by Raye Morgan
Both our loving hearts have been stolen by one baby.
Let’s do life together. It seems like the right thing to do.
He put the card back in its envelope and placed it in front of the penguin on her desk. Then he went back to his own desk and sat down to wait. How long did a checkup like this take, anyway? He had no idea. But he knew he wasn’t going to get any work done until she was back. So he waited.
And waited.
He got a little work done, but he spent most of his time checking the clock and looking up every time the elevator dinged.
Funny, but there seemed to be more traffic than usual today. The only other attractions on this floor were a pair of conference rooms and a corporate library where research could be done and business archives consulted. None of them were much used, and yet small groups of women were coming by regularly, whispering and giggling as they took in the decorations. It was beginning to get annoying. He felt like a destination on the city tour, right along with the Water Tower and the Hancock Building.
“CeCe, you’re going to pay for this,” he muttered, though he knew it was an empty threat. He just didn’t have quite the old iron will he used to exhibit around here. Who would have believed he would end up decorating for Valentine’s Day? No wonder they were coming up to take a look as though he were a circus freak. He was!
He sat back in his chair starting to feel a bit morose. What the hell was he doing, anyway? Ever since he’d found out he had a baby, he’d been acting like a man with a personality transplant. And then, when Maggie was thrown into the brew—all hell had broken loose inside his soul. Lately it was as though he was a different person—as if mouth-breathing aliens had seized control of his brain. He was clumping around like some lovesick Neanderthal, bumping into walls and saying stupid things. He was even trying to get Maggie to marry him. Marry him!
He’d once sworn he would never marry again. His marriage to Crystal had been a disaster. Willowy tall and smooth as silk, she’d seemed the most beautiful woman in the world to him at the time. She’d also turned out to be the greediest and pretty high on the dishonesty scale as well. She may have married him for love, but she stuck around for the loot, and when that didn’t pour out quite as generously as she’d expected, she took off for greener pastures.
He knew there were good relationships in the world. He saw his brother and Jill and what they had together. And actually, his mother’s marriage to Mark’s father had been pretty happy. So why did he have, in the depths of his soul, this conviction that marriage was a sham?
He’d tortured himself with these questions for years and finally decided it must be him. Everyone seemed to disappoint him in the end. Nobody stuck around to see things through. Deep inside, he was always that little boy, waiting for his father to come home and knowing, with the clear sight of the often disappointed, that he never would again.
And so here he was, ready to try married life one more time. He knew from experience that a marriage license wouldn’t stop anyone from walking out. But being married when the baby was born would give him a lot more leverage. He’d be the father of record in every way. There would be no room for doubt. And a child couldn’t walk out on you. At least, not until he was eighteen.
Maggie knew something was different the moment she drove into the parking structure. The guard who usually waved her in with a stiff smile had a big grin instead, a grin that looked just a little too personal.
“Hi, Mrs. Steward,” he said. “Back so soon?”
“Yes,” she said, gazing at him curiously. He seldom spoke to her this way. “Why? Has something happened?”
“Oh, no,” he said, but the glint in his eye said otherwise.
Maggie parked and went into the building. Trudy, the receptionist in the main lobby, looked up with a know-it-all smirk.
“Good afternoon, Maggie,” she said, eyes dancing with mirth.
“Hello, Trudy,” Maggie said, turning to look at her again as she waited for the elevator. The woman had never so much as raised a painted eyebrow at her before. What on earth was going on?
Two women she didn’t know were behind her in the elevator. She smiled at them as she got on, then turned and felt the silence, pregnant with suppressed whispering, behind her, knowing their gazes were riveted to her back. The hair was rising at the nape of her neck. They had been talking about her before she got on and would continue to talk about her once she was out of earshot. She knew it as though she’d been officially informed.
The elevator stopped at the thirteenth floor and the two women got off, glancing back at Maggie as they did so. Lauren Mitchell, one of her favorite secretaries, was walking by in the hallway and caught sight of her.
“Hi Maggie,” she called. “Happy Valentine’s Day!” She waved and Maggie waved back.
“Same to you,” she said as the doors began to close. Was it her imagination, or did Lauren start to laugh?
Valentine’s Day. She’d forgotten. There had been some decorations here and there around the offices, but the employees at Kane Haley usually didn’t make a big deal of Valentine’s Day—at least, not that she’d ever noticed before. Or maybe she’d just ignored it because she’d known she wasn’t going to get a special card or gift from anyone.
Still, it being Valentine’s Day couldn’t account for the crazy way people were acting toward her. She wished she could figure out what was going on.
The elevator stopped at the next floor, and since there didn’t seem to be any reason for it, Maggie pushed the Close button, but before she could get going, she noticed that people were sticking their heads out all up and down the cubicle row and the murmur seemed to be along the lines of, “There she is! That’s her.”
She stared out at all the interest. Her cheeks were coloring. Suddenly she noticed CeCe just a few feet away with her mail cart. CeCe was shaking her head, looking worried.
“Hi, Maggie,” she cried anxiously. “It wasn’t me, I swear.”
“What are you talking about?” Maggie demanded.
“Don’t blame me,” CeCe cried.
The doors closed before Maggie could ask again.
The elevator doors opened at her floor and she gasped. The entire office suite was awash in streamers and fluttering hearts. Red and white balloons looked about to carry away her desk. Red and white carnations filled the air with perfume. And a huge banner said “Happy Valentine’s Day” in red velveteen lettering.
“Oh no,” she moaned, her hands to her face. No wonder the entire building was buzzing. This was terrible. Why hadn’t he just taken out a full-page ad in the local papers? Why hadn’t he put up a neon sign across the front of the building? What was he thinking?
“Kane,” she wailed, and suddenly, there he was, pushing aside a bevy of balloons and coming toward her. “What on earth…?”
“Hey, Sugar,” he said, holding out a velvet-covered heart filled with expensive chocolates. “Happy V-day. Did you know I’m sweet on you?”
She stared at him. What could she say? His eyes were full of humor, but also a certain expectation. He wanted her to love this. And…well, what the heck? Why shouldn’t she? She looked around at all the white lace and red ribbons. And suddenly, she did love it. No one had ever done anything like this for her before.
Laughing along with him, she turned slowly, gazing at it all in wonder, lingering particularly on the plush penguin who seemed to be winking at her.
“What is this?” she cried.
“A Valentine’s party. Can’t you tell?”
She turned to look at him. “I never knew you to be so into holidays before,” she said, careful to keep things impersonal.
He smiled and took back the candy, setting the box on the desk, before taking her into his arms, holding her loosely.
“Have dinner with me tonight. I’ve got reservations at Le Jardin.”
“Oh, but…”
“No backing out.”
She sighed. His eyes were bright with affection, but it wasn�
��t the least bit threatening. She felt herself begin to relax. “Well, it would be fun,” she admitted.
He nodded, satisfied and pulled her a little closer.
“And now, we need to kiss,” he announced, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
“Says who!” she demanded, putting her hands on his chest in defense.
He gazed at her, all wide-eyed innocence. “It’s traditional. Like under the mistletoe.”
“That’s Christmas,” she scoffed, but she was laughing.
“This is a new tradition. I’m starting it right now. A Valentine’s kiss.”
“Oh Kane, I don’t know…”
“I do.”
It was supposed to be a sweet kiss, a friendly reminder of the ties that held them together, nothing scary, nothing particularly sensual. She knew that was what he meant to do. She saw it in his eyes, felt it in his voice. But something happened neither of them had expected.
As his lips touched hers, her mouth opened as naturally as a flower opens to the sun. He was so warm and he tasted like wine and springtime and something dark and arousing and just a little scary.
All thought faded to make way for feeling and every part of her body wanted to touch him, to curl around him, take him in—devour him as though she were a starving thing that needed him to survive. And deep inside her, a smoldering fire ignited, burning its way into her soul.
“Oh!” she cried, jerking back away from him in horror at her own sudden surge of desire.
His eyes were smoky, but she couldn’t tell what his response really was. His wide mouth curved in a smile as he still held her, but only by the shoulders.
“Whoa,” he said. “I guess we’d better not do that again.”
What did he mean? Had he felt the same way she had? Or was he just remarking on how she’d gone all romantic on him? She swallowed hard, her gaze held by his, feeling queasy and knowing that there was going to be no cure for what she’d come down with. Her only hope was going to be to stay as far from Kane as she could get. And how did you do that when you were married?
She turned away from him and remembered something. Looking back at him with a tremulous smile, she said, “I have a Valentine for you, too.” She reached into her purse and pulled out the sonogram picture the doctor had given her, taken that very afternoon. “Actually, it’s from both of us.” She held it out to him. “Here’s your baby.”
It was the first time she’d said that, the first time she’d really acknowledged just what this child was in such a straightforward way. And the look on Kane’s face as he took the picture and looked at it told her that what she’d done meant everything to him. She melted. How could she not love that reaction?
Chapter Six
Dinner at Le Jardin was lovely. They ordered sautéed Chilean sea bass with saffron lobster broth and listened to Edith Piaf songs sung by a rail-thin woman in a striped jersey shirt and a black beret.
“Isn’t this romantic?” they heard a passing woman say to her companion in reaction to the vocalist. “Like Paris in the forties.”
Maggie had to laugh, leaning across the table to muse softly to Kane, “She’s right, you know. But why is it romantic to be reminded of the Second World War?”
He grinned at her, then sobered thoughtfully. “Maybe because it was a time when people knew what they believed in and knew what they were fighting against. There were no doubts, no second thoughts.”
Maggie gave him a skeptical look. “I’ll bet they weren’t really that much different from the way we are now.”
“Maybe not. But that’s the image we have of that time. And we all long for a little more certainty in our lives. Don’t we?”
She nodded in agreement. “No doubts,” she murmured, her eyes glazing over for a moment. Yes, that would be nice.
The sommelier brought the wine and poured out a bit for Kane to taste. She watched him as he concentrated on his task. He looked so right doing it. This was where he belonged, where he knew his way around instinctively. He was so handsome in the candlelight, the shadows playing on his high cheekbones, the flame striking sparks in his eyes. He was the portrait of the perfect gentleman from the elite of his society.
The next thought that struck her was, What am I doing in this picture?
Kane was a wonderful man. She’d always known that. And now she also knew that he was warm and affectionate and fun to be with. She couldn’t help but think how much happier life could be with a man like Kane in it—if only…
It was too bad he didn’t love her. She knew that—after all, they’d worked together closely for two years and he’d never once thought of her romantically—not for one moment. Things had changed now, of course. But only because of the baby. He wanted his child. And she couldn’t blame him. She wanted that child as well.
He was nodding his approval of the wine, and then he looked up to meet her scrutiny. His dark eyes sparkled. “Would you like to dance?” he offered quietly, leaning toward her.
“Dance!” She repeated the word a little too loudly in her surprise, because she had never even considered dancing with Kane and the prospect was daunting—but her word came across as though she thought he’d suggested she do it by herself and on top of the table to boot. Even the sommelier, busy pouring her glass of wine, couldn’t resist a snicker and Kane laughed right out loud.
Her face felt hot, and the next thing she knew, he was leading her onto the little dance floor. The Edith Piaf impersonator had vanished and a small combo was playing sultry music that made Maggie think of small boulevard cafés where French artists with smoldering eyes danced with lovers who held knives in their garters, late into the steamy nights.
This night was hardly steamy. But her emotions were certainly beginning to simmer. And when Kane drew her close she stiffened, afraid to let him see how his nearness made her feel.
But it was no use. His warm breath was stirring the hair around her ear. If she closed her eyes, she could hear his heartbeat. Or was that her own? She wasn’t sure. She only knew it was beating out a rhythm much more insistent than that of the music, and that listening too long could drive her to the edge of sweet insanity.
She closed her eyes and let the music take over, let herself melt against him. If she could forget that she was pregnant, if she could float in a fantasy of “no doubts, no second thoughts”—if she could pretend that Kane might love her someday—she could let herself relax and enjoy this.
The music stopped, but he was still holding her. She looked up and her eyes met his. There was something dark and stormy in his gaze, something that seemed to be reaching for her in a spiritual way that almost scared her.
And then she realized what it was. He wanted her. The dance, their closeness, had revealed a desire she’d never thought she’d see in him. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart began to race.
“Come on,” he said huskily, his warm hand at the back of her neck to guide her. “They’re probably ready to serve us something to eat by now.”
She looked at him, his smile bland and casual. But she was sure of what she’d just seen. He had wanted her. Unless she was crazy. Unless she was fooling herself again.
They sat back down at their table and ate. Each dish was more delicious than the last. They chatted while they ate, laughing softly about anecdotes they took turns relating to one another. Once they’d finished the meal, they sat on, listening to the Edith Piaf singer again and drinking very black coffee out of tiny porcelain cups.
And then Kane leaned close and said softly, “You’re still resisting this marriage thing, aren’t you?”
“Kane…”
He held up a hand. “Just a moment now. I can feel that you are. I only have a short time left to try to convince you. It’s only fair that you give me a chance.”
She nodded. “Of course,” she murmured.
“Our business relationship is very successful,” he continued earnestly. “Our marriage could be an extension of that. A partnership.
A business arrangement. We won’t expect anything more from each other.” He covered her hand with his. “You said it yourself. We’re not in love with each other.”
She stared into his eyes, wondering if he really didn’t see that she was falling for him. The more she saw of him, the more she saw to love. When she’d said they weren’t in love with each other, she’d been using it as a defense, trying to keep him from stealing her heart away. But she knew now that she’d been trying to bar the door after the horse had already left the stable. Did he really not sense the way her emotions were building? Or didn’t he care?
“Don’t you see that not being in love gives us a lot of freedom?” he went on, warming to his theory. “I think where people go wrong is when they expect too much from each other. When they are unrealistic. Expectations get too high and neither can meet them. If we map this out ahead of time and know exactly what we’re each bringing to this union, exactly where we think we’re going, how can we go wrong?”
“How, indeed,” she murmured, wincing.
He moved closer so that he could speak to her in a very low voice.
“Maggie, this is very emotional for me. More emotional than I ever would have thought it could be.” His eyes darkened and his voice dropped even lower. “You see, I never thought I would have children. I never planned to marry again.”
She nodded, biting her lip. She knew his first marriage had been a disaster, but she didn’t know the details.
“When I was told that I had a child out there somewhere, it hit me like…like lightning going right through me. I never dreamed I would care so much. I was overwhelmed. And then to find out that you are the one…”
To her surprise, his voice choked, and he looked away.
“Well, it just seems so perfect,” he went on huskily. “I mean, I really like you. And I respect you.” His gaze met hers again. “And your child needs a father. And I guess I’m the guy.”
