The Bachelor's Bed

Quietly, and since her knees were very weak, quickly, with a wide, silly grin on her face, she sank to the nearest seat, which happened to be the floor.

THE PHONE had stopped ringing by the time Colin got to his home office, which suited him.

Everything was good, he thought with relief. He had his fictional fiancée, and now, finally, he could concentrate on his work.

All other troubles faded away as he did just that, with a hyper-focus born of necessity. Nothing intruded, not the Institute’s hurry for his completed laser, not the fact he still had to talk to his well-meaning if meddling mother, nor that he had conned his cleaning lady into a pretense she clearly wasn’t prepared for.

His fingers raced over the keyboard of his computer, his mind locked deep in the complicated equations he was formulating. He was so close to perfecting his compact mini-laser, all he needed was time, uninterrupted time.

Turning to the console behind his desk, he lifted part of the scale model of his invention. He worked on many projects at a time for various conglomerates and institutions all over the world, but he had also incorporated himself. Generally he worked out of a large converted warehouse downtown, but this home office allowed him the privacy he sometimes craved.

The laser component hummed when he activated it. A miracle, and the miracle lay in the palm of his hand. Finally, after months and months of work, everything had begun to gel. Just as he let out a rare smile in response to the thrill of that, the phone rang, startling him from his intense concentration.

Blowing out a breath of frustration, he grabbed the phone.

“Darling, you haven’t returned a single one of my calls,” said his mother before he had a chance to open his mouth.

Thirty-two years old and that tone could still plant a headache between his eyes as fast as lightning. “I know. I—”

“How are you? I hope you’re good, you work too hard. Listen darling, I’m in town for the night only. I’m at the Towers with Aunt Bessie and Aunt Lola.”

Oh, God, all three of them at once. They were just women; petite, innocuous, elderly. But together, this team of New York, Italian, Catholic-raised siblings had guilt-laying and conformity-forcing down to a science. Colin was convinced that together they could have conquered Rome in a day.

And now they were in town. He rubbed his temples, knowing they cared about him beyond reason, which made it all the more difficult to hurt them in any way. “I thought you were going to be traveling all summer.”

“We are, we’re just back to check on things.”

Namely, him.

Since his mother had been the only sister to have a child, the three of them felt they co-owned him. Growing up, Colin had been raised by committee. His father had bowed out under pressure; after all, he was only one man. As a result, Colin had been fiercely watched over, fiercely disciplined and fiercely loved.

He was still fiercely loved, he had no doubt.

He just wished they would do it from a greater distance. Jupiter, maybe.

“I wanted to remind you,” his mother said. “Muffy is expecting you tonight.” She paused, then delivered the coup de grâce. “I’ve confirmed that you will attend.”

“Now wait a minute….”

“We want to see you, darling. How long has it been?”

Only two months, he thought desperately. Had she and his aunts only been on their annual shopping trek in Europe for eight short weeks? He struggled for patience, in short supply on the best of days and this wasn’t one of them. “We’ve spoken every week,” he reminded her firmly but gently, not pointing out that even from a distance of thousands and thousands of miles, she still tried to run his life. “And I’m not going to the auction.”

“Charity auction,” she corrected him. “It’s expected, Colin. It’s why we came back into town. Everyone will be there.”

Gritting his teeth to bite back his comment, he opened the delicate machinery in front of him and adjusted the micro-module with one of his tiny precision tools. “I can’t. I have a—”

“Oh, Colin, I do so love you.”

His heart softened. “I’m still not going.”

“Please? Do this for me. Honey, I don’t want to be a hundred years old before you make me a grandmother. I—”

“Stop!” He managed to interrupt and let out a short laugh. “Stop with the old. You and your sisters are the youngest old biddies I know.”

“Oh, you.” But his mother laughed, too. “This is the second time you’ve disappointed Muffy. Take a break from building those robot thingies and come out with us tonight.” Her voice gentled. “Have a social life, darling. You need to get married again and do it right this time. Please? For me.”

He might have laughed, if she were kidding. But she never kidded when it came to this—seeing her only child taken care of in what she saw as matters of the heart.

“Please don’t hurt my feelings on this,” she said in that quietly devastated voice all mothers have perfected.

Guilt. Dammit. “You made the plans without consulting me.”

“Because you won’t make plans for yourself! Your divorce has been final for five years, Colin. Five years. Move on. Please, darling. For me. Move on.”

The pain that slashed through him had nothing to do with his ex-wife. Lord, he needed a major pain killer. A bottle of them. Instead, he lifted another part of his advanced scale and ran a knowing finger over the trouble spot—the laser shaft. Complex plans for repair tumbled in his head.

“I’m simply trying to better your life.”

He could think of several ways to do that, starting with leaving him alone. Especially since with or without this project he was currently obsessing over, he would never again “better his life” with another female. “Save yourself the trouble, Mother.”

“But I want to die in peace.”

He rolled his eyes. Great. Now the death speech, when she was healthier than anyone he knew and likely to outlive him by thirty years.

“Just one night,” she urged. “That’s all I’m asking. Maybe she’s the one…”

“No.” He stretched his long, cramped legs over the top of his cluttered desk. No one was the one. No one ever would be again. “I’ve been trying to tell you, I have a good reason for not wanting to date.”

“Oh, no,” she whispered, horrified. “I knew it! I knew it wasn’t safe to let you play with dolls when you were younger!”

“Mother…”

She groaned theatrically. “Oh, no. Oh, no! How am I supposed to get grandkids now?”

He wisely contained his laughter. “No, Mother, that’s not it. I’m…engaged.”

The silence was deafening.

“Mother?”

“To whom?” she asked weakly.

“Her name is Lani Mills.”

“What does she do?”

“She runs her own cleaning business.”