The Great Baby Caper (12 page)

“But, Mark, I told you I
wouldn’t—”

“Separate bedrooms if necessary,
Courtney. Which brings me to my next term. Look at me, Courtney.”

She did, and found his gaze
burning into hers. “Yes?”

He took her hand. “I’ll agree not
to claim my husbandly due for a time. But I have still the right to woo you,
Courtney.”

“I . . .” Noting the impassioned
look in his eyes, she was having difficulty breathing. “I still have the right
to say no.”

“That you do, darling.” But all at
once Mark appeared very relieved, and his wicked grin attested that he didn’t
believe her for a moment.

***

The rest of the meal passed with
Courtney uneasy and Mark appearing proud enough to burst his buttons as they
discussed their plans in greater detail. Later, outside the restaurant, he
stopped on the deserted walkway, pulled her into his arms and tenderly kissed
her. Courtney clung to him but found the moment bittersweet. They were going to
marry, but they faced so many challenges, and she remained so confused. Would
they make it?

“My future bride,” Mark breathed
afterward. “Do you know how proud it makes me to say that?”

“Mark, let’s not expect too much.”

“Darling, I expect it all.”

He pulled a small velvet box from
his pocket and extracted a ring. Before she could even gasp he slipped the
stunning, square cut diamond on the third finger of her left hand.

Courtney felt awed and touched.
“Mark, you shouldn’t have. It’s beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful.” The words were
awed.

“When . . . where did you get it?”

“In London, on my last trip there
a few weeks ago.”

She scowled. “Confident, weren’t
you?”

“Hopeful, darling. Always
hopeful.”

After another long, lingering
kiss, he led her to the car. By now, Courtney felt as if her heart were
permanently lodged in her throat. She had agreed to marry Mark as a practical
solution; she hadn’t expected him to be so romantic about it. She’d insisted on
a marriage of convenience; he’d made clear he intended otherwise.

How would she survive a honeymoon
alone with him?

***

Driving Courtney home, Mark felt
proud enough to burst. She’d agreed to marry him. She still had her doubts, and
to be honest, so had he. Was she marrying him only to secure her promotion, or
to have a father for their child? Could she come to care for him and the baby?
Or would he never be more than a stepping stone in her career path?

He’d feel so much better if they
could be intimate together from the outset of their marriage. But she’d been
adamant there, and he had to accept her any way he could get her. Already she
tended not to trust him, and he couldn’t risk destroying their fragile rapport.
At least she had agreed to the honeymoon plans; once they were alone, surely
she would succumb to the same magic that had swept them up in New Orleans.

The worst part was over now. They
would be together, the two of them and their child. He had his work cut out for
him with Courtney, but he intended to see that this became much more than a
marriage of convenience—that it became a marriage in every way. Both their
futures depended on this.

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Late on an afternoon a week later,
four tense individuals sat in the waiting room of a Detroit area justice of the
peace. Courtney and Mark shared an uncomfortable wooden bench, with Vanessa and
M. Billingham sitting on equally stiff chairs across from them.

Despite the lovely beige suit she
wore, the bridal bouquet of roses she held, Courtney felt like an emotional
basket case. She glanced at Mark seated beside her, appearing so handsome and
sober in his expensive gray pinstripe suit. Attractive though she found him,
she couldn’t believe she was marrying this man whom she barely knew. It still
hadn’t completely sunk in that she was having his baby.

Their two agreed-on witnesses, M.
Billingham and Vanessa, weren’t helping matters at all as they continuously shot
one another hostile looks; Courtney fully expected warfare to erupt at any
moment. In the two hours since she and Mark had picked up the pair at the
airport, they’d been snipping at each other constantly.

The atmosphere had been far more
restrained between Courtney and M. Billingham, so far. She’d exchanged only a
few stiff words with her former—and soon to become future—boss. Of course, the
arrogant M. Billingham had been unable to resist making a snide comment or two
about how Courtney had “come around” to his way of thinking. But Courtney also
had her own small victory to relish; she’d managed to convince Mark not to tell
his grandfather about the baby she carried—at least, not yet. After all, it was
humiliating enough to know that she had, in effect, bowed to the old man’s
dictates; if he knew she’d slept with his grandson all but on sight, his
gloating would never end.

As if she needed all these
tensions to top off a most stressful period in her life. The last week had been
a blur—seeing a doctor to confirm her pregnancy, rushing about with Mark to get
their marriage license and blood tests, arranging for her own move back to Denver; resigning from her job. Not to mention, negotiating their “honeymoon.” Mark had
insisted they spend at least a week alone; Courtney had finally whittled that
down to five days.

She was marrying a most charming
and determined man—a reality which hardly comforted her, given the reality that
they would shortly be alone together.

She’d also had to call her parents
and break the news about her sudden marriage to Mark. They’d been shocked, then
hurt and confused when she’d insisted that she didn’t want them to throw her a
big wedding back in Denver, or hop on a plane and come here. They were happy to
hear Courtney was moving home. But when Courtney’s mother had announced she
would throw a big reception for the newlyweds back in Denver, Courtney had
insisted it was too soon to discuss the subject. Then, feeling guilty, Courtney
had promised she and Mark would attend the already scheduled birthday party for
her sister Caryn’s twins next week.

She hadn’t told her folks about
the baby, but she was sure they suspected something was amiss, due to the
rushed and almost secretive wedding plans. She’d felt badly about shutting them
out, but she was having a very difficult time maintaining her own emotional
equilibrium. It was bad enough having to deal with a sudden marriage, not to
mention M. Billingham’s presence as witness. If she’d said “yes,” to her
parents, that would have opened the floodgate, and her entire family would have
come storming up to Detroit, complete with ravenous curiosity and endless
questions regarding the hurried nuptials. That kind of stress she could not
have tolerated.

M. Billingham’s voice cut into her
thoughts. “Well, this is a swanky little place,” he put in drolly, glancing
about the small, utilitarian office. “About as palatable as the coach
compartment on our flight up from Denver.”

Mark flashed his grandfather a
pained look. “Grandfather, please don’t start up again regarding your plane
ride.”

M. Billingham emitted what sounded
like a growl. “I wouldn’t have to start up at all, except for
that woman
.”
He jerked a thumb in the direction of Vanessa.

“Don’t you flip your finger at me,
Ham Bootle!” Vanessa responded tartly.

“It was a
thumb
, woman.”

“I don’t care if it was a pickled
herring. Are you blaming me again because your corporate jet blew a gasket?”

“It didn’t blow a gasket,” M.
Billingham grumbled. “An engine overheated, so I had to book a commercial
flight at the last moment, never knowing
you
would be on board.”

“Excuse me for attending my dear
friend’s wedding,” Vanessa retorted.

“That is excusable. What was
unconscionable was your refusing to board the same airplane with me unless I
sat in coach, so you could have First Class all to yourself. Of all the gall!
Why, I haven’t ridden in coach since—well, since I was a very young chap and
took a junket through the Middle East as a tourist.”

Vanessa smiled nastily at M.
Billingham. “I think a person of your insufferable arrogance deserves to take
every flight in coach. Besides, you’re lucky I didn’t demand the entire
airplane to myself.”

“I should have allowed the airline
authorities to put you off as they were threatening to do,” he continued
crossly. “But I figured our Courtney would likely refuse to marry my grandson
without you here—though God knows why she’s so partial to you.” He flashed
Courtney a forbearing smile.

“You’re absolutely right there,”
Courtney agreed sweetly.

“Thus I was forced to bow to your tactics
and retreat to coach. Are you satisfied now that you’ve humiliated me with your
little power play?”

“Power play?” Vanessa scoffed.
“You’re one to talk about power plays. Seems to me you’re quite the one to
blackmail others into untenable positions.”

“How dare you,” blustered M.
Billingham.

“Grandfather, please,” pleaded
Mark. “It’s Courtney’s and my wedding day. Can’t you two display a modicum of
courtesy?”

At once Vanessa grew contrite.
“I’m sorry.”

M. Billingham was hardly as
repentant. “I apologize as well, grandson. But this woman is unbearable. It’s
no wonder we had to expel her from the board of directors—”

“You mean
you
did!” Vanessa
cut in.

Mark surged to his feet. “Enough,
I said.”

The two culprits were staring at
him guiltily when a middle-aged woman emerged from the adjacent office. “The
judge will see you now.”

With a relieved smile, Mark turned
to extend his hand to Courtney. “Ready, dear?”

Thinking she might never be ready,
Courtney took his hand and smiled back with a courage she hardly felt.

The four trooped rather glumly
into the office with its wood paneling and large desk at the center. The judge,
an elderly man with a shock of white hair, stood and greeted them all with
friendly handshakes, then got straight down to business. As he began a short,
stock sermon on love, commitment, teamwork, and family values, Courtney glanced
about to see that M. Billingham and Vanessa both appeared cool and immovable as
statutes. Then she covertly looked at Mark to find his expression so solemn, and
slightly vulnerable. Tenderness twisted her heart.

What was he thinking, feeling? Was
he as confused as she was? Was he glad that they were marrying, or did he feel
troubled, and rushed, as she did? Did he really care about her and the baby, as
he had claimed? Or was he deceiving her and possibly himself as well? Was he
really doing his grandfather’s bidding, after all? If only she could know for
certain what was in his heart, and her own . . .

Doing his grandfather’s bidding
was actually the farthest thing from Mark’s mind as he listened to the judge
and stared at the woman he loved. Though she was trying to put on a brave
front, Courtney’s eyes gave her away. In those lovely green depths, he could
spot her uncertainty and vulnerability. In the slight trembling of her lips, he
could sense her hesitation, her turbulent emotion. Did she have doubts about
the course she had selected?

He had none at all. He was
convinced they were making the right choice. Thank heaven they’d soon be alone
on Mackinac Island, where he’d have her all to himself. Surely before they left
the honeymoon haunt, he’d be able to woo her over to his side and she would see
that they were meant to be together, always . . .

Courtney felt almost unreal as she
repeated her vows to love, honor, and cherish the stranger who would soon
become her husband. In a breathtakingly brief amount of time, the two had
exchanged their wedding rings, it was all over, and the judge was giving Mark
permission to kiss her. She watched him turn, saw him smile a smile of pure
joy. Then he pulled her into his arms and pressed his lips so lovingly to hers.
She was shocked and warmed to feel tears burning her eyes.

After a moment they moved apart.
Mark winked at her tenderly, then turned, shook hands with the judge, and
thanked him.

“Bravo!” declared M. Billingham,
striding forward to clap Mark across the shoulders. Then he stepped toward
Courtney and kissed her cheek. “Welcome to the family, my dear.”

“Thank you, sir,” she responded
stiffly.

“What’s this ‘sir?’” he asked in
outrage. “We’re all kin now. You must call me ‘Grandfather’ just as Mark does.”

Courtney bit her lip to keep from
issuing a less-than-ladylike retort.

“I don’t think we should push
things there straightaway,” Mark admonished his grandfather.

M. Billingham gave a shrug but did
not directly comment. “At any rate, Courtney, we’re delighted to have you among
the Bootle clan, and will also look forward to seeing you back at work next
week.”

Courtney nodded stiffly.

As he retreated, Vanessa rushed
forward, warming embracing Courtney. “Congratulations, darling.”

“Thanks, Vanessa.”

Vanessa smiled back and whispered,
“I know this must be hard on you right now, but I’m sure in time you’ll see
it’s for the best.”

“I hope you’re right,” Courtney
replied bravely.

After attending to some legalities
and exchanging some final pleasantries with the judge, the four exited the
office. In the waiting room, Courtney extended her bouquet toward Vanessa.
“Here, I want you to have this.”

Surprisingly, the older woman
shook her head. “Thanks, but don’t you think that would be a bad omen?” She
shot a nasty look at M. Billingham. “I mean, the woman who takes the bride’s
bouquet is supposed to get married next, and with
him
here . . .”

“Ah, yes, better to have Jack the
Ripper along, eh?” M. Billingham mocked.

“Quite so,” came the chilly
response.

“Vanessa, please, don’t be silly,”
Courtney scolded, pressing the flowers into the other woman’s hands. “I want
you to have the bouquet. And you don’t have to marry anyone if you don’t want
to.”

“Oh, very well.” Giving Courtney
another hug, Vanessa accepted the roses.

M. Billingham clapped his hands.
“Well, what say I take us all out for a grand dinner?”

“Thanks, Grandfather,” answered
Mark, “but I must ask you and Vanessa to celebrate in our stead.” He wrapped an
arm about Courtney’s waist and grinned. “I’m absconding with my bride on our
honeymoon.”

Courtney felt herself blushing,
but didn’t comment. Truth to tell, as nervous as she felt about that
“honeymoon,” she still much preferred leaving with Mark to contending with the
tense atmosphere between Vanessa and M. Billingham.

M. Billingham appeared eminently
pleased. “Good show, my boy. I can’t blame you at all for carrying off this
beauty.” He glanced expectantly at Vanessa. “Hungry?”

“Not on your life,” she retorted,
waving a hand. “I’d rather eat prison food than break bread with you, Ham
Bootle.” She turned to squeeze Courtney’s hand. “Best of luck, dear. I must run
along. I’ll see you back in Denver.”

“Thanks, Vanessa.”

Vanessa slipped out of the office,
leaving Courtney and Mark alone with M. Billingham. The old guy winked
conspiratorially. “Well, grandson, tell me where the two of you are going.”

“Grandfather, you know better than
to ask that,” Mark chided. “Honeymoon plans are invariably state secrets.”

“I suppose,” M. Billingham replied
in obvious disappointment. “Well, good luck, you two. I’m going to go back to
my hotel and have some room service, then await the corporate jet in the
morning. God knows I can’t risk running into
that woman
on another
commercial flight.”

Mark smiled awkwardly. “Good luck,
grandfather. May we drop you at your hotel?”

“No, no, I’ll catch a cab. Have a
pleasant honeymoon, you two.”

After giving Courtney another
quick hug and shaking Mark’s hand, the old man slipped out, leaving but the two
of them in the deserted outer office. Mark surprised Courtney with a delighted
laugh.

“What?” she asked.

With a look of joyous
anticipation, he caught her close for a brief though ardent kiss.
“Congratulations, Mrs. Billingham. At last I have you alone.”

Courtney was left reeling.
Mrs.
Billingham. At last I have you alone
. This is what she had been afraid of
all along!