A Vow, a Ring, a Baby Swing Read online

  Steve tipped the room service waiter and shut the door to Rosie’s hotel suite. She’d been in the bathroom ever since he’d brought her here from the chapel. It had been almost an hour and if she didn’t come out soon, he’d have to break the damn door down. One corner of his mouth lifted. You could take the kid out of the gutter, but apparently you couldn’t completely leave the gutter mentality behind.

  He knocked softly. “Lunch is here, squirt.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “I ordered a bottle of wine.”

  “It’s not even close to happy hour,” she said. The door between them did nothing to muffle her sarcasm.

  He knew he should be grateful she wasn’t in the same room with him. An angry Marchetti was a formidable sight. When her shock wore off, he would be in for it. Unless he could mellow her out with a glass of wine.

  “It’s the kind you like. I figured it was the least I could do.”

  “You figured wrong. And how would you know what I like?”

  He knew. For years he’d covertly watched Rosie at family gatherings and carefully filed away every detail he’d observed about her. Oh, yeah, he knew damn well.

  After a few moments she said through the door, “Just go away and leave me alone.”

  Steve turned his back, trying to shake the feeling that he’d slam-dunked a kitten. He ran a hand through

  He looked around the hotel suite, taking in the elegant understated decor. Matching cherrywood furniture polished to a perfect shine decorated the bedroom, parlor and dining area. The sofa, love seat, and accent chairs in shades of blue, green and mauve striped and floral patterns had been expertly coordinated by an interior designer. Expensive Stiffel brass lamps held court on all the tables. Who’d have guessed that a guy like him could even get into a place like this? The years had smoothed away the rough edges of the skinny, dirty kid he’d once been.

  A kid who’d never laid eyes on his father. A kid whose mother had dumped him at a downtown L.A. bus station never to be heard from again. He’d wound up in the county home with other kids just like himself, angry and bitter. The odds said he should have gone to hell.

  He heard a faucet running in the bathroom. Rosemarie Teresa Christina. Marchetti. He smiled. He’d beat the odds when a twist of fate had crossed his path with her brother Nick’s. They’d become best

  He heard her moving around and his smile turned grim. He wasn’t sure which was worse: her self-imposed quarantine, or facing her when she came out. He wasn’t looking forward to the angry third-degree he knew she would give him. There was only one thing worse than that

  Seeing her cry.

  She hadn’t yet. As a matter of fact, she hadn’t said much, either. That zombie-like calm was so unlike her it made him nervous. As much as he dreaded the inevitable storm, it would be preferable to the silent treatment. He hated waiting for the other shoe to fall—or in this case, the flood of tears he knew was coming. He had to get her the hell home—to someone who could hold her when she cried.

  The door behind him opened. He braced himself.

  “Steve?”

  “What?” He turned.

  Her hands twisted together as she stared accusingly at him. She had changed out of her beige silk suit and looked just as pretty, maybe more so, in a denim jumper with a white T-shirt underneath. Her dark curly hair had been done up on top of her head for the wedding and was tumbling down now. He couldn’t help thinking it made her look as if she’d just come from a man’s bed. That thought was followed by a white-hot flash of desire, which he quickly pushed away.

  He had learned a long time ago that it was easier if he didn’t think about Rosie that way. Most of the time he succeeded. Then, out of the blue—bam!—those feelings zapped him like a lightning bolt.

  Nick had never said the exact words, but he had still made it clear that Steve was to think of her as a kid sister. That made her “hands off.” He had taken his protective role to a new level today, he thought. After what he’d done, she wasn’t going to any man’s bed, including his.

  Especially his.

  “Why did you do it?” she asked. “You could have said no.”

  “To your mother?”

  “No. Xena, Warrior Princess. Of course, my mother. When she asked you to submarine me, you could have told her you wouldn’t stoop that low.”

  She was right. But he couldn’t manage to summon the guilt he knew he should feel. He had absolutely no regrets. He’d built a booming business and had made a lot of money by giving his corporate clients all the information they needed to keep from making a mistake. He’d never taken as much satisfaction from a job well done as he did now.

  Rosie was a one-in-a-million woman.

  She didn’t know it now, but she was better off alone than she would have been married to that twotiming jerk. Confronting Wayne without laying a hand on him had been one of the hardest things Steve had ever done. He’d wanted to punch Wayne’s lights out, especially when he’d started spouting lies about Rosie.

  “Look, squirt, you know why I couldn’t say no.”

  “I don’t.” She shook her head. “It’s easy. You open your mouth. It’s one tiny syllable. ‘No.’ Simple.”

  “I owe your parents more than I can repay in a lifetime.”

  “You already paid off the college loan,” she said. “With interest.”

  “It’s not about money.”

  “Okay. It’s about how when you were a kid my father caught you stealing from his restaurant and instead of calling the cops, he made you work.”

  “You got it.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “That doesn’t make you my parents’ lackey.”

  He couldn’t help smiling. “‘Lackey’? Rosie, you’ve been reading too many books in that store of yours.”

  “I’m serious, Steve. Maybe you like the word ‘flunky’ better? My folks gave you a helping hand. You don’t owe them your life’s blood forever. Your success is the only reward they want.”

  He owed them everything. “I know they don’t expect anything.”

  “But you sided with them.”

  “I didn’t take sides, and it’s not a you-against-them situation.”

  “No?” She caught her full bottom lip between her teeth.

  The longer she talked, the more he thought maybe she’d already gotten the waterworks out of her system. He studied her. She didn’t look as though she’d been crying. Her turned-up nose wasn’t red. No blotches on her face. No wadded up tissue in her hand. Nope, the storm was still gaining momentum.

  She looked troubled. And angry. Hell, why shouldn’t she? He’d just busted up her wedding. She would get over it. He took heart from the fact that when she’d listed everything she liked about Wayne, she’d never said she loved him. Although he didn’t

  “You’ve ruined everything,” she said, taking her makeup case from the bathroom and setting it on the love seat.

  He stuck his hands into his jeans pockets. “It may seem that way now, but give it time. You’ll see—”

  “All the time in the world won’t change what you’ve done. You’ve destroyed my life,” she said, her voice tight with suppressed resentment and simmering panic. “You and my mother.”

  He wanted to say he’d saved her life, but she wouldn’t see that now. He almost wished he had come up empty when he’d checked out her fiancé. What he’d found was worse than he’d expected. In fact he’d kept the sleazy information to himself for a hell of a long time, hoping he wouldn’t need it.

  Then Mrs. M. had called him last night and told him about the wedding. He’d had to show her what he’d discovered. When she saw the information, paying Wayne off had been her mother’s idea. The lesser of two evils was still evil, and he reminded himself that Rosie must be feeling pretty bad right now.

  He tried to be gentle with her. “Your mother was concerned.”

  “My mother thinks Prince Albert wouldn’t be good enough for me. You know that.”

  “She
loves you, squirt. Your whole family does. They want the best for you.”

  “Who gets to decide what the best is? Shouldn’t that be me? And when do I get to start calling the shots? I’m twenty-six years old. It’s about time they

  And a nice face it was. But he couldn’t tell her that. He didn’t know what to say. Something positive. “They’re proud of you, Rosie.”

  She shook her head. “In a pig’s eye.”

  “Look at the bookstore. They’re pleased at the success you’ve made of it.”

  “That doesn’t count. They couldn’t force me into the family business and I used my trust fund to open the store. We’re talking about interpersonal relationships here. My parents don’t trust me, Steve. It’s as simple as that. You don’t interfere if you believe in someone.” Her eyes turned accusing. “And you of all people—I thought you would support me. You were the only one who didn’t think I should go into the restaurant business with my brothers.”

  She was right. He did a lot of work for the Marchettis. If she’d followed her brothers into the family operated restaurant chain, he’d have had to see her more than he could handle. He’d supported her desire to start her own business, but his motives had been selfish.

  “I’m sorry you’re upset,” he said. “But this is for the best. You’ll see.”

  “I’ll never see that. And you helped do this to me.” Her eyes got bigger—and angrier, if that was possible. “You checked out Wayne, didn’t you? You investigated his background.”

  He nodded. “When you first started seeing him.”

  “Why? My mother?” Her face was composed, even though she was mad.

  “No one trusted him.”

  Evasion. It was better than the truth. No way would

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Little things you said. No visible means of support, vague references to stocks and investments. He pushed his advantage with you at the speed of light.” He was too slick, too smooth, too evasive. Too damn charming.

  “So what did you find out?”

  “Do you want to see the reports?” When had he learned to bluff so well? He prayed she would say no because he’d left them with her mother. Besides, he wouldn’t show her everything. That info would devastate her. He’d agreed to do the dirty work, but he wouldn’t destroy her in the process.

  “Just tell me what you found,” she answered.

  He breathed a sigh of relief. “He lives off wealthy women.”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “Why would I lie?”

  There was a bruised look in her eyes as she shook her head, indicating she didn’t know. “But I’m not wealthy. That proves he cares about me for myself.” She took a step forward, her eyes pleading with him to agree that she was right. “My bookstore makes a small profit, which Wayne encouraged me to channel right back into the business. Does that sound like a man after my money?”

  “It sounds like a cheat who’s done his homework.” He walked over to her and nudged her chin up until her troubled gaze met his own. “How could he miss? Your family is well off. If he couldn’t get it from you, he’d get it from them.”

  “So Mother commissioned you to cut to the chase.”

  He nodded. “He opted for the quick buck. And Flo figured the hurt you’d feel now is nothing compared to what it would be if you’d married that son of a—”

  She put a hand over her mouth and turned away.

  Here it comes, he thought. He figured action as the best way to deal with the situation. He would hurry her out of the hotel and to the airport and on the first plane back to California.

  “It’s time to go—”

  “This is awful.” She ignored him and started pacing. “You don’t know what you’ve done.”

  “Yeah. I do. I got that cheating con man out of your life.”

  “I had to get married today. I needed to get married, Steve.”

  Something about the way she said “needed” gave him a bad feeling. “I don’t understand. Define ‘need.’”

  When she faced him dead on, he didn’t see the anticipated tears in her eyes. Just misery mixed with anger. And full-blown panic.

  “I’m pregnant, Steve. I’m going to have a baby.”

  Chapter Two

  Never say never, Rosie thought. Steve Schafer had finally noticed her.

  If only it had been for her ravishing beauty, to-die-for body and irresistible charm instead of her shocking announcement. With all her heart, she wished that she could take those words back. Why in God’s name had she blurted out her news like that? Her excuses lined up like ducks in a row: shock and hurt and anger, mixed with a down-and-dirty desire to shake him out of that damn complacency he wore like a pair of sexy jeans.

  And fear. Terror had pushed the words out of her mouth.

  She’d had the situation under control. She’d planned to marry Wayne and give her baby a name and a father. She’d been determined to make the best of their relationship. She would have made it work, too. But her well-meaning family, with Steve’s eager

  Above all, Rosie did not want anyone else to know she was pregnant. At least not yet. But she knew she’d get more secrecy from a tabloid reporter than Steve. He’d been dispatched by her mother to take care of her; he would feel obligated to report that she was going to have a baby.

  There were two reasons she didn’t want them to know. Number one: she was afraid the shock would send her mother back to the hospital with another heart attack. Number two: she didn’t think she could stand to see the hurt and disappointment on her parents’ faces when they found out their only daughter had messed up so badly.

  No. She had enough to handle without taking that on just now. Since she couldn’t rewind and edit, she had to do some serious damage repair. But how?

  “You’re pregnant?” he said finally.

  “Gotcha!” She pointed at him as she tried her best to grin, the last thing she felt like doing.

  But turning it into a joke was all she could think of to do. How else could she make him go away? She needed to deal with the fact that her fiancé hadn’t loved her enough to resist her family’s meddling. Surprisingly, she didn’t feel as if she was going to fall apart, but lately she couldn’t tell. Her hormones were pretty whacked out. If she decided to have a good cry, she wanted privacy. The last person on earth she wanted to witness her breakdown was Steve Schafer.

  “You’re trying to tell me that was a gag?” he asked. He didn’t believe her.

  “Okay, it’s not very funny. I’m not in an especially good mood. Put yourself in my shoes. How would

  The look of pity on his face at the chapel had nearly been her undoing. If he knew about the baby, there would be a mega-dose of that expression and she would rather walk naked into a hailstorm than see it again.

  Tension crackled between them and Rosie couldn’t stand it. “Next time, stay out of my life when my mother asks you to do her dirty work.”

  Something crossed his face. A shadow. He almost looked guilty. Well, he darn well should. She was pregnant and not married. Thanks to him she never would be.

  He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the cherrywood desk, looking far too comfortable, as if he were settling in for a heart-to-heart. A long time ago he had turned his back on her, given up his claim to soul-baring chats. He didn’t need her, and she would never need him again. Lord, she wasn’t feeling well. If her stomach decided to rebel, a frequent occurrence of late, she would never get rid of him.

  “I’m not going to argue with you, Steve.” How could there be arguing when she was the only one talking? The fact that he didn’t rise to her bait and bicker back was immaterial, irrelevant, and completely unimportant. Not to mention frustrating and annoying. “Actually, I’d like you to leave. Go back to my mother and tell her ‘mission accomplished.’”

  “I plan to go. But not without you. I have two plane tickets for Los Angeles, and we’re going to use

  “You eat. I’m
not hungry.” Why was he still trying to feed her? She folded her arms against her increasingly agitated stomach.

  “You’ve got to have something. Since when do you turn down a meal?”

  “Since I got stood up at the altar. A broken heart tends to put a girl off eating.”

  He tensed. “I wish there had been another way. You know I hate this as much as you do.”

  He really did look sorry. In fact, he looked terrible. Tired, as if he hadn’t slept in days. She pushed. the thought away. She’d give the man no quarter, no sympathy.

  “You couldn’t possibly feel like I do.” He wasn’t pregnant. And if he was, not only would it be a miracle, but there were any number of tall, leggy blondes who would drop everything to make an honest man of him.

  “I wish things could have been different, squirt.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.”

  He looked apologetic, an expression just this side of feeling sorry for her. If he went to the pity place she wouldn’t be held responsible for her actions. No jury of her peers—girls from interfering families who’d paid off a fiancé—would convict her for any mayhem she decided to wreak upon his decidedly hunky person.

  “Why don’t you try to eat? I got your favorites.” In a single fluid motion he straightened and lifted the metal dome from one of the plates on the room service tray beside him. “Steak, potatoes au gratin, asparagus.”

  She sniffed and her stomach lurched. Brought down by the smell! She put a hand over her mouth and raced to the bathroom, slamming the door. It didn’t take long to get rid of the small amount of breakfast she’d been able to choke down. When she was steady, she rinsed her mouth out.

  She was staring at her chalky-white face in the mirror when Steve knocked on the door.

  Her humiliation was complete.

  “Ro?”

  “Go away.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Fine. Go away.”

  “Can I come in?”

  “No. Go away.”

  The door opened. He took one look at her face, quickly but gently sat her on the side of the tub, and then wet a washcloth. He sat next to her and started to bathe her forehead and the back of her neck.