The scooped neckline accentuated her chest. The flare of the skirt didn’t hide her pregnant stomach but complemented the belly bump. The definition of elegant. She was so close to being his that he could taste it. Just as he could still taste her sweet kiss.
Laurel said something to Mr. Crenshaw. The man’s weather-beaten rough face crinkled into a smile, and he laughed. A real laugh. Brett had worked with the guy for five years, and he’d never seen the old geezer smile.
Growl, yes. Grimace? That, too. Laugh, never.
Crotchety Mr. Crenshaw could make the unflappable Alex Niles nervous, yet Laurel appeared completely at ease and in her element speaking with the wealthy investor.
She was an asset, but her people skills were going to waste behind a desk at MGI. Once they were married…
Brett walked over to the pair. “Good evening, Mr. Crenshaw.”
“Matthews. Nice party. And those bookcases in the library. Might have to get me a few of them.” Mr. Crenshaw turned his attention back to Laurel. “Don’t forget what I told you, young lady.”
“I won’t, Marv.”
Marv? Brett’s jaw dropped. No one at MGI dared call Mr. Crenshaw by his first name, Marvin, let alone Marv.
She touched the older man’s arm. “Be sure to let me know how BK is doing.”
As appreciation filled Mr. Crenshaw’s gaze, he nodded. “Speaking of which, I’d better get home. BK doesn’t like me to stay out too late.” Mr. Crenshaw nodded to Brett before kissing Laurel’s cheek. “Stay off your feet. You don’t want those pretty ankles of yours to swell.”
“I’ll be careful,” Laurel said with genuine affection. “Don’t forget to call me.”
“I won’t. Good night.” The grizzly old man tipped his hat before heading to the front door.
Brett stared in disbelief. That couldn’t be the same Mr. Crenshaw who kept threatening to close his account. The Marvin Crenshaw who wanted his phone calls answered immediately, didn’t like being put on hold, and demanded outrageous returns on his investments.
“He’s such a nice man,” Laurel said with an almost-wistful tone.
“Nice?” Saying that was like eating sand.
She nodded. “Did you know he has a cat named Big Kitty? Tomorrow Big Kitty, or BK as Marv calls him, is having surgery. Marv’s worried. You should send him flowers.”
“The cat?”
She sighed. “No, Marv.”
Brett rubbed the back of his neck. “Why would I do that?”
“For the same reason you had this party. To show your premium clients how much they mean to MGI.”
Brett rubbed his chin this time. “You think this would make a difference to Marvin Crenshaw?”
“An enormous difference.” The sincere tone of her voice told Brett she was serious. “That cat means everything to him. If you’ve had issues with Marv in the past, that’s because he’s a lonely old man wanting some attention. Make him feel special. Valued.”
Brett tilted his head. He had to be missing something. “Over a cat?”
“A cat who’s the sole heir to a billion-dollar estate.”
Point made. “I’ll have flowers sent.”
She gave him a pointed look. “If you think you’ll forget, I’ll do it.”
At that moment, he would have done whatever she asked. What was happening to him? “I’ll send them. Myself.”
She beamed. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you.” For so many things that had nothing to do with MGI and its clients.
The partygoers faded into the background. All Brett could see—all he wanted to see—was Laurel. His breathing hitched. He inhaled deeply, but that only brought the scent of her signature perfume closer. She hadn’t worn the fragrance since the day she’d arrived in Portland. Funny how he remembered that. But details about her became etched in his brain.
Brett wanted to steal a kiss. Who was he kidding? He wanted so much more than that. “You’re really something.”
Rising on her toes, she whispered, “So are you.”
♥ ♥ ♥
The evening was passing quickly. Based on the smiles, guests seemed to be enjoying themselves. For the first time since starting at MGI, Laurel felt as if she’d contributed something worthwhile to the bottom line. A part of her felt like Cinderella at the ball minus the glass slippers and flat stomach.
People kept complimenting her. Not only on the party, but also the house. Two guests asked if they could speak with her about decorating. But she didn’t let their praise go to her head. Not when she had to explain she worked at MGI and would pass their business cards on to Renee, the interior designer who’d assisted Laurel. Still, being asked thrilled her. Maybe once she had her own place, money in savings, and trustworthy childcare, she could do interior design jobs on the side.
Across the solarium, Brett’s gaze met hers. The music from the string quartet quieted. The conversations of the partygoers dropped. The scent of the delicious food prepared by a world-class caterer vanished.
The only thing that mattered was…him.
For a moment, she could revel in the thought of them together. Forever.
A daydream?
Yes.
But thanks to the child growing inside Laurel, her and Brett’s futures were entwined. The only problem? She wanted more. She wanted him to be a part of her life, too. She wanted it all—marriage, a husband, a family. Tonight had shown her what she’d known in her heart. The appealing images of the two of them in the future holding hands, sitting on the couch together, and kissing goodnight played in her mind.
Except…
Her shoulders dropped.
A happy ending wasn’t going to happen.
Laurel had been engaged once for the wrong reasons and then married Brett as part of a joke for Henry’s birthday bash. Treating marriage so flippantly was wrong. She couldn’t do that again.
Following in the footsteps of her mother and grandmother wasn’t happening. She wouldn’t settle for anything less than the best for her and Junior. That was why she had to remind herself she could only marry for the right reason—love.
True love.
If such a thing existed…
Touching her belly, Laurel walked away, needing to put distance between them by losing herself among the guests.
“Aren’t you radiant tonight?” Henry Davenport, wearing a tuxedo sans bow tie, touched her shoulder.
“Henry.” She greeted him with a hug and a kiss. “When did you arrive?”
“A little while ago.” Handsome with sandy-brown hair and hazel eyes, Henry oozed charm and charisma. Some called him a lazy trust-fund baby since he’d never worked a day in his life, but he donated money to causes close to his heart and never hesitated to pay the bill when out with friends. “I prefer to arrive fashionably late.”
“I thought you were spending a few months in Europe?”
“It kept raining, so I decided if I had to be wet and see dreary gray skies all day, why not be at home?” He took a step back. “Let me look at you.”
His blatant appraisal made her blush. She bit her lip.
“I see you have a bun in the oven. Congratulations. When’s the timer going off?”
Leave it to Henry not to mince words. “December twenty-third.”
“That won’t do,” Henry announced as if he had the final say in her pregnancy. “You must have this baby on Christmas Day to keep the holiday birthday tradition alive.”
He spoke as if having this baby on December twenty-fifth were as simple as making dinner reservations. To a billionaire like Henry, maybe he assumed it was. She nearly laughed. “Babies have their own sense of timing, so don’t get your hopes up.”
“What would this world be without high hopes?” Henry furrowed his brow. “Halloween is the next holiday coming up. What would you and Brett think about a masquerade wedding? The possibilities are endless.”
“I bet they are.” She wanted to change the subject as subtly as she could. “Tell me about
your trip.”
“No wedding?”
“No.” She saw the concern in his eyes. “It’s okay.”
“But he’s the father.”
It wasn’t a question. Still, she nodded.
Henry took a sip of his champagne. “I hear you’re working at MGI?”
She nodded again, thankful Henry had let the subject of a wedding drop.
“And you actually like to…work?” He said “work” as if it were a foul word.
To someone in Henry’s position, it was. She’d felt the same way not too long ago. “Yes.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I…it’s okay,” she added.
“It’s Henry you’re talking to.” He gave her an encouraging smile. “Tell me the truth.”
“I’m sure working will get better once I’ve been there longer.” She tried to sound diplomatic, not whiny, but office work wasn’t her forte. Or wasn’t yet. “I had fun putting together this party. And I loved decorating Brett’s house.”
“You did all this?” Henry glanced around. “Forget the job and MGI. Become an interior designer instead.”
“Decorate houses? Full time?”
He nodded. “You obviously have the talent. You turned this shell of a house into a home.”
Doubts assailed her. “I don’t have any formal training. I have no money or savings to start my own business.”
Henry brushed aside her concerns as if he were shooing away a gnat. “You have innate style and taste—two things that can’t be taught.”
Hope flared until reality set in. “I’m going to have a baby. Who’s going to hire me when I’m getting bigger and waddling more each day?”
“Me,” he said without any hesitation. “That mausoleum of mine reminds me too much of my parents. God rest their souls. I want something that shouts ‘Henry.’”
“I couldn’t.” As soon as she spoke, she realized that wasn’t true. A part of her wanted to jump at the opportunity. To take a chance and do something she loved. She remembered the business cards she’d collected earlier.
“You could. And should. You did an incredible job with this house. Of course, mine is bigger and more outdated. You’d have your work cut out, but I promise to compensate you highly.”
Renee wanted to talk to her about joining her staff, but Laurel hadn’t wanted to discuss a job offer. She felt obligated to stay at MGI. Brett had done so much for her. She owed him her loyalty, didn’t she?
“You don’t have to give me an answer now, but think about it,” Henry continued. “You need a way to support yourself and the little one. You also deserve to be happy.”
“I will.”
“You will what?” Brett stepped in between her and Henry.
“Think about using Henry as a first name if the baby is a boy,” Henry said before Laurel could answer. “Davenport would make an excellent middle name for either gender.”
Laurel laughed, thankful for Henry’s quick thinking and humor. “Thought this out, have you?”
Henry nodded slowly as if to emphasize the point. “It’s only fitting for my godchild to be named after me.”
“Godchild?” she and Brett asked at the same time.
“Who else would you ask to be the godfather? I’m assuming this seedling was planted on my birthday. If it weren’t for me, you two would have never…you know.” Nudging Brett with his elbow, Henry winked. “I should be rewarded for my highly refined matchmaking skills.”
“What about the dice?” Brett asked.
Henry raised his chin, his expression more like a ten-year-old’s than an adult’s. “They were my dice.”
♥ ♥ ♥
After escorting the remaining guests to their cars, Brett headed back into the house. Compliments from guests and employees swirled in his head. His smile wasn’t going away anytime soon.
The party wasn’t only a victory for MGI, but also a personal victory for Brett Matthews, outsider extraordinaire. His personal clientele ran the gamut from retirees to a gold medalist skier. Tonight Brett had impressed even those old money Portlanders, the ones who’d made fun of him and his mom when he was growing up.
Such a sweet feeling.
When he added in Laurel’s dedication to her work, he didn’t think the night could get any better.
She’d succeeded with the house and tonight’s events, proving how much she could accomplish on her own. Now nothing was stopping her from marrying him.
He’d taught her the skills she needed to learn.
Now it was time for him to get what he wanted.
His footsteps sounded on the hardwood floor.
In the kitchen, Laurel was talking to the catering crew who were on their way out. As soon as she finished, she leaned against the counter and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
Her face was pale, but she had no dark circles under her eyes. If anything, she appeared unruffled with that strand of hair now back in place.
That didn’t mean she wasn’t exhausted from being on her feet for hours. “Ready to call it a night?”
“Almost.” She stretched her shoulders. “There are a few things—”
“Come on, Miss Hostess-with-the-mostest.” Taking her hand, he led her to the sofa. “Those things can wait.”
“But I need to—”
“The housekeeper will take care of it tomorrow.”
“I don’t believe what I’m hearing.” Laurel touched his forehead. “You don’t have a temperature. Why are you acting so strange?”
“What do you mean?”
“You organize your books alphabetically and place the food that will expire first on the top shelf of the refrigerator. No way could someone like you leave a mess overnight.”
Her shocked expression made him laugh. “Believe what you want, but you’re sitting down and putting your feet up.”
He removed her shoes and then and placed her feet on his lap. Slowly, he rubbed them. Each toe, the arch, the ball. As he did, Laurel sank deeper and deeper into the sofa.
Her lids heavy, she wiggled her toes. “You’re the master of foot rubs.”
Brett moved to the top of her foot and around her ankle. He enjoyed the feel of her soft skin beneath his fingers. “You’ve earned the five-star special. The evening went off without a hitch.”
“Not quite.” Her voice held a tinge of regret. “The string quartet arrived late, and the fruit could have been fresher.”
He wanted her to be happy, not be concerned about what hadn’t been perfect. “No one noticed those things.”
She stiffened. “If I did, someone else did.”
“The evening was a complete success.” He ran his hand up and down her smooth calves until she relaxed. “Anything you aren’t satisfied with, you can do differently next time.”
Her mouth formed a perfect O. “Next time?”
Once they were married, he wanted to entertain more. “I was thinking Christmas might be the perfect time for a party.”
“Sounds like fun, except I’ll either be out to here”—she placed her hand a foot in front of her stomach—“or have a baby to care for.”
Junior. Brett couldn’t forget the delivery date in the not-so-distant future. “We’ll have the party at the beginning of December.”
Laurel hesitated. “I suppose.”
“You don’t sound as if you want to do it.”
She stared at the blank television screen. “It’s…a little strange.”
“What?”
“This. Us,” she said. “At MGI, everyone knew we were married, but it’s only recently they’ve realized we’re having a baby together.”
“Employees were asking questions. I wasn’t going to lie.”
“I know that, but they treat us normally. Well, as normal as possible, given the situation. But tonight, the investors assumed we’re a couple and treated us as one.”
“Does that bother you?”
“Bother isn’t the word I’d used, but it’s getting harder for me not to
think the same thing.”
Yes. Brett fought the urge to pump his fist.
“I mean, we spend all of our time together,” she continued. “And we have kissed. Sometimes it feels like we’re…”
“A couple?”
She nodded.
He had to go slow. S-L-O-W. This was the chance he’d been waiting for. Laurel had finally opened the door, but he needed to proceed carefully. “Is that so bad?”
“Yes, no, I don’t know.” She sighed. “When I’m around you, no. But then, when I’m alone…”
“You don’t ever have to be alone again.”
She raised her chin, defiance flaring in her gaze.
“I know you want to be on your own.” He backtracked. “But you have to realize by now I’m the last person who’d try to take away your independence. Thanks to my mom, I’ve seen what women can do by themselves. You’ve shown me what you can accomplish on your own.”
He wanted to know what she was thinking, but all he saw in her eyes were pools of blue any man would gladly drown in.
She bit her lip. “How far do you see this—us—going?”
All the way. Until death do us part. Forever.
Brett swallowed. “As far as we both want to take it. Junior deserves a family. A mother and father who are married and live together.”
She took a breath. “What about parents who love each other?”
Love? That wasn’t part of the deal.
He felt her gaze on him. Saying those three little words would be so easy, but he couldn’t lie, not even to get what he wanted. They had come too far for that. But maybe not far enough for Laurel.
He forced a smile. “I care about you.”
“I…care about you, too.” Lines formed on her forehead and around her mouth. “But I don’t know if that’s enough.”
Brett wasn’t about to give up. Not when he was so close to getting what he wanted. He could picture their lives together. The two of them bringing home their baby. Playing together in the backyard, eating dinner together while catching up on everyone’s day, watching movies after dinner, and just being a family.
The Wedding Lullaby Page 14
