The Only Solution(27)

Downstairs once more, Mack hung her coat in the closet under the stairs  and picked up his own. "Parker said he'd stock the kitchen. Do you want a  snack?"

"Does that mean Mrs. Cardoza sent you a picnic basket?"

"I can hope."

She tried to be unobtrusive about peeking into each room as they walked  down the long hall. A fire was laid on the hearth in the library, ready  to be lit. The china in the dining room cabinets was more contemporary  than she would have chosen, but pretty nonetheless.

"It feels a little strange to me, too," he said. "Being in Tom's house without Tom here, I mean."

"I can imagine. It's like an elegant hotel to me, but you must feel like a permanent house guest."

Mack sighed. "I suppose we'll get used to it. You mentioned keeping the place clean."

"Must you remind me? Maybe I'll just keep the lights turned down low."

"I asked Parker, and he recommended a couple he knows."

Wendy knew she looked doubtful, but she couldn't help it. Having the  Burgess staff around had been altogether different; she wasn't the one  who had to tell them what to do. But dealing with employees of her  own...

Mack seemed to read her thoughts. "Two people, Wendy, not the hordes  that Mother insists on. There's a self-contained apartment over the  carriage house, so they'd go home at night unless we wanted them. Their  name is Morgan, and they'll come to see you tomorrow. If you like them,  they can start right away."

She nodded reluctantly. It was obvious she'd have to have help; no one could keep up with this house and a baby too.

The kitchen was huge, far newer than the rest of the house, and off one  corner of it was a gazebo-like breakfast area. On summer mornings it  would be wonderful, if it wasn't too hot. Or was she still thinking like  an Arizona native? There would be so much to learn.

Suddenly, Wendy was just too tired to care, and  –  incredibly  –  she found  herself wanting to cry. "Mack, I don't want food, I just want to  sleep." She smothered a yawn. "If you don't mind..."

"Of course not. I still have to put my car away, so don't panic if you  hear me going out. And by the way, the other car is already in the  carriage house. If you'd rather trade it for something else, we'll look  next week."

Wendy shook her head. "I'm sure it'll be fine. It's a nice car."

It took all the energy she had to get up the stairs, and she closed the  bedroom door behind her with a sense of relief and looked around. The  wall covering which had looked so dark from the hallway turned out to be  a rich mixture of green and amethyst and blue; the big bed, which she  had seen only in shadow, was surprisingly modern. It was a four-poster,  as she had expected, but the posts were made of crystal-clear acrylic  instead of wood. A door off to one side led to a small sitting room.

Her clothes had been neatly arranged in drawers and closets. Parker must  have sent over quite a large crew to accomplish everything so quickly.  She carefully hung up her teal suit and searched out the nightgown Mrs.  Parker had laid out for her on that first night in the Burgess house.  Wearing one of Tessa's creations somehow made her feel warmer.                       
       
           



       

Her wedding night. A sob rose to her throat. Oh, for pity's sake, she told herself. It's a rotten time to get sentimental.

She was just tired, that was all  –  emotionally and physically exhausted.  And a bit scared at the new role she had taken on. Mack's apartment had  been one thing, but to manage a house the size of this one, and a staff  to boot... she hadn't had a chance to prepare herself for that.

She was brushing her hair when she heard a noise, and she tugged the  velvet draperies back far enough to see the carriage house just as the  lights went off. Mack came out and paused in the driveway, looking up at  the house. Wendy let the drapes fall and climbed into bed.

She was propped up against the satin pillows, wishing that she had  something to read for a few minutes to help her unwind, when a soft tap  on the door which led to the sitting room made her heart race.

The door swung open. "All tucked in?" Mack said.

Wendy's mouth went dry. What was he doing here?

For the first time, she found herself wondering precisely what Mack  wanted from this marriage. She felt like an idiot not to have considered  the question before, but it had seemed so obvious; with all his talk of  loyalty and partnerships, he had never hinted at the possibility of a  real marriage and a sexual union      . Or had she simply not been  listening?

If Mack wanted a nursery maid, Tessa had told her, he'd have hired one.  Instead, he had married Wendy...and what did he expect from her?

He sat down on the edge of the bed beside her. He'd shed his jacket and  tie, and the long sleeves of his white shirt were rolled almost to the  elbow.

He never even kissed me till today, she thought. He can't possibly want to make love to me!

But what a kiss that had been. Her whole body still went shivery whenever she thought of it.

She shifted slightly away from him, and he leaned forward and planted a  hand on the pillow beside her, his face close to hers. "Mack!" she  protested, and he drew back.

In his palm was the speaker half of Rory's intercom. Wendy had placed it  on her pillow so even the slightest noise would rouse her.

"I didn't think about this till after you came upstairs. I'll take the night watch and let you rest."

Wendy felt so small she could have climbed between the fibers of the  blanket she was clutching. "Umm... thanks," she managed, and wished  frantically that he'd go away before she turned any redder.

His fingertips caressed a loose lock of hair, tucking it back over her  ear, and his lips brushed softly against the side of her throat.  "Goodnight, Wendy," he whispered, and he was gone.

Wendy sank back against her pillow and closed her eyes in pain. Of  course he hadn't intended to make love to her. It wasn't part of the  bargain, and so even if he'd wanted to  –  which obviously he  didn't....What a fool she was!

But a little later, as her conscious mind shut down and she slid over  the brink of sleep, she wondered. If he had wanted to stay, what would  she have done?





CHAPTER NINE



After a week of bitter weather, the cold snap had finally eased. At  least, that was what the weatherman said; in Wendy's opinion, instead of  being frigid it was now merely unpleasantly cold. Still, it was better  than usual, so after Rory finished her lunch, Wendy bundled her up in  the stroller and went out for a walk.

She'd been a little doubtful about exposing such a small child to the  elements when it really wasn't necessary, until Mack had said, "We're  not raising a hot-house flower here. The quicker she gets accustomed to  some cold air now and then, the less likely she is to be affected by it  later on."

Wendy had no idea if he was right about that, but she had to admit that  Rory seemed to thrive on the cold. Over the weekend, Mack dragged them  both out for a brisk stroll, and the baby's pink cheeks and bright eyes  –   and the way she slept afterwards  –  had convinced Wendy that the fresh  air hadn't hurt the child.

She wished she could make the adjustment so easily herself. Chicago's  wind seemed to cut straight through her flesh, no matter how many layers  of clothes she put on.

But today there was no wind, and thin sunshine caressed her face as she  stopped to rearrange Rory's blankets before turning back toward the  house.                       
       
           



       

There were a few people out; she said hello to the mailman and a couple  of hardy joggers. When she was within a block of the house, a woman who  was getting into a car paused and said, "You've just moved into Tom  Exeter's house, haven't you?"

Wendy nodded. "I'm Wendy Burgess." The name still felt difficult on her tongue.

"My name's DeCarlo," the woman said brusquely. "May I see the baby?"

Wendy pulled the blanket back. Rory blinked sleepily in the sunlight, then screwed up her face and sneezed.

"Doesn't much resemble you," the woman said. "She must look like her daddy."

Wendy considered saying, No, she looks like her mother. But the  convolutions of her immediate family were hardly any business of the  neighbors. Besides, Mack had told her just last night that Rory's birth  father had agreed to sign the papers waiving his parental rights. That  meant the adoption should move along right on schedule, and within a few  months Rory really would be her daughter  –  and Mack's.

So she nodded and smiled, instead. It was true enough, Rory did look  like Mack. All the Burgesses seemed to have inherited Samuel's coloring  and Elinor's incredible eyes.