The Baby Bonus

There had been something wild and dangerous in his eyes when he’d looked at her. He’d been so different from the boys she knew—so serious and driven, so much smoldering passion. She’d been drawn to him instantly. After getting to know him, she’d admired his strong sense of honor and determination to make something of himself. But it had been the yearning to belong that she sensed in Cole that had stolen her heart. Making love with him had been as elemental as breathing to her. When she’d become pregnant, he had insisted they marry—just as she’d known he would. Convincing him to elope had been the tricky part. Yet, even after all this time, she remembered those magical days as his wife—days when she’d been so sure their love was strong enough to survive anything.

Until her world came crashing down, and she’d lost both Cole and their baby.

“…and I just hope that…that I’ve done the right thing. You mean the world to me, Regan. All I want…all I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy.”

Something in her aunt’s tone snagged Regan’s attention, pulled her from thoughts about the past. “I am happy, Aunt Liz. You’ve given me the one thing in the world that I want most—a baby…or at least the chance to have a baby.”

A worried frown chased across her aunt’s brow. “As wonderful as a baby is, it only fills a part of your life. What about a husband? Someone to share your life with? Don’t you want someone to be a father to this baby, to make more babies with you?”

Regan sighed at her aunt’s simple assessment of all the things missing in her life. “You didn’t need a man to make your life complete, Aunt Liz. Neither do I.”

“We’re not talking about me, dear. Besides, I did have someone once. Someone I was foolish enough to let go. I’m an old woman now, with most of my life behind me. But you…you have most of your life still ahead of you. Don’t waste it. Don’t settle for memories and regrets.”

“I’m not wasting my life,” Regan insisted.

“Are you sure? I can’t help remembering the last time you were pregnant. How happy and in love you and Cole were, and when the two of you got married—”

“Our marriage was a mistake. We were too young to know what we were doing.”

Her aunt’s frown deepened. The brown eyes so like her father’s pinned her. “You were old enough to know that you loved each other, to conceive a child together. I’ve often wondered if your father hadn’t insisted on that annulment—”

“Daddy did what he thought was best,” Regan countered, a lump forming in her throat. She turned away, stared out the window, hugging her arms about her as though it could somehow stop the ache that always came when she played the game of what-ifs. What if she had gone to Cole and told him about her father’s threats to have him arrested because she’d been underage unless she annulled the marriage? What if she hadn’t lied to Cole, hadn’t said she didn’t love him? What if…

“Honey, I know you loved your father. He was my brother, and I loved him too. But that doesn’t mean I was blind to his faults. He wasn’t perfect. Sometimes he made mistakes, judged people unfairly. He was wrong about Cole. And he was wrong to interfere in your marriage, to force you to make a choice.”

“What’s done is done, Aunt Liz. We can’t go back.” Determined to lock the painful door to the past, she turned around to face her aunt. “What matters is the future. This baby is my future.”

“You’re right,” her aunt said, sliding a worried glance to Regan’s stomach. “I just hope that whatever happens…”

Suddenly alarmed, Regan placed her hand protectively on her belly. Fear curled like a fist around her heart. “Aunt Liz, is there something you haven’t told me? Is there…is there something wrong with my baby?”

“No. Oh no, child. Nothing’s wrong with the baby.”

“Then what is it? Why the long face?”

She shook her head, gave her a tight smile. “I guess I’m just worrying that maybe I’m as bad as your father because I’m the one interfering in your life now.”

Relief washed through Regan. “You haven’t. You’ve given me a priceless gift.”

“But what if—”

“No what-ifs,” Regan insisted. “Everything’s going to be fine. Just wait and see. This time absolutely nothing’s going to go wrong.”

One

Absolutely everything seemed to be going wrong, Regan admitted as she retraced her path from the ladies’ room to her office at the rear of the jewelry salon. Pressing a hand to her still-queasy stomach, she eased behind the worktable where her jeweler’s tools, an assortment of gems and several pieces awaited her attention.

“Come on, Slugger,” Regan pleaded, smoothing her palm over her still-flat belly. “How about giving Mommy a break here? Morning sickness is called that for a reason. These tummy hijinks are not supposed to happen in the afternoon, too.” She certainly hadn’t expected the morning sickness to plague her long and late into every day, as had been the case during the two weeks since she’d confirmed her pregnancy. Nor had she expected her energy level to dip so drastically that it rivaled New Orleans’ below-sea-level position along the Mississippi River. Sighing, Regan shook her head. This pregnancy was so different from the last one, she thought, and immediately regretted the comparison as memories of the miscarriage came flooding back.

Squeezing her eyes shut a moment, Regan pressed a fist against the ache in her heart—an ache that time had dulled but never quite healed. She sucked in a breath and tried to banish the pain that always accompanied thoughts of that sad time in her life. Things were different now, she reminded herself. She was different. She wasn’t a starry-eyed girl unexpectedly pregnant with her lover’s child this time. She was a woman, without any foolish illusions about love. This pregnancy was the result of planning, not passion. And in just over seven months when she held her baby in her arms, she would have everything she wanted, everything she needed.

What about a husband? Someone to share your life with? Someone to be a father to this baby?

Her aunt’s words replayed in Regan’s head, taunting her. Ruthlessly, she shut them off. Aunt Liz was wrong, she assured herself. She didn’t need or want a husband. All she needed was her baby, a child of her own to hold in her arms, to give all the love she had stored in her heart. Patting her tummy, she whispered, “Don’t worry, sweetie. We’ll be just fine. You’ll see. You won’t even miss not having a daddy because I’m going to be the best mommy possible. I promise.”

The wink of diamonds caught her eye, and Regan glanced at the jewelry spread out before her in various stages of completion. Becoming mommy of the year would have to wait a bit longer, she decided. Right now, she had work to do—work that the store desperately needed if she hoped to make the mortgage payment on time this month. Thoughts of the hefty mortgage made her frown, and, not for the first time, Regan wished she had taken a few business courses along with her classes on gem-cutting and grading. Heaven knows she certainly could have used even just a little of what she had once considered the dull business know-how during this past year. But then, she’d had no idea she would ever need to worry about things like fiscal management and market share and interest rates. She certainly had never dreamed that she would find herself in a financial mess and in danger of losing the store that had been in her family for five generations. And while she’d managed to hang on so far, she wasn’t out of the woods by any means. Flicking on the work light, she repositioned the sketch she’d made of a ring, but her thoughts drifted once more to her finances.

You should have told me we were in trouble, Daddy. Why didn’t you at least let me try to help?

But she knew why her father hadn’t told her, Regan admitted. He had been protecting her—as he always did. Anger sparked anew as she recalled the dual shocks of her father’s sudden death and the discovery that Exclusives was on the verge of bankruptcy. But on the heels of her resentment came guilt. She had no right to be angry with her father—not when he’d given her so much. After all, it had been her father who had introduced her to the magical world of gems and nurtured her dreams of designing. Maybe he had been overprotective at times, but only because he had loved her. And he had been there when she needed him, had helped her pick up the pieces of her life when she’d lost both her baby and Cole. She owed it to her father to make the store solvent again, to pass on the legacy to her own child someday. And she would, Regan vowed. “I won’t let you down, Daddy,” she promised.

Swiping at the tears that seemed to surface so easily these days, Regan picked up the ring she’d been working on before her dash to the bathroom. “What do you say, Slugger? No more shenanigans until I finish this piece. All right?”

When her stomach had remained calm for a full five minutes, Regan grinned. Evidently, she and Slugger had worked out a deal. She glanced at the sketch and then at the ring and frowned. Running a fingertip along the gold band, an anniversary gift for one of the store’s best clients, she studied the piece with a critical eye. The four-carat Burmese ruby at the center of the ring was exquisite, she conceded, admiring the brilliant luster of the stone, the way it caught and reflected the light. Despite its size and origin, the silk effect, or straw inclusions, so common in rubies were so faint they were invisible to the naked eye. The diamond baguettes flanking either side of the blood-red gem set off the ruby perfectly. The ring was beautiful, and the customer would be very happy with it. Yet, Regan itched to replace the ruby with the fiery green emerald locked in the safe.

“Your mommy’s crazy, Slugger,” she muttered. Selling the ruby would be the smart thing to do, not to mention far more lucrative since it was a more expensive stone. But the part of her that had always been drawn to the magic of the stones rather than to their monetary value kept seeing the emerald nestled between the diamonds. The fact that the heart stone, as the emerald was known, would be all the more fitting for the occasion only compounded her desire to use it. Regan sighed again. Not only was she crazy, she decided, pushing back from her worktable, but she was a lousy businesswoman to boot. Walking across the room, she unlocked the vault and retrieved a black velvet tray of gems. She’d just placed the tray on her worktable when the intercom on the desk behind her buzzed.

“Ms. St. Claire?”

Turning, Regan hit the speaker button on the phone. “Yes, Amy,” she replied, wishing the new receptionist would call her Regan as she had asked her to do.

“There’s a Mr. Cole Thornton here to see you.”

Regan froze. Suddenly the air backed up in her lungs. Her stomach did a nosedive, and the room began to spin. Her knees wobbly, she sank down onto the chair beside the desk and tried to suck in a breath.

Cole Thornton. Here in New Orleans. To see her? After all this time?

Twelve years had passed since that horrible day when he’d looked at her with ice in his gray eyes as he’d lashed out at her before leaving town. He’d never spoken to her again. Not once. But she had never forgotten him. How could she when the city that had once shunned the dirt-poor young Cole was so eager to claim the successful real-estate mogul as one of its native sons? She’d lost count of the photos she’d seen of him at various business and charity functions over the years—the snippets of gossip about his latest acquisitions, the lavish parties he attended, the glamorous women he dated. As far as she knew, until now, he’d only returned to New Orleans once. Recalling her brief encounter with him on that one occasion still stung. Just remembering his cool indifference, the way he’d looked right through her sent a stab of pain through her. No way did she intend to put herself through that kind of anguish again. Especially not now.

“Ms. St. Claire? Should I send Mr. Thornton in?”

“No,” Regan shot back. Swallowing past the tightness in her throat, she assured herself that this rush of emotion she was experiencing was due to her pregnancy and had nothing to do with any lingering feelings she had for Cole. “Please give Mr. Thornton my apologies, Amy, and tell him I’m unavailable. Oh and, Amy, I’d appreciate it if you’d hold my calls,” she said before severing the connection.

Feeling a bit unsteady, Regan returned to her worktable and sank down to her stool. Think of work, she commanded herself. Work had been her refuge twelve years ago. It would be her refuge now. Besides, she reminded herself, she had a baby on the way and a staff who needed her to make sure Exclusives stayed afloat. Intent on removing the ruby from its setting, Regan didn’t even bother looking up when she heard the door open a few minutes later. “Whatever it is, Amy, I’ll deal with it later. I don’t have time right now.”

“Then I suggest you make time.”

The tool fell from Regan’s fingers and clattered noisily on the marble tabletop, at the sound of the voice that had once sent shivers of longing up her spine.

“Ms. St. Claire, I’m sorry,” a nervous Amy said as she rushed in behind Cole. Her eyes shifted anxiously from Regan to Cole and back again. “I tried to explain to Mr. Thornton that you couldn’t see him—”

“And I assured Amy that you would see me,” Cole replied.

“It’s all right, Amy,” Regan told the young woman in a voice that belied the fact that her heart was slamming against her ribs. “I’ll handle it.”

Amy didn’t need to be told twice. She scurried out of the room, pulling the door closed behind her. And as she watched the other woman escape, Regan fervently wished she could do the same. Bracing herself, she met Cole’s gaze.

“And just how do you plan to handle me, princess?”