Forgotten Father Read online

  Delanie shifted restlessly under the covers she’d so recently shared with Mitchell. Her Sir Galahad, she thought mockingly. The man she’d waited for all her life.

  And he thought her a money-grubbing tramp.

  Now she understood his hostility toward her at the lawyer’s office the day she’d learned she inherited half The Cedars. Donovan’s quixotic gift must have seemed like confirmation of Mitchell’s opinion of her as a heartless woman out for what she could get.

  Not that he’d had much doubt. She still remembered the coldness in his voice, the hatred in his eyes when he denounced her down at the lake.

  Delanie smiled bitterly.

  Suddenly, his animosity at the reading of the will made so much more sense. Not only had he lost half The Cedars, he had believed he lost it to his grandfather’s conniving mistress.

  He thought her capable of that.

  So, why hadn’t he denounced her then? Why not spew out his hatred again the way he had that morning by the lake? Instead, he’d looked at her with that cold disdain, the ever-controlled businessman.

  Hands clenching again on the quilt covering her, Delanie struggled to push back the bitter tears.

  He was so controlled, her would-be husband. No doubt, he’d steeled himself against showing his anger as freely as before, unwilling to even give her that now. Yet, there had been snide comments, things said that should have clued her in. The occasional remark he’d made about “putting the past behind them.” He’d been referring to that wild night together, hinting at the hostility he felt then and must still harbor.

  So why ask her to marry him?

  If he actually thought her an amoral courtesan who bartered herself for ill-gotten gains, then why had he been acting so sweet to her? Why buy her this ring, its heart-shaped rock now weighing down her finger and her heart?

  Did he actually believe so much bad of her?

  Wrestling with a sense of bafflement, Delanie couldn’t figure out where he’d originally gotten the impression that she was sleeping with Donovan. With all that she knew of him now, she guessed that he’d most likely assumed it, not having any foundation to consider the possibility that she’d simply liked his grandfather as a person. They’d shared an affinity for this old place.

  But Mitchell believed she had manipulated his grandfather. It would fit Mitchell’s cold, doubting soul to assume something so harsh about a woman. She knew Donovan wouldn’t have lied to his grandson about her, so Mitchell had to have draw his condemning conclusions himself.

  How puzzled he must have been by her behavior these last few weeks, Delanie thought, a harsh, painful laugh escaping her. She’d treated him like a stranger because her mind had blocked him out, too wounded to cope with his loss. His accusations.

  Did he even know now about the struggle she’d had with her memory?

  She thought back over the last few weeks. The staff at The Cedars was like a small town when it came to gossip. Yes, he must have heard about her accident, must have been told the juicy news about her amnesia.

  There hadn’t seemed much point in keeping it a secret from her friends and co-workers. Although, she’d shrunk from confiding in Mitchell himself, which was interesting. Had some unconscious watchful part of her questioned his sincerity?

  Because he was obviously lying to her. This damned ring and his words about needing her.

  Delanie wrenched the ring over her knuckle and flung it on the bed, the heart-shaped stone catching fire from the sun.

  Okay. So Mitchell didn’t love her—had he actually ever said that he did? She couldn’t remember if he had, and she would have remembered that, even as lost in his arms as she’d been last night.

  He didn’t love her. Didn’t trust her enough to be open about their past interaction when he’d discovered her memory loss. Wasn’t that proof enough of his perfidy? Proof that his cash register heart had won out? If he’d really loved her—trusted her—he’d have talked with her about that long-ago weekend.

  Yet, he’d asked her to marry him. Why?

  The cozy silence of the cottage ticked silently in around her.

  Jenna.

  A cold clutch of fear slammed into Delanie. Her ears buzzing unpleasantly, she remembered what he’d said last night about raising her child as his own. The bastard. He was after Jenna. The child he didn’t want to “confuse” by having her find a strange man in her mother’s bed.

  Since he knew about their interlude, he must have realized Jenna was his child.

  What had Connie said? That he’d stopped by the house yesterday morning and acted funny when he’d met her baby girl? Connie had said he looked thunderstruck when he’d discovered the baby was hers. Delanie had thought only that he’d been upset to discover her motherhood, the existence of a child in her life.

  Until this moment, she hadn’t realized what a shock Jenna must have been to him.

  Fighting a wave of nausea, she grappled with the thought of losing her child. He was rich…and she had the bizarre history of blocking out intensely emotional periods of her life. Could he use her amnesia to get custody of Jenna? Take her baby away from her?

  For long minutes, Delanie fought the panic clawing at her. She couldn’t lose her child. Couldn’t let her baby’s life be torn apart by a man who couldn’t really love.

  Then with a slam of both anger and relief, she realized why Mitchell had proposed her.

  Jenna. He’d asked Delanie to marry him so he could be in Jenna’s life on a daily basis. He must not be planning to fight her for custody if he’d asked her to marry him.

  What a twisted, calculating man. Still, even though he didn’t have a heart, there must have been some less chilly part of himself more concerned with his child than with himself.

  What an agony this must be for him. Mistrustful, quick-to-judge, fearful Mitchell forced to marry a mercenary woman in order to gain his child without putting her through the ordeal of a custody fight.

  Rolling over, Delanie buried her face in the pillow he’d used just hours before. Hot tears welled up behind her eyelids. Mitchell, the poor little twisted rich boy who couldn’t trust love.

  The money he protected so fiercely had robbed him of his heart.

  CHAPTER TEN

  At least, now she knew why Mitchell’s values were warped, Delanie thought bitterly as she got out of bed.

  If she’d learned anything in the last few weeks, she’d discovered that Mitchell had grown up believing women couldn’t be trusted. Not where money was involved. And he had so damned much money that it was always involved in every aspect of every romantic liaison.

  His own mother had sold him for a million dollars.

  Delanie could have kicked herself. She’d made a complete mess of this, made a terrible mistake that first night by taking him into her arms. Yes, they fit together. Clicked. His too serious outlook and her tendency for flippancy balanced each other in a weird way. Even though he maddened her with his closed mind, he grounded her too, made her feel secure.

  But she hadn’t really known him the first time they’d made love. And not knowing him had left her unable to give him what he needed. Wasn’t that what love was supposed to be about? Doing what was best for the loved one?

  She never should have slept with him that first night, never should have act so rashly on her immediate sense of connection with him. These last few months, she’d had the chance to really come to know him as a person. It was as if her amnesia had given her the opportunity to connect with him the way she should have the first time.

  The bizarre working of her memory seemed almost to be trying for a “do-over” with Mitchell, a time to make up for her mistakes. Only life didn’t really work like that.

  He hadn’t forgotten their first encounter. Far from it. If anything, he had to be more firmly convicted of her guilt.

  He deserved to be beaten within an inch of his life for mistrusting her so. In a tangled mix of emotion, she both loved him and hated him. Still, she saw her own mistakes
clearly.

  Mitchell had needed to know her a long time before they came together intimately, needed to come to see the person she was, unclouded by passion. That was the only way he’d have learned to trust her, if he was even capable of doing so.

  But she’d foolishly followed her own impulses. Her own sense of immediate connection. How flawed it had been.

  In listening to her emotion, to her complete intuition that this man was perfect for her, she’d done things that led to their both being hurt.

  And Jenna, sweet, golden-haired Jenna without a father all these months.

  Hearing her daughter’s voice babbling down the hall, Delanie reached for her robe. The movement brought her gaze down to the ring on the quilt, the lovely, heart-shaped diamond. Large, but not obscene, it twinkled in the sunlight like a living thing.

  Sadness and bitterness welled up inside her.

  Tugging on the robe, she went down the short hall. In Jenna’s sunny bedroom, she found the baby standing in her bed, vocalizing with a broad smile on her face.

  “Good morning, sweetie,” she said, lifting her daughter for a hug. As always, the warm, wiggly body brought her comfort. The situation couldn’t be as bad as it seemed, not as long as she had her daughter.

  If Mitchell was willing to marry her in order to live with his baby, he must at least care a little for their child. And could he marry her, if he really believed so badly of her?

  Unless, he was after something else. They were sleeping together already, so it wasn’t sex he was after. Too, a man like Mitchell didn’t have trouble finding bed partners.

  So what else could he be after?

  Delanie placed the baby on her changing table and lifted a hand to smack herself on the forehead.

  The Cedars.

  If Mitchell married her and took on the role of Jenna’s stepfather, perhaps had another child with her, he’d be able to make sure the resort stayed in his family.

  As business strategies went, she had to give him credit, Delanie thought bitterly. But just because she’d stupidly fallen in love with the guy, didn’t keep her from wanting to smack him.

  She wasn’t sure how to sort out the tangle, but one thing was perfectly clear. She couldn’t marry Mitchell. Not even for Jenna.

  She couldn’t let him be convinced that love and money were always linked and he would be convinced of that fact, if she gave into her stupid heart’s longing and married him.

  Somehow, she had to find the strength to refuse the proposal of the only man she’d ever loved.

  ******

  Mitchell traversed the hall leading to Donovan’s office. Not four hours ago, he’d crawled out of Delanie’s warm bed and snuck away from her cottage, determined to protect his infant daughter from the kind of sordid display so many children lived with daily. His Jenna wouldn’t wake up to find a strange man in mommy’s bed.

  Soon he’d have a right to be there, waking up every morning in the middle of a family.

  Just now as he was finishing his breakfast in his suite, he’d received a message from Delanie, asking him to meet her in Donovan’s lair.

  He smiled, satisfaction pervading his body. He couldn’t think of her warm, sleep-kissed face without wanting to take her into his arms. Even though he knew her basic nature, he still felt himself drawn to her warmth. He was a fool.

  Pausing at the door of his grandfather’s office, he congratulated himself on his plan. In one step, he’d gained daily access to his child and secured her mother’s cooperation on a prenuptial agreement that he would make sure settled The Cedar’s ownership on Jenna. In addition, he’d bought himself a wife whose slightest smile drove his passion into the explosive range. For better or worse, he’d make love to her every night. She might not really love him, might not be capable of seeing past the dollar signs, but he’d do his damnedest to make the marriage work.

  Going into the office, he spotted Delanie there, seated in the chair behind his grandfather’s massive rosewood desk.

  “Good morning,” he said, his gaze lingering on her.

  She sat behind the desk, her sleek red-gold hair framing her beautiful face, her slender curves discreet in a dress of some kind of rust-colored fabric. Despite the surprisingly serious expression on her face, she looked as sexy and desirable as usual.

  “Good morning, Mitchell.” The generous curve of her mouth settled into a straight line, still soft, but unsmiling. His gazed dropped to the desk top where Delanie held a small black velvet jeweler’s box, her fingers fidgeting over the soft fabric.

  A streak of cold bolted through him, settling in his gut with a thump.

  He shut the door behind him. What could be the matter? Was she planning to up the ante now after he’d spent another glorious night in her arms? Would she demand he make her a financial settlement? Maybe refuse to sign the prenup despite her earlier agreement to do so?

  He’d thought she agreed too quickly. Now that she had him by the throat, she was changing the game?

  “You look serious this morning,” he said, keeping his tone light.

  “I am.” She cleared her throat, the muscles of her neck working. “I—I can’t marry you.”

  Mitchell sat down in the chair facing the desk, not even blinking at her announcement. It was just the initial salvo in what he knew would be a long game of move and counter-move. He’d done this a thousand times in the way of business.

  Despite his experience with the process, he’d never much liked negotiation. Now, he discovered he hated it.

  “You can’t marry me?” He reached across the desk and covered her fidgeting hands with one of his own.

  She swallowed hard, pulling away from his touch. “No.”

  Controlling his urge to demand what the hell she was up to, he took a moment to calm his hammering pulse.

  “I could point out that we’re perfectly suited lovers, but that isn’t the problem, is it?” he said softly. “Tell me the obstacles to our marriage and let me find a way to make them disappear.”

  Delanie looked at him for a long moment, something like sadness in her green eyes. Slowly, she drew her hands farther away from his, leaving the ring box on the desk between them.

  “Mitchell,” she said, very deliberately, “I remember everything now. My memory came back completely this morning when I woke up.”

  Consternation flashed through him at her words, quickly followed by anger. So this was the way they were going to play the game. He’d have expected something better of her than this first-she-doesn’t-remember, now-she-does game.

  Letting his irritation get the better of him, he feigned ignorance himself, saying in a puzzled tone. “You remember everything?”

  A sorrowful smile quirked her lips. “Yes. Everything that happened between us eighteen months ago.”

  He stared at her, allowing some of the grimness he felt to seep into his expression.

  Her laugh was short. “Don’t try and convince me that you’re disassociating now. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

  His brain raced through the possible scenarios as he mentally swore at the beautiful woman across the desk. Over and over, she’d played him like a sucker, always tempting and elusive, giving him just a taste of what he wanted before yanking on the line to set the hook in his mouth.

  “I can’t marry you,” she said again, the words soft and grieving.

  He leaned back in his chair, saying coolly, “Why not? We have great sex and several other…mutual interests.”

  He had to be in his child’s life and their marriage was the best way to accomplish this goal.

  Lengthy custody battles scarred children. Beautiful, sweet Jenna wouldn’t have to deal with the trauma of her parents fighting over her. He’d make sure of it.

  Delanie’s gaze fell. “Yes, we do have wonderful sex. I never knew lovemaking could be as beautiful.”

  The surge of satisfaction brought by her words couldn’t be denied. Mitchell tried to ignore the sensation and waited for her next m
ove.

  “But I still can’t marry you,” she said. “I remember the things you said to me that morning after we first met—accusing me of being your grandfather’s mistress. Of sleeping with him so I could get money out of him. I also remember what you said about your father and mother and women who marry for money. You’re confused about love and money. If I married you now, you’d never really be sure of anything between us.”

  “There are no guarantees in any relationship,” he said roughly. “If I’m willing to take the risk, why shouldn’t you?”

  “We’re talking about different risks,” she said. “I love you, Mitchell, and I need you to believe that, regardless of what happened between your mother and father. Regardless of Donovan, who I never slept with.”

  Glancing down, he battled a surge of emotion he could only identify as longing. It had no place here. He knew that, yet he wanted fiercely to believe her. Even when he knew the stupidity of it.

  In a recalcitrant flash, his memory supplied a picture of Delanie bringing him that silly birthday cake lit with fifty-seven candles.

  “You love me,” he said slowly, “and that’s why you can’t marry me?”

  She nodded. “I wanted to talk with you here in this room because everything between us comes back to Donovan and your belief that I was his mistress, sleeping with him because of his money.”

  “Forget Donovan,” Mitchell told her, his tone raw. “We can’t live in the past.”

  Delanie’s short laugh echoed the regret in her eyes. “I certainly can’t live with the past you’ve convicted me of.”

  It was all slipping away from him, Mitchell thought angrily, hopelessly. Somehow he had to make this work.

  “What do you want from me?”

  She paused, as if trying to find a way to answer his rough demand.

  “I want you to believe in me. Completely. But I know that’s asking too much of you.”

  He looked at her, unable to come up with anything to say.

  “I don’t know why your grandfather left me half this place,” she said. “I’ve often wished he’d told me why. Left a letter or something to explain himself, but he didn’t. So, we’re stuck with this legacy of mistrust and doubt.”