by Metsy Hingle
“Of course.”
When she hung up the phone, Kim wondered how she was going to be able to wait until next week to find out if she was really pregnant. And how did one go about telling one of Chicago’s wealthiest and most eligible bachelors that he was going to be a father? At the buzz of her intercom, Kim tried to quell her rising sense of panic and concentrate on getting through the rest of the day.
“I’ll need you to make me five copies of the contracts and the exhibits for my meeting,” Justin told her a short time later.
“I’ll take care of it,” Kim said, and started to leave.
“Kim, are you all right? You seem…distracted. If it’s because of the things I said earlier this week, I’ve already apologized. And if you’d just let me—”
“Justin, I really don’t want to get into this now,” she told him.
He came around the desk, touched her shoulder. “I’ve been trying my best not to push you. But dammit, sooner or later we’re going to have to deal with what’s happening between us. It isn’t going to go away.”
“I know,” she admitted. “But not now. Please.”
“All right,” he said, and released her.
Kim hurried out of his office, fearful she’d start blubbering and tell him everything if he kept being so nice to her. How could she accept his kindness when she was on the verge of turning his entire life upside down?
She made her way to the copy room on automatic pilot, scarcely aware that the office was nearly empty now. To her relief, so was the copy room. Grateful not to be forced to make small talk with anyone, she went about feeding the documents into the machine. Lost in thought, it took Kim a moment to register that the click she’d heard was the door to the copy room closing. She whipped around and spied Robert Marsh standing in front of the closed door, a smirk on his face. “If you’re waiting for the copier, I’ll be finished in a minute,” she said.
“Take your time,” he said and moved toward her. “You know, Kim, you really ought to ditch those prissy little suits. After seeing your assets displayed so nicely at the charity auction, it seems a shame to hide them.”
“When I want your fashion advice, I’ll ask for it,” Kim told him, and turned away. Eager to leave, she began gathering her documents from the sorter bins.
“I could give you a lot more than fashion advice,” he said, his voice suddenly closer. “For instance, I bet I can satisfy a hot little number like you better than Justin Connelly can.”
Kim flinched when she felt his hand brush her hair. Hugging the copies against her like a shield, she whirled around and said, “You put your hands on me again and I swear I’ll break your fingers. Now get out of my way.”
“What’s the matter? My name’s not Connelly so I’m not good enough for you? Well, I’m about to marry a Connelly, so that should be worth something.”
“Get out of my way,” Kim ordered again, not liking the angry glint in Marsh’s eyes.
“Not until I sample some of what you’ve been giving to Connelly.”
Suddenly realizing how vulnerable she was, Kim started to shove past him. Robert blocked her path. And when she took a step back, she came up against the worktable. The grin on Marsh’s lips as he moved in turned Kim’s stomach. “Back off,” she ordered.
He grabbed at her. The papers she held scattered like confetti as Kim tried to pry his hands away from her face even as she aimed her knee where it hurt a man most. Robert dodged her attempt to cripple him with a well-directed knee. Laughing, he said, “You’re feisty. I like that in a woman.”
Angry and more than a little frightened, Kim groped the table behind her for a weapon and closed her fingers around the staple gun. When he came at her again, she wielded the weapon like a sword. “Back off, Marsh. Or I swear I’ll use this on your head.”
“You know, I think you just might,” Robert told her, and swift as lightning he clamped his hand around her wrist and sent the stapler crashing to the floor.
Kim nearly whimpered at the pain in her wrist, but fear-induced adrenaline had her go at his face with her free hand. She raked her nails down the side of his face, had the satisfaction of him crying out.
“Why you little bi—”
And then Marsh was being yanked backward, his body slammed against the wall by Justin, who proceeded to smash his fist against Marsh’s jaw.
Marsh swung out, grazed Justin near his eye. Justin barely flinched. Within moments Marsh’s body grew limp. Justin whipped his gaze to Kim. “Did he hurt you?”
“No,” Kim told him. “I’m all right. Let him go.”
Finally Justin released him, and a moaning Marsh slumped to the floor. “Do you want to press attempted-rape charges?” he asked her.
“No.”
“Consider yourself lucky, Marsh. Now get out of here before I change my mind and give you the beating you deserve,” Justin told him.
Robert scrambled to his feet and swiped at his bloody nose. “I didn’t try to rape her. She came on to me. She tried—”
Justin grabbed him by his shirtfront, got in his face and said, “Shut up, Marsh. Shut up before I rip that lying tongue right out of your head and feed it to you.”
“But, Justin—”
“I said to get out!” Walking over to the worktable, Justin grabbed the phone and punched the number for security. “This is Justin Connelly. Send someone up here to the copy room to escort Robert Marsh from the building.”
“You can’t do that,” Robert objected when Justin hung up the phone.
“That’s where you’re wrong, pal. You see, I can do just about anything I damn well please.”
Two security officers arrived at the door. “Mr. Marsh, if you’ll come with us, please.”
Marsh jerked his arms free. “You won’t get away with this.”
“Watch me. What do you think Alexandra is going to say when I tell her what happened in here tonight?”
Despite the blood oozing from his mouth, there was no mistaking the cockiness in Marsh’s smile. “And just who do you think Alexandra is going to believe? The little gold digger who’s sleeping with her boss? Or the word of the man she loves and is about to marry?”
Kim caught Justin’s arm when he started for Marsh again. “Please, Justin, let him go. He’s not worth it.”
“Get him out of here,” Justin told the officers.
And once they were alone, he closed his arms around Kim and held her.
Nine
“Justin?” Kim murmured against his chest.
“Give me a minute.” He continued to hold her close, quelling the violence that had gripped him upon seeing Marsh manhandle her. When he finally had some measure of control over the emotions running rampant through him, he eased his hold on Kim. With a gentleness that belied the fury that he was struggling to hold in check, he cupped her face in his hands. “Are you really okay?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “Your hand,” she said, pulling them away from her face and looking horrified at his bruised knuckles.
“Forget about my hand,” he said, and caught her fingers. “I want to know how long Marsh has been after you.”
Kim lowered her gaze. “This is the first time he’s ever tried anything physical,” she admitted. “Until now, he’s been content to spread rumors.”
“Rumors?”
“About you and me. How I was out to trap you.”
He tipped her chin up so that he could see her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have handled him. I could have put a stop to it. And you can bet that I’ll have a talk with the staff and—”
“No. That would only make matters worse. Please swear you won’t say anything.”
“All right,” he conceded. “But I don’t like it. It’s not fair to you.”
“Maybe not, but ignoring the rumors is the best way to let them die down.”
She was probably right, Justin reasoned. But it did nothing to alleviate his own guilt. “I’m sorry. For what Marsh did to you. For putting you in t
his position in the first place.”
“It’s not your fault. I made the decision to go on the sailing date with you, and I knew by going that I’d be leaving myself open to speculation.”
“You went as a favor to me,” he argued.
“I went because I wanted to go. I don’t have any regrets, Justin. But maybe…maybe it would be better for everyone if I resigned.”
“No,” Justin said firmly.
“But what about Robert Marsh? And your sister?”
“I’ll handle Marsh. And if my sister Alexandra has any sense, she’ll dump the guy when I tell her what he’s done.”
“But—”
“I don’t want you to go. I need you,” he told her, panic swiftly replacing some of his earlier fury. “What would I do without you?”
“Justin, you’ll have no problem getting another assistant and—”
“I want you.”
Tears filled Kim’s eyes, and she turned away, but not before the first tear slid down her cheek. In all the time he’d worked with Kim, he’d never seen her cry. That he had caused her to cry now made him feel lower than the belly of a snake. “Please, don’t cry. Sweetheart, whatever’s wrong, I’ll fix it,” he promised as he turned her to face him.
She shook her head and the tears continued to fall. “Not even you can fix this.”
“What is it?” he pleaded, hating to see her in such distress. When she still said nothing, he pressed. “Tell me. I promise there’s nothing you can say that will shock me.”
“I think I’m pregnant.”
She’d shocked him, Justin admitted, and it took him a moment before he could regain command of his tongue. By then he had processed the information. “You said you ‘think’. Does that mean you aren’t sure?”
She nodded. “I did one of those over-the-counter pregnancy tests and it came back positive. I have an appointment with my doctor next week just to be sure. But I’ve never been this late before.”
“We’ll get married.”
The words simply popped out, shocking him as much as they obviously had shocked Kim, given her expression.
“You can’t be serious.”
But he was serious, Justin realized. Suddenly it all made perfect sense to him. He had never been so tied up in knots over a woman the way he had been with Kim. He cared for her—more than he could recall ever caring for another woman. “Why not?” he responded. “It makes perfect sense. We like each other, enjoy each other’s company. And we’ve already proven that we’re sexually compatible. The fact that you’re carrying my child is just one more reason why we should get married.”
“I don’t know,” she hedged, a sadness in her voice that affected him far more deeply than her tears. “Marriage is a big step.”
“So is having a child,” he argued. “I don’t want to be a part-time father, Kim. I want to be part of my child’s life. And after what you told me about your own childhood, growing up without a father, I would think you’d want the same thing for our baby.”
“I do,” she said.
Even though Justin knew he hadn’t been completely fair to use that particular argument, he’d done so because he realized that he honestly did want Kim as his wife. He tipped her chin up and said, “Marry me, Kim.”
“I…” She looked away. “Why don’t we wait until I see the doctor?”
“But—”
“Please, Justin. We need to wait.”
“All right. But as soon as you see the doctor, we start making plans. I’d like us to get married as soon as possible.”
Kim didn’t respond to that. Instead she stepped back and made a show of looking at the scattered papers on the floor of the copy room. “Look at this mess. I’d better start clearing this up.”
“Leave it,” Justin ordered.
“But you’ll need these for your meeting in the morning.”
“I said leave it.” Catching her arm, he urged Kim to her feet. “I’m going to take you home.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“It’s necessary for me,” he informed her, guiding her out of the copy room. After retrieving her purse, he led her to the elevator.
“But what about my car?”
“I’ll have it delivered. No more arguments, Miss Lindgren,” he said, and silenced her with a quick kiss. “I’m taking you home.”
Justin took her home and insisted on seeing her inside. And once he’d made it through the door of her apartment, he set about taking care of her. He fixed her tea, called and ordered Chinese takeout from a nearby restaurant. While they waited for the food to arrive, Kim suggested, “Let me look at your hand.”
“It’s fine.”
But he allowed her to bathe his bruised fist. “Thank you for coming to my rescue tonight,” she said as she swabbed ointment on the scrapes. “No one’s ever fought for me before.”
“If it hadn’t been for me, you wouldn’t have been in the situation to begin with. I ignored my instincts about Marsh. I let his relationship with Alexandra cause me to turn a blind eye to what my gut told me about the man.”
She applied a bandage over the worst of the damage to his hand. “All done,” she said. Glancing up, she found his eyes trained on her. He looked so intense, so fierce, Kim’s pulse fluttered. “Does your eye hurt very much?” she asked as she put away the first-aid kit.
“Only when I breathe,” he said, making her laugh.
The doorbell sounded, and Kim latched on to the distraction. “That, I believe, is dinner.”
“You sit down,” Justin told her. “I’ll handle this.”
He handled everything.
After lighting the candles on her coffee table, he spread out a feast of tempting dishes on the glass-topped table and escorted her to one of the cushions he’d removed from the couch. Sitting beside her, Justin insisted on teaching her to use the chopsticks.
Thirty minutes later she was still laughing at her own inability to master the two wooden sticks sufficiently. “I’ll never get the hang of this,” she confessed.
“Then I guess I’ll just have to feed you,” he told her.
Which he did. All the while Kim had the feeling she was being seduced. There was something erotic and sexual about the way he’d feed her a bite, then take a taste himself. Even as her hunger for food became sated, new hungers sprang to life inside her. Not trusting herself, Kim held up her hand when Justin lifted the chopsticks to her lips with another bite of mandarin chicken. “No more. I’m stuffed,” she told him. And her senses were on overload, too, she admitted.
“All right.” He put down the chopsticks. “But you still need to have a fortune cookie.” He chose one, handed it to her. “Go ahead. Open it.”
Kim hesitated. As much as she hated to admit it, she was superstitious, and as a rule she shied away from things like fortune cookies, tarot cards and palm readings. “Why don’t I save it for later?”
“You can eat the cookie later, but don’t you want to at least read your fortune? Maybe you’re going to find out there’s this tall, auburn-haired fellow in your future,” he teased.
Kim laughed. “You don’t really believe these things, do you?”
He smiled and crossed his heart. “Absolutely. Now quit stalling and read it.”
Kim broke the cookie in two and removed the slip of paper.
“Come on, read it to me,” he said when she simply stared at the fortune.
She swallowed, then read the inscription, “‘Great happiness awaits you.’”
“Sounds good to me,” Justin said.
“What does yours say?” Kim asked, afraid to give much credence to the fortune but unable to stop herself from doing so.
“Let’s see,” Justin said, and removed the slip of paper from his cookie. “It says, ‘A wise man turns chance into good fortune.’ Makes sense to me.” The teasing glint in his eyes died and was replaced by something darker, more intense. “It doesn’t take a wise man to know that your becoming pregnant and marrying me is going
to prove to be my good fortune.”
“It’s getting late,” Kim said. She stood and began clearing away the remains of their dinner.
Justin sighed. “I guess that’s my cue to leave,” he said, and helped her carry the paper cartons to the kitchen.
Once everything was cleared away, Kim walked him to the door. “Thank you again for everything.”
“I’ll see you in the morning,” Justin told her, and before she could respond, he took her face in his hands and kissed her. “Dream of me.”
Kim dreamed of him. That night, and the next. And when she wasn’t dreaming of Justin, she was thinking of him.
If anyone questioned Robert Marsh’s abrupt departure on out-of-town business so close to his wedding date, she didn’t hear about it. Justin had claimed it was for his sister’s sake that he’d kept quiet about what had happened that night. He didn’t want Alexandra to hear of her fiancé’s actions before she’d returned to town and Justin spoke with her personally. But Kim suspected that was only half-true. She suspected he’d also wanted to protect her.
In fact, he’d even used not trusting Marsh to come after her again as an excuse to spend time with her during the next several days. That’s why it took her a while to realize that Justin had insinuated himself into her life as completely as he had. He took her to a ball game at Wrigley Field, determined to teach her the art of baseball. He showed up on a rainy evening with an armful of old movies and the makings for fresh popcorn. He cajoled her into flying a kite with him, and she’d dragged him through several museums. He’d wheedled her weakness for chocolate brownies out of her and had surprised her with some from her favorite bakery one morning. She’d discovered firsthand what a difference he’d made after meeting the boys he worked with at the youth center. She’d learned he was enthralled with anything sports-related and a sucker when it came to stray kittens. And the more time she spent with him, the more deeply she fell in love with him.
One day spun into another and yet another still. Being an only child, she had grown up accustomed to being alone, to not sharing her days and nights with someone. Justin had changed that. In the space of little less than a week, he had woven himself into her life until she’d come to expect him there. While he took care not to cross the line at the office, she’d catch him looking at her across a room in such a way that made her body go hot, made her want to forget what her head said and to listen to her heart.
