Expecting the Boss's Baby (6 page)

“Please do,” Kate said, seeing in Tina a maturity beyond her fresh-faced years.

“Everyone who comes here is drug-free and has pretty much been kicked out of home with no financial help. The home offers free counseling and medical care. An instructor comes five days a week and teaches us the basics. Everyone pitches in with cooking, cleaning and managing the office. We have a curfew, but since most of the fathers have disappeared, most of us aren’t interested in dating right now,” she said wryly.

“What happens to the babies?”

“Some girls put them up for adoption. Most don’t, which is part of what our director, Ms. Lambert, is working on right now. A lot of girls don’t want to give up the babies, but we don’t have good job skills. Ms. Lambert has been looking for someone to teach us computer stuff, but volunteers are tough to find because those people really rake in the bucks.”

It was strange, but Kate felt more at home here than she did in Michael’s apartment. She would be bored out of her gourd if all she did was spend her days shopping and house-hunting. “I think I may know someone who can help,” she said. “What kind of computers do you have?”

Tina wrinkled her nose. “One computer,” she
said, pointing to an ancient machine in the back office.

Kate glanced at it and sighed. “A little younger than the house, huh?”

Tina laughed.

“Well, we have no place to go but up.”

Kate left the home, stopped by a computer discount store, and purchased two machines. She spent the afternoon and evening setting them up at her old duplex. She craved the familiarity and since her lease wasn’t up, there was technically no reason she couldn’t visit the place every now and then.

A knock sounded at the door just before it opened. She glanced up to see Michael. He looked at the two computers. “What are you doing?”

“Setting up two computers I bought today.”

“But you already have a computer and a laptop.” He walked closer. “This doesn’t have the best name-brand processor.”

“Don’t be snooty,” she warned him. “This processor may not be a designer brand, but it’ll do the job. It’s fast. I’m donating Claire and Delores to the home for unwed teenage mothers because the one computer they have must have been donated by the pilgrims. I visited the home today; they need a computer teacher, and I am now it.”

“Claire and Delores,” he muttered. “I never understood your propensity for naming machines.”

“It keeps me from smashing them to pieces when they crash.”

“Why didn’t you bring them to my apartment?”

“I don’t like your apartment,” she said and felt him staring from behind her. The tension which had drained from her began to seep in again.

“Why?”

“It’s bare,” she said. “There are no plants or pictures. No memorabilia. It doesn’t tell anything about you.”

“I wasn’t aware that was a requirement,” he said dryly. “I don’t have a lot of cute pictures of me from my childhood.”

Kate felt a pang at the thought of Michael’s lost childhood, but the hour was late and his proximity made her itchy. “Why is that?” she asked. “Were you an ugly child?”

He gave a double take, then chuckled. “I’m sure that’s a matter of opinion. Redecorate it?”

“No. Because then it would be my apartment instead of our apartment,” she said as she installed the last program on the computer. “I need to know your preferences, your favorite colors, what kind of art you like, what things make you feel good and comfortable—besides chocolate chip cookies,” she said remembering his penchant for stealing them when she’d brought a few to the office.

He gently guided her chin around. “I like blue. I don’t like art that I can’t figure out. I like lots of windows and I don’t like heavy draperies. I like comfortable furniture. I like plants and flowers that I can’t kill. And I like you,” he told her with topaz eyes that made seductive promises she knew he could deliver, “in my bed.”

K
ate delivered Delores and Claire to the home for unwed teenage mothers the following day and was impressed with the director. Unable to bear the terminal beige decor of Michael’s apartment, she picked up a few more things to add some color. She kept herself busy for fear of a flat-out panic attack as the wedding date drew nearer.

Although Kate had never thought of herself as helpless, she couldn’t help feeling like a mouse with Michael as the sleek, savvy cat. She’d watched him negotiate mergers and while he’d always made the companies he acquired feel good, they still ended up being eaten. His forceful mas
culinity drew her in at the same time she felt the need to protect herself from it. It was enough to interrupt her sleep knowing he was nearby and wanted her.

Another day passed, and Kate’s parents called to remind her they would be coming tomorrow. On edge, she received a curious call that afternoon from the home for unwed teenage mothers. Just when she’d thought Michael’s blood ran green for dollars instead of red, he proved her wrong.

Michael arrived home at close to eight o’clock. He’d buried himself in work. Knowing Kate was in his bed filled him with visions that left him in a state of permanent arousal. Michael had a strong understanding of timing and negotiations, and he knew he’d pushed Kate into the marriage. Pushing her into making love with him before the ceremony might put his ultimate goal of marriage at risk. This situation reminded him of nitroglycerin and he refused to upset the precarious balance. Rocking her already emotional boat by pushing her into bed with him could make her run in the wrong direction—away from him. He mentally understood and believed all of this, but his libido and need to possess her taunted him relentlessly.

The scent of a delicious home-cooked meal and chocolate chip cookies greeted him when he opened the door. “Oh, God,” he said. “I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

“Welcome,” she said and regarded him with a smile that made him wonder what inspired it. She wore a little skirt that captured and held his attention. Kate had great legs, he thought again. Slim ankles, curvy calves, and silky thighs, and in between them, he remembered, her femininity forming a wet, snug, velvet welcome to him.

Michael grew hard and stifled a sigh. He loosened his collar. “What’s the occasion?”

“Farewell dinner,” she said.

Everything inside him stopped. “What?”

“My parents are descending tomorrow,” she said with a lopsided smile.

Michael relaxed slightly.

“Do you like beef stew?”

“Yes.” Michael watched the mind-bending swing of her hips as she walked toward the counter. The scent of delicious food and the sight of her delicious backside combined to form the opposing sensations of complete satisfaction and complete frustration. Soon, he promised himself, he would be consuming more than Kate’s food.

After they shared the meal, he sat back replete. Kate shooed away his offer to help remove the dishes. She took care of them quickly, then leveled a gaze on him.

He felt an odd sensation in his gut at the intent expression in her eyes. She looked like a woman with a mission as she walked toward him.

“I think I need to pass on a thank you.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean the home for unwed teenage mothers called to thank me for the twenty computers that arrived today along with a quarter-million-dollar donation.”

Michael shrugged. “What does that have to do with me?”

“I believe you,” she said, pointing her index finger at his chest, “are responsible.”

Her blue eyes searched his. “I had just told you about the home’s needs and the following day the computers and funds arrive. Too much of a coincidence.”

“I’m sure the home’s been begging for help from everyone. Any number of people could have chosen them for a tax write-off.”

Impatience flashed in her eyes. “I’m not going to let you reduce this to a tax write-off.”

“I can’t take responsibility for this,” Michael said, thinking of the oath of secrecy he and his friends had taken.

Confusion furrowed her brow. “Are you saying you had nothing to do with the recent donations?”

“I’m not personally responsible,” he said carefully.

“And if you were somehow involved, your complete motivation would have been for the tax write-off,” she said, clearly frustrated with his reticence. “Okay, well just in case you know someone who was partly responsible, I’d like you to
give them a message.” She leaned her slim sexy body into his and pressed her lips to his mouth. “Tell him I said it was very nice.” She brushed her lips back and forth over his. “Tell him I said thank you.”

Kate opened her mouth and Michael felt as if she’d set his clothes on fire. She rubbed her wicked open mouth over his, darting her tongue out to taste him until his brain went into complete meltdown.

Michael took over the kiss, devouring her mouth the way he wanted to consume all of her. She tasted like chocolate chip cookies and her body held the promise of pure satisfaction. His blood racing through his bloodstream, he ran his hands down her sides to her bottom and drew her into the cradle of his thighs.

She wriggled slightly against him and a groan escaped his throat. Sliding his fingertips beneath her panties, he touched her silky bare skin.

She pulled his tie loose and tugged at his shirt buttons, and it dimly occurred to him that if this was how Kate reacted to a charitable donation, he might become the biggest philanthropist in St. Albans.

He pulled her shirt loose, then backed down onto the sofa and urged her down on his lap. The sight of her breasts swelling over the cups of her lace bra reminded him how responsive she’d been the
night they’d shared together, how she’d held back nothing.

Needs denied roared through him like a freight train. He lowered his mouth to her breasts and nuzzled her bra down to taste her nipple. He heard her swift intake of breath as she grew taut in his mouth. He slid his hand upward between her thighs and felt her damp and swollen. The sensation only made him more hungry for her.

He wanted all barriers removed between them. He wanted her naked and straddling him. He wanted to fill her as she pumped him into oblivion. Michael ripped her panties and rubbed his thumb over her tender engorged bead of sensation. Her breath came in short gasps. He could feel her nearing the precipice, and the sound was excruciatingly arousing to him. Closer. Closer.

The phone rang. Once, twice, penetrating the thick, steamy intimacy surrounding them. Kate pulled back slightly, her cheeks flushed, the pupils of her eyes large with arousal, her lips swollen. She stared at him while the phone rang as if she knew one of them should be answering it, but she couldn’t coordinate her mind and body. “Can you get that?” she finally asked in a husky whisper.

His body still clamoring for release, he gently put her to the side and rose to answer the phone. “Hello,” he said, and struggled to take in the words accompanying the voice of Kate’s mother. He handed the receiver to Kate.

She met his gaze with a woman’s need in her eyes so powerful it made him want to toss the phone out the window. But she bit her lip, and looked away, covering her eyes with her hand. He heard her make a few soft comments, but she kept the call blessedly short. She pushed the Off button and looked up at him, her expression a mixture of too many emotions for him to read. “My parents are here early. They’re waiting at my house.”

Although her legs felt like butter, she forced them to move. She stood and her partially ripped panties slid to the floor. Her head spun. They had been so close. Kate swallowed over a strange lump of emotion in her throat and tried to walk forward. Her knees buckled.

Michael caught her and pulled her against him. “Are you okay?”

Tears threatened, followed by a curtain of embarrassment. “I will be. I just—” She took a quick breath. “I was really—”

“So was I,” he said in a rough voice that did serious damage to her already shattered nerve endings. “It’s only a week,” he said, but sounded as if he were reminding himself. “I’ll take you home.”

“I can take myself.”

“If you’re having a tough time walking, I sure as hell don’t want you driving,” he said bluntly, leaving her with no argument.

On trembling legs, she made her way to the bathroom and pulled herself together. Since most of her things were still at her house, she only needed to pack a few toiletries. They left the apartment and Kate sat beside Michael with her eyes closed.

Drinking in the heady scent of his aftershave, she felt a visceral response to him. She could have abandoned herself to him. She could have given herself to him again and again, and she had no clue how to hold back her heart and keep it safe. She knew she could give herself to Michael in a way that would change her forever. She also knew, however, that Michael would never give himself to her in the same way.

When Michael pulled into her driveway, Kate’s parents rushed out of their motor home to greet them. Her mom swept her into her arms. “I’m so happy, darling,” she said, her voice swollen with threatening tears. “I’ve been dreaming of your wedding since you were born.”

Kate’s heart constricted. “I know you have, Mom.”

Her father pumped Michael’s hand. “Congratulations, son. You’ve got a jewel, but I’m sure you already know that.”

The pretense of the situation turned her stomach. How was she going to survive a week of this? Kate
closed her eyes and gave her mother an extra squeeze.

“I’ll let the three of you visit awhile. I’m sure you’re tired from traveling and Kate’s been working on moving, so she’s beat too.”

“You don’t have to leave,” Kate’s mother protested.

Michael shook his head. “I don’t want to keep you up.” He met Kate’s gaze and reached for her hand. “You need some rest,” he told her, pulling her toward him. He lowered his head and kissed her, sending her heart into a staccato rhythm.

“What are you doing?” she whispered in his ear as he held her.

He nuzzled her neck. “You asked me to act like I’m crazy for you in front of your parents. How am I doing?”

The next few days were a whirlwind of pre-wedding activity driven by the indomitable force of her mother. Kate’s waking hours held the quality of a circus carnival. During the days, she was so busy trying to convince her parents that everything was peachy that she didn’t have time to think until night. Alone in her bed, she thought about what would happen after the wedding. Would she and Michael be able to build something lasting when only one of them believed in love?

Shoving the thought aside, she joined her mother
on a mission to collect childhood pictures of Michael.

“It wouldn’t look right for us to have pictures of you when you were a child at the reception and not have any of Michael,” her mother insisted. “I know he was a foster child, but somebody somewhere must have some pictures of him.”

The two of them paid a visit to the Granger Home for Boys. Kate took in the large dark foyer and tried to imagine what Michael’s life had been like. The windows, she noticed, were shrouded in heavy draperies, and the floors were dark wood. It looked like the kind of place that would be drafty in the winter, and despite the cleanliness and strength of the surroundings, she could almost smell the scent of hopelessness and desperation.

Wrinkling her brow, she peeked into the office. “Hello? Can you help us?”

A young blond woman with startlingly green eyes standing in front of a desk glanced up. She looked from Kate to her mother. “I don’t know. I think everyone’s gone to lunch. I don’t work here, but I guess you could say I’m familiar with the lay of the land. My mother used to manage the cafeteria, so I spent many of my growing-up years here.”

“We’d like some pictures,” Kate’s mother said. “My daughter is marrying one of the former residents, Michael Hawkins—”

“Michael!” the woman exclaimed, and her face
broke into a smile. “Michael is getting married? I’m stunned.”

No more than Kate was.

“Congratulations,” she said. “He was a fine person when I knew him.” She extended her hand. “I’m Alisa Jennings. I just moved back to the area and was taking a little visit down memory lane.”

Kate shook her hand, liking the young woman immediately. “Kate Adams, and this is my mother Betty.”

“You want pictures. Try this,” she said, walking behind the desk to a file room. “I bet they still keep them in the same place. Yes,” she muttered, as she surveyed the tall cabinets. “They haven’t changed the labels.”

“Should we be in here?” Betty asked.

“Probably not, but we can claim special dispensation if anyone fusses.” Alisa pulled open a drawer and grabbed a file. “Here’s Michael,” she said, peeking inside the file, then handing it to Kate. “They’re mostly black and white.”

Kate opened the file and looked into a pair of grown-up eyes in a very young boy. Her heart wrenched. He looked thin, but sturdy, with hair a tad too long, clothes that didn’t fit exactly right, but the set of his chin showed pride and determination.

“How serious,” her mother murmured, looking over Kate’s shoulder.

Kate flipped through the pictures, seeing signs
of the man she knew in the growing boy. The last picture was out of order. It showed Michael around five years old, dressed in Sunday clothes and his hair painstakingly combed. He stood in the circle of his mother’s arms. Dark shadows rimmed her eyes, but she and her son wore matching smiles.

He had lost so much at such a young age. A tear slid down Kate’s cheek, surprising her. Quickly swiping it aside, she glanced up. “Is there somewhere we could make copies?”

Alisa slid a glance toward the door. “There used to be a copy shop just down the street.”

Kate didn’t pause. “Thank you,” she said, and her mother joined her. Betty filled the silence with chatter about the wedding plans as they located the shop and waited. Kate nodded, but couldn’t have repeated a word. She was steeped in thoughts of Michael and what his childhood had been like. She would have had to have been made of stone not to be moved by the pictures. Every time she looked at a picture, she bit her lip at the sharp emotions that stabbed at her.