No problem.
Laurel could handle this. Henry Davenport had told her she could charm the pants off anyone. She’d done so with Brett in Reno. Now she had to charm Danielle. Laurel would give her boss a reason to smile. Surely by the end of the day, she could achieve the small feat.
She straightened her shoulders. “I’m excited to work for you.”
Danielle blew out a puff of air. Not the most auspicious beginning… “I guess we’d better get started. Have a seat.”
Laurel sat, clasped her hands, and attentively regarded her new boss.
Smile. Whatever you do, keep smiling.
Danielle handed her a stack of papers. “Fill out these forms, then read the pamphlets about employee benefits and rights. Let me know if you have any questions once you’re done.”
Laurel grasped a two-inch-thick stack of papers and pamphlets. “I have a few questions now, if that’s okay.”
“What?”
Laurel ignored Danielle’s curtness. Maybe the woman was having a bad morning—not enough sleep, a fight with her significant other, that time of the month… “What will my job be?”
“You’re my assistant.” She spoke as if Laurel should know this. “You’ll help with my daily responsibilities. Answer phones, file, data entry. When another employee is out of the office, you’ll fill in for them.”
Sounded good to Laurel, and not too difficult, either. She’d be gaining useful office experience. “I was also wondering about my salary? Brett said you would be the one—”
“Two thousand seven hundred.”
A week? That was more than Laurel expected. She knew MGI was doing well, but she did a quick calculation. Wow. She would be making six figures nearly a year earlier than she’d expected. She would be able to afford a nice two-bedroom apartment or condo. Stylish maternity clothes. A car.
Laurel kept herself from reaching across the desk and hugging her new boss. She rubbed her tummy instead. Things were going to work out the way she’d thought they would.
Danielle glanced at a piece of paper. “Two thousand seven hundred a month plus benefits.”
A month? Laurel’s yearly salary would only be… Her jaw nearly dropped, but she managed to catch herself. Forget the nice apartment. Forget everything. The pay was more than minimum wage, but…
“Is something wrong?” Danielle asked.
“Everything’s…fine.” Laurel forced the words from her lump-filled throat.
“You’ll be on a ninety-day probation period. Brett expects his workers to give their jobs their all, but he’s generous with raises. There are six-month reviews with annual salary increases. Occasionally, we’ll be awarded a merit bonus for a project well done. For the past five years, we’ve also received year-end bonuses averaging ten percent of our yearly salaries. But that isn’t guaranteed since it’s based on company profits.” Danielle gave a half smile. “Any other questions?”
How will I pay rent? Buy food and diapers? Cover the expense of day care? Overwhelmed didn’t begin to describe how Laurel felt. She smiled weakly. “Not right now. Thanks.”
“I’ll show you to the employee lounge where you can read the materials.”
Mustering her strength, Laurel stood tall. Living on that salary wouldn’t be easy, but she didn’t have a choice. “Lead the way.”
♥ ♥ ♥
Out of sight, out of mind. Brett wished the old adage were true. Forget the amount of work he needed to do. His thoughts kept drifting to Laurel. He wanted to see how her day was going, ask how she was feeling, see her. He’d never expected to be so attracted to her again, but he was.
And he hated that, given what she was putting him through.
He made a conscious effort not to check up on her, but it wasn’t easy.
Brett glanced at his watch. Almost four-thirty. He usually worked until six or so, but he had to consider Laurel and the baby.
Time to call it quits.
He headed for his assistant’s cubicle.
Sitting at her desk, Danielle typed on her keyboard, oblivious to everything but the rapid movement of her fingers. Laurel was nowhere in sight.
The collar of Brett’s shirt tightened. “Where is she?”
Danielle glanced up. “In the lounge.”
Of course, where else would she be? He leaned against the desk. “How did it go?”
Danielle stared at her screen. “Okay.”
She wasn’t meeting his eyes. Not a good sign. “Care to elaborate?”
She shrugged.
“What happened?” he asked.
“It’s been…terrible.”
Terrible was good. He grinned. “That’s great.”
“Maybe for you.” His normally happy and carefree assistant frowned. “I don’t care about the bonus you promised me last night. I can’t do this.”
“Do what?”
Danielle sighed. “Be the boss from hell.”
“Why not?”
Her eyes clouded. “I’m not used to being mean and making people cry.”
Brett stiffened. “Laurel cried?”
“Almost.” Danielle’s eyes glistened, and he thought she might burst into tears as well. “When she learned her salary… I didn’t know what to say. It’s obvious she doesn’t need the money. She’s wearing a Hermès scarf, for goodness sake, and everything about her screams wealthy. What’s she doing here? Slumming?”
Brett laughed.
Danielle’s frown deepened. “This isn’t funny. She might be your ex-wife, but she isn’t mine. The only thing she needs is a hug, not a job.”
“Exactly.” Brett couldn’t stop the grin. “Your responsibility is to make her see that. What did she do today?”
“Read the employee information and filled out forms. Sorted and opened the afternoon mail.”
“Too easy.”
Danielle sighed. “She doesn’t have a clue how to do anything.”
“Teach her.” Brett needed Danielle’s help to pull this off. “We don’t want her to do anything strenuous but assign her the messy, dirty jobs. The ones everyone puts off doing.”
“No.”
“Yes,” he countered. “Put her in charge of the coffeepot, loading and unloading the dishwasher, and cleaning the refrigerator in the employee lounge.”
Danielle grimaced. “I never knew you had such a mean streak.”
“I’m doing Laurel a favor. A little work will do her good.” And show her that he was the solution to her problems. “I give her a week—two tops—before she quits.”
Then she’ll be begging me to marry her. No doubt about it.
“And if you’re wrong?” Danielle asked in a wary tone.
“When was the last time I was wrong?”
“When you said online trading would stop appealing to average investors.”
“We all make mistakes, but that one led me to write a book.” Sales to DIY investors catapulted the hardcover to the top of the bestseller lists. “But I’m not wrong about Laurel Worthington.”
“I hope not.” Danielle didn’t sound convinced.
“Trust me.”
As his assistant studied him, her gaze narrowed. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Not yet, but I will be soon.” Brett’s grin became gleeful. His plan wouldn’t fail. “Very soon.”
♥ ♥ ♥
How could today get any worse? Laurel sat at a table in the employee lounge, trying not to fall asleep. She thought she’d reached rock bottom when a drunk stumbled onto the bus during a stopover in Spokane, Washington and sat next to her. But even then, she could turn away from the stench and close her eyes. She couldn’t grab a catnap at MGI.
Laurel never thought she would prefer a three-day bus ride to work. But thanks to her aching feet and a tiredness she couldn’t shake, she wanted to go to sleep and not wake up for a month.
What she wouldn’t give for clothes that fit and a pair of comfortable, low-heeled Italian pumps. A shopping spree. A day at a spa complete wit
h a facial, massage, and haircut. Too bad she’d never be able to afford those things again.
Brett’s marriage offer was tempting. Maybe he was right. Maybe she wasn’t cut out for working. Maybe she wasn’t any different from her mother and paternal grandmother—trophy wives extraordinaire.
Marrying him, however, meant giving up control over her life to a man who didn’t love her. It meant forgoing her vow to be self-sufficient and a better person than she’d been before. Was she willing to do that in exchange for the fancy-free life of pampering and shopping?
Tempting, yes.
She was so exhausted a part of her wanted to propose to Brett on the drive home.
But she…couldn’t.
With a child on the way, her priorities had shifted. She refused to follow in her mother’s footsteps.
“How’s it going?” Brett asked from behind her.
Laurel blinked open her heavy eyelids.
“Great.” She couldn’t muster up the right amount of enthusiasm but managed a smile. “Did you have a good day?”
“It was busy, but I’m ready to go home.” He touched the back of her chair. “How about you?”
Quitting time at last. She wanted to shout for joy. Instead, she shrugged. “I can finish up tomorrow.”
“We can see a few apartments before we go out to dinner.”
The only thing Laurel wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep. “Could we wait until Saturday?”
“Sure.” Funny, but he almost sounded disappointed. “What do you want for dinner?”
“Taco salad.”
“I know a Mexican restaurant. I’ll make reservations—”
“I’d rather have the homemade kind, if that’s okay.”
“Uh, sure.” His brows drew together. “Can you explain the difference between a homemade taco salad and a restaurant one?”
“It’s not that different.” Thinking about the ingredients made Laurel hungry. “Same tortilla chips, ground beef, cheese, lettuce, and tomatoes. But the homemade kind tastes better. You can smother the ingredients with Thousand Island dressing. Yummy.”
“Salad dressing?”
“The low-fat kind, of course.”
“Of course.” A strange expression formed on his face.
“Is that a problem?” she asked.
“No,” he said quickly. “We’ll stop by a grocery store on the way home.”
Laurel rose from the chair slowly. Her joints hurt. Muscles ached. Why had she thought an office job would be easy? She rubbed her lower back.
With an anxious gleam in his eyes, he picked up her purse. “Are you okay?”
A little stiff. Nothing stretching out on a comfy bed and sleeping for twelve hours couldn’t fix. “I must have sat too long.”
“First days are the hardest.” The tenderness in his voice surprised her. “Tomorrow will be better.”
The day couldn’t be much worse. Laurel stifled a yawn. “I’m counting on it.”
♥ ♥ ♥
Later that evening, Brett closed the door to the dishwasher. Laurel lay on the couch with her eyes closed. He couldn’t tell whether she was asleep or not, but he was worried about her.
His plan was working—he’d thought she might quit tonight—but maybe he’d gone too far. He’d wanted to show Laurel how difficult working would be, not exhaust her. During dinner, she’d nearly fallen face-first into her plate. Twice.
To make matters worse, she’d barely eaten any of the taco salad she’d wanted.
“Can I get you anything?” he asked.
“No, thanks.” Her voice was so soft, too soft.
A shiver ran along Brett’s spine. He’d handled billions of dollars for clients and oversaw his firm and employees, but dealing with a pregnant woman, the mother of his unborn child…
He didn’t know what to do, but he felt responsible. Responsible for Laurel’s condition, her tiredness, the baby. Overwhelmed described how he felt right now.
“Do you want something else to eat?” he asked.
She opened her eyes, dark circles under them. “Dinner was great.”
Maybe he should carry her upstairs to bed. “You didn’t eat much.”
“I ate plenty.”
Brett didn’t think so. He sat on the end of the couch. “Tired?”
Her nod was barely perceivable. “At least I’m not sick like I was.”
He placed her feet on his lap so he’d have more room. “Morning sickness?”
She nodded again, not even flinching at his touch, which worried him more.
“I know why some families have only one child,” she murmured.
“That bad, huh?” He kept his tone lighthearted, not wanting to think about how awful those early weeks of pregnancy must have been for Laurel when she was losing family home and selling her condo at the same time.
“Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.” Laurel wiggled her toes.
He took that as a sign to rub her feet. The last time he’d touched her, they had been lying in bed, her bare back against his chest. She’d shimmied her shoulders then to tell him she’d wanted a massage.
“I thought I was going to die,” she admitted to his surprise. “Taking care of a baby has to be easier. That must be the reason pregnancy lasts so long. To prepare you for parenthood.”
Brett had no idea what caring for an infant entailed. A few weeks ago, when he was doing a book signing at Cassandra’s Attic—an independent bookstore in San Francisco—he’d asked Cara, their book concierge, to find him the top-rated baby books. The ones he’d read so far made parenting a newborn sound challenging and tiring, but people did it every day. Raising a child couldn’t be that difficult.
As he rubbed the top of Laurel’s left foot, she closed her eyes. “Thank you. First lesson learned after working a full day. I won’t wear heels tomorrow.”
“Good call.” The vulnerability on her face tugged at Brett’s heart. He wanted to make things better for her—protect her.
She blinked open her eyes. “I hope you didn’t mind cooking dinner tonight.”
“I didn’t,” he said honestly.
“Good, because there’s just something about home cooking, don’t you agree?”
He ate out or ordered takeout due to the hours he worked. But as long as Laurel was around, he’d get used to cooking or hire a personal chef. Anything to keep the baby healthy and growing. “I do.”
“You know your way around the kitchen.” Her voice was soft, but he didn’t have to strain to hear her. “How did you learn to cook so well?”
“My mother.” Laurel’s compliment pleased him. Knowing his cooking hadn’t kept her from eating made him feel better. He massaged her toes. “She had me sit in the kitchen while she made dinner so she could supervise my homework. I would do anything to get out of doing my assignments, so I’d separate egg whites or chop vegetables for her. Pretty soon, she had me helping her prepare meals. I…we enjoyed cooking together.”
“Really? My parents never asked about my homework, and we had a cook who wouldn’t let me near the kitchen.”
Laurel’s resigned tone made her privileged life and parents sound cold. Not anything like Henry Davenport’s. His life had been full of warmth and love from parents who doted on their only child.
“That’s too bad.” Brett loved cooking with his mom, even though most of the meals they’d prepared were for the Davenports. “Do you cook?”
“I wouldn’t call myself a chef, but I’m learning as I go. I couldn’t cook at the beginning of my pregnancy.” She grimaced. “The smells were overpowering, but then I reached a point where I only wanted to eat things made with ground beef. Taco salad. Spaghetti with meat sauce. Stuffed green peppers. Amazing how many meals you can figure out when you don’t want to starve.”
Brett rubbed her other foot. He didn’t understand the cravings associated with pregnancy. Despite the books he’d read, most of what Laurel was going through remained a mystery, but he wanted to understand. “How
did you feel when you first found out you were pregnant?”
“I was terrified.”
Brett respected her honest answer. He wished she’d been as truthful with him about her family’s financial situation when they’d been in Reno. Whether that would have changed their honeymoon night, he didn’t know, but he probably wouldn’t have thought of her as a potential date or girlfriend.
“Once the shock wore off, the excitement set in. I was still scared but happy, too. So incredibly happy.” Her tired eyes lit up. “Knowing a life is growing inside you, a life you made… It’s a miracle.”
Her enthusiasm brought a smile to his face.
“What did your parents say?” he asked.
“My father had left us by then. And my mother”—Laurel exhaled sharply—“she told me having a baby so young would ruin my figure. As if that was my biggest concern. She tried as best as she could to be supportive, but she’d lost everything. The last thing she wanted was to be a grandmother. Being a mother was never her strong suit, either.”
Laurel. Alone in the world. Poor little not-so-rich girl.
Brett couldn’t believe he felt sorry for her.
Neither said anything. The silence should have been uncomfortable. Driven a wedge further between them. But it wasn’t, and it didn’t.
That surprised him. And worried him, too. Sitting like this felt so…natural.
As he rubbed her ankles, she released a sigh. He kept his hands on her. “Feel good?”
“If I were a kitten, I’d be purring.”
He massaged her arches before moving up her leg. His hands glided over her silky-smooth skin. “If you massage a certain area of the foot, you can induce labor.”
“Was that in one of your books?”
“Yes, it said—”
“Please don’t talk about giving birth.” Sounding half-asleep, she closed her eyes. “What you’re doing feels wonderful. I want to enjoy this.”
Pressing his lips together, he continued the massage. Working out the kinks in her slender calves. Rubbing her tired feet. Rewarding her for a long day at the office.
Laurel released a soft moan. “I forgot how good you were at this.”
His throat tightened. He couldn’t answer. Not when he was remembering the way she had trailed whisper-light kisses from his forehead to his chin. Her hands had rubbed and explored.
The Wedding Lullaby Page 6
