Forgotten Father Page 15

  “I haven’t discovered that yet, sir. All I have is preliminary information at this stage.”

  “All right,” Mitchell said reluctantly. “Keep me informed.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He hung up the phone, his brain working furiously. Jenna was a Riese. Almost certainly, his own child.

  For a moment, he thought about the fact that he was no longer alone in the world—no longer a man completely without blood kin. He had a child.

  Mitchell grappled with the conclusions slamming into his brain. Delanie had a child conceived around the time they’d had sex the first time and she hadn’t told either he or his grandfather that they might have fathered her child.

  It was the deceit of her silence that ate at him. He could think of no good reason for her to keep the child’s parentage from him. Unless she was planning to use the child as a bargaining chip for monetary gain later.

  Like his own mother had done with him.

  He found himself wrestling with this conclusion, wondering as she herself had said, what kind of a woman used her child in this way. But truthfully, he knew this kind of woman very well.

  So now what did he do about the fact that a child of his was in the sole custody of a beautiful, apparently amoral golddigger?

  Even more perplexing, what did he do about the fact that a part of him couldn’t accept this view of Delanie and, beyond that, he still wanted the woman? His lust and longing for her was a weakness he had to learn to manage.

  There could be no other choice, he realized. The child was his responsibility, one way or the other. Only one solution existed that would enable him to both secure The Cedars for the Riese family and gain access to his child.

  He just needed to find a jeweler.

  ******

  “You-you want me to marry you?” Delanie looked at Mitchell in shock, elation flooding through her. A large heart-shaped diamond winked from the ring in his hand.

  “Yes.” His eyes were dark with an unreadable emotion, his jaw tight as if his words were wrenched out of him.

  “I hadn’t heard from you—I’ve worried all day.,” she said brushing at a joyful tear as he slid the ring over her finger. “You weren’t in Donovan’s office. I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, the tightness in his face belied by the glowing fire in his eyes. “I had a business crisis in New York and I’ve been holed up in my room all day dealing with it, but I’m here now and I very much want you to marry me.”

  “I thought—I don’t know what I thought when I couldn’t find you,” she said as he brushed a kiss against her temple. “I can’t believe you’re proposing.”

  “Neither can I,” he said unsteadily.

  “I know people will say this is too sudden,” Delanie said, burying her head against his chest.

  The small cottage was silent around them, only the gentle sleeping sounds of Jenna’s breathing barely audible from down the hall where she slept.

  “Who gives a crap what anyone says if it doesn’t seem sudden to us?” he said finally.

  “You really want to marry me?” she asked, dazed by this sudden, blissful turn of events.”

  Mitchell kissed her, long and slow, the stroke of his mouth sending the blood thundering through her veins.

  “Yes,” he said a moment later, his voice rough. “I want to go to sleep with you every night and wake up with you every morning.”

  “There are things about me you have to know,” she said breathlessly distracted by his nearness and the roving of his talented hands.

  “I told you I met Jenna this morning when I stopped by,” he said abruptly. “She’s beautiful. I’ll be happy to raise her like she’s my own.”

  They were words any single mother prayed to hear, Delanie thought, her vision misting over.

  “We haven’t known each other long,” she said, trying to cling to the ability to speak despite the heat of his lips on her neck. “Maybe we should…live together a while. So you can make sure.”

  “I am sure,” he said, the words brief and uncompromising between his caresses. “I want to marry you. I want to be your husband. Marry me.”

  “But, Mitchell,” she said distracted, her head thrown back to accommodate the trail of his kisses, “What about your money? I know how you feel about women and money.”

  He stared at her a moment, the disconcerted glimmer in his expression quickly banished. “Will you sign a prenup?”

  “Yes. Absolutely.” The words shot out of her mouth without consideration. His money meant nothing to her. If she could do this to reassure him, nothing was easier.

  “Then say you’ll marry me.” He stood with that dark light still in his eyes, his mouth hard and tight as if he were steeling himself for a blow. She felt a surge of tenderness. A man like Mitchell didn’t face the possibility of rejection well.

  He guarded his emotions almost as tightly as his money, doling them out in careful, conservative clumps. She wanted to help him with that, wanted to teach him to trust his heart. No wonder he faced her now with anxiety. The feelings between them raged hot and powerful. The firestorm of passion and connection left her trembling inside. How much more disturbing it must seem to a man who so distrusted his softer side.

  “You really want me to marry you?” she said, wanting to hear him say it again, his face taut and intense above hers.

  “Yes,” he said without hesitation. “Very, very much.”

  “Oh, Mitchell,” she breathed his name in a welter of joy and love.

  He bent to kiss her again, his eyes dark and hot. “Tell me you assistant isn’t coming back tonight.”

  Still dazed and almost uncomprehending in her joy, she allowed him to draw her closer in his arms.

  “Connie’s in Boston for a few days, taking care of another job,” Delanie said faintly, the brush of his body against hers wonderfully distracting.

  “Thank God,” he said fervently.

  She clung to him, surrounded in his embrace, her face raised to his kiss. This was her man, the one she’d waited for so long. Maybe there were gaps and shadows, things she had to tell him, but this was so right.

  Slowly, he molded her mouth beneath his, his tongue stroking hers, lazy and hot. Molten rivulets of desire pushed through her veins, the thudding of her heart shifting to a sultry languorous beat.

  They’d be together like this always, on fire for each other, matched halves of one soul. She’d help him heal that doubting heart of his.

  He held her in his arms, her chin tipped back for his kiss and the scent of him, so achingly familiar, tickled at her memory. Just one night in his arms and he’d become a part of her, the timbre of his voice, the texture of his kiss blotting out everything but him.

  She’d never had another lover. He was the first to truly awaken her heart. She knew that despite not being able to remember the interlude that resulted in her child’s birth. She knew that no man had touched her like Mitchell.

  Her arms trapped in his embrace, Delanie raised a hand and pressed it to his chest, reveling in the pounding of his heart beneath her palm.

  Mitchell loosened his arms, his mouth still on hers, wooing, nibbling till she was breathless, swamped with need and wanting. As he stroked a hand down over her back, she felt his strong fingers splayed there, holding her for his feasting.

  He was such a contradiction. All buttoned-down businessman on the outside; wild heathen lover on the inside. She loved it. Loved this unsuspected, passionate soul beneath his tailored suits. Loved that his composure unraveled just for her.

  And they had a lifetime together. Eons of bickering and making up, of promises and long, hot nights. They’d have children together and make a family for her Jenna.

  All the darkness was behind her, the coldness warmed by his love. She felt the brush of his hand on her cheek, his fingers cupping her chin as he kissed her.

  “Darling,” he muttered, pressing a kiss at the corner of her mouth. “Let’s find a bed. Bathrooms
can be erotic, but beds offer more…possibilities.”

  Surfacing through the haze of passion and disoriented by the heat of the response he wrought in her, Delanie turned, blindly leading him to her room.

  He stood with her beside the bed, a tall solid shadow in the dimness. With all her heart, she loved him. Needed him.

  There was no getting past it. She’d have to tell him about Delanie’s father before they married. Have to confess to conceiving a child with a man she couldn’t remember. But not tonight. Not now in the first flush of their own discovery.

  Reaching up, she slid her arms around Mitchell’s neck, pressing her body against his. Solid and hard, he felt incredibly good. Incredibly right. She lifted her mouth to his, her hands anchored to his broad shoulders.

  The glimmer of moonlight shifted with the shrubbery at the window, blown shadows dancing across the wall. Even the faint chill in the room lent an air of enchantment, a crystal sigh of magic to their loving.

  He kissed her long and drugging, his hands smoothing and cupping her breasts through her clothing. Squirming against his body, big and hard in her arms. Her lover. Her one true mate.

  “God,” he muttered, drawing her close again, sliding his hands around to cup her fanny and lift her against his arousal.

  Pleasure splintered through her, her skin feeling hot enough to give off steam through her clothing. This was so right, feeling him against the apex of her thighs, his erection riding her softness.

  So familiar.

  Almost as if she were in an altered reality, she slid back, lying on the quilted bed in a heated daze. He followed her down, his hands and mouth greedy on her body.

  Fumbling for the buttons of his shirt, she struggled to free him quickly. She needed him, needed and loved Mitchell. Lying sprawled with her across the bed, he buried his face in the curve of her neck, his fingers dragging at her shirt, sliding against her bare belly. In a scramble of passionate urgency, she found herself naked with him, the quilt rucked beneath them on the bed.

  On the bed beside her, he slid his knee between hers, his hands tugging at her nipples before skating down to smooth the curve of her hip. He rocked against her, driving thought away and she clung to him, breathless.

  Breathless and overwhelmed. Lost in him, in his touch. His mouth at her breasts, his hands everywhere. This was heaven, being touched by Mitchell. Mitchell who she loved, who wanted to marry her and be a father to her child.

  The only man to ever build this raging fire in her.

  He rose up then, splaying her legs on the bed, toying almost reverently with her moistness before lowering his mouth to her there. Throwing her head back as pleasure surged through her, she let go of any semblance of thought and tumbled into sensation.

  Pleasure rocketed through her in fragmented tingles. His hands on her hips, his shoulders pressing her thighs wide. Everything…every part of her lit by the touch of his mouth.

  Minutes later, she lie shattered on the bed, her breath panting in her throat as he knelt before her on the bed.

  Vaguely, she saw him reach down to where his pants lie on the floor. He opened the condom and slid it on, returning to her. Poised at her entrance, he leaned in and then thrust into her.

  Delanie felt the pleasure of his entry ripple through her, her body welcoming and rejoicing in their union. Lying on the bed beneath him, their bodies locked in passionate union, Delanie’s hands clutched his shoulders.

  So good. He made her feel so incredibly good. Each touch, each movement, sent ecstasy through her.

  She loved him. Would always love him.

  Her body at a fever pitch, she clung to him and as he drove into her, taking them both to the peak, she felt herself splinter as her body exploded into tumultuous joy…and her tears wet her cheeks.

  ******

  Mitchell stood over the crib in the dim light of morning, staring down at the child he believed to be his own. An overwhelming sense of love crowded into his chest.

  The baby slept there on her stomach, her legs drawn up under her, tiny bottom in the air. With her head turned to the side, he could see the fan of dark eyelashes across her porcelain cheeks, the tiny rosebud of mouth that moved in her sleep.

  His daughter.

  His and Delanie’s.

  For her sake, he had to make this marriage work, had to give her, at least, a few years of security. Two parents. Even if her mother was as driven by money as his own had been.

  Jenna still deserved a mother. A perfect, blameless, precious child, she deserved every good thing he could give her.

  Mitchell stood with his hand on the crib railing and made a vow to himself. No matter what it took, he’d make his child’s life filled with love. If he had to, he’d pay her mother a million dollars to stay in her life.

  Even if Delanie didn’t stay in his.

  ******

  Delanie lay awake in her empty bed the next morning, stretching lazily beneath the covers.

  Earlier in the half light of dawn, Mitchell had gathered his clothes and left, saying in hushed tones that he didn’t want to confuse baby Jenna.

  She’d blinked up at him sleepily, only aware enough to be grateful that the man she’d fallen in love with could be so considerate of her child’s welfare.

  Staring at the cottage’s white-washed walls an hour later, Delanie watched the dappled pattern of sunlight through the lace curtains at the window. Contentment held her limbs relaxed against the sheets, a faint smile curving her lips as the previous night’s lovemaking replayed in her head.

  He was such a lover, as perfectly attuned to her needs as she felt to his.

  And he was so beautiful, his body powerful and erotic.

  An image of Mitchell streaked through her consciousness. Kneeling naked on the bed before her last night, smoothing the condom into place.

  In a flash, déjà vu gripped her. As if she’d been in this same place before, having this same moment before.

  Only that was impossible. Delanie shook her head with a rueful laugh. She was losing her mind, no doubt about it, her fragmented memory playing tricks on her.

  Over the last year or so, she’d learned to cope with the vagrant wisps of remembrance. They had plagued her fiercely through her pregnancy, only to subside for the most part after Jenna was born.

  Cuddled under the covers now, Delanie lifted her hand, examining the unbelievably romantic ring Mitchell had given her. Who’d have thought her brusque, cold-hearted businessman would choose such a ring?

  Definitely, she’d never been here before. In love and engaged to be married. Finally, she’d found the lover of her heart.

  In her mind’s eye, she measured the breadth of his shoulders, felt again his taut muscled thighs spreading hers wide.

  A bolt of something spiky and strange shivered through her suddenly.

  She remembered that picture of him kneeling before her, remembered the economy of his movement as he’d put on the condom. Last night?

  Shaking her head to clear the sudden mistiness in her mind, she fought against the sensation of two pictures overlying one another. Mitchell kneeling between her spread legs, that same aroused tautness in his body, his face shadowed in the darkness, but still…Mitchell.

  Delanie sat up abruptly in bed.

  Feeling herself slipping into a strange sense of déjà vu, as if she were being awakened into a dream, her hands clenched on the quilt.

  She had seen him like that before, kneeling on the bed, putting a condom over his aroused member…and it wasn’t last night.

  An image burned suddenly in her brain. In the flash of an instant, the crazy chaos in her head coalesced, chunks of the past crashing into her mind like meteorites. In a rapid succession, memories flashed in front of her eyes.

  Mitchell.

  Mitchell coming across the crowded room the night of the cocktail party. Drawing her out on to the veranda and into his arms. He’d seemed to have walked out of her fantasies.

  Then, he’d taken her back to
his room…and made fierce, life-altering love to her. Made her pregnant despite the condom he’d slid so efficiently into place.

  Mitchell was her lover. Had been her lover all those months before.

  It was him. Jenna’s father.

  Mitchell, all along.

  The man who hated her and believed she’d slept with his grandfather for money.

  How could she have forgotten him?

  Her heart pounding suddenly against her rib cage, Delanie struggled with a sense of suffocation, fighting to draw breath into her body.

  All the rest of it, the rest of that wonderful, terrible twenty-four hours came flooding in on her now with a relentless crashing force.

  In an instant, she stood beside the lake and felt as though her heart were being torn from her. His hard, ugly words. The vicious hostility in his face.

  That other morning, more than a year and a half ago, the sun had shone, too, before the clouds came in. Delanie sat now in the middle of her sunlit bed, drowning in memories.

  She’d been the one to sneak out early that morning, foolishly planning to tweak him for not discovering her name.

  What a idiot she’d been.

  Here now, every crystal detail of every moment came back to her. He’d thrown her out, a year and a half ago. Cast her out of The Cedars, out of Donovan’s life and, most importantly, out of his own.

  Shaking her head as if movement could clear the jumble of thought, Delanie struggled with the realizations bombarding her. It was Mitchell with whom she’d made love and conceived. They’d been lovers before.

  Lying back in her cottage bed, the pillows stacked high against the old iron bedstead, Delanie flinched with each returning memory. She remembered it all, as if a sheet had been ripped off that obscured month of her life.

  The frantic last days before the reopening weekend. Donovan’s pride and excitement. Mitchell that first evening at the cocktail party. That perfect night in bed with him, the coming together with no words.

  Just the memory of their first meeting drew a shaken breath from her now and Delanie felt a dampness on her cheek that she quickly wiped away. She could only be grateful that her sweet bundle of energy was sleeping past six this morning. It would never do to greet her baby with weepy eyes.