by Lori Foster
“Shelly got strange after she had Nicole.” His left eyebrow shot up, and she said, “Yeah, yeah, I know what you’re thinking. Who am I to talk about strange, right?” With one finger, she fluttered her row of earrings.
He didn’t comment, just gave specific notice to the narrow tattoo circling her upper arm.
Anabel resisted the urge to defend herself. “What I mean is that she wanted little to do with Nicole. She spent all her time partying, trying to prove to herself that she was sexy, that men wanted her.”
“She was sexy. And I know she didn’t want for dates.”
“No, but you rejected her and that really took a chunk out of her self-esteem.” Anabel didn’t want to add to his guilt, so she said, “You might not know this, but Shelly didn’t have a very happy home life.” What an understatement.
“And that made her a less than perfect mother?”
“There is no such thing as a perfect parent. But no, I just meant that it made her very insecure. I think in her own way, she loved Nicole, but she didn’t want to be tied down with her. She thought having a baby made her somehow less appealing to men. She thought they’d see her differently if they knew she’d given birth. So she kept it a secret.”
“From everyone?”
“Most people.” Her parents had known—and vehemently disapproved. “I work at home, so I took care of Nicole.” This was the part where she had to convince him, had to make him understand. “I’m the only real mother she’s ever known, Gil.”
He looked her over again, and Anabel just knew he found her lacking. Not that she blamed him. When she’d taken over the task of caring for the baby, she’d worried, too. She loved Nicole and always did her best. For a while, it had been enough.
But not anymore. Now she needed Gil.
He said only, “You took care of her all by yourself?”
“For the most part.” And in more ways than he could imagine. “Nicole was covered by Shelly’s medical insurance, and occasionally, when she thought of it, she contributed financially. But she spent almost no time with her. When she did, it was more like Nicole was a stranger to her, not her own daughter.”
He stood silent, not looking particularly convinced or skeptical. When Gil Watson chose to keep his thoughts hidden, he did an admirable job of it.
Anabel stared down at her hands. “I wanted to tell you about Nicki.” She swallowed down her guilt and her reservations to give him another truth. “I always thought you’d be a good father and things would have been so much easier with your help. But Shelly was insistent. She said you’d take Nicole away.”
“From her—or from you?”
Her gaze jerked up to his. “I would have been willing to share her.” Her heart raced fast and her palms were damp. “I know it sounds strange, but Shelly hoped to win you over someday and she wanted to know it was for herself, not because of Nicole. You…you were the only man who ever dumped her.”
He ran his hand over his face and began to pace the office. “We were only friends.”
“You were lovers, too.”
He stared at her hard.
“Shelly told me…things.” Anabel shrugged awkwardly, wishing she knew his thoughts, but his look was too inscrutable for her to decipher. “She talked about you a lot.”
“I see.” He made no effort to hide his displeasure.
Leaving her chair in a rush, Anabel strode to him. “She died in that damn car wreck because she’d been drinking. I think she might have been high, too. She was getting worse and worse, losing her focus.” She stopped in front of Gil, hating to remember just how bad it’d gotten, how she’d been so afraid for Nicole. “After she died, her parents stepped in and took her business to sell, but they said there wasn’t much money left once they’d paid her debts and taken care of the funeral.”
Gil folded his arms over his chest, his face set. “So now you need money.”
He made her sound like an opportunist. In a way, she supposed she was. She wanted Nicole, and she needed him—in more ways than one. “Yes. On my own, I can’t afford to give Nicole everything she should have. I’ve always chosen to work at home so I could be with her and now…well, my income isn’t something to brag about.”
“You’re still doing web pages?”
Her chin lifted. She remembered the time Gil had walked in on her while she’d been working on an extensive adult site. He’d considered it porn, while she’d only seen it as one of her better paying jobs. “I make enough to keep up with the rent and monthly bills, but I don’t have insurance for myself or Nicole. Babies get sick a lot, they need vaccinations, checkups.” Please let him understand. “They need two parents.”
Gil stepped closer, casually intimidating her with his size. His eyes were such a deep, fathomless brown, framed by thick lashes, awesomely direct and always serious. “So I’m supposed to marry you so that you can keep my daughter.”
It wasn’t easy, but she nodded. Then added, her voice soft, “Yes.”
He took another step closer until she thought she could almost feel his heartbeat mingling with her own. Staring at her mouth, he said, “Tell me, Anabel. What’s in it for me?”
Chapter Two
Gil watched her small pink tongue come out to wet her dry lips, saw the nervous flutter of her long eyelashes, the rapid pulse in her smooth throat. After her bold declaration about marriage, he was surprised anything could discomfort her.
He did want her. Hell, the wanting burned just beneath his skin every time he looked at her. In his younger days he would have damned the consequences and jumped on the opportunity afforded him now. But he was no longer that wild, impetuous youth ruled by his dick. He was a well-respected businessman—and his last uninhibited escapade had landed him with a daughter.
And Anabel.
He’d never thought much about settling down with one woman, but if he had, he wouldn’t have envisioned a wife like her. No, if he had to consider it—and he didn’t, not yet—it’d be with the idea of an elegant woman, subtly feminine, very refined and polite. A woman who would fit into his new corporate life, who could attend the business parties and cultivate new connections.
It would not be with a woman whose body language screamed sex, whose every smile had his guts twisting with raunchy thoughts of sweat and moans and wet, sliding pleasure.
It wouldn’t be to a woman who threatened his self-control with every breath she took.
“You’ll have your daughter living with you,” Anabel said in a low, soft voice that seemed contradictory to the casually sexy clothes and mod tattoo. “I think you want that.”
He tipped his head in acknowledgement. “I do.” She started to relax, until he added, “But I can have that without you.”
“No.”
Gil didn’t change expression, but he felt himself softening. With her bottom lip quivering, Anabel met his stare, and she looked so small and vulnerable and…her damn earrings were blinding him, the way they reflected the fluorescent office lights.
His tension grew, making it nearly impossible to disguise. “It’s not up to you, Anabel. She’s my daughter.”
“And for all intents and purposes, I’m her mother.”
“And yet,” he reminded her gently, “you’re not.”
Stark pain stole over her features, quickly replaced with iron will. “Don’t con me, Gil.” Her small hand came up to rest against his dress shirt directly over his heart. Her breath came fast and shallow. “I know you too well. You won’t do that to her. You won’t break her heart that way.”
The trembling of her lips kept snagging his attention, until he wanted to warm them with his own. “Actually, you don’t know me at all.” He started to turn away.
Her hand fisted, wrinkling his expensive shirt, pulling him back around. She didn’t raise her voice when she said, “I’ve known you three years.”
Three years that he’d thought of fucking her, imagining how wild she’d be, how she’d taste and feel. Three years of doing his best to
ignore her and her carnal appeal. Three years of resisting her because that was the right thing to do. “We’ve been no more than acquaintances.”
Now she stepped closer, staring up at him, her chest heaving, her expression resolute. “We’ve debated business and politics and society. We’ve talked about the weather and clothing and music. We’ve argued and teased and I’ve…”
Her breath hitched and she pinched her lips shut.
She was so close he could smell her, a subtle fragrance of perfume and the headier scent of warm woman. “You’ve what?”
“Nothing.” She released him and stepped back, moving to his desk before turning toward him again. Seconds passed like the ticking of a bomb. “Do you know, Nicki was always there when you visited. It gave Shelly a thrill to have her that close to you, without you knowing it.”
Unable to comprehend such malicious machinations, Gil shook his head. “Why?”
“I don’t know.” She looked as dumbfounded by it all as he felt. “I had a hard time figuring her out. I think she sometimes hoped that Nicki would wake up or make a fuss and you’d find out. The matter would be taken out of her hands, so to speak. But she didn’t, and so you never knew and Shelly chose not to tell you.”
She kicked off her sandals and hopped her rounded behind up onto the edge of his desk. Hands in her lap, shoulders slumped, she stared down at her bare feet and said, “I wanted to tell you, Gil. I swear. But Shelly said if I ever did, she’d run off with Nicki and no one would ever find her. I couldn’t bear the thought of that. Shelly birthed Nicki, but she wasn’t her mother. I kept my door open at night, always listening with half an ear, always wondering if…”
“If?”
She looked up, her eyes sad, hopeless. “I was so afraid she’d take my baby, that she’d run off and I’d never find her.” Anabel rolled her shoulders, shrugging off the melancholy to give him a small smile. “I heard her first word.”
“Mama?” He couldn’t mesh the image of this woman with that of a mother. Impossible.
She laughed. “No. It was ‘bird.’ She loved watching the birds out the window. From the time she was a tiny baby, it’d make her squeal. I put a feeder outside the window so they’d come up close and it’d keep her entertained for a long time.”
Wishing he could have seen her enjoying the birds, Gil said, “I have a wooded backyard. Lots of birds and other animals to see.”
Her expression was distracted, a little sad. “I stayed up nights with her when she cut teeth. I’d hold her, and she’d drool on my shoulder until we were both soaked, but I could never bear to hear her cry. I bought her clothes, mostly at secondhand shops, but I made sure everything was clean and cute, and she always looks adorable.” She turned her face up to his, her eyes pleading with him to understand. “I’ve changed all her diapers, bathed her and fed her, and I’ve loved her with all my heart. You can’t take that from me. I know you won’t take that from me.”
Gil rubbed the back of his neck, lost in turmoil. It was the damndest thing, an onslaught of emotions and considerations and needs. Nicki was his daughter and now that he knew about her, he’d never let her out of his sight again.
He hadn’t realized how he’d feel about a kid, so he couldn’t have prepared for the strange bombardment on his heart. The more Anabel spoke of her, the richer his love for Nicki seemed. It crushed him that he and his family had already missed so much of her young life. Questions about her birth, her personality, her preferences, seemed to be building up inside him, demanding answers the same way his lungs demanded air. He didn’t just want to know. He had to know.
Yet mixed with that was the undeniable urge to protect Anabel—an urge he couldn’t seem to stifle no matter his anger or his common sense. Never in his life had he indulged macho displays of chest beating. He left that sort of chauvinistic behavior to his older brother, Sam. As a super-cop, Sam filled the role to perfection and then some.
But in Gil’s world of business, women were not delicate creatures that needed a man’s protection. They were intelligent, savvy, capable—and sometimes ruthless. He’d never felt like the all-powerful, superior male with any woman. He’d never felt that a woman needed him to shelter her.
But now he did.
Anabel Truman, with her multiple earrings and tattoo and come-get-me smile was tugging at his heart in a way no other woman ever had.
Damn her; she’d kept his baby from him. She was as responsible as Shelly for deceiving him.
And he still wanted to cuddle her close and hold her and make outrageous promises that weren’t at all in his best interest. If he encouraged her now, what type of example would she set when his daughter started forming her own decisions? Would she emulate Anabel? His heart skipped a beat at that awesome thought, and he swallowed hard. Would Nicki want a tattoo, too? Oh God, the very idea made him cold inside.
No two ways about it: Anabel just wasn’t proper mother material. He thought of mothers as being like his own—no-nonsense, understated, ready with a hug and advice. His mother looked like a mother. Soft, a little rounded, casual and comfortable.
Anabel looked like…not a mother. He couldn’t label her, but there was nothing comfortable about her. Exciting, yes. Hot, definitely. But not maternal.
Even while she’d been pouring her heart out to him, a part of his mind kept thinking how sweet it’d be to push her to her back on his desk, to tug those threadbare jeans down her hips and thighs so he could…
Suddenly she slid off the desk and started toward him. “I know what you’re thinking, Gil.”
Along with the look in her eyes, that throaty tone brought him out of his reverie. “You haven’t got a clue.” If she did, she sure as hell wouldn’t get so close to him.
“Wanna bet?” He caught his breath when she leaned into him, her hands sliding up his chest to rest on his shoulders. Her cool fingertips brushed the heated skin of his nape. Eyes direct, even challenging, she whispered, “You’re thinking about sex. With me. I’ve seen that look on your face before.”
He didn’t back down. “What look?”
Her smile curled, lighting up her eyes, flushing her cheeks. “Well, the look before you just went blank. It’s this sort of heated expression, very direct and interested and naughty.”
He caught her shoulders to hold her away—and instead, he just held her. His heart thundered and the muscles of his abdomen and thighs pulled tight. “You’re mistaken.”
“Oh really?” She went on tiptoe to brush her nose against his throat. “Mmm. You smell good, Gil.”
Her breath whispered over his skin with the effect of a lick. Her breasts, shielded only by a clinging shirt, brushed his chest.
“Anabel.” He meant his tone to be chastising, and instead it reeked of encouragement.
Her hand left his shoulder to glide down his chest, down, down to the waistband of his slacks where she lingered, making him nuts, causing his lungs to constrict. Her lips moved nearer to his, and at close range she stared into his eyes.
“You want me, Gil. Admit it.”
He wouldn’t admit a damned thing. But neither could he deny it.
The darkening of her eyes should have given him warning. But when her slender fingers drifted lower, cupping his testicles through his slacks, he was taken completely off guard. To call her brazen would be an understatement. To call him unaffected would be an outright lie.
She held him, gently squeezed, expertly stroked. “You’re already hard,” she whispered.
Yeah, from his ears to his toes, but did she have to sound so pleased about it?
Still in that soft whisper, she purred, “Gil, I want you, too. I always have.” As she said it, she moved her fingers up to his throbbing cock, teasing his length, deliberately arousing him further, pushing him. “We would be good together. I know you, know what you like and what you want. I’ll do anything, Gil. Any time you want, any way you want. I’ll—”
The bribe finally registered, dousing him in ice water. He felt used
, repelled, and he automatically sought to distance himself by pushing her back. She was taken by surprise and would have fallen if he hadn’t grabbed her shoulders to steady her. Just as quickly, he released her again.
Her eyes were wide, dark. Aroused. “Gil, please…” She started to reach for him.
“No.” His lip curled, disgust at himself and her boiling up to choke him. She acted in the role as Nicole’s mother, and yet she’d just offered to prostitute herself. He said again, “No.”
What he felt must have been plain to see, given the lack of color in her face. Devastated, appearing somewhat lost, she faced the desk and braced her hands there. Gil could see her shaking, could hear the choppy unevenness of her gasping breaths. She was going to cry and he couldn’t bear it. He had to do something, say something.
“We’ll leave now.” His own hands weren’t that steady when he went to his desk and snatched up the phone, quickly dialing his brother’s cell phone. When Sam answered, Gil could hear restaurant noise in the background. He closed his eyes. “Don’t let Mom know it’s me, but I need a favor.”
“Shoot.”
“Come by the company and get my car. I’ll leave a key in the office, top desk drawer. Bring it to my house later tonight or tomorrow morning before I have to get to work. By yourself.”
“You can only fend them off for so long. I speak from experience, Gil.”
Gil well remembered Sam’s recent relationship snafus with Ariel. No, his family was not the type to stand idly by. They liked to get involved. He glanced at Anabel and wanted to groan. Her shoulders were slumped so that she curled in on herself. Her exhaustion, her desperation, was enough to flatten him.
“I just need a few days.” At least he hoped he’d be able to figure something out in a few days.
