Unwrapped (11 page)

“The pleasure's mine.” He exchanged a measured look with Patrick. “I was just telling Patrick about the connection you have to our family. It seems that our father worked with your uncle a few years before he passed away.”

“Really?” Jac plastered on a smile. “Well, that is a coincidence. Now, if you'll excuse me, Mr. McPherson. I need to catch a plane.”

“You're not leaving.” Patrick stepped in front of her, and their eyes clashed before Rory spoke.

“What my gruff brother is trying to say, Ms. Maguire, is that our family would love to meet you. In fact my mother has dinner all planned.”

“That's very thoughtful,” she said, “but I really couldn't—”

“Jac?” Gerald peeked his head in the door. There was little doubt that he'd been listening to the entire exchange. “I was wondering if I might speak to you in private for a moment.” Relieved to be out from between two such intimidating men, she nodded and met him in the hall, where he hooked an arm through hers and led her to a vacant waiting room.

“You're not using your head, Jac,” he said. “Did you notice Patrick's brother's suit? It's Armani or I'm the pope. Which means that he has money.”

“So?” She flopped down in a chair. She was exhausted and hungry and really sick of men yakking at her. Even Gerald. Although she became more alert when he continued.

“Enough money to hire a lawyer and sue for custody.”

She stared at him. “Are you kidding me? Regardless of how nice his brother dresses, Patrick is a crude, overbearing construction worker. No judge in their right mind would give him custody. Not over a Rosenblum.”

He rolled his eyes. “Not a Rosenblum, but an illegitimate Maguire who has no job or way of supporting herself.” He counted off on his fingers. “Has a boatload of debt. Lives with a gay man. And ran out on two weddings.”

Jac eased back in the chair and covered her stomach as fear like she'd never known welled inside her. Until this point the trip had just been a bad idea. Now it had suddenly turned into her worst nightmare.

“He can't have Lulu, Gerald,” she whispered. “I can't let him take Lulu.”

“Of course we won't let him take the baby.” He sat down next to her and took her hand. “But you have to stop being so antagonistic. Don't you always say that you get more flies with honey than with kerosene—or something like that? So if Patrick wants you to go to dinner with his family, we go to dinner with his family. We sit at their table and feast on Kentucky Fried Chicken while we talk about hunting and fishing and manly things, and we do it with bright smiles on our faces. We do whatever it takes to convince him and his family that we're good people and that his child will be loved, taken care of, and have more advantages then he could ever offer her.”

She shook her head. “But what if he wants joint custody?”

“He won't. Does he look like the kind of guy who would want to be saddled with a screaming baby? Nor does he look like the kind of guy who would travel across the country to see his baby. At least not very often.”

The fear subsided, replaced with determination. “You're right, Geri.” She squeezed his hand.

Gerald grinned. “Then it's a plan. Once we turn on the charm, his country bumpkin family won't know what hit them, and we'll be back in New York City before Bailey gets suspicious.”

T
he sunny morning had given way to an overcast afternoon. Dark clouds rolled over the Rocky Mountains, covering the city like a sheet of gray aluminum siding. It seemed fitting. Patrick's mind was as troubled as the skies, his thoughts a brewing storm with no ray of sunshine. A baby. It didn't seem possible. Not for a man who had always prided himself on self-control, moderation, and responsible sex.

Until Halloween night. That night he'd forgotten all about self-control, moderation, and responsible sex. And look where it had gotten him.

He glanced over at the woman who sat next to him in the truck. The ditzy blonde who had given him a night he couldn't forget had turned into a redhead who seemed to change as quickly as the Denver weather. After the accident she'd been belligerent and stubborn. Now she was all friendly and accepting. Almost too friendly and accepting.

She glanced over and caught him studying her. She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. “So how much further to your parents' house?”

“Not far,” he said and returned his attention to the road. He wasn't exactly thrilled about the dinner with his family. In fact he was more than a little pissed off that his father had butted his nose in where it didn't belong. Of course Big Al was only trying to prevent a lawsuit. His father must've had his brothers do some major digging to come up with the information about Jacqueline's uncle. Rory hadn't had time to go into detail about how their father knew her uncle, but he was probably some union worker on one of their previous construction sites.

Probably a union worker who could use money.

Although Patrick was no longer worried about a lawsuit. He had much bigger problems. Like how to tell his family that he'd gotten the thermos victim pregnant. And there was a moment when he actually considered bypassing his parents' house and postponing the moment. Instead he pulled into the circular drive.

“Your parents live here?”

Jacqueline's high-pitched, almost frantic voice had him glancing over. Her face had lost most of its color. In fact she looked like she was about to pass out as she stared at the house.

For the first time in his life, he viewed his family home as something more than just the place where he'd grown up. His gaze took in the aged stone and multi-paned windows. The steep shingled roof and huge oak doors. The sculptured shrubs and neatly tended flowerbeds. It wasn't as large as some homes in the neighborhood, but its elegant grace and subtle richness could be intimidating.

“You don't have to worry,” he said as he cut the engine. “They're not rich snobs.” He got out and walked around to her side of the truck. After the kiss back at the hospital, he wasn't in any hurry to touch her again. But his truck was high, and all the manners his mother had drummed into his head not easily forgotten. Although he released her hand as soon as her feet hit the brick driveway, annoyed at how just the feel of her soft skin made him want to kiss her senseless.

She didn't seem to be as affected. Her attention was still riveted on the house. Usually during the holidays it was decorated with lights, a nativity scene, and Santa. But this year his mother had yet to call him to help with the decorations. As Rory's silver Lexus pulled in behind them, Patrick made a mental note to speak to his brothers and get the job done that weekend. He didn't decorate his condo, but he liked his parents' home decorated.

The arrival of Rory and Gerald finally pulled Jacqueline's attention from the house, and she hurried over to Gerald as he got out of the car.

“This is Patrick's parents' house,” she said in a tight voice.

Gerald flashed Patrick a smile. “So I've heard. Beautiful home.”

“Thank you.” Rory came around the front of the car. “My father built it a few years after coming to Denver.”

“Around the same time as he started M&M Construction?” Gerald asked.

Jacqueline turned to Patrick. “Your family owns M&M?”

Patrick shrugged and couldn't help teasing. “Just a bunch of beer-guzzling nail-pounders.” She didn't seem to get the joke. In fact her face grew even paler. Concerned that the head injury was making her light-headed, he took her arm and guided her to the front doors. “Are you okay?” he asked.

She didn't have time to answer before the doors opened and the McPherson clan converged. Jake and his wife Melanie, Matthew and Ellie, Rory's wife Amy, Cassie and her husband James, and his horde of nieces and nephews. Jacqueline took a step back as Rory made the introductions, and Patrick couldn't blame her. The McPhersons en masse would intimidate an army. Especially Patrick's father, Big Al, who stood at the back of the group like a Scottish chieftain.

“Welcome to our home, Ms. Maguire,” he said in his usual booming voice. “I had the pleasure of building a business complex in Chicago for your great-uncle Thaddeus when I first started M&M. I was sorry to hear of his passing. And your aunt's.” He paused. “I hope my sons have taken good care of you after the unfortunate accident.”

Jacqueline appeared to have trouble closing her mouth, even after Gerald gave her a nudge with his elbow. Patrick felt the same way. So her uncle wasn't just a blue-collar worker. This could complicate things.

“Mom, why don't you take Jacqueline inside?” Patrick said. “I'm sure she'd like to sit down.”

His mother in all her Chanel glory slipped an arm around Jacqueline. “You're absolutely right, Patrick. I don't know what we were thinking standing here in the cold. Jacqueline, you and Gerald come on in by the fire, and I'll get you something warm to drink.”

The group moved inside, but once they were there, his father herded Patrick into his study. Of course his siblings followed. Along with his brother-in-law, James, who after marrying his sister had become a partner in the company.

Everyone crowded around the large desk as Big Al took the chair behind it.

“So what do you think, Patrick? Is she going to sue?”

Patrick had hoped that he could postpone this moment until after he'd talked with Jacqueline and had some time to think about what he wanted to do. Unfortunately, there was no way to talk about the incident without revealing the truth. And Patrick had never hedged around the truth.

“No.” He sat down in one of the chairs in front of his father's desk. Before he could elaborate, his oldest brother, Jake, moved up behind him.

“I agree. Why would she sue when she has her aunt's billions?”

Billions
?
Patrick straightened. Jacqueline's family were billionaires? He didn't know why he was surprised. The statement about her mother had thrown him off, but now that he thought about it, Jacqueline had an arrogance that spoke of money. At least now she did. Back at the cabin, she'd been a different woman. Softer and much more friendly. Too bad that woman was long gone.

“We don't know for a fact that she inherited her aunt's money,” Matthew jumped in. “She's not living on her aunt's estate. Although she does seem to be living the life of the rich and famous. She doesn't work, and her name popped up on numerous society pages. It seems she has a thing for parties, older men…and weddings.”

“She's married?” Patrick's voice was deceptively calm. Especially when his emotions were so tumultuous.

“Apparently not,” Matthew said. “She left both grooms at the altar. The second just this past Halloween.”

At the moment Patrick really wanted to punch something. It appeared that Jacqueline had lied from the beginning. She hadn't been coming from a party as much as her own wedding. It turned out that her name fit her after all. Jacqueline was a manipulative little rich girl. A manipulative little rich girl whom he'd gotten pregnant.

Unwilling to beat around the bush a second longer, he dropped the bomb on his family. “She's pregnant with my child.”

There was a long stretch of stunned silence before Jake flopped down in the chair next to him. “Holy hell,” he said as the rest of his siblings stared at him in shock. His father didn't look shocked as much as pissed. His face flamed as he leaned forward and pounded on the desk.

“You impregnated a young woman and failed to mention it to anyone?”

Not willing to show his own agitation, Patrick leaned back and crossed his arms. “I didn't know about the baby until today.”

“And you're sure it's yours?”

After all the lies he'd caught her in, Patrick should have had his doubts about the baby. He didn't. Not just because of the busted condom, but because there was no other explanation for why she'd shown up at his jobsite.

“I'm sure,” he said.

“But how did it happen?” Cassie asked, which caused her husband James to lift his brows.

“After three children, you don't know, sweetheart?”

She swatted at him. “I know how she got pregnant. I just don't understand how Patrick met her. From the information Matthew gave us, she lives in an apartment in New York City. Are you traveling on weekends, Paddy?”

When Patrick didn't answer, Matthew spoke. “The wedding. Jacqueline's wedding was at the Gerhardts' estate. Which isn't far from Dad's old fishing cabin.”

Cassie's eyes widened. “You had sex with her before her wedding?”

“No wonder she canceled,” Rory said with a teasing twinkle in his eyes. “She was worn out.”

“That will be enough from all of you,” Big Al warned. He studied Patrick for only a moment before he asked, “Do you love her?”

Everything inside of Patrick tensed. He knew where his father was going, and Patrick wasn't about to go there. “I'm not marrying her, if that's what you're getting at.”

There was a flicker of disappointment in his father's eyes before he leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “So I guess that leaves only one question.” He turned to Jake. “Where does this leave the company?”

“In a bad place, I'm afraid,” Jake said. “Since she had a good reason to be at the site, if she wanted to sue, a jury would decide in her favor.”

Patrick's temper finally snapped, and he came up out of the chair. “She's not going to sue the damned company! In fact she didn't even plan on staying until you butted in and invited her to dinner.”

“Sit down, Patrick,” his father ordered. But Patrick refused to listen. His life was spiraling out of control, and he didn't need his father's two cents' worth. Or anyone else's. What he needed was some solitude to figure things out.

“For one second can you release control, Dad? Is that too much to ask? This isn't your problem or the company's. This is my problem.” He jabbed at his chest. “Mine. And if you'll stay the hell out of it, I'll handle it.”

There was a long stretch of silence, punctuated by the soft ticks of the grandfather clock in the corner. This wasn't the first time Patrick and his father had gotten into it, and as usual, his father had to have the last word.

“Fine.” He got up and pointed a finger at Patrick. “But you had better handle it well. Not only because I refuse to hand over my company to some one-night stand but also because that's a McPherson she's carrying. And I don't ignore McPhersons—illegitimate or not.” He moved around the desk. “Now let's go entertain our guests.”

The room cleared, and on the way out, his brothers and James patted him on the back while Cassie gave him a tight hug.

“It's going to be okay, Paddy,” she said. “Whatever you decide, we'll be behind you one hundred percent.”

When his family was gone, Patrick sat down in the chair and massaged his temples. Whatever he decided? Hell, he was struggling to breathe. How could he possibly decide what to do?

“I'd say that you've had one hell of a day.”

He looked up to see his great-aunt Wheezie peeking over the back of the leather couch that sat in front of the fireplace. From the looks of her mussed white hair, the old woman had been taking a nap. Or no doubt eavesdropping.

“I've had better,” Patrick said as he joined her. She patted the spot next to her on the couch. He sat down and leaned his arms on his knees, staring at the fire that blazed in the fireplace. The heat and familiar crackling of the burning wood soothed his frazzled nerves almost as much as the feel of his aunt's hand, which came to rest on his back. Just like she'd done when he was a child and had gotten hurt or just needed a nap, she rubbed tiny circles in the very center until the tension eased from his shoulders.

“It's funny how life is so good at throwing curveballs,” she said. “One second you're standing at the plate waiting to hit a ball out of the park, and the next that same ball hits you right between the eyes. It's happened to me more times than I can count. Each time I didn't know if I was actually hurt or just pissed off that I didn't see it coming.”

“I sure didn't see this coming,” he said.

“No, I guess you didn't. And like your daddy, you've always hated surprises.”

Patrick
did
hate surprises. He liked his life like he liked his building plans, carefully drawn out and orderly. Then Jacqueline had shown up and scattered all his plans to the wind. Of course he couldn't blame her. He was the one who'd seduced her on Halloween night. The one who'd taken a chance on an old condom he'd found in a drawer.

He got up and walked to the fireplace. “It's my fault, Wheeze. I'm the one who made the mistake.”

She snorted. “You aren't the first McPherson to make a mistake, and you won't be the last. It's how you handle your mistakes that counts. So quit beating yourself up about something you can't change and figure out where to go from here.”

He turned and looked at her. “Since you've been shoving me at the altar for the last year, I'm going to assume that you want me to marry her. Like Dad.”