A Bachelor and a Baby. Marie Ferrarella

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      To Joan Marlow Golan, with thanks for the homecoming

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      One

      Rick Masters wasn’t given to cruising around in his car. Certainly not in what was considered to be well past the shank of the evening.

      It wasn’t as if he was at loose ends with nothing to do. A stack of reports waited for his perusal, a pile of documents needed his signature and hundreds of people had lives on the cusp of being rearranged, all on his say-so once he made up his mind about the relocation of the present corporate headquarters for Masters Enterprises.

      This wasn’t the time to be driving around aimlessly on deserted streets.

      Well, not aimlessly.

      He hadn’t been aimless in a very long time. And no matter what he tried to tell himself, he knew exactly where he was going. He’d finally given in and looked her up in the telephone book an hour ago.

      She still lived there. In the old house. The one he still dreamed about on balmy nights when his mind gave him no peace.

      Like tonight.

      Maybe it was a mistake, coming back. Maybe this was the one challenge he should have turned his back on.

      Too late now.

      Besides, leaving a question unanswered was too much like letting the challenge win. Ever since he could walk, he’d always been too competitive to allow that to happen.

      He’d taken that light a little too fast. Rick raised his dark eyes to look in the rearview mirror. No dancing blue and red lights approached.

      He had to be careful, he told himself. There was no sense in letting his emotions run away with him, stealing away his tendency to be careful.

      The way they once had, leading him down a path where he was vulnerable.

      It seemed like a million years ago.

      It seemed like yesterday.

      He glanced along the silent, sleeping streets where he had grown up. It felt strange, being back. Stranger still to know that she still lived here in Bedford. When he’d left, he’d purposely never asked about her. Never given in to his curiosity about just what path her life had taken. It was enough that it was away from him.

      Out of sight was supposed to be out of mind.

      Right now, the only thing that appeared to be out of mind was him, he thought. Ironic amusement curved his generous mouth as he turned right at the next corner. There was a shopping mall now. He could remember when it was just an orange grove.

      Bedford had done a lot of growing up in the last eight years. Why not? He had.

      And yet, had he? Part of him didn’t feel like the successful VP of Masters Enterprises. Part of him still felt like that young boy, head over heels in love with the wrong person. Except that then, he hadn’t thought she was the wrong person.

      But he had learned.

      Learned a lot of things. Mostly how to take the helm of his father’s company. He’d gotten to his present position on merit, not by coasting there because he was the boss’s son. If he’d coasted, no way would he have been able to take over operations after his father’s heart attack last October. The transition in management from father to son in the last six months had been an incredibly smooth one. And why not? All he did was live and breathe business these days. There was nothing else for him, not since he’d been betrayed by the last person in the world he would have thought capable of it.

      Served him right for leading with his heart rather than his head. First and last time. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been warned. Both his parents had told him that someone in his position had to be careful about the friends he made, the women he cared for.

      Well, he’d learned all right. The lessons that you paid for dearly in life were the ones that stuck.

      So what was he doing driving through her part of town, driving onto the winding streets of her development, threading his way toward her block?

      He really didn’t know.

      He didn’t turn back.

      Self-torture had never been his way. He’d always been the philosophical one. Things happened. You got over them and moved on. And he had. Moved all the way across country to Atlanta, Georgia, the place that, until a month ago, had been the headquarters of his father’s company. Georgia, where his grandfather had originally been from. But certain economical circumstances had arisen in the last year that made that arrangement no longer as advantageous as it once had been. Almost fully recovered from his heart attack, Howard Masters wanted to have the home office of his company moved to Southern California so that he could be closer to its operations. Tax advantages were no longer a factor. Only control was.

      The old man still wanted to exercise control over the company his great-grandfather had begun in the back of a barn. Rick couldn’t fault him. Keeping control had something to do with extending a man’s mortality and Rick could sympathize with that.

      Even so, he’d resisted the move at first. But then, he’d challenged himself to face up to his demons. After all, he’d been in love with Joanna a long time ago. He was smart enough now to know that love wasn’t something to build a life on.

      If he doubted that, he had only to look to his parents. Two icons of the social world who’d looked perfect together on paper, in photographs, everywhere but in real life.

      Love, that wild, heady mysterious substance he’d once believed to have taken command of his soul, was only the stuff they wrote songs about. It had no place in the real world, and he was part of the real world. What he did or didn’t do affected thousands of people. Heavy burden, that.

      He should be turning back. It was late and he had things to do.

      The April night was crisp and clear and unusually warm, even for Southern California. He’d left the windows of his classic 64 Mustang down. His father had urged him to get a car more suitable to his present station, so he drove a Mercedes to work, but he’d refused to get rid of his Mustang. He wanted the car. Even though it had been the one he’d been driving the night he’d wanted to elope with Joanna. Even though they had made love in that car.

      Or maybe because of it.

      Rick СКАЧАТЬ