She’d lived in this house with Clay and they’d been happy once. Tears welled in her eyes. She’d missed living on the ranch, but she didn’t know just how much until she stepped over the threshold. She stood there a minute, as sensations flooded her. She and Clay had started a life here, a good life, but obstacles had gotten in the way and as much as he would lay the blame on her, her stubborn soon-to-be ex had played a hand in their breakup.
Clay’s part-time housekeeper approached the foyer and greeted her with a cautious smile. “Mrs. Worth, it’s good to see you. Welcome home.” Her gaze went straight to the baby.
“Hello, Helen. I’m glad to see you, too.” But she wasn’t really home. After her brief stay, she’d have no place here anymore. “I’ll be living at the guesthouse while I’m here, but I—”
“Yes, Clayton has told me. I’ve got everything set for you in there. But, oh my, I wasn’t expecting—”
“I know. Neither was I. This is Meggie,” Trish said, turning slightly to show her the baby’s face. “Isn’t she sweet?”
Helen’s eyes softened and she touched the baby blanket gently just under Meggie’s chin. “She’s a beautiful baby.”
“I think so, too.” Trish brushed a kiss to Meggie’s forehead. The poor child. She had no idea what was happening. They’d traveled across the country to get here, a trip that had taken its toll on both of them.
Helen waited a split second for more explanation, but Trish held her tongue. Clay’s housekeeper had a momma bear protective streak when it came to the Worth men, and Trish already suspected she wasn’t in her good graces for walking out on Clay and moving back to Nashville. Of course, she doubted Helen knew all the details and she wouldn’t hear them from her.
“Would you like something to drink?” Helen asked. “I’ve got a pot of coffee still on.”
“No, thank you. I think we’re just going to sit down in the parlor and wait for Clay.”
Helen nodded and then looked Trish over as if just noticing her state of dishevelment. “If I can do anything for you, let me know.”
How about a course in Motherhood 101? Trish could write a book about what she didn’t know about raising a baby. Every spare moment she’d managed this month had been spent poring over parenting books.
“I will. And Helen, it’s really good to see you.”
The woman smiled. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”
Trish entered the parlor and stopped short. Her breath caught in her throat, her shoulders sagged. Hurtful memories entered her mind and threatened to exhaust the last shred of her energy. She hadn’t expected this, to feel such overwhelming sadness. She’d put the divorce on hold for nearly a year, unable to face the failure, but now, being here and stepping into this room again after all this time, brought everything back.
She and Clay had argued—it had become nearly impossible not to during those days—right before she left for an overnight business trip. Trish had come home later that evening when the trip was unexpectedly canceled. With makeup sex on her mind, she strode into the parlor eager to see her husband and put a happy ending on the evening.
She found Clay with Suzy Johnson. On the sofa. Together. Intimately sipping wine and quietly laughing about God only knows, some private joke they’d probably shared. Everything about that scene screamed “wrong” in a marriage already precariously holding on by a thread. And the last thing she’d needed was the hometown girl, a Worth family friend, hovering, waiting in the wings for a chance at Clay.
Trish ground her teeth, reminding herself that she couldn’t dwell on that now. She couldn’t look back. She took a seat, spreading out the baby’s blanket and then laid the baby down. Meggie stared up at her with sparkling eyes, kicking her legs like an exercise guru, happy to be stretching out. That’s when Trish saw moisture leaking from the baby’s bloomers.
“Oh, darn,” she muttered. She’d left the diaper bag in the taxi. She chewed on her lower lip again and shook her head. She had more-than-average intelligence, but Trish couldn’t have predicted in a thousand years how difficult being a single mom would be.
Motherhood was kicking her butt.
“Have patience with me, sweet baby. I’m still learning.”
Just then Clay strode into the room with his usual confident swagger, and her heartbeats sped watching him move across the floor. His jaw tight, and his face flawlessly chiseled from granite, Trish had almost forgotten how handsome he was. She’d almost forgotten his raw sensuality. That and his innate charm had turned her head, even though she’d fought it tooth and nail in the beginning of their relationship. Because while she had refused Clayton Worth’s romantic advances, she hadn’t refused to represent him as his publicist and she’d taken him on as a client. Landing a country superstar even in the final stages of his music career had been a big deal and she’d never mixed business with pleasure. But Clay had other ideas, setting his sights on her. Once she’d stopped resisting the irresistible, she’d fallen deeply in love.
“You’re the perfect woman for me,” he’d say, before covering her body with his and bringing them both … perfection. And she’d actually believed it for a while.
He came to a halt a few feet in front of her, a pink polka-dot diaper bag gripped in his hand. “Is this what you need?”
Her gaze traveled from the tight fit of his blue jeans, to a shining silver belt buckle with the famous W brand, up the wide expanse of his blue chambray shirt to his throat and the hairs that peeked out from underneath the collar. She’d loved to kiss that part of his throat and nibble her way up to his mouth. She lifted her gaze further to meet with russet-brown eyes that seemed to peer into her soul. At one time, he could melt her heart with just one of those penetrating looks. She wondered if he was melting Suzy Johnson’s heart now.
“Oh, uh, yes. Thank you.”
He set the diaper bag down near the sofa and then sat opposite her on a wing chair. Leaning in, he braced his arms on his knees. With a no-holds-barred expression, he asked, “Are you ready to tell me what’s going on?”
She’d procrastinated telling Clay about Meggie partly because she could hardly believe it herself and partly because she knew how much Clay had wanted his own family. To her knowledge, no one had ever really denied Clay anything. He’d hit country music stardom at a young age and had retired in this mid-thirties to run the Worth empire. He was wealthy, good-looking and admired, a man used to having things on his own terms. Trish often thought of him as the golden boy. Everything in his life had come easy, whereas the opposite had been true for her.
She’d worked hard to build her career, putting her whole heart into it. When Clay moved to the ranch, she’d kept her business in Nashville and split her time between the two places. At the time, he seemed to understand the situation. But having a baby then would have meant Trish having to give up her dream.
As a child, her parents had been so intent on saving her brother from the cancer threatening his life that Trish’s needs and wants had been neglected. Every moment and every ounce of their energy went into keeping her younger brother alive. Trish had learned early on to fend for herself and to ward off the neglect by becoming self-reliant and independent. She’d clung to the things that made her strong, her schooling for one, and later, her small thriving business. The thought of letting it go and starting a family wasn’t easy for her. Not when she’d finally built something all her own. Not when Clay had changed the rules.
She looked at Clay and began, “Do you remember me telling you about Karin, my childhood friend who lived with her husband in Europe?”
Clay nodded, his eyes narrowing in question. “Yeah, I remember you talking about her.”
Trish