The Deal

by Holly Hart

  I get her settled before sliding under the covers and tug her close. A second later the mattress shifts as Sasha jumps up to join us. The moonlight streaming through the window provides just enough illumination for me to see her shoot me a reproachful glare before she circles three times and settles on the foot of the bed.

  I slide my hand down Caitlin’s body until it covers the very space where the child we’re trying to create will slowly grow until it’s ready to come out and see the real world.

  Caitlin’s earlier words rattle around my brain, the sound too loud for me to ignore.

  “I know how important having a baby is to Caldwell Industries."

  Since signing that contract, neither of us has really sat down and talked about what the future holds for us. In order to meet the terms of the contract, once we’re married, we’ll stay together for one year after the baby is born, at which point if one of us isn’t happy or wants something different from life, we’ll separate from one another – but still work together to raise the child.

  At the time, the only thing I was thinking about was gaining control of the business and protecting my employees, but things have changed. Since signing the contract, Caitlin and I have had some time, we’ve gotten to know one another, and I like to think that we’ve become close friends, and sometimes, it feels like whatever is between us goes deeper than friendship. I’m starting to rely on her.

  The change in our relationship has also caused my thoughts about our possible child to change. When Caitlin told me she might be pregnant, a bolt of pure joy rocked through me. While waiting for the results of the pregnancy test to form, I realized that having a baby for business purposes is not only wrong, but it’s also a little bit crazy. Okay, more than just a little bit.

  But having a baby because it’s truly wanted, that’s another story altogether. And truthfully, that’s the way I’m beginning to feel.

  81

  Evan

  I stare at the cheap plastic wand in my hand and try to force my will on it, to get the information to change, but in this case, there’s nothing I can do. The results are negative.

  I raise my eyes and look at the thin brunette standing just a few feet away from me in the cell.

  “How hard can it possibly be to get pregnant?” I fume. “All you have to do is lay there. I’m the one doing all the work at this stage. And we know that you can get pregnant. You and your ex-husband have a kid.”

  She wrings her hands and her eyes dart toward the door. I shift my position, blocking her perceived escape route. We’re going to finish this conversation one way or another.

  I throw the useless pregnancy test aside. Sheila and I watch as it lands on the floor beside the garbage can. She bends and picks it up, the movement causing her scrubs to pull tight across her curvy ass. My cock twitches. That’s one thing I’ll say about Sheila: she’s got a great body. One designed to pleasure a man.

  She shoves the test into her pocket, probably because she doesn’t want anyone, including the janitorial staff, stumbling across it.

  “It takes time,” she says. “These things don’t always happen on the first try. It’s not like we’re teenagers who seem to get pregnant at the drop of a hat anymore.”

  I close the space between us and wrap my hands around her upper arms, pushing her back against the wall.

  “You and your kid better hope it doesn’t take too much time, because if you’re not knocked up by the time I get out of this place, I’ll look for someone who’s more fertile to fuck. Then where will the two of you be?”

  I shove her scrub pants and panties down to her ankles and slide a hand between her legs. Moisture, hot and musky scented, coats my fingertips. That’s another thing I will say about Sheila: her body is always ready and willing for me, despite the fact that neither of us can actually stand the other.

  She reaches for me, unfastening the front of my pants and freeing my cock before lifting her right leg and hooking it around my left hip. I slide balls deep into her in one hard move. The force moves her up the wall a few inches. She grunts but her hips meet mine, matching me thrust for thrust until my cum fills her.

  “You’d better hope that this time”–I whisper in her ear, my voice harsh as my cock softens and slips free of her warm, wet channel—“my seed finds a target, because you’re running out of time.”

  82

  Caitlin

  I sip the ice-cold water, swishing it around my mouth before spitting it out and into the sink.

  “Honey, are you sure you’re feeling okay?” My mother places the back of her hand against my forehead, checking for a temperature the same way she did when I was a kid. “You don’t feel like you have a fever,” she mutters, more to herself than to me.

  I pull away from her. “I’m fine, Mom.” I lean close to the mirror, checking the front of the huge blue sweatshirt I stole from Jeremy and am wearing as protection for my gown. I don’t see any flecks of vomit on the collar or down the front of the shirt. That’s a good sign.

  My mom wrings her hands. “You’re right; it’s probably just pre-wedding nerves.”

  “Is that what it is, Caitlin?” Aunt Janet, my mom’s sister and Jeremy’s PA, slants a meaningful glance toward my stomach. She’s one of only a handful of people who know about the baby race Jeremy, his brother Evan, and I are engaged in, and I get the impression she’s enjoying being in on the secret.

  I aim a warning glare in her direction. If either of my parents ever learn the real reason I’m getting married … I don’t even want to think about how they’ll react. “It’s nerves. And maybe a touch of the flu that’s been going around.”

  It takes all of my self-control to keep my hands off my stomach. This is the second day that I’ve been sicker than the proverbial dog and, while I suppose it’s possible that it really is the flu or nerves, I’m hoping with every iota of my being that it’s more. That at this exact instant there’s a tiny cluster of cells growing in my womb, dividing and multiplying at this very moment, growing into a child that I’ll be able to hold in my arms and call my own in a little under nine months.

  I can’t imagine a wedding gift that Jeremy and I would enjoy more.

  “You’re right.” My mom pats my arm. “I think I have something that’ll help.” She finds her purse, which has become a virtual walking medicine cabinet ever since my dad was diagnosed. She places a large assortment of pill bottles, eye drops, and cough syrups on the counter until she locates what she’s looking for. “Here. This is for nausea. Your dad says it works better than any of the prescription stuff.”

  I throw back two pills and wait, heart racing, to see if they stay down. When my stomach doesn’t immediately revolt, like it has with everything else I’ve tried to eat today, I start to relax. It always pays to have a mom who’s prepared for every situation.

  “Thank you,” I tell her.

  Her mouth bends into her trademark sunny smile. “You’re welcome.” She sweeps everything into her big brown leather purse. “Now let’s get this ugly sweatshirt off of you so I can see what a beautiful bride my daughter is.”

  I grasp the bottom of the sweatshirt and pull it over my head.

  “Oh,” my mom gasps and my Aunt Janet claps her hands. “You’re even more beautiful than I imagined.”

  I turn and look at my reflection in the full-length mirror.

  I spent days going from one bridal boutique to another, searching for this dress. Just because this wedding was a business deal, it doesn’t mean I shouldn’t look the part. And I do.

  The dress has a loose skirt that stops at mid-calf. The sweetheart neckline shows just the faintest hint of cleavage and the pattern made out of sequins gives my body a graceful quality it has never had before.

  With my red hair curled and piled high on top of my head and the makeup a local theater major Jeremy somehow knows put on me, I’ve never looked more beautiful. I can’t wait for Jeremy to get his first glimpse of me.

  And later tonight, when he sees
the super sexy underwear the owner of the bridal boutique gave me, he’s going to blow his mind. And maybe a little – or big – something else…

  Just thinking about his reaction causes my own blood to heat.

  A soft knock sounds on the door. “Ms. Appelet?”

  I recognize the strange, nasal voice of the church director. “Yes, Mrs. Peacock?”

  “We’re about ready to get started.”

  “Thank you.”

  “C’mon. Let’s go find our seats and give Caitlin a moment to collect her thoughts.” Aunt Janet takes my mom’s arm and leads her toward the door. “Good luck, Caitlin.”

  My mom throws another one of her warm smiles at me from over her shoulder. “Yes, sweetheart. Good luck. I’m so proud of you.”

  The silence after they leave is deafening. I take a deep breath and look in the mirror one last time, my gaze honing in on my stomach, trying to tell if there’s a faint swell beneath the satin or if that’s just my imagination. I really can’t tell.

  I wish I knew. The closer Jeremy and I get to exchanging vows, the more I wonder if we should have waited until I was actually pregnant before getting married. After all, his father’s will only said the baby had to be born within the confines of marriage; it didn’t say that it had to be conceived after we wed.

  By not marrying until I was actually pregnant, Jeremy would still be free to conceive a child with another woman if I prove to be infertile.

  I tried to talk to Jeremy about this, but he refused to even entertain the possibility. He acted like he didn’t even hear me.

  Oh well, with a church full of people and a minister standing next to the alter, ready to proceed, it’s too late to call things off. Now the only thing we can hope for is that everything works out.

  I slip my feet into the pretty, ivory-colored strappy heels I found and make my way to the tiny vestibule where my dad is waiting for me.

  My heart clenches at the sight of him sitting in one of the folding chairs. The cancer and resulting treatments have taken a toll. He looks older and there are constantly dark rings under his eyes, but nothing has dimmed his spirit. If anything, he seems to enjoy life even more now than he did before he was given the grim news about his pancreas.

  He sees me and stands. “Hey, kiddo,” he says, his voice softer than normal. “Are you ready for this?”

  “I hope so.” I stop beside him and scan the large room. Every seat is full. I recognize the faces of my cousins and those who regularly use my floral services. There are also a few people I met when I went with Jeremy to Caldwell Industries functions. I spot Sheila, looking very pale and tired, sitting in the middle of the crowd.

  That she’s here surprises me. I sent her a wedding invitation because I’ve known her a few years and genuinely like her, but after the way she reacted to Jeremy when she met him a few months back, I didn’t expect her to come. Still, I’m very glad she did.

  My gaze travels farther until it lands on Jeremy. He’s standing angled away from the vestibule and toward a window, his attention captured by something that’s taking place outside. I drink in the sight of him, filing the memory away so that I can pull it out and revisit it whenever I want.

  My dad follows my stare and pats my arm. “You know, under most circumstances if you’d told me you were marrying a guy you’d only known three months, I’d seriously consider locking you in the basement, but with Jeremy, considering all he’s done for me, and how you glow whenever you look at him, I’m okay with it. You’ve found yourself a good man.”

  Nothing he said could have made me happier. Now, I just have to hope that he never finds out the real reason Jeremy and I are getting married.

  The minister catches my eye and raises a questioning brow. I nod and he signals the organ player, who starts playing the Wedding March. I move down the aisle, taking the first steps toward my future.

  83

  Evan

  The bright sunlight burns my eyes as I step out of the prison. I shield my eyes against the sun and take my first deep breath as a free man in over six years. It feels good.

  A large dark town car glides across the parking lot, stopping in front of me. For a half second, I think Jeremy sent the car, only to remember that he doesn’t know that I’ve been released, thanks to the state’s prison overcrowding situation.

  The door closest to me swings open and a voice drifts out of the interior. “Get in.”

  Recognizing the voice and knowing better than to argue, I accept the invitation and slide into the car.

  Anton Weaver, head of Denver’s biggest organized crime family, stares at me with placid brown eyes.

  “Evan, you’re looking fit,” he says in his booming voice. “How does it feel to be a free man?”

  “Good.” I watch him warily.

  It seems like a lifetime ago since I last saw Anton. It was before my trial, probably by a few months. Back then we were just starting to work together, tentatively exploring some options to make Caldwell Industries a little more lucrative – for both of us.

  Even though I haven’t seen Anton since I became a guest of the state, there’s no doubt in my mind that he’s played a huge role in making my time in prison safe. He has the money and connections to make things, both good and bad, happen.

  While I don’t know all that Anton has done for me, I know he was the one who found Sheila and made sure she and I enjoyed plenty of quality time together. I also suspect that he pulled some strings and made sure I was considered for early release.

  Appearance wise, Anton is the last person anyone would suspect of heading up an organized crime family. He’s neither sleek, fit, nor reptilian. With his love for worn jeans and faded T-shirts and the thick salt and pepper beard that hangs nearly to his chest, I’ve always thought he looks like a woodshop teacher.

  He’s also a lot like a grizzly bear. Big and kind of—I guess the best word for it is cuddly—looking. He moves slowly and generally appears to be placid, but irritate him and you quickly learn that the placidness is nothing more than an act. Anton Weaver is not a man to be taken advantage of.

  “What do you want, Anton?”

  He blinks at me. “I wanted to make sure that you didn’t have to hitchhike home.”

  “I would have gotten a ride.”

  Anton shrugs. “I also wanted to find out what you intend to do about the fact that your brother is getting married—” He looks at his watch. “I believe the ceremony is starting in just a couple of minutes.”

  This surprises me. “Jeremy, getting married? Since when?”

  “Since he hooked up with a pretty redheaded florist.” Anton pins me with a dark stare. “Now correct me if I’m wrong, but in order for the plans you and I made back before you got drunk and behaved foolishly, to work, you need to be running Caldwell Industries.”

  My stomach clenches and my palms start sweating as I read the direction of his thoughts. “Yes.”

  “And if it turns out that your brother’s new wife gets pregnant and they have a baby before you do, controlling interest of the business goes to him.”

  “Yes,” I grind out with gritted teeth.

  “And all the plans we’ve made, plans I’ve had to put on hold since your arrest, will go down the toilet.”

  “Yes.”

  Anton props his elbows on his knees and leans closer to me. The gesture looks companionable but is actually orchestrated so I can get a good look at the threats burning in his dark eyes. Staring into them, I know that if I don’t do something to regain Caldwell Industries, my life is going to take a very unpleasant turn and that there’s nothing I’ll be able to do about it.

  “Then I suggest,” Anton says, his tone as mild as ever, “that you do something to fix this situation and that you do it quickly. Oh, and you should talk to that pretty nurse you’re screwing. She’s one of the wedding guests, which I found to be a very interesting detail.”

  84

  Jeremy

  I’m marrying the most beautiful wo
man in the world. That’s the only thing I can think of as I stand in front of the church and repeat the words the minister tells me to say, even though I hardly hear them. The sight of Caitlin standing beside me, dressed up in fancy clothes and beautiful makeup, is the only thing I can concentrate on.

  I’m making her nervous. Her hands are sweating and even though, unlike me, she’s actually paying attention to what the minister is saying, she keeps darting nervous little glances my way and licking her lips.

  “The rings please,” the minister booms. My best man steps forward and hands the ring to me. It’s a simple platinum band with an enormous solitary diamond. Simple and classy, like Caitlin, and easy to clean since she’s always up to her elbows in potting soil. I take Caitlin’s trembling hand and slide the ring past her knuckles.

  I love her.

  The realization hits as unexpectedly and with as much force as a runaway Mack truck into a concrete wall. Somehow, someway, she’s managed to blast through the walls I built around my heart – and made herself the one thing I can’t live without.

  A declaration of love burns the tip of my tongue, but despite my intense need to give voice to my emotions, to let her know how important she is to me, I swallow the words and fight to keep the love I feel from pouring out. I’m not ready just yet. I need more time to explore them and determine the best way to proceed. Until then, it’s best to keep her in the dark, to let her go on thinking this thing between us is nothing more than a fling.

  Even so, I look at her and my heart constricts. I don’t know how she managed to push past all the barriers I erected around my heart and quite frankly, I don’t care. The only thing that matters is making her understand how important she is to me. I just need to figure out how.

  Once I accomplish that, I’ll be able to convince her to spend the rest of her life with me. All I have to do is figure out just the right words to say to her. And the best time.