Sold to the Highest Bidder (17 page)

And he didn’t want to be a part-time father. He wanted to be there for every precious moment, the way his parents had been there for him. The way Ella’s father had never been there for her. As he stared into her earnest face, he realized he wanted that not only for himself, not only for their baby, but for her too. To somehow make up for the pieces that had been missing. Looking back, maybe that was where they’d gone wrong. He’d tried to do it when they were kids, and he had failed. Now their own child was at stake too, and he couldn’t push away the need to fix it. Even if she didn’t like it.

“And if I don’t divorce you?”

“I will still go through with it, and you will have to contest it in court. Then I expect there will be custody issues to settle.” He stared at her, not quite believing she’d go that far. But Ella was determined. She’d walked away once before without looking back, hadn’t she?

“I don’t want that, Devin,” she continued, her face softening. “I want us to do this as friends, for the sake of our child. I’m not asking you to give up much.”

Not much? At this moment it felt like he was giving up
everything
. He no longer cared about revenge or secrets. She was asking him to give up on their marriage once and for all. She was asking him to give up time with a child he already loved. Not to mention the dream they’d had of a two-parent family. She was taking away his chance to make things right.

“You mean my life will mostly stay unchanged.”

“Yes, of course.” She smiled a little, like she was trying to be encouraging.

“What if I don’t want it to stay unchanged? You are asking me to make sacrifices—as a husband and a parent.” He thought of visits every other weekend and separate vacations. He thought of her marrying later and another man stepping in to be a father to his child. The very idea nearly ripped his heart from his chest. “I can’t do it, Ell. It’s too much to ask.”

“Too much?” Her gaze snapped up to his, her cheekbones flushed as a thin line of tension underscored the words. “You get to keep your business, the life you’ve built here. Would you be willing to give up DMQ and go to Boston with me? What about me, Devin? I wanted this Boston job. I wanted the promotion and the new life. I’m willing to give it up so that
you
can be close to the baby. So you can be a father, and we can work together. Do you think I wanted to stay at the paper forever?”

The idea of giving up DMQ and moving across the country was ludicrous. He could support them all on what DMQ brought in. His parents were here, his child’s grandparents. An aunt and uncle and cousins.

“My family is here. How can I deny my parents the chance to be grandparents to our baby?”

Ella’s lips tightened. “Because this is about us and not them, Devin.”

He thought of the typewriter and the wistful look on her face that Saturday morning when she’d run her fingers over the keyboard. “If we truly did this together, you wouldn’t have to stay at the paper. You could write the book you always said you wanted to. Hell, Ella, I can support us all with DMQ.” The idea sounded so perfect to his ears his imagination took flight. “We could even renovate this place, use it on weekends. I could bring our son or daughter here and teach them how to ride and fish and you could type away…”

For a long, quiet moment, he saw uncertainty on her face. She was tempted. But the hesitation was quickly masked and she merely offered a distant, polite smile.

“That’s a lovely fantasy, Devin, but it’s missing one important element. It would require a strong relationship as a foundation, and that’s one we don’t have. There’s too much resentment in both of us.”

It was difficult to argue when what she was saying sounded so damned logical. He could see her—and his baby—slipping through his fingers and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it. She had made up her mind. She’d made it up years ago, and he hadn’t accepted it. Now look where they’d ended up. How could he ask his child to pay the price for his pride, their mistakes? He rose from the chair and went out on the small verandah, needing desperately to breathe in some of the cool, clean air. Everything was closing around him. He hadn’t been able to say anything to change her mind, and he felt small when she looked at him with disappointment in her eyes.

He closed his eyes. That was it, wasn’t it? He’d been so afraid of disappointing her that he’d shut her out instead.

But what more did she want? He was prepared to give them the best life he possibly could.

When she followed him he opened his eyes and rested his hands on the railing, staring down over the valley below.

“Dev,” she murmured, putting her hand on his arm.

Before he could change his mind, he gripped her fingers in his opposite hand, turned and pulled her close, pressing his lips to hers.

Her lips parted beneath his, soft and sweet and a taste he knew like it was the air he breathed. Her body touched his and he thought of the miracle of their child resting between them. How could he let her go, feeling the way he was feeling? He knew now that he loved her; he’d never stopped. But their love was so complicated that saying it—that simple declaration—was beyond him. She’d never believe him. She’d think he was saying it to get his way.

He dropped light kisses on the crest of her cheek. “Does this feel like goodbye to you?”

Then he heard her breath catch. Her lips were close to his ear when she whispered back, “No. But it’s not enough.”

As the kiss waned, he rested his forehead against hers, the elation he’d felt leaking away like a deflated balloon. He knew she hadn’t lied when she said she’d fight him. And a court battle was not what he wanted.

“If you ever loved me, Dev, you’ll let me go.”

He pulled away, feeling as bereft now as he had the day he’d received her letter calling their marriage a mistake. For over a decade she’d been asking him to do this. Perhaps it was time. Time to let go and face past mistakes. To make a clean slate of it. He stepped back until no part of his body was touching her, but not quite out of the cloud of her clean, floral scent. For an odd second, he knew he’d remember it for the rest of his life, the soft scent of goodbye. He knew her well enough to know she meant what she said. And he knew sometimes the best thing was to lose a battle so you could fight another day.

“I’ll have my lawyer draw up new papers first thing Monday morning, as well as a custody agreement and financial support.”

Her lips fell open and surprise widened her eyes. “You mean that.”

“A court battle isn’t good for you or the baby. Maybe it’s time I started listening.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t,” he ordered, unable to look at her any longer. He strode past her to the door. “For God’s sake, don’t apologize. Don’t say anything more. Please.”

He went back inside, feeling caged within the four walls where they’d first lived during their marriage. He waited until he heard her car leave the drive. Then he put on his boots, grabbed his hat and headed back to the barn.

Chapter Twelve

Ella pressed send and sighed, feeling a sense of relief that the article was done and now on its way to her editor. It had been a struggle, sifting through all she’d learned and finding the angle she’d wanted. Finally, it had clicked into place and her fingers had flown over the keys—a story not about politics or profit but about people. A story vastly different from the one she was assigned. She had to be crazy. Her hopes of the Boston job were gone. She had traded them in for a bigger goal—two available parents for her unborn child. To turn in something other than her assignment wouldn’t do her job security any favors. And yet she had to write the story her conscience told her to write. She would deal with the consequences.

She was just shutting down her laptop when a knock sounded. She opened the door to her apartment, surprised to see a courier standing with a clipboard and a large envelope.

“Ella McQuade?”

She swallowed, nodded mutely, more affected than she cared to admit by the use of her married name. She signed her name next to the appropriate number and accepted the package.

It was from a legal firm in Durango.

Dev had remained true to his word, though after the scene at the cabin she had known he would. With trembling fingers she opened the envelope and withdrew the thick sheaf of papers. Divorce, custody. His signature, finally. All that was left was for her to sign and file them with the court.

She scanned the sheets, reading the terms, relieved to see he had stuck to the conditions she’d laid out last Saturday morning. Nor had he wasted any time. She wanted to feel relieved, but all she could manage was a gaping sense of loss. The young, idealistic girl, the handsome, ambitious boy… This was what they had come to. Co-parenting in two different cities.

Before she could change her mind, she grabbed a pen and signed her name beneath his, the letters blurred through her tears.

***

Ella stood before Charlie’s desk, her teeth clenched as he finished writing something on a paper. He was keeping her waiting. On purpose. He knew it and she knew it. Just as she knew what was coming was not going to be pleasant.

Without looking at her, he spoke. “Sit down, Ella.”

She felt her stomach turn, a mix of nerves and the morning sickness that hadn’t yet cleared. “I think I’d rather stand, sir.”

Finally Donovan looked up at her. He reached to his side and picked up a paper. “This is what you’re handing in?”

“Yes, sir.” She worked hard at schooling her features. Donovan had to see a strong, determined woman. Not one whose knees were trembling. She’d known there would likely be backlash at the fact she hadn’t written the story he wanted. And she’d thought she’d be okay with it. Until the moment she’d been summoned to his office.

“What am I supposed to do with it?”

“Print it, sir.” Her heart took a little leap, rather proud at her assertiveness.

“Print it?”

Donovan’s voice didn’t sound amused at her temerity and her internal smile waned.

“This isn’t what you were assigned, Ella. There is no news here. This is a touchy-feely editorial sadly lacking in newsworthy facts. What happened to screwing HMOs to the post? What happened to putting the spotlight on one of Colorado’s most successful entrepreneurs?” He tossed the article on his desk with a negligent flick of the wrist. “This doesn’t sell papers.”

And that was, she knew, the whole point. To sell papers. Up until a week ago she had agreed with him.

But not now.

“It’s the truth, Charlie. That’s all I can say.”

“It has to be rewritten.”

Her heart stopped for one brief second, and she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to find her voice. “No,” she answered, the word weak and thready.

“Come on. I’m giving you another chance here. Rewrite it by tomorrow and it can still feature in the weekend edition. You’re a good reporter, Ella. Your talents have been wasted, and I put my faith in you with this assignment.”

“I know that.” She saw a vision of her dreams going down the toilet and considered doing what he asked. She needed this job. If she wasn’t going to Boston now she had to make a name for herself here.

“Then what in the world possessed you to write this? The first installment was wonderful, thought provoking, inflammatory. I really thought you’d nailed it.”

She had, and she knew it. And then she had a vision of Betty’s face as she’d spoken of Devin’s help, and of Devin’s when he’d told her about his cancer. “I wrote the first article on face value,” she tried to explain. “But I couldn’t this time. This is about real people, Charlie. I can’t advance by stepping on others. I just can’t.”

“Why? Because you’re married to Devin McQuade?”

Ella’s jaw dropped. “You know about that?”

He nodded. “Of course I do. I have for some time. You forget I was once a junior reporter. With research skills.”

He’d known and he’d sent her to cover the story anyway. If it had been intentional, it was cruel. She’d been tested in so many ways from so many corners, and she’d failed at each one. Well, no more. This time she would do what was right. She would not change her story. She had done the right thing writing it the way she had. If she was sure of nothing else, she was sure of that.

“My story stands,” she claimed, straightening her shoulders, feeling at once proud with an underbelly of uncertainty.

“If that’s your position, I’m afraid we have a problem. There is a reason we call them ‘assignments’. You write what you’re told to write, with a clear expectation of what that will be.” His amiable face hardened. There had been enough beating around the bush, apparently. Charlie was ready to play hardball.

“I can’t work that way. So yes, we have a problem. Are you going to print the article or not?”

“Yes,” he acceded, sighing and leaning back in his chair. “Yes, I’m going to print it. But as an editorial piece.”

“Thank you.” She turned to leave, needing to end the conversation. She needed to think, and his words were warring with Devin’s at the moment. How could she be force-fed the kind of stories she would write? What was the alternative? If she stayed one more minute, she would throw away her career with one thoughtless remark. No, she needed time. Time to think it through.

“Ella—”

“I’ll get back to you about the rest, Charlie. Just give me the afternoon, okay?”

His eyes held a measure of understanding and disappointment she couldn’t bear to see. She left his office quickly, closing the door behind her, heading straight for her cubicle and feeling ill once more. This time it had nothing to do with the life growing inside her.

***

Devin couldn’t bring himself to go to the cabin, not this weekend. The memory of being there the last time still left a sour taste. He paid Frank overtime to look after the stock in his absence, and when he couldn’t stand the quiet in his condo anymore, went to the Animas Resort for Sunday breakfast and then out to the river. He took his rod with him. The best fishing would soon be over. He did his best thinking when he was fishing, nothing but the silence and the rhythm of his wrist as he cast out with the fly.

He found a good lie and quietly entered the water, feeling the cool liquid pool around his waders. As he cast, hearing the zing of the line through the reel, he remembered the first time he’d seen Ella again. She’d accused him of never looking forward, of being stuck in the cabin and wasting his time fishing and watching ball games. She’d been wrong. It wasn’t a waste, but a way to unwind from work, to burn off stress. To remember—and appreciate—where he’d come from. But she’d been right in one way. He’d held on to some things too long. He hadn’t left her behind. Now that he had, it was more painful than he expected.

He got a few nibbles, but the trout weren’t biting well and he was far too distracted. He packed up his gear and made the trek back to the resort. It had been one of DMQ’s most recent acquisitions, and while he trusted the running of it to Kate McGrew, he enjoyed being onsite and keeping on top of things. It had been an enjoyable revelation—to discover his passion went beyond the initial acquisition stage. He had thought he’d buy properties and flip them, but instead he invested in them, fixing them up. He made them profitable and reaped the benefits.

He went into the lounge to grab a sandwich for lunch. He’d ordered and was sipping on a Coors when Kate slid into the booth with him. “Hey, stranger.”

He grinned up at her pretty face. “Hey yourself. Business looks good.” He looked around the room, noting the busy tables and smiling staff. “You’re doing a hell of a job, Katie. I don’t know if I’ve said that lately, but it’s true.”

“It keeps me out of trouble.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

They shared a good-natured smile and a waitress put a glass of ice water in front of Kate. He had never seen her take a drink on the job, not even when it was more social than work. Hiring her had been possibly the best business decision he’d made in turning the resort around.

She was a good friend, and he wondered if he’d overlooked an opportunity there. The night of the auction she’d bid right along with Ella until the last. Would their forty-eight hours have been more than he expected?

Would he have wanted it to be?

“Last time I saw you,” she noted, pushing her straw through her water, “you had your shirt off and a bunch of horny women were howling.”

He blushed. “Thanks for bringing that up.”

“It was quite a show.”

He met her gaze. She wasn’t hiding or flirting. Instead, her brown eyes met his evenly, perhaps even with a hint of challenge.

“You did some bidding yourself. I don’t think I ever thanked you for that. You did me a favor.”

The warmth in her eyes cooled. “It wasn’t completely altruistic, you know.”

Devin tried, wished he felt some attraction, some pull to Kate that would take his mind off of Ella. It would make things so much easier if he could find himself interested in someone else. But it was no use. He looked away.

“That’s okay, Devin. I gave up on more a long time ago.”

He swiveled his head back to stare at her. Kate? In all the years he’d known her, he hadn’t realized she’d fostered feelings for him. The first night they’d met he’d embarrassed himself by inflicting a sloppy, drunken kiss on her lips. Her no-nonsense response had solidified a friendship. Or so he thought.

“Kate, I don’t know what to say.”

Kate took a sip of her water and put the glass back down on the table, creating a new wet ring on the wood surface. “Hell, the whole town knows there’s never been anyone besides Ella for you. How are things with her, anyway?”

He puckered his brow, feeling the jump of his pulse at the mention of her name, followed by the sinking knowledge that it was really over between them. “Why would you ask?”

Kate sat back against the green padded cushions of the booth. “Rumor has it she checked into the Strater last week.”

“The rumor mill is working just fine, I see.” Irritation flared and he pushed his beer away. “I suppose everyone knows she’s pregnant too.”

“Dammit!” Kate dribbled cold water down her blouse front as her lips fell open. She grabbed a napkin and blotted the white fabric. “Jeez, Devin. You might warn a girl. Seriously? I suppose now is the time I should offer congratulations.”

Devin shook his head. Kate had been a friend for a long time. He’d never really clued into the attraction thing, but he’d always been able to talk to her, beginning with the night he’d made his first real-estate deal and the celebrating had turned into a bourbon-fuelled lament about his broken heart. The kiss had been an inauspicious beginning to long friendship and then business relationship. Telling her about this now was just as embarrassing, considering what they’d just said—and what they hadn’t.

“Not exactly. Our divorce was filed this week too.”

For several long seconds Kate looked at him, making him feel like she was somehow measuring. Go ahead, let her, he thought. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been doing the same thing all week and finding himself coming up short.

“So you become a bachelor and a dad all in the same week? Interesting.” She tapped a fingernail on the table. “Very interesting.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

She laughed, then reached over and patted his arm. “You haven’t seen the paper today, have you?”

He shook his head, wondering why Kate was suddenly looking at him like she was the cat that got the cream. The earlier tension was gone and she was back to being just his friend again.

“I’ve been fishing.”

She slid out of the booth and went to a table next to the entrance. When she came back, she opened the Sunday edition, folded it in half and passed it across the table.

It was the story. Her story. Ella’s. He’d wondered what she was going to write, hoping she’d meant it when she said she wouldn’t use his illness for her own gain. His picture was there though, the color one they’d used in that magazine article a few months ago, and a headline—
Healthcare for Real People.

His lip curled as he realized what she’d done—put him front and center. He’d trusted her, dammit. He’d given her what she wanted—a divorce. He’d agreed to her arrangement even though it was the last thing he wanted. And now here he was, in print. He refolded the paper and handed it back, keeping a rein on his anger and forcing his face to remain neutral in Kate’s presence. Maybe Ella had been right all along. This was a better way, making the split between them official and permanent. But it hurt that she’d betrayed his trust again. So much for not exploiting him.