisters had reached the altar and taken their places, the first notes of the wedding march rang out.

Both anxious and excited, Jack turned his gaze once more to the entrance at the rear of the gardens. This is it, he told himself as he waited for Lily to appear beneath the flower arbor and walk down the aisle to become his wife. Several seconds went by, but there was no Lily. The first notes of the bridal march were played again. And still there was no Lily.

Jack tensed, his first thought that he’d been right to worry. He’d pushed her too hard, and, just as he’d feared, she’d decided not to go through with the wedding. His second thought was that something had happened to her, that maybe she’d slipped on the stone floor inside the house and was hurt. It was that last thought, imagining Lily hurt, that had him starting to leave the altar to find her.

“Hang on,” Scott whispered, gripping his arm before he could go. He motioned for him to look at the rear of the guest seats where Felicity was signaling to him to give her a minute. The blonde disappeared, evidently going through the side door of the house to where Lily was supposed to be waiting.

Jack could hear the murmurs among the guests, the shifting in their seats, and he saw the anxious look on his mother’s face. Damn it. They just should have eloped, he reasoned. If they had, Lily wouldn’t have had time to think about changing her mind.

And if she has changed her mind? What are you going to do?

He was going to change it back, he told himself. He couldn’t afford not to. Looking at his watch, he decided to give Felicity five minutes and then he was going to do just that.

“Relax,” Scott told him. “She probably broke a nail or got a run in her stocking. You know how women are about those things.”

He did know how women were. A broken nail or a run in a stocking would have sent his mother and his sister Courtney and probably half the women he’d dated into a frenzy. But not Lily. Lily was not most women. He’d sensed that the night of the ball. It was one of the reasons, he knew, that he’d given a woman whose name he didn’t know the key to his hotel room. It was also the reason that he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind since that night.

Granted, the only reason he had suggested they get married was because she was pregnant with his child. He’d never been a man to shirk responsibility. He had no intention of doing so now. Lily and the baby were his responsibility now. But if he was going to be completely honest with himself he didn’t find the idea unappealing. There had been something special between them that night at the ball—something that went beyond the good sex. Whatever that something was, it would be enough to start with because he didn’t intend to lose her again.

She couldn’t go through with it, Lily told herself as she stood in front of the vanity in the powder room of the Cartwright mansion. She stared at the woman in the mirror. That woman looked like a real bride. The wedding gown was beautiful. So were the shoes. Her hair had been swept up into an elegant French twist with wisps arranged around her face. Courtney had performed miracles with the paints and polishes and brushes, making Lily’s skin look creamy, her eyes bright and her cheekbones those of a model. She touched the strand of pearls with the diamond clasp at her throat and noted the matching earrings. Both were wedding gifts from Jack. “For my bride,” he’d told her when he’d given them to her the previous evening.

Wedding gifts for a bride. Even the bouquet of white roses and lilies looked as if they belonged to a bride. No question about it. The woman looking back at her in the mirror certainly looked like a real, honest-to-goodness bride.

Only she wasn’t a real bride. She was a fake.

And she absolutely, positively couldn’t go through with the wedding.

When Jack had suggested that they get married, it had all seemed to make sense. After all, he was the baby’s father and she had wanted her baby to have a real home with two parents. It had also made sense when he’d told her that shuffling the child between the two of them wouldn’t work. She’d seen firsthand how tough shuffling between parents could be on a child. She hadn’t wanted that for her baby. And as Jack Cartwright’s wife, she could be assured that her child would have the loving home she had never had.

Only now that the day was here, she simply could not go through with it. She didn’t love Jack Cartwright and he didn’t love her. And when two people got married it should be because they loved one another, not because their hormones had run amok one night and resulted in a pregnancy. While she understood Jack feeling he needed to take responsibility, he didn’t need to marry her to do it. The man deserved a happy life with someone he loved. So did she. They could still love their baby, be good parents and provide a stable, loving home without making such a colossal mistake. Because going through with this marriage would be just that, she reasoned—a colossal mistake.

The first notes of the bridal march started and panic began to swim in her blood. She had to get out of here. Maybe she could slip out the powder room, make it out the front door and hightail it to the main road and try to find a taxi. Jack would understand. Shoot, he’d probably be relieved, she told herself as she turned and moved as quickly as she could with a ten-pound ball around her middle. She had almost reached the door when it burst open and in flew Felicity.

“Lily, didn’t you hear your cue?”

“Yes, I did. Felicity, I—“

“Where’s your bouquet?” she demanded and swept her gaze over the room to the dressing table. She scooped it up, stuck it in Lily’s hands. After fussing with her hair for a moment, Felicity stepped back. “You look gorgeous. And wait until you see your groom. The man should live in a tux.”

“Felicity—“

“Listen, there’s your cue again,” Felicity told her.

Lily’s hands began to shake, but evidently Felicity didn’t notice that the roses and lilies were trembling like the leaves on an aspen in a windstorm. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“Sure you can,” Felicity insisted and straightened the skirt of her gown. She gave her a quick hug and a smile. “Just take a deep breath and think of Jack.” And before she could say another word, Felicity flew out the door as quickly as she had blown in.

The first notes of the bridal march started for the third time and Lily couldn’t move. She stood frozen in the powder room and wished she was Samantha from the old Bewitched TV show so she could wiggle her nose and disappear. She was still standing there wondering if she was going to be sick when the door to the powder room opened again. Only this time it was Jack who came in.

Her first crazy thought was that Felicity had been right. The man really should live in a tux. The black jacket made his shoulders look broad, his height towering. His black hair was thick, his blue eyes as dark as steel. His jawline was strong, his mouth almost elegant. There was something solid and commanding and, at the same time, dangerous about him—the very things that had drawn her to him that night at the ball.

“I wasn’t sure if you remembered to check your calendar this morning,” he said, his voice casual. “But according to mine, we’re supposed to be getting married right about now.”

“I didn’t forget,” Lily told him. Taking a deep breath, she looked up at him and into his eyes. “I’m sorry, Jack. I know how much trouble you and your family have gone to, but I can’t go through with it. I just can’t.”

“I see.”

I see?

It wasn’t the response she had expected. In truth, she had expected him to be angry. After all, the man had gone to a great deal of trouble and expense to arrange the wedding. He had at least three dozen family members and friends sitting outside waiting to see him take her as his bride. He’d even given her his grandmother’s ring. No question about it, Jack Cartwright had every right to be downright furious with her. Only instead of being angry, he took the bridal bouquet she was clutching in her still unsteady hands and placed it on the dressing table. Then he took her by the hand and led her to the bench by the wall.

“Why don’t we sit down a minute?”

She did as he suggested and said, “I’m not going to change my mind, Jack. I’m sorry, but I simply can’t go through with it. I can’t marry you.”

“All right,” he told her. He sat down beside her, took her other hand and held it in his. “So is there any particular reason you don’t want to marry me?” he asked calmly. And before she could find her voice, he continued, “Is it my nose? I broke it playing football in college and it never did heal quite right. Maybe you don’t want to be married to a man with an ugly nose.”

“There’s nothing wrong with your nose. It’s beautiful.”

“The hair then. You probably noticed that I’m starting to get a few gray hairs right around the temples. I know some women find that a turn-off—“

“There’s nothing wrong with your hair. It looks great. You look great,” she insisted.

“Hmm. It isn’t because I’m a lawyer, is it? I mean, I’ve heard all the lawyer jokes and I know we’re not the most popular people.”

He was deliberately being absurd to calm her, she realized. “It’s not any of those things. You’re handsome, charming, kind and one of the nicest men I’ve ever known.”

Jack winced. “You make me sound like my grandfather. I’d much prefer you thought I was sexy.”

Her lips twitched. “I do think you’re sexy—which you already know. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“But we are in this situation,” he said. “In four months, we’re going to be parents. And I thought we agreed that for the baby’s sake, we should get married.”

“I know we did. But we were wrong. I was wrong,” she told him and, unable to sit still, she stood. “I should never have agreed to it. It’s crazy to think this marriage would ever work. I don’t know what I was thinking to have agreed to it in the first place.”

“You were thinking about what’s best for our baby.” He rose and came up behind her. “Our baby needs a mother and a father, Lily.”

“He or she will have a mother and a father,” she insisted. “We don’t have to be married to be good parents. Lots of couples raise children without being husband and wife.”

“We already covered this, Lily. Neither of us wants our child to grow up being shuffled from one house to the other, splitting time between Mom and Dad on holidays and weekends. I want our baby to have a real home, a real family. I want our baby to have what you never had. I thought you did, too.”

She hated that he was right. She did want that type of home for her baby. She wanted the picture-perfect home for her baby that she’d always longed for, but had never known. The kind of home she’d read about in books when she was a girl where children were loved and felt secure. She wanted to sit at the dinner table together as a family, to decorate the Christmas tree as a family, to bake cookies together and have picnics in the backyard. She wanted her child to have a family and never, ever feel alone as she had. “I do want those things. Making sure my baby feels loved and secure it’s … it’s what’s most important to me.”

“To me, too. And we can make sure our baby is loved and secure by providing him or her with a real home with both of its parents.” He placed his hands on her shoulders, turned her to face him. “Our child can have that, Lily. All you have to do is marry me.”

He made it sound so easy, so logical. But it wasn’t. She knew it wasn’t. “What about love, Jack? You know you don’t love me.” And that was the problem. She couldn’t let go of the idea that she wanted to marry for love.

“And you don’t love me. But we both love our baby,” he pointed out.

“But what if that’s not enough? We’ll be trapped in a loveless marriage.”

“I don’t see marriage to you as a trap. I see it as a gift. I’ll be getting a smart, beautiful wife and the mother of my child.”

“And love? Don’t you even believe in love, Jack?”

“There are all kinds of love. Love of family, love of a parent and child, love of a friend.”

“What about love between a man and a woman, a husband and wife? Don’t you believe in that?” she asked. “Don’t you want that?”

“I believe that there are some people, like my parents, who find that kind of connection. I don’t know if it starts out that way or if it’s something that grows over time out of respect and caring for one another. What I do believe in is the power of hormones between a man and a woman,” he told her. He drew his fingertip down her cheek and Lily could feel her already nervous stomach flutter at his touch. “I still want you, Lily. And I think you want me.”

She swallowed past the knot that seemed to have lodged in her throat. “You’re talking about meaningless sex.”

“I’m talking about desire, passion. It’s still there between us. Just like it was that night.”

It was true, Lily admitted silently. The pull between them that had drawn her to him that night and that had led her to breaking all her personal rules by sleeping with him was still there. In fact, it was even stronger now that she’d gotten to know him better. “What if desire isn’t enough to make it work?”

“It’s more than a lot of people have,” he said. “I think we owe it to our baby to at least try.”

Once again he made the whole thing sound so simple, so logical. Jack was a good man, an honest man and she had no doubt that he would be a good father to their child. Yet, it felt wrong to start any marriage this way.

“It’s your call, Lily. You know how I feel, that I think the two of us marrying is the right thing to do for our baby’s sake. So what’s it going to be? Should I go out there and tell everyone that the bride has changed her mind and there isn’t going to be a wedding after all? Or do I go out there and tell the minister to get the show on the road before the ice sculptures melt?”

She took a deep breath and met his gaze. “Tell the minister to get the show on the road,” she told him.

“You won’t be sorry, Lily. I promise.”

She certainly hoped Jack was right, she thought as he disappeared out the door. When she heard the bridal march start once again, Lily picked up her bouquet. As she exited the powder room and started toward the garden where she would pledge to become Jack Cartwright’s wife, she prayed she wasn’t making a mistake that both of them would live to regret.

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