Million Dollar Marriage. Maggie Shayne

much….

      But all her efforts at relationships had turned out in one of two ways. Either the man she was seeing wanted no commitment at all or he wanted too much of one. Mostly the latter. One man after another had bid her adios when it became apparent that she wasn’t willing to give up her practice, or her plans of building a clinic, to devote her full attention to him.

      Maybe she didn’t need a man at all. Maybe all she needed was a willing sperm donor. A one-night stand.

      “So, Lucy,” Holden said. “What are you doing after the party?”

      She blinked at his interruption of her rather uncharacteristic and slightly shocking train of thought. She told herself not to imagine his gold-blond hair and sky-blue eyes on a little baby. The baby that she’d lost all those years ago—maybe the only baby she would ever have a part in creating. But she imagined it anyway, and an evil thought entered her mind. About poetic justice. About his potential as a sperm donor. It was totally unlike her to think of such things as trickery and deception. But where Holden Fortune was concerned, it did seem justified.

      And she already knew he was fond of one-night stands. “Um, why do you ask?”

      They’d reached the top of the stairs. Claudia and Matthew were already heading down the hall, but Holden stopped there, turning to face her. “I don’t know, really. I guess…I’d like to make up for being such a jerk to you in high school.”

      She felt the blush creeping into her face. “So you do remember.”

      “No, I really don’t. I mean, I remember you, but not the part about being a jerk. But Claudia says…” He stopped. “I said the wrong thing.”

      Lucinda shook her head. For a moment she’d thought maybe that special, horrible, wonderful night hadn’t been erased from his mind almost before it had ended. But she’d been wrong. It had.

      “Look, I drank a lot in high school,” he blurted, trying to explain his way out of an awkward moment.

      “Dated a lot, too.”

      “I wouldn’t call it dating.” He gave her a sheepish smile.

      “You haven’t changed a bit, have you, Holden?”

      “Sure I have. And to tell you the truth, I’m dying to know what I did to make you seem so…unfriendly now. Why don’t you have dinner with me tonight and we can…talk.”

      She narrowed her eyes and stared at him. Why not? If he wanted to wine her and dine her and take her to bed, why not go along with it? Maybe she’d get what she wanted out of the deal. A baby. Of her own, with no man and no strings attached. Lord knew, Holden wouldn’t be the type to demand joint custody. He couldn’t even commit to a steady girlfriend, much less a child. Hell, he might not even remember having fathered her baby after the fact.

      “I just might take you up on that.”

      He frowned at her, wondering at her tone, she was sure. She’d made the words sound as if they were more threat than promise. “Lucy, what in hell did I do to make you so mad at me after all this time?”

      Before she could even begin to formulate an answer, a heart-wrenching scream echoed through the house. Lucinda turned her head sharply. “That came from the nursery!” she said, and a second later she and Holden were running full-tilt.

      Holden forgot everything else when he lunged through the nursery door and saw Claudia sitting on the floor sobbing, a sheet of paper clutched in one trembling fist, while the other was pressed to her heart. The sight of her almost floored him. White. Deathly, sickly white. She looked as if something had just sucked every ounce of life from her body. Even her pale blond hair, usually wavy and full, seemed to hang limply around her petite face.

      “No!” A fist smashed through the nursery wall, leaving a big hole in the plaster. Matthew swore and jerked his hand free, knuckles dusted white, skinned up and bleeding. “This isn’t happening!”

      “My baby…oh, God, my baby,” Claudia wailed.

      “The baby,” Lucinda whispered, rushing first to the bassinet just inside the door, and then across the room toward the crib, thoughts of SIDS—sudden infant death syndrome—foremost in her mind. “Is something wrong with the—” She froze at the crib. Then slowly turned wide eyes on Holden. “Where is Bryan?”

      Claudia bowed double, her head in her lap, her shoulders shaking with violent sobs. Matthew strode toward the door. “Lock this place up, Holden,” he said, his voice coarse as cherry bark. “Nobody leaves. You hear me? Nobody leaves!”

      “Dammit, Matthew, what’s going on here? Where the hell are you going?” Holden demanded, stepping into his cousin’s path.

      But Matthew shoved past him, knocking Holden aside so hard his shoulder slammed into the wall. “To get the keys to Dad’s gun cabinet,” Matthew rasped, and hit the hall running.

      Holden turned to give chase, then glanced back at Claudia on the floor, not sure who needed his help more right now.

      Lucy knelt beside Claudia, nodded at him once to go ahead, then said, “Holden, wait.”

      He turned to see that she’d pried that sheet of paper out of Claudia’s hand and was staring at it. “Oh, my God,” she whispered.

      “What is it, Lucy?”

      Lucinda lifted her stunned gaze to meet Holden’s. “It…it’s a ransom note. My God, Holden, the baby’s been kidnapped!”

      He felt the shock as if someone had kicked him in the teeth. Then he shook it off. “I’ve gotta get hold of my cousin before he kills somebody.”

      “Go on. I’ll take care of Claudia.” And she was. Even as Holden hesitated, half afraid to leave the petite blonde who looked as if she was on the verge of a breakdown, Lucinda spoke to her, got her to her feet. Anchoring Claudia to her side with a strength that surprised him, she looked up and nodded at Holden once more. “Go on.”

      He went.

      He hit the bottom of the stairs about the time he heard glass being smashed. He didn’t have to look to know the sound was coming from Ryan’s den, or the gun cabinet that took up most of one wall in that room. People were starting to look alarmed, furrowed brows turning his way. Holden banged into his brother on the way to the den.

      “What the hell—”

      “Logan. Listen, seal this place off. Don’t let anyone leave, you understand?”

      “But—”

      “Someone’s taken Bryan. Block every exit—”

      “Bryan?” Logan looked stricken, his bronzed skin paling. One hand pushed through his sun-streaked brown hair.

      Holden waved a hand in the air, signaling Matthew’s brothers, Zane and Dallas. As they surged toward him with worried frowns, Holden saw Rosita talking to her husband, Ruben, who was one of their most trusted ranch hands and almost as much a part of the family as Rosita was. Holden waved him over, as well. “Have the guys help you, Logan. I have to stop Matthew before he—”

      A woman squealed and Holden turned to see Matthew come bursting into the great room with Ryan’s twelve-gauge Remington in his hands. Matthew’s eyes were wild, and he was waving that shotgun around in a way that made Holden hope to God it wasn’t loaded.

      “Where is he!” Matthew demanded. “Give him to me now!”

      “Matthew!” Holden surged forward, gripping his cousin’s shoulders, just as Uncle Ryan came from another direction to grab his shotgun away from his son. For a man his age, he was still in peak condition, and he didn’t have much trouble.

      “What in the world has gotten into you, Matthew?” Ryan asked.

      Matthew stared into his father’s eyes for a moment and then his face just collapsed. His body seemed damn close to following suit. He sank against Ryan, who suddenly