The Tycoon's Baby. Leigh Michaels
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were some women, he told himself, that Gran simply wouldn’t believe he could fall for, no matter how convincing a story she heard. Janey Griffin wasn’t one of them. And yet, as soon as Camilla ran up against the smart mouth, the hard edges and the complete lack of tact...
And Janey was going to keep her job, too—just as he’d hoped she would. The idea of a prospective granddaughter-in-law who worked the swing shift on a manufacturing line—moving, carving and bending steel—was guaranteed to make Camilla turn purple. He’d been right. Janey couldn’t be more perfect.
He took his feet off his desk and got his trench coat from the closet. Louise would have made that call by now—so he might as well go home, play with his baby daughter and shock the hell out of his grandmother.
He was looking forward to it.
* * *
NOT ONLY THE supervisor but every worker on the line knew that Janey was late because she’d been summoned by the boss. And since Janey could hardly tell them what that conversation had been about, she could only pretend not to hear the comments that rippled across the factory floor.
Eventually, when she didn’t respond, the remarks settled back into a more normal pattern—still suggestive and annoying, but at least not actively cruel. And she’d been right in thinking that with an end in sight it would be easier to ignore the tasteless talk. Instead of two more years of this nonsense, she only had...weeks, perhaps?
She’d forgotten to ask how long he expected this masquerade to run, but she knew it wouldn’t be two years; the fairy tale Webb Copeland intended to spin for his grandmother couldn’t possibly hold up that long.
And when the farce was played out, she’d be sitting pretty. With cash on hand to pay her expenses, there’d be no need for her to work. She could enjoy the rest of her education, instead of enduring it. She could soak up every drop of knowledge instead of skimming the surface.
She’d have to pay all that money back, of course—and she’d do it, no matter what it took. It was obvious that Webb Copeland hadn’t believed for an instant that she intended to, but Janey regarded this loan exactly the same as if she’d gone to a bank. Apart from the matter of interest.
By the time she started making payments, she thought dreamily, she’d be working at a job she liked, and she wouldn’t be trying to balance school along with it. And she’d positively enjoy making sure he got every last cent back, if only to see the look on his face when he had to admit that she’d meant her promise all along.
Suddenly Janey realized that, though the machines still roared, the human noise on the factory floor had dropped to almost nothing. The effect was positively spooky, for it was nearly midnight—and people usually made more noise, not less, as the shift ended and they were free to go home.
She glanced around the floor, trying to spot the reason for the sudden quiet, and had to stifle a groan when she saw Webb coming straight toward her, hands in the pockets of his trench coat. She turned back to her machine and didn’t even look at him when he stopped beside her.
“Not you again,” she said. “Do you have any idea how much trouble it’s causing me to have you hanging around?”
He shrugged. “I just came to drive you home. Oh, and to give you this.” He pulled a tiny box from his pocket, snapped it open and held it out, balanced on his open palm.
Inside the velvet box, against a bed of black satin, a ring sparkled. Its brilliant center stone—nearly the size of Janey’s thumbnail—caught the overhead light and shattered it into rainbows, which danced across the factory floor. Half the employees on the line craned their necks to get a better look. The other half, Janey expected, would be along in a minute or two.
“Please tell me this is a zircon and not a diamond,” she muttered.
“Telling you that wouldn’t make it one. And the jeweler who just sold it to me wouldn’t be at all flattered.”
“Where did you find a jeweler at almost midnight? On second thought, I don’t want to know.”
“At home, watching the sports channel—but when I told him what I wanted, he was quite happy to meet me at the store. Don’t you like it? I’d have let you choose, but I thought Gran would ask questions if you weren’t wearing a ring tomorrow.”
Janey considered braining him with the nearest piece of steel. “Whether I like it is not the point. It’s bad enough you bought a rock the size of a lighthouse beacon—”
“Gran would really think something’s fishy if I didn’t.”
Of course he was thinking of his grandmother. But then it hadn’t even crossed Janey’s mind that he might consider her tastes. “But why you brought the thing here—”
“You don’t really believe our engagement is going to remain secret, do you?”
Janey looked around the factory floor at a hundred interested faces. “Not anymore,” she said dryly.
“Now that I’ve broken the news to my grandmother, it’ll spread like wildfire.”
Too late to back out now. The thought was automatic, and puzzling. Why would she even think of backing out? “I wouldn’t bet on her being eager to announce it. Was telling her as much fun as you expected it to be?”
He gave her a long, speculative look. “As a matter of fact, it was. Come on, let’s get out of here, and I’ll tell you about it.”
She’d have loved to tell him to go sit in the car and wait for her, but the night worker who was taking over from her was already standing beside the machine with his mouth hanging open, taking in every nuance. So Janey put away her safety equipment and got her coat.
Webb had left his car in the no-parking zone right by the door. “She was absolutely speechless,” he said as he opened the door for Janey. “I told her over dinner that I’d found the woman of my dreams—and once she recovered from choking on her soup she took it quite well.”
“That’s good. I’d hate for you to have a heart attack on your conscience.” She frowned. “If you have a conscience?”
He didn’t seem to have heard. “Gran wanted to go to Coq Au Vin tomorrow—she says it’s the only restaurant in town that can produce a lunch fit to celebrate an engagement.”
“Look, Mr. Copeland, I really don’t want to go on stage at some fancy restaurant without so much as a dress rehearsal, so—”
“Don’t you think you should get in the habit of calling me Webb? It’s no problem, anyway—I told her you’d rather come to the house, so you could spend some time with Madeline. And since Gran’s a bit concerned because you don’t know Maddy very well—”
“Very well? I’ve never laid eyes on the child.”
“I’ve brought her to the office to show her off a few times. You could have seen her then.”
“I’ll try to remember that. I do hope there’s only going to be one child present, because I’d hate to pick out the wrong one to go gaga over.”
“If there’s any doubt, look for brown eyes the size of Lake Michigan and you won’t go wrong. That takes care of Maddy and the lunch date. Is there anything else we need to talk about?”
“Yes. How long do you expect this to take?”
“Anxious to get your money? It’s almost the end of November now... I’d say by Christmas.”
“That’s charming,” Janey said. “Your grandmother’s going to love her Christmas present this year—not getting me in her stocking.”
“And I won’t even have to wrap it,” Webb agreed cheerfully. “Oh, now I remember the other thing. We haven’t coordinated our stories.”
“And she’s going to want details, isn’t she?”