“I can’t let you do that.”
“Sure you can. I’m on California time. I need to kill an hour before I’ll be ready to sleep.”
Begrudgingly she nodded. “It’s good to have you home.”
She shook Mamó awake and led his sleepy grandmother down the hall toward her bedroom.
Pulling open the dishwasher, he started loading in more dishes. Memories flooded in. Back in the day he and Mamó had had the routine down to a science and had been able to finish up in ten minutes or less.
He loved her. But she’d put him in quite a fix. He suspected that Lauren would be cool about the whole engagement thing, but in reality she could end up suing him for breach of promise when he failed to marry her. She knew he’d pay. Because no way would he humiliate Mamó by letting the whole thing play out in the news.
It had been a long time since he’d been able to trust a woman.
Fifteen years, to be exact—ever since Camilla had taught him that you never truly knew anyone. He couldn’t bring himself to be happy for her. Not after what she’d cost him. So he was petty? He’d live with it.
Dishes loaded, he poured in dishwashing crystals, closed and locked the door, and set the machine in motion. Lauren thought of him as controlling and manipulative. He’d live with that, too. And place the blame right at Camilla’s feet.
After drying his hands on the dishtowel, he wiped down the counter.
He’d never be caught unprepared again.
CHAPTER FIVE
LAUREN AWOKE SLOWLY. Her first thought was for the state of her stomach. When there was no immediate revolt her senses began to pick up on other elements. Like the large, muscular man she was snuggled up to.
Her eyes flew open to the yummy sight of smooth skin covering broad shoulders. She reared back, ready to scold Ray for taking advantage, only to find she’d been the one to encroach on his side of the bed.
Chagrined at being the one to break the rules, she rolled back to her side and immediately missed his warmth. Obviously she’d been lured by his heat during the night until she’d wrapped herself around him. With any luck he’d slept through her lapse, otherwise he’d razz her unmercifully for breaking her own rules.
She waited for him to move, to awake. When a few minutes passed and he didn’t shift, she slid from the bed and fled to the bathroom. Several minutes later she stood brushing her teeth when the door from the bedroom opened and Ray strolled in.
“Morning.” He gave her a peck on the cheek, then moved past her to the shower. Dropping his gray knit boxers, he stepped naked into the tub and pulled the curtain closed. Lauren choked on a mouthful of toothpaste.
She spit, rinsed, grabbed her make-up bag and escaped to the bedroom to dress before he finished showering. It didn’t take long to pull on jeans and a lavender sweater. She tugged on thick socks and low-heeled boots, and then sat on the side of the bed to put her make-up on, consciously waiting for Ray to make his appearance.
Her stomach hadn’t protested yet, but she snagged a soda cracker from her purse stash. Better safe than sorry. Yesterday’s queasiness had been explained away with the travel, but it couldn’t continue without serious questions arising.
Lauren preferred to tell Ray about his impending fatherhood on her own terms, at her own pace. Which might well be when they were back in California—not while she was half a world away from her support system. Or trying to keep up the pretense of a false engagement.
He wandered into the bedroom, a towel hitched around lean hips.
“Seriously?” she demanded. “You agreed to the rules!”
His bare shoulders were impossibly wide and the muscles in his arms and chest flexed as he rubbed a second towel over his head. The man was droolworthy, with his sculpted abs, tight gluteus, and long, hair-dusted legs. Just watching him walk across the room made her mouth water. Other body parts went straight to tingle.
This was exactly why she’d made the rules.
He glanced over his shoulder at her. “I’ve honored them.” He stepped into a pair of boxer briefs before ditching the towel. “We never discussed the bathroom. Plus, let me just repeat how crazy I think they are. It’s not like we haven’t—”
“I know we’ve been intimate.” Didn’t matter. They’d never been naked together. Their encounters had been too hurried, too frantic. “But that’s over.”
“So you say.” He grabbed a pair of chinos from the bottom drawer, along with a pale blue T-shirt. “I thought you might have changed your mind.”
Her hands went to her hips. “What made you think that?”
“The way you cozied up to me in bed last night, for one.”
Heat flooded her cheeks. So much for the hope he’d slept through her groping. “That was unintentional,” she informed him. “It won’t happen again.”
“If it was unintentional...” he came to tower over her “...that means you had no control over your actions. What makes you so sure it won’t happen again?”
She lifted her chin. “I was overly tired last night. That won’t be a problem the rest of the trip.”
“I hope you’re right.” He lifted his right hand, cupped her cheek, and traced the faint shadows under her eye. “Not that I’m complaining. I won’t hold you to the rules. Feel free to cozy up to me anytime you please.”
“I’m not going to hold you to a standard I’m not willing to uphold myself.” She backed up until his hand dropped. “The rules are meant as a mutual show of respect. Is it too much to ask for your cooperation?”
“Not at all—but then I’m not the one trying to pretend our relationship never happened.”
Her jaw dropped. “Oh, believe me, I’m well aware that our...fling...happened.” Knowledge of their child ran deep within her. “And calling what was between us a relationship is pushing it, don’t you think?”
“I don’t generally say things I don’t mean.” He cocked his head, invading her space again. “Hurried and hot doesn’t necessarily relate to lack of depth.”
“Funny, that’s exactly how I see it.” She locked her knees, refusing to give him any more ground.
“Is that what bothers you?” he asked, all concern, and she was reminded again that he had started his career as an actor. “You doubt my commitment?”
“I have no doubt of your commitment...” she paused “...to getting your own way.” She circled him and crossed the room. “Look, I admit the sex was hot. It was crazy and wild and fun. But it was totally lacking in emotional depth. And that’s not who I am.” Hand on the doorknob, she met his gaze. “I smell coffee. We should go down.”
* * *
Ray followed Lauren down the stairs, enjoying the sway of her hips in the well-fitting jeans. She had him in a quandary. She’d nailed his motivation dead-on, but she was also wrong.
His emotions were not as detached as she believed. He’d be a whole lot more comfortable if they were.
Instead he worried about the pallor in her cheeks and whether she had slept well the night before. Now he had her back in his life he wanted to explore the passion between them at a more leisurely pace.
When he’d finally joined her in the tiny bed he’d lain awake for a good hour, tormented by his promise not to touch. He’d stared into the dark while she’d shifted from position to position, as if unable to get comfortable. She’d seemed drawn to him, yet had jerked away if she got too close. Her subconscious was clearly on the job.
Her restlessness had added to his until he’d finally had enough. He’d rolled over and gathered her in his arms, tucking her into the shelter of his body. She’d sighed and gone limp in his arms. Despite the arousal intensified by her nearness, he’d soon followed her into sleep.
Thankfully she blamed their tangled bodies on their subconscious actions. Yeah, that was a confession he’d take to his g
rave.
In the kitchen Mamó stood at the stove, flipping pancakes. When she heard them on the stairs she turned with a huge smile.
“Good morning.” She greeted Lauren and then Ray. “Sit. Sit. As promised, I have your favorite breakfast.” She bustled to the stove and returned with a heaping platter she set in the middle of the table. “Blueberry pancakes.”
“Mamó, this looks wonderful.” Lauren helped herself to one pancake.
“They are wonderful.” Ray added another to her plate. “Nobody can eat just one,” he explained piling four onto his plate. He added warm syrup and dug in.
“He’s right, dear.” Mamó poured him a cup of coffee, then held the pot over Lauren’s cup.
Lauren stopped her. “Do you have decaffeinated?”
Mamó grimaced. “Unfortunately, I do. But it’s instant.”
“That’ll work.” Lauren hopped up. “I’ll get it. You sit with Ray. I’m sure you have a lot of catching up to do.” Before his grandmother could protest, Lauren added, “That is if you don’t mind if I make myself at home?”
“Of course, my dear.” Mamó slid into the chair next to Ray as she directed Lauren to the proper cabinet. “I want you to be comfortable.”
Ray silently toasted Lauren for the brilliant move. She met his salute with a smile and started the microwave. He turned his attention to Mamó.
“Great party last night. Thanks for the welcome.”
“Everyone was so excited to see you.” Mamó patted his hand. “It’s been too long since you visited the neighborhood. They’re so happy for your success.”
“And apparently for my engagement.” He eyed her over his coffee mug.
Mamó’s chin lowered and her shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. Then she spoiled it by claiming, “It’s your own fault—staying away so long, never giving me any news to share.”
“The fact I haven’t been back to the neighborhood for a while is not an excuse for lying to your friends.”
She stared down at the table, twisted her mug between sturdy hands marked by age and wear. “I wouldn’t have to lie if you’d make more of an effort.”
He ignored that. Attacking her was not the way to bolster her up. But he couldn’t let her get away with this behavior either.
“It’s one thing if it were just me.” He let the words hang in the air for a moment. “But you’ve put Lauren in a difficult position.”
A frown pulled Mamó’s hand-drawn brows together.
“Oh, but —”
Ray cut Lauren’s protest off with a flick of his eyes and a shake of his head. “It’s not okay, Lauren. When we start getting pestered by the press you won’t feel so generous.”
“Press?” She bit her pretty bottom lip.
“If it hasn’t hit the social media outlets yet, it will soon.” He hardened his heart. Soft-pedaling the news wouldn’t help anyone. “Phone calls requesting confirmation won’t be far behind.”
She pushed away from the table. “Excuse me.”
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“To text my family and warn them that rumors of my engagement are grossly exaggerated.”
“You can do that from here.” He looked at her plate, pleased to see she’d eaten both pancakes.
“I could, but my mom will be calling two seconds after she gets the message, so I’ll take it to the next room. I’d be dealing with Tori, too, except she’s halfway around the world on her honeymoon. No telling when she’ll call.”
“It’s pretty early in California,” Ray reminded her.
Lauren glanced at the kitchen clock. “Not early enough.”
She took off, and Ray arched a brow at Mamó.
“It was just a few friends.” Mamó avoided his gaze. Instead she fussed with the syrup pitcher, wiping the edge and replacing it in the middle of the table.
“Friends gossip,” he reminded her.
“Doris Renwicki was the troublemaker.” Mamó lifted contrite eyes to meet his gaze. “I really am sorry. She just got to me, with all her talk of babies.”
“I know.” He covered her hand with his. The woman had gotten to him, too. So, yeah, he understood. But that didn’t mean he could let Mamó off the hook. His career was too public to have odd announcements like this popping up. Luckily he was here and could coordinate damage control.
“You’ve put Lauren and me in a difficult situation. If I were serious and had decided to ask her to marry me, you’ve stolen her moment of announcing it. And that’s if she doesn’t question my motives and agrees to accept my proposal.”
“Oh, Ray, of course she’d accept you.” Mamó covered her mouth, true distress in her pale eyes. “But you’re right. I’ve ruined her moment. Do you think she can forgive me?”
Figured she would zero in on the injury to Lauren.
“What can I do?” She began to cry. “I don’t want things to be difficult between the two of you.”
Damn. This wasn’t what he wanted. He pushed his empty plate to the side.
“Stop crying. Don’t worry. I’ll fix it.”
“I’m sorry.” She wiped at her eyes.
“I know, and I’m going to fix it. Just stop crying now. Lauren will think I’m being mean.”
“It’s not you, it’s me.” She hid her face in a napkin.
“It’ll be okay.” Her distress made his gut clench. He took her hand in his and squeezed.
“It won’t. The press will come.”
“I’ll handle it,” he promised, going around the table to pull her into his arms. “I love you, Mamó. Now, dry your eyes. You want to be beautiful for your party.”
“I don’t want to go.”
“Of course you do. It’s just the thing to cheer you up. Everything is going to be okay.”
“No. I’ve messed things up for you and Lauren.”
“When I’m done fixing things she’ll think I’m a hero.”
Mamó’s body stopped shaking. “A hero, huh?”
* * *
A warm jacket was settled over Lauren’s shoulders and she turned to give Ray a grateful smile. As expected, her mom had called right on the heels of Lauren’s text. Wanting privacy for the call, she’d stepped outside onto Mamó’s tiny stoop, only to discover it had snowed overnight. The overhang protected the stoop and some of the steps, so she wasn’t standing in snow, but her sweater did little to ward off the freezing temperature.
“Don’t worry. You’ll be the first to know,” she reassured her mother for the third time. “Ray’s waiting for me. I have to go.”
“Okay, but I want the whole story when you get home,” warned her mom. “Say hello to Ray for me. Bye, love you.”
“Love you.” Lauren closed her phone. “Thanks for the jacket,” she said to Ray. “It snowed.”
“It does that here.”
“Tori would be so jealous.”
Making it snow at his Hollywood manor had been Garrett’s Christmas gift to her twin. The romantic gesture had won Tori’s heart and the acceptance of his proposal. Lauren still got choked up thinking about it. Here in New York she found the reality of the frozen landscape a bit overwhelming.
“So, did you haul Mamó over the coals?”
He cocked his head. “It felt like it. She cried.”
“I’m sorry.” She slipped her arms into his jacket. “But you needed to talk to her. It would be bad enough if you were an average guy. Right now you’re the hottest director in the country. The press will be all over this. Is she okay?”
“Yeah.” He flicked at a piece of paper. “I distracted her by asking after her ‘to-do’ list. Are you up for doing some chores?”
“Sure I’ll help,” she agreed easily. “I’m not about to pass up the opportunity to watch the gr
eat Ray Donovan at manual labor.”
Just the notion had her insides tingling.
“Brat.” He tugged on her ponytail. “Such wit. You should consider writing for the movies.”
“Oh, no.” Even though he’d joked, she literally backed away at his suggestion. “That’s your world, not mine. I’m happy staying in the background, thank you very much.”
“You’re good with details.” He edged forward, eliminating the distance she’d created between them.
He always did that, and had done right from the beginning of their association. Even before they’d become intimate. It was intoxicating and unnerving at the same time.
“You’d make an excellent production assistant.”
“I have a job, but thanks for the endorsement.”
She inched back again, seeking the space she needed. Seriously, how was she supposed to keep a clear head around him while constantly inhaling the clean, male scent of him?
“What’s on the to-do list?”
He consulted the paper. “A broken railing, changing some lightbulbs, and assembling a console.”
“That’s quite a list. We should get started if we want to finish before the party.” Shivering, she tucked her hands in the pockets of his jacket. “Are there home improvement centers in New York?”
“Better. We have Chester’s Hardware.”
He invaded her bubble again, but a car pulling to a stop in front of the house distracted her. Had the press discovered them already?
A uniformed deliveryman emerged from the car, carrying a large box. He crunched through the snow, opened the gate, and approached the steps. “Delivery for Lauren Randall.”
Her brows zinged up in surprise. She wasn’t expecting anything—certainly not at this address.
“I’m Lauren Randall.” She accepted the package, thinking she should tip the man. She glanced up at Ray. “My purse is inside.”
“That’s okay, ma’am,” the delivery person assured her. “The tip was included. Have a nice day, now.” He tipped his head and trudged back to his car.
She clutched the large package to her. “For a minute there I thought the press had found us.”
A Pregnancy, a Party & a Proposal Page 7
