to do this.”
“I’m doing what Jimmy would have done when he found out Noelle was pregnant.”
“As your friend,” Andrew said, “I doubt Jimmy would have been willing to go through with a quickie wedding.”
Dev agreed with Andrew, but Jimmy wasn’t here to prove either of them right or wrong. And Jimmy not being here was Dev’s fault.
Dev had tried to do the right thing where his brother was concerned. Had tried and obviously failed. The baby gave him a second chance.
“I would have insisted,” Dev said. “He would have married her. But he can’t, so I will. Besides, I need to be sure Noelle is capable of being a good mother and that she’s willing to take on the task. What better way to find that out than to observe her myself?”
“That’s what private detectives are for.” Andrew held up both hands. “I know I can’t talk you out of this, so I’ll draw up some paperwork.”
“The plan is for us to be married for two years, then divorce. I want her to have what Jimmy would have had.”
Andrew paled. “Half of everything? You’re giving her half of the business? It’s been in your family nearly sixty years. She’s not entitled to half of the company. Community property laws are clear on that.”
“Not ownership, but an income from the company. I also want a trust fund set up for the child. I’ll fund it now and let it grow. Child support, a house equivalent to mine, plus a monthly allowance for upkeep.”
Andrew swore. “Generous. I don’t usually have clients trying to give money away at the end of a marriage.”
“I do my best not to be ordinary.”
“You’re never that. I can have a draft ready in two days.”
“That’s fine. I don’t know when the wedding will be, but I’ll keep you informed.”
Andrew hesitated, then said, “Dev, are you sure? You don’t have to do this.”
“I want to. Jimmy’s child deserves this.” So did Jimmy, but his brother was no longer around. All Dev could do was wait for the baby to be born and hope things turned out differently. That this time he wouldn’t screw up.
* * *
Riverside had started out as a rural community. It was only in the past few years that it had become yet another bedroom community for the ever-growing Los Angeles and Orange counties. But even fifty years ago, there had been those with money and they had built several beautiful neighborhoods with elegant houses situated on massive lots.
Noelle found herself driving through one of those neighborhoods on her way to Dev’s house. She’d never really been in this part of town before and she wasn’t used to seeing houses with gates and servants quarters and such incredible landscaping. If not for the directions she’d gotten off the computer, she would have been totally lost.
Five minutes before their appointed meeting, she turned into a long driveway, past open wrought-iron gates toward a sprawling one-story house.
The lawn was the kind of green that only comes when one doesn’t have to sweat the water bill. There were large, mature trees offering shady spots, and several pieces of sculpture for decoration. She saw a life-size casting of a boy and girl stretched out on a bench, each reading a book, and a young boy flying a bronze kite. In her neighborhood, lawn art tended toward pink flamingos, although a lot of people did put out seasonal wreaths or flags.
She parked, then stepped out of her car. The sweet scent of honeysuckle filled the air. The early evening was still and warm and quiet. This was a great place for kids, she thought, knowing she and her sisters would have loved the open spaces, although the elegant artwork would have been in danger of bodily harm.
She turned her attention to the one-story house and was grateful it didn’t rise above her in chateaulike splendor. It might go on for miles and miles inside, but with only one level she knew it couldn’t be too scary.
She walked up the stone steps and paused in front of a large, dark intimidating door. She hadn’t known what to wear for her meeting with Dev. She hadn’t wanted to be too casual, but this wasn’t a date. In the end, she’d chosen a simple, light blue dress with tiny flowers and, despite the heat, a white jacket she’d borrowed from Lily. But even wearing more makeup than usual and high-heeled sandals, she still felt she should pop around back and use the servants’ entrance.
Instead she knocked and waited until Dev opened the door.
“Noelle,” he said with a smile. “Thanks for coming.”
He motioned for her to enter the house, which she did, but speaking was out of the question.
She’d been so worried about what she was going to wear that she’d forgotten to think about what he might put on. Instead of the dark, elegant suits she was used to, he’d changed into jeans and a Hawaiian shirt. Okay, it was in muted colors and tucked in to show off his flat stomach, but it was still a Hawaiian shirt. There were flowers on it and lots of colors and he was her boss. Bosses like him didn’t wear flowers!
She did her best to distract herself by turning her attention to the entryway. The walls were cream-colored and the floor was a dark, highly polished hardwood. To her left she saw an elegant formal dining room. To her right, closed French doors leading to an office or study.
There were carved moldings around the ceiling and elegantly framed paintings and photographs on the wall.
“Your home is lovely,” she said, feeling both awkward and out of place.
“Thanks. I’m not taking any credit. My grandfather collected art and passed it on to me. My grandmother is responsible for all the antiques. The most I’ve done is to get a decorator in here to update a few of the rooms. But my idea of high-class is a jukebox and some sports posters.”
She doubted that, but appreciated his effort to make her feel comfortable. Not that she could ever imagine that happening.
He led the way into a family room dominated by a huge old Spanish-style fireplace. There were large overstuffed sofas and comfy looking chairs. A built-in case held plenty of electronics, but she didn’t see a television anywhere. She eyed the big painting over the fireplace and wondered if the TV was one of those expensive wall-mounted types, hiding behind art. If she knew Dev better, she would have asked, but as it was, she gingerly settled on the edge of a sofa cushion and wished she knew what to do with her hands.
“Do you want something to drink?” he asked. “Juice, soda, water?”
“Just water,” she said.
“Okay. Be right back.”
She jumped up to follow him, then sank onto the couch. Her heart pounded in her chest and her throat was so tight, she thought she might choke. If there had been any way out of the situation, she would have bolted for freedom. But all those doors seemed firmly closed, so she was simply going to have to figure out how to get through all this. Maybe in time things would get better.
He returned with a glass and a bottle of water. “Do you like Mexican food?” he asked.
She
