The Last Marchetti Bachelor

He’d best not count on anything with the enigmatic Ms. Wainright. Until notified to the contrary, he would assume she’d come to see him about business concerning Marchetti’s Incorporated. The more business they did together, the sooner he would be able to get her out of his mind. That’s the way it always worked for him.

His office door opened, and the counselor in question walked in. “Hello, Luke.”

“Hi.” He stood up. His father had drilled it into all four of the Marchetti boys to stand when a lady entered the room.

“Do you have a minute?” she asked.

“Of course. Take a seat,” he said holding out a hand to indicate the leather wing chairs in front of his desk.

He’d rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt to just below his elbows first thing that morning and loosened his tie. He resisted the urge to straighten it and button his cuffs. With Maddie, he’d experienced an unforgettable, intimate night. He was a loner, not charming like his brothers. He’d learned forever wasn’t in the cards for him. But he couldn’t shut the door on the present, either. No way were the barriers going back up between them. At least on his part.

In fact, he figured it couldn’t hurt to remind her. “To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from the golden girl of Addison, Abernathy and Cooke?”

The color in her cheeks deepened to a becoming rose, and he knew his barb had produced the desired result. Her blush highlighted her soft skin and the freckles dotting her nose. He liked the way she couldn’t quite hide them with makeup. There were exactly six. He knew because he’d kissed every last one.

She was still standing halfway between the closed door and his desk. Her hesitation to come closer and to answer him put a bump in his ego road, slowing it down. In fact he became uneasy. Usually direct, forthright and no-nonsense—the fact of her virginity being the only exception—this was a Maddie he’d never seen before. Her restrained behavior was unusual. Not to mention the worry puckering her forehead.

“It’s nice to see you, Maddie.”

She flinched. “I asked you to call me Madison.”

“I remember.” He’d always been good with figures, but hers was his favorite. He recalled every curve, every square inch of silky, sweet-smelling skin in spite of the tailored green suit she wore with the jacket buttoned to her neck. “So what brings you here? Business or pleasure?”

“It’s personal, Luke.”

Was she finally beginning to see things his way? She wasn’t exactly wearing the expression of a woman looking to pick up where they’d left off. In fact, she looked pale, and tired.

“What is it, Maddie? Are you okay? You look like someone died.”

“Someone did.”

His chest felt tight and he had trouble drawing in air. The names of his loved ones flashed through his mind. Ma, Dad, Nick, Joe, Alex, Rosie, their spouses, his niece and nephew. Then common sense asserted itself. If something had happened to one of them, Maddie wouldn’t be standing in front of him with the news. Come to think of it, as long as his family was fine, he couldn’t see that he had much of an emotional investment in the person she was here to discuss. In fact, he’d go it one better. Whoever had died couldn’t directly affect him, so whatever had brought her here after four long weeks was a lucky break for him.

He took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll bite. Who died?”

She swallowed once, then walked toward him. Finally she sat down in one of the chairs facing his desk and set her briefcase on the floor beside her. “I don’t know how to tell you this.”

“Just spit it out. Who died?”

She swallowed twice, then looked him straight in the eye. “Your father. Not Tom Marchetti,” she added quickly.

“Since I’m not adopted, I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.”

“There’s no easy way to say this. Tom Marchetti is not your biological father, Luke. The man who is—was—your father passed away.”

Chapter Two

“You’re joking,” Luke said.

She flinched a little at the politely disbelieving expression on his face. “I wish I were.”

“This isn’t funny, Maddie.”

She didn’t have the heart to bust him for using the nickname. Although she would never admit it, she liked it when he called her that. “I know. Believe me, I’m as shocked as you are.”

“Who said I was shocked? Except about the fact that you would lie.”

She let out a long breath and shook her head, kicking herself for the umpteenth time because she’d let her libido loose and allowed it to run away with her. A random act of passion was like a pebble tossed into a pond, rippling outward and touching so much more than that one tiny spot. She just hadn’t realized that it was a really big pond or exactly how far those ripples could touch.

“Do the words conflict of interest ring a bell? This is the reason it’s not a good idea for an attorney to sleep with her client,” she snapped.

The words were out before she’d thought them through. How she wished she could call them back, because the last thing she wanted to bring up for discussion was that night, the most unforgettable hours of her life.

“I don’t see what one has to do with the other,” he said.

“Then I’ll explain it to you. If our association hadn’t taken a personal turn, you would have no reason to mistrust me or question my behavior, or accuse me of lying.”

“Sure I would. You’re telling me that Tom Marchetti is not my father. That my mother slept with another man and I’m the result. My parents have been happily married for thirty-five years. This is the most preposterous thing I’ve ever heard. It has to be a lie.”

“Come on, Luke. Think for a minute. This would be a stupid thing to fabricate. It’s too easy to find out the truth. Besides, this is my work. It’s my livelihood and my life. I take that very seriously. It’s my fiduciary responsibility to handle this client’s last will and testament. That’s what I’m doing.”

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll assume for a minute that you’re telling the truth. Which means you’ve known about this. Do the words lie of omission mean anything to you? At the very least, I thought we were friends. But you never said a word to me about this.”

“Number one, if I had drawn up the will, I would have been bound by client confidentiality not to reveal the terms. Number two, I inherited this file when Jim Mallery retired. He recommended that I take over his clients, including this one. But I didn’t know anything about this until the firm received the news about Brad Stephenson’s death.”

“That’s his name?”

“Your father’s?” she asked.

“My father is Tom Marchetti.” His mouth tightened into a stubborn, angry line.

“In every way that counts—yes, he is your father. But not biologically.”

“Give it up, Maddie. This is ridiculous. And even if it wasn’t, why should I believe you?”

“The will Brad Stephenson had drawn up and on file with my firm is proof,” she answered.

“Let me see it,” he demanded, holding out his hand.

Madison noticed that his fingers shook. “I didn’t bring it with me. I’m here as your friend as well as an attorney. When you’ve had a chance to absorb what I’ve told you, we’ll discuss the terms at the office. And we are friends, in spite of what you may think. That’s why I’m here in person. News this sensitive couldn’t be delivered over the phone.”

She saw several emotions cross his face and named every one: anger, disbelief, shock, betrayal and back to disbelief. This news would take time to assimilate. More passionate ripples on the proverbial pond. Her heart ached for him, and she wished she could put her arms around him and just hold him. But attorneys dealt in facts, not feelings. And she needed to keep this professional, not personal.

He speared her with a skeptical look. “So the only proof you can give me is your word that some wacko, who retained the services of an attorney from your firm, left something to me in his will. Does that about sum it up?”

“I would alter some of your wording slightly, but in essence your assessment is correct.”

“You know, if you were upset about what happened between us, Maddie, all you had to do was say so.”