A Pregnancy, a Party & a Proposal

by Teresa Carpenter

  “Leave her alone.” Lauren hooked her arm through his. “This is her night. Let her enjoy it.”

  “Thank you, dear.” With a flash of her diamond eternity ring, Mamó waved and walked into the hall.

  “‘Party hearty’?” Ray muttered. “She’s seventy-six.”

  “She’s still a vibrant woman with a huge capacity for love. I know of at least one gentleman attracted by her joie de vivre.”

  Lauren dragged her hand down his arm, over his hand, clung to his fingertips for just a second, then swung around and through the door behind his grandmother.

  He was distracted by her touch, by the sheer grace of her in a sassy off-the-shoulder black dress, and her words didn’t connect at first. He hadn’t been paying lip service when he’d told them he was with the two most beautiful women at the party. Where Mamó was lovely, Lauren literally stole his breath. Stunning was the only word to do her justice.

  The black dress clung to soft curves, its hem flirting with the silky skin three inches above her knees. The dark color contrasted sharply with her creamy complexion, giving the impression of delicate strength. Light shimmered in her blond hair, flowing like molten gold around her shoulders as she glanced back at him. A daring red lip gloss drew his gaze to her lush mouth.

  He followed as if beckoned.

  Only when she disappeared from sight did her words slam into him.

  Wait—a “gentleman” was interested in Mamó? Not if he had anything to say about it.

  He rushed through the door. And found Mamó and Lauren surrounded by a bevy of young studs dressed in tuxedos. Heavens, it was like a casting call for a Fred Astaire remake.

  Oh, hell, no.

  He waded through the throng to Lauren’s side and heard the last of the introductions.

  “And I’m Chad,” a tall man said.

  He had a square chin, brown eyes and dark hair. Ray eyed the other four. Not so young after all—which only made it worse.

  “I hope you will save the first dance for me?”

  “Oh, my.” Mamó giggled as the man lifted her hand to his mouth. “I think I can do that.”

  Giggled. Like a girl. His seventy-six-year-old grandmother.

  “What’s going on here?” he demanded, making no effort to curb the edge in his voice.

  “Oh. Everyone—this is my grandson Ray.” Mamó beamed as she made the introductions. “Ray, these lovely gentlemen are here to dance with me.”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “Now, don’t be a grouch. Lauren arranged it. I love to dance, and with so many more ladies than men this ensures I’ll always have a partner.” She took the opportunity to give Lauren a huge hug. “Thank you so much. It’s going to be the best party ever.”

  “You’re welcome.” Lauren kissed her cheek. “I might have to borrow one myself if Ray’s going to be a party-poop.”

  “I won’t blame you.” Mamó stepped back and smoothed her hands over her hips. “I should find Ellie.”

  “May I escort you to the head table?” Chad offered his arm.

  “You may.” Mamó threaded her arm through his with another giggle. The two moved off and the other men melted away.

  Ray crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze narrowed on Lauren. “You did this?”

  “This?”

  “Arranged for my grandmother to be groped by a gigolo.”

  Her tinkling laugh grated over his taut nerves.

  “They are not gigolos. They’re dancers. I noticed a lot of Mamó’s friends were single, so I called a friend of mine who arranged for a local dance studio to send over some men to act as stag dance partners.”

  Okay, it was a nice gesture. He still didn’t like it.

  “I didn’t know you knew anybody in New York.”

  “I have contacts all over the world. We meet at conferences and trade shows. Events is a pretty small community, actually.”

  “I imagine you’re a league above most of your colleagues.”

  She lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. “No, we just have a more elite clientele than most.”

  “I’ve seen your work. I would argue you attract an elite clientele because of your above-par work.” He looked around the room at the lush floral centerpieces and the billowing folds of white silk draped from the ceiling and cascading down the walls. “I can see your touch in more than the expanded guest list.”

  “Mamó has graciously opened her home to me. She, Ellie and Kyla have made me feel welcome. It was the least I could do.”

  He studied her for a long minute. She was wrong. She was a guest. Nothing had been expected of her. Not even a gift, as they were optional. In fact, in a very real way she was a gift—from him to his grandmother.

  “I’m not sure I approve.” He pulled her close and pressed a light kiss to her lips. “But Mamó is happy, so thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” She swiped a thumb over his lips, removing a light layer of red. “Shall we join Mamó at the head table?”

  “Sure.” He settled a hand in the sweet spot at the small of her back. “On the way you can explain your comment about a gentleman being interested in Mamó.”

  “I noticed a connection between her and a gentleman at the welcome party the other night—”

  “No.” He cut her off. “No noticing anything between her and any gentleman. Just turn your Spidey senses off.”

  She stopped abruptly, blocking his path. He almost tripped over his own feet to prevent himself from running into her.

  Hands on hips, she slowly swung to face him. “You just can’t help yourself can you?”

  “What?”

  “There you go, trying to control me. Worse, you’re trying to control your grandmother, who deserves any chance at happiness fate hands her.”

  “I don’t want you interfering.”

  “It’s not ‘Spidey senses,’” she informed him in icy tones. “It’s a very real feeling about a connection between two people.”

  “Well, aim it elsewhere. Mamó is not interested.”

  “That’s for Mamó to say, not you.”

  “I’m saying it for both of us.” He stepped into her space, let her see he meant business. “Turn it off.”

  A flash of hurt went through her eyes before they frosted over in a blink. One red-tipped nail poked him in the chest, pushing him back.

  “One: don’t disrespect the matchmaking.” Another poke. “Two: I’m here as a favor to you. Under protest, if you’ll remember.” Two pokes this time. “Three: you’re just mad because I didn’t run the idea by you first. I’d never do anything to hurt your grandmother. You’re the one who will do that when she finds out our whole relationship is a sham and has been since the beginning.”

  She twirled on her stylish black heels, obviously planning to leave him in the dust.

  He caught her arm. “Don’t even think about telling her.”

  She glanced from his hand on her arm to his face. “It’s good to know exactly what you think of me, Ray. For a while there you almost had me fooled that you were a decent guy. I thought I’d learned to see beyond a man’s act.”

  He watched her throat work as she swallowed hard.

  “Thanks for the reminder.”

  Stung, he dropped her arm. “Don’t put me in league with that monster. I’m nothing like him.”

  “No?” She rubbed her arm. “You always have to be in control. You want to tell me what to do, who I can talk to, and what I can say. At least I can see it this time.” A slight shiver shook her small frame and a hand went to her stomach. “Tell Mamó I’ll be along in a few minutes. I’m going to talk to the facility director.”

  Again, she began to walk away. It struck him that he’d handled this badly. He’d never meant to hurt her. He just wanted to pr
otect his grandmother.

  “Lauren, wait.” He moved quickly, blocking her escape.

  “I forgot four.”

  She nailed him with cold eyes. Who knew gold could cut so sharp?

  “We’re already done. I’ve been telling you that for days.”

  This time he let her go, his mind ticking over ways to fix this. He’d give her a few minutes to cool down. Let her do her business thing. It would help restore her sense of order. At least he hoped so.

  Because he still saw that flash of raw hurt in her eyes. And it made him sick to his stomach that he was the one to put it there.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE ARGUMENT WITH Ray sent her scurrying for the restroom, the bitter taste of bile rising up her throat. Funny how her nausea often coincided with high emotions.

  After she’d emptied her stomach, she liberated a few crackers from the buffet. Perched at a table on the edge of the room, she nibbled away and soon felt better. Well, her stomach felt better. Her emotions still felt thrashed.

  Ray’s behavior hurt. Did he really believe she’d put Mamó at risk? That she used her matchmaking gift to manipulate people?

  That was his talent, not hers.

  Wanting to avoid the aggravating man, she went in search of the facilities director. She thanked the plump brunette for allowing the last-minute additions to the decorations. The woman waved her off, saying she’d never seen the room look so pretty.

  Lauren heard the same message again and again as she slowly made her way to the head table. And the cost had been minimal, as the flowers were recycled from a wedding earlier in the day. The five gentleman dancers accounted for the biggest expense, but it thrilled her to be able to add to Mamó’s day.

  Spending the night chained to Ray’s side...? Not so enchanting.

  He tried to pretend nothing had happened. She responded to his attempts at conversation with the briefest of responses. She wouldn’t have responded at all except for Mamó. No need to draw her attention to their tiff.

  After a while Ray excused himself and took off with his camera.

  She didn’t know who was more relieved to have him disappear behind the lens—him or her. Kyla slid into his vacant seat.

  “You’re my favorite person in the whole wide world.” She squeezed Lauren’s hand on the table. “The room is just stunning. And all the matrons are atwitter about the studs you lined up as dancing partners.” She glanced over her shoulder at a couple of the men at the next table. “I’m kind of aglow myself.”

  Lauren laughed and nudged her new friend’s shoulder. “The night’s paid for. I say have fun.”

  “Really?” Kyla nibbled her bottom lip. “You wouldn’t mind? You hired them for Mamó and her contemporaries.”

  “Of course I don’t mind.” Lauren assured her. “I want everyone to have a good time.” She paused and pointed to the ninety-year-old woman chatting up Chad. “But you might not want to get between the men and Mrs. Harris.”

  Kyla snorted, then quickly clapped a hand over her mouth. “You’re wicked.” She leaned close. “To return the favor I’ll warn you to stay clear of Old Man Tanner. He has wandering hands.”

  Pink-cheeked, Lauren asked for a refresher course on the names of the people she’d met the night before. “I’m usually good with names, but I was a tad distracted.”

  “I suppose news of your engagement might do that.” With an understanding smile Kyla complied, adding bits of harmless gossip designed to help Lauren remember names.

  Ellie broke in to steal Kyla away, muttering something about the cake.

  When the music started Ray reappeared and asked her to dance. She declined. But she gladly accepted Chad when he returned Mamó to the table.

  Ray’s scowl as she walked off with Chad soothed her ravaged heart.

  On the dance floor Lauren swayed lightly to a slow tune. Chad was charming and undemanding—two traits she particularly appreciated tonight.

  Relaxing, she smiled at him. “You and your fellow dancers are a big hit.”

  “It’s nice to be appreciated.” He winked. “Actually, this is the first gig of this type I’ve heard of. I wouldn’t mind if it caught on. It’s nice to put a smile on a grandma’s face. Is it true her grandson is the Ray Donovan?”

  Lauren controlled a grimace. “Yes, he’s the famous director. And it will thrill her to pieces if you ask her just like that.”

  “I like his movies. He’s not afraid to take on hard core issues.” His gaze traveled past her shoulder. “But obviously I’m a bigger fan of him than he is of me.”

  Lauren felt the weight of Ray’s regard and knew Chad had just clashed gazes with her nemesis.

  “Don’t mind him. He’s being a jerk, but it’s not personal.”

  His gaze shifted past her again, then back down to her. “Do everyone a favor. Have pity. The guy is bringing the party down.”

  He’d barely finished speaking when a hand appeared on his shoulder and Ray asked to cut in.

  Chad stepped back, bowed graciously, and disappeared into the crowd.

  Lauren shifted her frown from one man to the other. Men.

  “What’s wrong?” Ray demanded as he pulled her close. “What did he do? Should I go after him?”

  “No.” She arched her eyebrows at him. Ray was the one who needed to apologize. The music stopped. She dropped her arms. “I want to return to the table.”

  Another ballad started. His arm tightened around her waist.

  “Dance with me,” he said. When she simply stared at him, he added, “Please. I want to apologize.”

  “Okay.” She relented, sliding her arms up his hard chest to link her hands behind his head. “But only because your tantrum is marring Mamó’s enjoyment of the party.”

  He made a rude noise in the back of his throat. “Hardly! Mamó barely knows I’m here. She’s too busy dancing. Besides, I’m not the one walking away, dancing with other men.”

  Lauren closed her eyes. Oh, goodness. The very lack of emotion in Ray’s voice revealed the depth of his upset. And it dawned on her that she was showing him up in front of the neighbors he already felt looked down on him.

  Dang. She wasn’t ready to give up being mad yet. But he didn’t deserve another fifteen years of misery either. She relaxed in his hold and let him turn her around the floor.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. I forgot your situation for a few minutes. I’ll behave myself. But that doesn’t mean you get to tell me what to do or mock my talent.”

  “Oh, I believe in it. Mamó has the same weird juju when it comes to babies. I just wish you could make it go away.”

  A hot tide of dread ran down Lauren’s spine and a hard knot lodged in her throat. Praying that it didn’t mean what she thought it meant, she gulped, then cleared her throat. “Mamó has a talent? Regarding babies? What? She can tell the sex?”

  “The sex—and she’s a walking early pregnancy test. She’ll know someone’s pregnant before they do. Made for some awkward moments growing up.” He shook that off. “But we’re talking about your talent. So, can you make it stop?”

  A walking early pregnancy test? Nothing to worry about there...

  Lauren propped her hands on her hips. “You’re not usually so dense, Ray. I know you love your grandmother, and you’re concerned. But you should be happy for her, not thinking of yourself.” Enough. She’d let this go on too long. “If I’m not going to get my apology I’m returning to the table.”

  His hands tightened on her. “So hard tonight.” He lifted her chin on the edge of his hand until she looked him in the eyes. His held regret. “I hurt you. I’m sorry.”

  The simplicity of his words arrowed right to her heart.

  She lowered her eyes, unable to hold his gaze. Confronted with his sincerity, she was forc
ed to face the truth. Her anger acted as a shield. Otherwise she’d too easily fall into his arms again. Especially at the party.

  Every time they’d hooked up it had been at a festive event of some sort, starting with Thanksgiving at his Malibu mansion last November.

  She’d gone with him to set up the poker table in the loft. They’d started arguing over nothing, he’d kissed her, and the electricity between them had flared out of control. The open loft overlooked the living room, where her father and brother had been watching football, so Ray had dragged her around the corner into the first room they stumbled across—which had happened to be the laundry room.

  To this day she couldn’t do the laundry without blushing.

  “Lauren?” He breathed her name against her temple. “Am I forgiven?”

  “Oh. Of course.” She bowed her head. “I may have overreacted a bit.”

  “No.” He pulled back to see her better. “I’m the one at fault. I know you’d never hurt Mamó. And you have no control over the attraction you sense. It’s just—”

  Suddenly he swung Lauren around until they had a clear view of Mamó, dancing with an older gentleman with a full head of gray hair, a Van Dyke beard and mustache. “It’s George Meade, isn’t it? He’s been sniffing around her all night.”

  Her stomach took longer to catch up than the rest of her. Lauren leaned against Ray and drew in some deep breaths.

  “Hey...” A big hand cradled her head to him. “Are you okay?”

  “Just a little dizzy,” she assured him.

  Regaining her composure, she created some distance between them.

  “I know it freaks you out, thinking about her with a man, but having someone to focus on in her life besides you and your potential offspring might be the answer to your problem.”

  “Huh,” he responded, his gaze focused across the room again. “I’m right, aren’t I? It’s Meade.”

  “I’m not saying.” Lauren refused to throw the poor man to this predator stalking him. From the corner of her eye, she saw Mamó circling the floor in George Meade’s arms. The faint glow of their connection reached Lauren across the distance. “Let Mamó have her evening.”