The Great Baby Caper (4 page)

“It was deliberate, all right,
Courtney, but I’m hardly joking,” the chairman replied.

“Both of you were in on this?” she
demanded.

Mark’s miserable expression
confirmed his involvement.

“Yes, the two of us and your
chauffeur,” M. Billingham admitted proudly. “I had to bribe him, of course.”

She turned on Mark. “How could
you?”

Helplessly, he beseeched her with
an outstretched hand. “Courtney, please, you’re taking this all wrong. You must
allow me to explain—”

“Explain! You deceived me, you
jerk!”

As gasps sounded out around them,
he pleaded, “Please, Courtney, I never intended for matters to run amuck this
way.”

“Sure, you didn’t,” she snapped
back. “Lies and betrayal must be a spectator sport for you, as they are with
your grandfather.”

Undaunted, M. Billingham scolded,
“Courtney, really, I think you’re being rash, and perhaps a bit arrogant—”

“Arrogant? Rash? I’ll tell you
what arrogant and rash are: Requiring me to marry your grandson as part of my
job description.”

Now Mark spoke up sternly. “Yes,
Grandfather, Courtney is right. Fun is fun, but you’re taking this too far. It
is utterly absurd of you to try to blackmail her into marrying me.”

She shot him a nasty look. “Look,
Mr. Mark Whoever-You-Are. I don’t need your help.” She addressed the chairman.
“Well, what do you say? Are you going to back down on this absurd dictate, or
should I hire a lawyer and sue you?”

M. Billingham gave a shrug. “My
terms stand. If you want the promotion, you’ll marry my grandson. Otherwise, it
goes to Gilchrist.”

Courtney stared from Mark to M.
Billingham with tears burning her eyes. “Then I quit. And I’ll see
you
in court, Mr. Bootle.”

She wheeled about and exited the
room.

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Mark stood stunned, watching Courtney
flee the ballroom like Cinderella rushing to get home by midnight. He thought
of running after her, but soon realized there was little point in doing so as
long as she remained so furious, and surely hurt.

Not that he blamed her. He
couldn’t believe what his grandfather had just done, ruining his chances with a
woman who had fascinated him for some time. He’d gone along with his
grandfather’s crazy scheme only because he’d thought the scavenger hunt might
be a fun way for him and Courtney to meet. Never had he dreamed his dotty
relative would actually follow through fully and try to force Courtney to wed
him on the spot. Now M. Billingham Bootle had ruined everything, his rash
strategy backfiring in both their faces.

He observed the old man, laughing
with Gideon and Gilchrist and several other colleagues . . . as if he hadn’t
just destroyed a woman’s life and career. He heard him quip, “Well, Gilchrist,
it seems you may be the winner, after all—”

That did it! Mark could not abide
any additional insults from the geezer. He quickly stepped between the men and
tapped his grandfather on the shoulder. “Sir, a word with you, if you please.”

Casting his grandson a forbearing
look, M. Billingham grinned to the others. “Pardon me, gentlemen. I must speak
with my grandson.”

As the others murmured platitudes,
Mark curtly nodded toward the ballroom doors. “Outside, sir.”

“As you wish.”

Mark turned and marched from the
room, with his grandfather close on his heels. Outside in the corridor, he
turned on the older man. “Have you lost your mind, sir?”

M. Billingham chuckled. “Not in
the least. I think I performed quite admirably.”

“You mean you just singlehandedly
ruined my chances with a woman I would actually love to marry.”

M. Billingham sighed. “Grandson,
you overdramatize so. You’re just like your mother, Pamela, in that regard.”

A sudden pain clenched Mark’s
throat. “Do not speak ill of the dead, Grandfather.”

A look of regret crossed the old
man’s eyes, and he waved a hand in irritation. “Dash it, boy, must you be so
touchy about everything? You never did have much of a sense of humor.”

“I have a splendid sense of
humor—except when my grandfather is acting like a maniac and ruining my
life—and that of an innocent bystander.”

“Now you’re being entirely too
judgmental—”

“And you’re blaming me and
changing the subject, as always,” Mark cut in heatedly. “May we cease
discussing my character defects and have a go at yours?”

M. Billingham shook his head.
“Dash it if you aren’t dogged and stubborn just like your father—”

“I said enough insults regarding
my parents, may God rest their souls,” Mark cut in with more venom than he had
intended. “Let us return to the subject at hand.”

“Which is?”

“Damn it, Grandfather!” Mark waved
a hand in exasperation. “When you enlisted me in your scavenger hunt scheme,
you assured me that the entire escapade would be only a practical joke, a novel
way for me and Courtney to meet.”

“So I did.”

“Then you lied to me!” Mark
accused. “What was this preposterous business just now? The corporate jet? A
quickie marriage in Vegas? Did you actually intend to force Ms. Kelly to marry
an utter stranger? Have you gone daft?”

“Now you’re ranting and raving
like a—”

“Stop it, Grandfather, and answer
my questions!” Mark ordered.

“Very well,” the old man conceded.
“Would you have cooperated had I confessed my true intentions?”

“Of course not.”

“Then you have your answer.”

“Ah! The end justifies the means,
then?”

The old man grinned baldly. “Have
you ever known me to operate under any other precept?”

Mark shook his head in disgust.
“My God, I can’t believe I’m hearing this. You are utterly without scruples.”

“So I am. Get to the point, boy.”

“The point is, what are we going
to do about Courtney?”

M. Billingham gave a shrug. “Why should
we do anything about her? The woman is as irritable and high-strung as a marsh
wren. Let Courtney deal with Courtney is what I say.”

Mark was tempted to throttle his
exasperating grandfather. “Now you’re trying to shift the blame to her.”

“And why shouldn’t I? She’s the
one who just stormed out.”

“After you tried to blackmail her
into marrying me!”

“But isn’t that what you wanted?”
the old man responded innocently.

“To blackmail her? Heavens, no.”

“To marry her.”

Mark drew a steadying breath.
“Grandfather, get this straight: I went along with this nuttiness because I
wanted meet Courtney. I never expected you’d try to strong-arm her this way.”

“But that’s what it takes to win
over a willful creature like Courtney. You’d certainly have never gotten the
job done on your own.”

Mark felt angry color creeping up
his face. “What do you mean by that crack?”

“I mean, for all your intelligence
and charm, grandson, you’re more an observer of life than a real participant.
For over a year now, you’ve admired our Ms. Kelly from afar, watching videos of
her at board meetings. I knew it would take more than a small nudge to move you
from voyeur to potential husband.”

Mark could feel the heat
intensifying on his face. “That’s not fair, Grandfather. I watched those videos
to help you select your successor as CEO.”

“You couldn’t take your eyes off
her,” rejoined the old chap.

Mark coughed. “She has an
intriguing style, I must allow.”

“Especially when she devours her
colleagues like a man-eating shark.”

“Then that should have alerted us
both that she was the last woman on earth either of us should have tried to
maneuver this way.”

“Oh, balderdash. She’ll come
around.”

Mark’s brows shot up. “And you’re
certifiable! Didn’t you listen to her, Grandfather? She’s planning to sue
you—probably me as well, if I may hazard a guess. And I’d say she has ample
grounds—sexual harassment, discrimination, extortion—”

M. Billingham dismissed his
grandson with a wave. “Quit pestering me with such trifles—”

“Trifles?” Mark roared.
“Grandfather, she’s likely going to end up owning the company, and see us both
incarcerated as well, before this is over.”

“How you exaggerate.”

“I’m telling the God’s truth.”

M. Billingham gestured
dismissively. “If you’re so worried, go after her. She’s staying in room 1424.”

“And will no doubt hurl me from
her balcony.”

“Cease these histrionics and go
mend your fences.”

“Mend my fences? If my fences are
in need of repair, sir, may I point out that you’re the one who demolished them
in the first place?”

“Ah, quit nitpicking and decide if
you want the girl or not.”

“Of course I want her.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

Breathing hard, Mark eyed his
grandfather suspiciously. “I’m not sure this situation is salvageable, but . . .
will you promise me you won’t award the promotion to anyone else while I’m
gone?”

“I’ll hold the promotion—as well
as the corporate jet.”

Mark’s brows shot up.
“Grandfather! Even if Ms. Kelly should forgive me—and that’s an extremely
remote possibility—there’s no way she’s going to jet off with us to Vegas to
marry me tonight.”

M. Billingham gave a shrug. “I’ll
give her until tomorrow then.”

“Grandfather!”

“Mark, I’ve exhibited ample
patience with you,” M. Billingham snapped back. “I’ve snagged the fish, now
it’s your job to reel her in.” Consulting his watch, he appeared bored. “If
you’ll excuse me, I’ve a convention to run.”

Mark tried to protest more, only
to watch his grandfather calmly stride away. Now what was he to do? The old man
was as stubborn as the lovely woman he’d just met. The two were clearly at
loggerheads, poised to blow each other away, and he was positioned squarely in
the middle of both their sites. Whatever way he moved, his own annihilation was
certain.

How had things ended up in such a
damnable muddle?

And he’d so looked forward to this
day. Meeting Courtney Kelly had exceeded his expectations in every way. She was
even more beautiful, intelligent, and spirited than he had hoped. Kissing her
had all but blown him through the roof of the limo. They had truly clicked
together, with an instant attraction and rapport. Now all of that was in peril
thanks to his grandfather’s interference. Dash the old coot!

Then he frowned as he remembered
his grandfather’s criticisms. Was the old man right that, up until this point,
he’d been more of an observer of life than an active participant? Was he
capable of admiring Courtney from afar, but not executing the deal up close and
personal?

One thing was for certain: He was
in the thick of it now.

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Still trembling, Courtney stood on
the balcony of her room, sipping a scotch and soda and staring out at the gray
waters of the Mississippi River. She’d just turned off her cell and shoved it
into a drawer after receiving several frantic calls from her assistant urging
her to rethink her dramatic exit back at the ballroom.

She couldn’t believe how her
career with Bootle’s Baby Bower had just evaporated. She’d fought so hard to
get to her current rung on the corporate ladder. At twenty-nine, she was not
only the youngest female vice president the company had ever had, she was the
only
female vice president.

Now all her dreams had been dashed
at the whims of the crazy old chairman. She still couldn’t believe M.
Billingham had tried to blackmail her into marrying his grandson. She’d been
such an idiot—the chauffeur had even been in on it, and like a nincompoop,
she’d suspected nothing and had allowed herself to be maneuvered. As for Mark,
he was clearly in it up to his pretty blue eyeballs. What a fool she had been
to be seduced by his charm. Calling himself Mark Wiggleshaft indeed! He was
clearly as crafty as his grandfather.

Now what was she to do? She could
sue the company and would likely win. But just as she’d reasoned before, that
would only brand her as a pariah, a troublemaker. Not to mention, Bootle’s Baby Bower’s reputation might be ruined in the deluge of negative publicity that
would surely ensue. Much as she yearned to crucify M. Billingham, she had a lot
of friends left at the company, and enough of a sense of loyalty that she would
hate to see the enterprise scuttled in the wake of all the litigation and bad
press.

No, the best thing to do would be
to start over, get a job with a competitor and defeat M. Billingham that
way—fairly and squarely, the good old American way, unlike his own devious and
underhanded tactics.

She gave a groan of sheer
exhaustion and frustration. Wouldn’t her family laugh if they could see her
now? All her parents and siblings had ever wanted was to see her married with a
family of her own. They’d never taken her career seriously and might even
secretly applaud M. Billingham’s sneaky methods.

Well, she would take herself
seriously even if no one else did. She would . . .

All at once her thoughts scattered
at the sound of a rap at her door. Who could that be? Room service had already
brought her drink.

She tiptoed over to look through
the peephole, then caught a sharp breath. Mark Whoever-He-Was stood outside,
looking quite tense.

As well he should be. How dare he
show up here, after what he’d just done. Every angry cell in her body yearned
to strangle him.

Far better to ignore him, she
quickly reasoned. Not that she would feel any real compunction about murdering
him, but she didn’t relish the prospect of spending the rest of her life in a
squalid Louisiana prison.

Perhaps if she waited, he’d go
away.

No such luck. “Courtney?” he
called. “May I please have a word with you?”

She cursed under her breath.

“Courtney, I heard that. May I
come in for just a moment?”

“Go away,” she called.

“Courtney, no. We must talk.”

“There’s absolutely nothing in the
world I want to hear from you, Mr. Wiggle—whoever you are.”

“Not even an apology?”

“Especially not that.”

“Courtney, please,” he pleaded.

“I said go away.”

“Not until you speak with me.”

“Damn it!” At her wit’s end,
Courtney stalked across the room, swung open the door, and glared at
him—although, handsome and contrite as he appeared, it was much harder than she
would have thought.

Mark gave her a look of compassion
mingled with anxiety. “You’re furious at me, aren’t you?”

“Brilliant deduction, Watson.” She
jerked her head toward the other side of the room. “The balcony’s over there.
Want to jump—or should I push you?”

He laughed nervously. “That’s just
what I told my grandfather you’d say. I was jesting, of course.”

“Oh, really?” She took a reckless
gulp of scotch. “Well, you got that wrong.”

“Because . . ?”

“Because I’m serious.”

Solemnly he stepped inside her room.
“I know you are, love.” He sighed. “Courtney, can we please discuss this
rationally?”

She seethed silently. He stood
with hands extended in supplication. Much as she wanted to throttle him, she
couldn’t help but feel somewhat moved by the look of pleading and vulnerability
in his bright blue eyes. Memories of the exciting kisses they’d shared in the
limo pushed to the surface, further weakening her resolve. And looking at him
there, she suddenly realized why he’d seemed so familiar before. He resembled
M. Billingham—a very young, very handsome M. Billingham.

Damn it, she was being a pushover
again, going all mushy at the sight of a handsome man. Well, looks and sex
appeal didn’t mean much when they were only being used as a façade to hide
deceit and manipulation.

She squared her shoulders. “
Rationally
?
Are you taking a lesson from your grandfather, who has been the soul of sanity
in all of his?”

“Courtney, I know the old guy can
be exasperating—”

“Exasperating? Try criminal!”

“Believe me, I sympathize. Indeed,
I was just warning him that he’s put himself and the company in legal peril
through this absurd stunt—”

“Oh, so is that why you’re here?”
she cut in. “To protect your grandfather’s legal interests?”

“No, not at all. I’m here to
apologize on behalf of us both.”

She made a sound of contempt.
“Save your breath, Romeo. Besides, I’d never believe an apology coming from the
likes of M. Billingham Bootle.”

He took a step closer. “Would you
believe one coming from me?”

Though wavering, she held her ground.
“After the way you just duped me?”

“Courtney, will you please allow
me to explain?”

“There’s no possible explanation
for what you did.” She moved to the door and held it open. “Right now I just
want you to leave.”

Now he seemed dug in, jaw stubbornly
set. “Courtney, you must know it was never my intention to try to force you
into marriage—”

Intrigued despite herself, she cut
in, “Then what
was
your intention, Mr. Mark Wiggleshaft? If that’s even
your name.”

He smiled sheepishly. “When my
grandfather recruited me for this mission, he assured me it would be all in
jest, for good fun. I went along because I thought it would be an interesting
way for the two of us to meet. I never intended that it should result in—well,
virtually a shotgun wedding as you Yanks would put it.”

“So you were just a dupe, like
me?” she inquired skeptically.

“Precisely.”

“Likely story. A dupe would never
meet me under false pretenses like that.”

“Courtney, it’s the truth. I never
suspected my grandfather was—well, so serious about all this.”

She stood frowning, tempted to
believe him and not liking it at all. “If that’s your story, tell me, why did
you want to meet me? Were you just trying to score points with Gramps?”

He smiled. “No, not at all. In
fact, I must say I was a rather eager recruit.”

She closed the door and stepped
toward him. “What the hell does that mean?”

He smiled sheepishly. “You see,
Courtney, for some time now I’ve admired you from afar.”

“You’ve what? How?”

“My grandfather has spoken about
you for years—your intelligence, your spunk, your intellect. I’ve always
assumed you were his heir apparent, the one he would want to succeed him as CEO
of Bootle’s Baby Bower.”

“You’d never know it by the way he
treats me.”

“If it makes you feel any better,
he’s equally irascible toward me. But to get back to my story, in the last year
or so, Grandfather has requested that I watch you and the other CEO candidates
in action, through videos of your board meetings.”

“Good grief,” Courtney muttered.
She knew the meetings were videotaped for legal purposes, but had no idea M.
Billingham was sharing the videos with his grandson. “You mean you spied on
me?”

“Courtney, aren’t those videos
pretty much public record?” he admonished.

With a dry laugh, she conceded,
“Point taken. In fact, you must have found them boring.”

He flashed her an admiring smile.
“On the contrary, Courtney, watching you in action, seeing you take charge and
brook no nonsense from the others, left me extremely impressed—and concluding
that my grandfather was absolutely correct in his choice of you as successor.”

Feeling complimented more than she
wanted to admit, Courtney sputtered, “B-but all of that is moot now. I haven’t
been chosen as your grandfather’s successor, not at all. I just resigned.”

He stepped closer. “I’m hoping I
may dissuade you there. The woman I watched in those board meetings was hardly
a quitter.”

“I’m not a quitter,” Courtney
stoutly agreed. “I simply refuse to be coerced, or to compromise my
principles.”

“And well you shouldn’t. I’m sure
we can find a way to bring Grandfather around in this. We just need to team up,
put our heads together.”

She gave a disbelieving laugh.
“Teaming up with you is what got me in this mess in the first place. Thanks,
but I’ve no use for your head.”

He smiled then, and realizing her
error, she blushed deeply.

“Reconsider, Courtney, please?”

“Sorry, Mr. Wiggleshaft, but
you’ve flunked Credibility 101.”

He appeared disappointed. “Don’t
you believe me at all?”

She hesitated. “Number one, however
innocent you claim to be, you were involved in this, something I can’t easily
ignore. Number two, you tell a pretty nutty story, and a lot of it doesn’t make
sense.”

“Such as?”

“Well, for one thing, why haven’t
I ever met you?”

He appeared taken aback. “I beg
your pardon?”

“I’ve worked for your
grandfather’s company for four years. The two of you are related, I take it?”

“We are.”

“And don’t you share holidays,
vacations, that sort of thing?”

“We do.”

“Then why have I never seen M.
Billingham squiring you about the company? Why has he never even mentioned
you?”

He glanced away, appearing
uncomfortable now. “Grandfather and I do live on separate continents, and we’ve
always chosen to keep our business and personal affairs separate. I don’t visit
his enterprises, nor he mine.”

“But you just said you helped him
select me as his successor.”

“That was the exception to the
rule, a one-time favor. And I only watched the board meeting videos.”

She frowned in puzzlement. “And
that’s really what attracted you to me?”

His eyes glinted with amusement.
“Actually, it was the video of your May 4 meeting.”

“Why that one?”

A look of admiration came over
him. “You were giving delivering quite a spirited speech, pacing about and
lecturing the others on the finer nuances of product liability, when you caught
your heel on a carpet tack or something—”

Courtney was mortified. “Oh, my
God! That was recorded?”

He nodded. “And you accidentally
tumbled into Wally Gilchrist’s lap.” He laughed. “I still can’t decide who wore
the more comical expression—you or Wally.”

She chortled. “So you wanted to
meet me because I’m clumsy?”

He laughed. “No, because when you
tumbled into Gilchrist’s lap, you blushed that becoming little blush, just as
you did now, and that made me see the vulnerable, sensitive woman buried
beneath that slick executive veneer.”

At his unexpectedly disarming
words and the look of tenderness in his eyes, Courtney could feel her face
growing hot yet another time, even as her pulse pounded. He had an uncanny way
of probing beneath the surface with her. “I—I see. I think. Look, you’ve made
your appearance now, and have acted appropriately contrite. But I really think
you should go.”

“I’m making you uncomfortable,
aren’t I?” He moved a step closer and lowered his voice a notch. “Or am I
getting to you, Courtney?”

Was he eve
r! “I’ll take the
fifth,” she managed. “I’ll also try to give you the benefit of the doubt as far
as your explanation goes, but I really think there’s no point in our discussing
this further.”

He shot her a chiding glance. “And
after you promised to buy me dinner?”

Her mouth dropped open. “You would
bring that up now?”

He feigned a melodramatic pose,
with hand on his heart. “Courtney, you’re dealing with a desperate man, one
who, under the circumstances, would be more than happy to buy
you
dinner, even crawl out to the kitchen and prepare his own plateful of crow.”

Tempted to smile, she glanced
away. “I really need to be alone now.”

“To do what? Watch the telly, brood,
drink warm milk, and go to bed early? Dear lady, this is New Orleans.”

She grudgingly smiled. “I know it
is.”

He flashed her his most dazzling
grin. “In fact, I think it’s a criminal offense here to go to bed before
midnight.”

“You’re making that up,” she
accused, though her tone revealed how charmed she was.

“Relent, please?”

Though laughing, she shook her
head. “Sorry. I can’t.”

“Meaning you won’t.”

“Very well, I won’t.” Then, seeing
his crushed expression, she relented further. The truth was, she had quit her
job and all her colleagues were still at the convention. She didn’t exactly
relish the prospect of spending the entire evening alone. “Just dinner?”

His face lit with pleasure. “Just
dinner. No strings attached. What do you say?”

She gave a shrug. “Well, okay. If
we make it quick—that is, early.”

Mark grinned. “Sure, love.
Whatever you say.”