A Baby for the Boss

by Maureen Child

  “You were right.”

  Surprised, Sean waved him to a chair. “Always a good start to a conversation. Continue.”

  Mike laughed and sat down. “I’ve been protecting you since we were kids,” he said thoughtfully. He’d had all night to consider this situation from every angle. And no matter how he looked at it, he came off badly. That didn’t sit well with him. “It got to be a habit.”

  “Okay,” Sean said, acknowledging that with a nod.

  “But it was wrong to lie to you all those years.” Mike sighed, leaned forward and braced his forearms on his thighs. “Whenever you asked me what was wrong between me and Dad, I brushed it off. Covered it up, telling myself you were better off not knowing. So, yeah. I made that call and I shouldn’t have. You’ve been grown-up a long time, Sean, so shutting you out was the wrong call, but you should understand why I did it.”

  “You’re really not very good at apologies, are you?”

  Grumbling, Mike admitted, “No.”

  “Well, points for effort anyway,” Sean said.

  “Thanks.” Mike nodded and told him, “I stopped by the house yesterday. Saw Mom and Dad. We talked.”

  “And...?”

  “And,” Mike said with a rueful smile on his face, “I apparently interrupted an afternoon quickie.”

  “Oh, man!” Laughing, Sean covered his eyes with one hand. “I didn’t need to know that.”

  “Hey, you’re the one who doesn’t want me lying to him.”

  “Discretion, man. There’s a difference between lies and discretion. Look it up.”

  Glad things were smoothed out between his brother and him, Mike chuckled. “The point is, we finally straightened everything out. I think things will be all right now, between me and Dad.”

  “Good to hear.” Sean sat forward, folded his hands on the desktop.

  “They know you know,” Mike said. “I told them that I talked to you about it.”

  “Great. When you decide to be honest, you go all out, don’t you?” A half smile curved Sean’s mouth. “Guess I’ll be having a talk with them, too, now. But as long as they’re good together, happy together, I’m fine with it. It’s all their business, Mike. Not mine. Not yours.”

  “When did you get so rational?”

  “When I grew up,” his brother said. “You missed that, I think.”

  “Yeah, looks like.” Mike frowned. “I think I missed a lot.”

  “Ah, now we get to the important part of the conversation. Jenny.”

  Shooting his brother a hard look, Mike said, “You’ll butt out of what happens to our parents, but I’m fair game?”

  “Hell, yes.” Sean grinned. “So, have you talked to her?”

  “No.” He still hadn’t called, because talking to her on the phone wouldn’t be enough. He had to look into her eyes, read what she was thinking, feeling.

  “Don’t you think you should?” Sean asked. “She’s pregnant with your baby.”

  “I don’t need reminding,” Mike said and hopped out of the chair. Walking to the wide window on the far wall, he looked out at the garden and didn’t see a thing. How could he, when his mind was filled with images of Jenny.

  “Maybe you do.” Sean waited until his brother looked at him again to continue. “You’ve been in charge of things so long, you’ve forgotten how to just be Mike.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Is it? You talk to Jenny like she’s your employee...”

  “She is.”

  “She’s more, too,” Sean said. “And it’s the more you’re not getting. To get what you really want out of all of this, you’re going to have to get humble.”

  Mike snorted. “And you think you know what I want?”

  “Yep,” Sean mused. “Don’t you?”

  Yeah, he did. He wanted Jenny. In his house. In his bed. He wanted to wake up in the morning reaching for her and have her curl up against him. But “humble” wasn’t the way to get it.

  “You can’t just march up to Jenny and order her to forgive you,” Sean said.

  “It’s the easiest way,” Mike mumbled.

  “Yeah, if you want to tick her off even more.”

  He might have a point, but Mike didn’t want to think about it. “Can you handle things here at the office for a few days?”

  “Sure,” Sean said. “Why?”

  “Because,” Mike said, “I’m going to Laughlin.”

  “It’s about time,” Sean told him.

  * * *

  Early the next afternoon, Jenny stood back from the wall to take an objective look at the finished painting. It was just as she’d imagined it. Hints of danger hidden among the trees, moonlight filtering through the leaves to dapple on the overgrown ground. A river wound through the back of the painting like a silver snake, a moonlit, watery path that only the brave would dare follow. The painting was vaguely menacing and intriguing and set just the right mood for the River Haunt hotel.

  The other artists were doing a great job on the murals and already the dining room motif was coming together. Another day or two and they could move upstairs. While the construction crew were mostly huddled in the kitchen finishing the cabinets and the new countertops, Jenny walked through the lobby into what used to be the lounge.

  Here, the plan was to have clusters of furniture scattered throughout and several game-playing stations set up, with four-flat screen TVs that invited guests to dive into Celtic Knot games. There would be a bar on the far wall where a battered old piano now stood and one section of the room would be set up with wide tables so guests could also play the role-playing board games as well.

  It was going to be a gamer’s paradise, she told herself with a smile. And that wasn’t even taking into account the midnight pontoon rides on the river, where animatronic banshees, ghouls and hunters would lunge from their hiding places onshore. It was all going to be amazing.

  Jenny hated knowing that she’d have to quit her job at Celtic Knot. She enjoyed being a part of something so fresh and interesting and fun. But working with Mike now was just impossible. She couldn’t see him every day and know she’d never have him. So she’d do her best on this project and then she’d walk away, head high. And one day, she promised herself, she’d come to the River Haunt hotel as a guest, just so she could see people enjoying what she’d helped to build.

  Sighing, she stopped at the piano and idly stroked a few keys. She hadn’t really played since she was a girl and Uncle Hank had paid for the lessons she’d wanted so badly. That phase had lasted more than a year, Jenny remembered, and then she had discovered art and playing the piano had taken a backseat.

  For an old instrument, the piano had good tone and as her fingers moved over the keys in a familiar piece from her childhood, the music lifted into the stillness. She sat down on the bench, closed her eyes and let her troubled thoughts slide away as she listened only to the tune she created.

  * * *

  Mike found her there. A small woman with a halo of golden hair, sitting in a patch of sunlight, teasing beautiful music from a piano that looked as old as time.

  His heart gave one quick jolt in his chest. Damn, he’d missed her. Everything in him was drawn to her. How had she become so important to him in so short a time? She was talented, brilliant, argumentative and beautiful, and he wanted her so badly he could hardly breathe. Now that he was here, with her, he wasn’t about to wait another minute to touch her.

  Wrapped up in the music that soared around her, she didn’t hear him approach. When Mike laid both hands on her shoulders, she jumped, spinning around on the bench, eyes wide.

  “You scared me.”

  He grinned at the glint in her eyes. He’d even missed her temper. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you, but with the music, you couldn’t hear me. I didn�
��t know you played piano.”

  “I told you before, there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he said, and pulled her up from the scarred wooden bench. “But there’s plenty I do know.”

  “Like what?” she asked, taking one short step backward.

  “Like,” he said, closing the gap between them, “you’re so stubborn you’re probably getting ready to quit your job at Celtic Knot.”

  Clearly surprised, she asked, “How did you know that?”

  “Wasn’t hard to figure out, Jenny. You think it’ll be too hard for us to work together now.”

  “I’m right and you know it, Mike.”

  “No. You’re not,” he said, and watched hope bloom in her eyes. Sean had been wrong. All Mike had to do was lay out his plan and she’d see that it was the best thing for everyone. “I think we should work together and more. We both want our baby. We have great chemistry. Passion.”

  His hands came down on her shoulders and he drew her closer. Looking down into those blue eyes of hers, he said, “We forget about the past. Let it all go and just move on from here. We’re going to get married, Jenny. It’s the right thing to do. For all of us.”

  He waited, for her to smile at him, go up on her toes and kiss him. He wanted the taste of her in his mouth again. It had been days and he felt as if it had been years. All she had to do was say yes.

  “No.”

  She was screwing up a perfectly good plan. Staring down at her, he blurted, “Why the hell not? You’re pregnant, remember?”

  She laughed shortly. “Yes, I remember. And I won’t marry you because you don’t love me. You don’t trust me. Passion isn’t enough to build a marriage on, Mike. And I won’t risk my baby’s happiness on a marriage doomed to failure.”

  “It’s not doomed.”

  “Without love it is,” she said, shaking her head. Laying one hand on his forearm, Jenny continued. “It’s our baby, Mike. I would never try to keep you from him. Or her. But I won’t marry a man who doesn’t trust me.”

  Then she kissed him.

  And left.

  Ten

  Jenny had a stalker.

  For the next few days, every time she turned around, Mike was there. He carried her paints and insisted on getting her a chair if she so much as yawned. Only that morning, when she climbed a step ladder to add a few silvery cobwebs to a naked tree on an elevator door, he’d snatched her off the darn thing and carried her to her room. In spite of her loud protests. The man had appointed himself her caretaker whether she wanted one or not. It was annoying and endearing at the same time.

  She didn’t want to get used to this kind of treatment, though. Firstly because she was perfectly healthy and able to take care of herself. But mainly because she knew it was all for show. He was trying to schmooze her into marrying him on his terms.

  But she couldn’t do it. Couldn’t give up her fantasies of a loving husband and settle for a man who didn’t trust her, didn’t love her. Passion was a poor substitute for real love.

  “Jen, what do you think of this?”

  Jenny popped out of her thoughts and focused instead on the job at hand. “What’ve you got, Christa?”

  The other artist was tall and thin, with black hair cut close to her scalp and a penchant for wearing eye-searing colors. She was also fast, talented and eager to please.

  “I was thinking about adding in a few of the Death Flowers among the vines here at the windows.”

  “Death Flowers?” Jenny repeated with a smile.

  Christa shrugged. “I admit, I love the ‘River Haunt’ game. I play it with my fiancé all the time.”

  “Do you win?”

  “Not so far,” she admitted, “but I keep trying. Anyway, you know the bloodred flowers that have fangs? I thought if it’s okay with you, I’d add a few of them here on these vines. I mean, they’re not on the original design so I wanted to run it by you before I did anything.”

  The dining room was nearly finished. The far wall was complete and the forest scene was spectacular. Though she’d had a few problems with one of the artists, she couldn’t fault the work. Jenny looked up at what Christa had done so far. The vines were thick and lush, wrapped around the edges of the windows and down to the bottom of the wall where a few of them even pooled on the floor. “You’ve done a great job here, Christa.”

  “Thanks,” she said, stepping back to check out her own work. “I’m really grateful for the opportunity.”

  Jenny looked up at her. As short as she was, she pretty much looked up at everyone. “The flowers are a fabulous idea. I love it.”

  Christa grinned.

  “Use your own eye for placement. Seeing your work, I trust your judgment.”

  “That is so cool. Thank you, Jenny.” Christa’s features lit up in pleasure.

  “You know, when this project’s finished, if you’re interested, I’ll talk to Dave Cooper, he’s the head of the graphic arts department for Celtic Knot. I’m sure he could use an artist like you.” She paused. “If you’re interested.”

  “Seriously? Interested?” Christa laughed, then scooped Jenny up for a tight hug. “That would be like my dream job.”

  When she was on her feet again, Jenny grinned at the other woman’s enthusiasm. “You could probably work from here, but Dave might ask you to move to California.”

  “Not a problem,” Christa swore, lifting one hand as if taking an oath.

  “What about your fiancé? Would he be willing to move for your job?”

  Christa smiled. “He loves me, so sure. Of course. Plus, he’s a writer, so he can work anywhere.”

  “Then I’ll talk to Dave and let you know what he says.”

  “Thank you, Jenny. I mean it. This is just the ultimate thing that could have happened.”

  “You’re welcome. But for right now, concentrate on the Death Flowers.”

  “They’ll be the most bloodthirsty blossoms in the universe when I’m done with them,” Christa vowed, and immediately bent to her paint palette.

  Sure what she was feeling was etched on her features, Jenny was grateful that the other woman had turned away. She heard Christa’s words echoing in her mind. He loves me. So sure. Of course. Envy whipped through her like a lash, leaving a stinging pain behind. Christa was so certain of her fiancé. So confident in his love and support. And Jenny yearned to know what that feeling was like.

  Sighing, she watched for a few minutes as Christa laid out quick sketches for placement of the flowers. It was nice to be able to help someone so talented. Someone who’d already proven herself to be a team player. Jenny was sure that Dave would jump at the chance to bring aboard such a skilled artist. Especially since he’d be needing someone to take Jenny’s place once she turned in her resignation. Oh, that thought hurt. She loved her job. Loved being a part of the magic of imagination. But she had to give it up. For the sake of her own sanity.

  Jenny left the main floor and took the stairs to the third. She couldn’t take the elevators, since they were shut down temporarily so the paintings on the doors could be completed. Wanting to take a quick look at the hallway up here, Jenny walked slowly, checking the progress of the artwork.

  On the third floor, there were werewolves sprinting along the wall, muscled bodies ripping through ribbons of fog as they gazed out at the hall as if staring at those who walked past. Jenny admired the art even as she shivered at the images. Not exactly the kind of thing designed to promote an easy night’s sleep. But then again, the gamers who would flock to this hotel would love the imagery. Then they would slip into their hotel rooms and play the games on the top-of-the-line gaming systems.

  She smiled to herself, then gave a quick glance to the antiqued brass wall sconces, shaped to give the illusion of torches. A dar
k blue carpet runner stretched the length of the hallway, covering the center of the wood-grain ceramic tiles. It was a good idea, she thought, for the flooring. Giving the feel of wood while offering the much-easier-to-care-for tile.

  She headed back to the staircase and then walked down to the second floor to peek at what the other two artists were doing with the banshee/ghost halls. When she found them, the artists were in a heated discussion and didn’t even notice her approach.

  “The banshees all have white hair,” Lena shouted. “Have you ever played the game?”

  “I’m an artist, I don’t waste my time playing video games,” Tony argued. “And what difference does it make if a banshee has black hair? They’re not real, you know.”

  “No,” Jenny said loudly enough to interrupt their argument. “Banshees aren’t real, but they are integral to the game you’re supposed to be replicating here.”

  He sighed heavily, dramatically, as if to let her know how put-upon he was to be questioned by anyone about his artistic decisions. Jenny had known when she hired the man that he was going to be difficult. But the sad truth was, his talent had won him the job. She’d run out of names of local artists and had had to take a chance on him being willing to play by the rules stated. It looked as though she’d made a bad call.

  “Artistically speaking, a black-haired banshee will pop more from the cream colored walls,” he argued.

  “You jerk,” the other artist countered. “If you knew anything about shadows and highlighting, you’d know how to make that white hair stand out. It’s supposed to be otherworldly, not like a photo shoot for a fashion magazine.”

  “What you know about art,” he shouted, “could be printed on a business card with room left over for a Chinese menu.”

  “I know enough to do what I’ve been contracted to do,” she said.

  Jenny’s head ached. They’d had the same problems with Tony while finishing the mural in the dining room. He wanted things done his way—too bad for him, he wasn’t in charge. Holding her hands up for quiet, Jenny felt as if she were refereeing a fight between second-graders. “That’s it. Lena, thanks, you’re doing a great job. Just get back to it, okay?”