Friends With Benefits

by Jenna Bennett

He’d give her that. But she’d had time to terminate the pregnancy after she figured out that her baby daddy wasn’t who she thought he was. And she hadn’t. Why?

  “I want it,” Kaylee said. “The baby. I want it. Like you said, I don’t have anyone else. It’s just me. But with a baby, it’d be like I had a family again.”

  And then her eyes brimmed over and she dissolved into tears.

  THEY DROVE BACK to the Panorama Townhouses in silence. Frankly, Kaylee was too mortified to speak. This was the second time in a row she’d cried in front of Owen. She was surprised he was still next to her. She wouldn’t have been shocked if he’d gotten up from the table and walked out of the restaurant when she started the waterworks.

  He must think she was bat-shit crazy. So what if he’d been a little blunt? He’d only been trying to help. Why did she have to have a meltdown in front of him, for God’s sake?

  Would it help to tell him that it wasn’t really her fault? That it was the pregnancy hormones bouncing off the walls, on top of all the things that had gone wrong in her life lately. She was crying at the drop of a hat these days.

  But it was Owen, too. It was a long time since anyone had done something nice for her just because he cared, and not because he was hoping for something in return.

  All right, so he probably wouldn’t say no if she offered to go down on him. He was a man, after all, and she had always known he liked her. Or at least he liked her breasts. And she had yet to meet a guy who turned down that kind of offer. Although now that he knew she was pregnant, maybe he didn’t like her as much anymore. It wasn’t just Larry who didn’t like women whose stomachs were bigger than their breasts.

  When they pulled into the parking space outside his condo, right next to the empty parking space where her coupe should have been, she turned to him and opened her mouth. Only to have him get in first. “I want to ask you something.”

  Kaylee shut her mouth and folded her hands in her lap, looking out the windshield. Here it came. Looked like he hadn’t just been noble for no reason after all.

  “What would you say to marrying me?”

  For a second, she was absolutely sure she had heard wrong. He couldn’t possibly have said what she thought he’d said. “What?”

  “Marry me,” Owen said, “and make me the happiest man in the world.” He grinned as he adjusted his glasses. It was a killer grin, too, not his usual, tentative one.

  Kaylee stared. “Have you lost your mind?”

  He shook his head. “My condo has two bedrooms. You can have the other one. I don’t need help paying the rent, and I can afford to feed you. You’d save on moving expenses. I’ll help you carry your boxes next door.”

  “You want to marry me, but you want me to stay in the other bedroom?”

  “I didn’t think you’d want to share mine,” Owen said. “Every time I asked you out over the summer, you had some reason why you couldn’t go. So I gotta figure you think I’m not really your type, you know?”

  He waited, as if he expected her to agree. Or deny it.

  But which?

  “Right,” she said slowly, while she tried to come up with something better to say. But it was true, wasn’t it? He wasn’t her type. He was a nice guy, while she always picked losers.

  There was a beat. Then—

  “Right.” Owen pushed the glasses up his nose again, his voice brisk. “So it wouldn’t be that kind of marriage.”

  “What kind of marriage would it be?”

  “The kind where you get somewhere to live and food to eat and medical benefits.”

  Right. “And what do you get?”

  For a moment he didn’t answer, and she didn’t know whether it was because he didn’t know what to say, or he just didn’t want to tell her what he was thinking. Then he said, “Other than the satisfaction of helping you because you need it? My mother’s been nagging me to find a girlfriend. If I get married, she’ll stop.”

  Kaylee tilted her head. “That’s a little drastic, don’t you think?”

  He shrugged. “That’s my worry. All you have to consider is what’s in it for you.”

  She was considering what was in it for her. But she wasn’t so mercenary, or so desperate, that she couldn’t also consider what was in it for him, of trouble down the road. He’d offered to do her a favor. The least she could do in return, was make sure he didn’t get burned.

  “Just think about it,” Owen said. “You don’t have to answer right now. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. After all, we haven’t known each other very long.” He grinned again, and a dimple popped in his left cheek. She hadn’t noticed that before.

  While she was busy staring at it, he added, “So will you think about it? Or are you totally opposed to the idea? Because if the thought of being married to me, even in name, makes you want to barf, we don’t have to talk about it again.”

  “Everything makes me barf these days.” But the thought of being married to him wasn’t disgusting. A bit weird, maybe, but not unpleasant. “I’ll think about it.”

  He nodded. “Why don’t you go take a nap? You look tired.”

  She did? Great.

  He brushed his fingers over her hand for a second. Gently. “Sleep on it. And then let me know what you’ve decided over dinner.”

  “Dinner?”

  “It’s the meal that comes after lunch.”

  “I know what it is,” Kaylee said. “You just fed me.”

  “And in five hours you’ll have to eat again. I’m sure the baby will remind you.”

  No question. She was always hungry these days, just like she was always tired. She ate, and thirty minutes later, she was hungry again. At the rate she was going, she’d be as wide as she was tall by the time this baby was born.

  “I’ll knock on your door at six,” Owen said. “We can go to the French place to celebrate our engagement. Wear something pretty.”

  “Sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

  He shrugged. “It makes sense. You need something I can give you. And I figure, if you didn’t say no when I first suggested it, my chances are pretty good that you’ll say yes eventually. Stay there.”

  He opened the car door and came around to the other side to open hers, with a hand extended to help her out. She didn’t need it—yet—but she took it anyway. “Your mama raised a gentleman, didn’t she?”

  “She tried,” Owen said, with another quick grin as he escorted her to her door. “I don’t know how successful she was. Her only son just proposed to someone with health benefits as the main incentive for saying yes.”

  “That’s OK. I stopped looking for romance a while back.” It sounded good in theory, but didn’t pay the bills.

  He glanced at her, but didn’t comment, just stopped outside her door and waited for her to unlock it. “I’ll see you at six.”

  He walked away. Kaylee let herself into her own apartment, kicked her shoes off, wandered over to the sofa, and curled up.

  Sleep on it, he’d said. She yawned and closed her eyes.

  Chapter Five

  HOLY HELL, WHAT had he done now?

  Owen closed the door to his townhouse and leaned against it, eyes wide.

  He hadn’t—he really hadn’t—asked Kaylee Carter to marry him. Had he?

  He hadn’t really been such an idiot as to offer a pregnant woman room, board and medical benefits if she’d become his wife?

  And when she’d asked what was in it for him, he hadn’t looked her straight in the eye and said, “Nothing,” when he could have casually mentioned the fact that regular servicing might be nice, or at least that the rule in his home was that everyone in it had to be naked at all times?

  Yes, dammit, his mother really had raised a gentleman.

  He left the entry and wandered into the kitchen, where he buried his head in the fridge. As far as he could recall there was a beer back there somewhere, and he needed it.

  He popped the top off the bottle and leaned against the counter, pouring half the c
ontents down his throat, enjoying the cool liquid and the taste.

  If Kaylee was moving in...

  Just the thought was enough to make his head spin, as mental pictures chased each other through his mind. Kaylee with her head buried in his fridge, wearing those teeny-tiny shorts that left nothing to the imagination. Kaylee coming out of the bathroom in the morning, with her hair wet and just a towel wrapped around her dewy body.

  Kaylee in his bed, with her cheeks flushed and her eyes blurry, moaning his name.

  He gave himself a sharp mental kick. None of that. He’d made sure of it when he told her he’d marry her to do her a favor, not because he wanted her.

  Idiot.

  But maybe she’d insist. Maybe she’d tell him that she’d accept his offer, but only if she got to be his wife in fact and not just in name. She’d wanted him for as long as he’d wanted her, and the only way she’d marry him was if she’d get to have sex with him every night for the rest of her life, and a few quickies during the day, as well.

  Yeah, right. Dream on.

  He took another swallow of beer. If she didn’t turn him down flat, she’d take him up on the offer as-is, with no strings attached. She didn’t want him. Five months of living next door to her, of doing his best to get her attention and having her make it clear, nicely but firmly, that she wasn’t interested, had left him in no doubt of that. Better not kid himself that she’d changed her mind about getting romantically involved with him. The rejection would only be worse when it came.

  And at least he got to take her to dinner tonight. It was more than he’d had when he got up this morning.

  If he made it an occasion to remember, maybe it would weigh in his favor.

  And if by some crazy stroke of luck, or insanity on her part, she actually agreed to his harebrained proposal, they had an engagement to celebrate.

  Best do what he could to make it count. He reached for his phone to make reservations.

  KAYLEE WAS READY when he knocked on her door, and Owen breathed a silent sigh of relief. Part of him had been worried that she wouldn’t open the door at all, and part of him had been sure she’d greet him in leggings and a sweater with a hammer in her hand, to tell him he was a sick pervert and that she would report him to the police if he ever attempted to talk to her again.

  Instead, she looked gorgeous, with her hair freshly washed and curled just for him. The dress she had on was black and short and tight—a bit tighter now than it used to be. He hadn’t really been able to tell that she was pregnant earlier, but now he could: her stomach wasn’t as flat as it had been over the summer, but was ever so softly rounded. Nowhere near as big as her breasts—whoever had told her that was an idiot—but just a bit bigger than it used to be. She seemed self-conscious about it, because she’d wrapped a shawl around herself, and she kept pulling at the edges to cover her stomach.

  “You look beautiful.”

  She looked surprised, and a bit gratified.

  He added, “I’m sure you’ve heard that before, though.”

  She shook her head. “No.” And then blushed. “I mean, yeah. But... it was always when someone wanted something, you know?”

  Like sex. Guys would compliment her to get her into bed.

  Note to self: don’t compliment her when you try to seduce her. Only compliment her the rest of the time, and then don’t follow it up with a spirited attempt to get her to take her clothes off.

  Check.

  “Well, you’re gorgeous. And I’m not trying to get anything.” At this point he wasn’t sure he even wanted a yes to his proposal. It would make his life a whole lot easier if she turned him down.

  Of course, turning him down would make her life a lot more difficult. Saying yes, on the other hand...

  Before she could say anything at all, he added, “Are you ready to go?”

  She nodded.

  “I made reservations at the French place on Third. Figured if I was gonna get my ass handed to me, at least I could enjoy my last meal.”

  He grinned as he opened the car door for her and handed her in. Her legs were long and smooth below the short skirt, and looked longer because of the sky high heels she wore, and for a second he zoned out, just staring at them. Until her voice penetrated and he came back to himself.

  “I’m not—”

  “Shhhh. Not yet. Let me pretend a bit longer.” He closed the door and walked around the car to get behind the wheel. “We can talk about the serious stuff later.”

  That way, for the next hour or so, he could just pretend that she was with him because she wanted to be, not because he’d bought her company with that insane marriage proposal.

  “Fine,” Kaylee said and smoothed the shawl across her lap, but she didn’t look happy about it.

  By the time he’d handed the Toyota over to the valet outside La Belle Vie and squired her through the heavy front door, she looked a bit happier. When the maitre d’ bowed and scraped, she looked impressed, and when they were seated at a table in a romantic corner, behind a feathery, ferny plant, surrounded by tinkling fountains and soft music, she looked around with something close to awe on her face. “Wow.”

  “Glad you like it.” That made being here worth it. This was the kind of place his mother liked. Owen liked his mother, but he’d much rather just have pizza and a beer in front of the TV than foie gras and expensive wine in a place like this. But if it impressed Kaylee, he’d suffer through the stuffy atmosphere and snobby artisan food to make her happy.

  Kaylee lifted her menu. “Have you been here before?”

  “Once or twice. Need help?”

  “No,” Kaylee said, and then blinked when she saw that everything was written in French. “Oh.”

  “Yeah. I told you it was presumptuous. If you come here, you’re supposed to be able to read the menu.”

  “I see,” Kaylee said. “There are no prices on mine.”

  Owen grinned. “Old Southern custom. Besides, if you have to ask, you can’t afford it.”

  “Oh.” She bit her lip.

  “Don’t worry. My credit card can stand the charge.”

  “OK,” Kaylee said, but for being someone who had slept with Fake Gil because of who she thought he was, she didn’t look any too happy about the prospect of spending Owen’s money. He smiled at her.

  “Just let me order, OK? Chicken all right?”

  She nodded, looking relieved.

  He took care of the preliminaries, and then sat back and did his best to entertain her. It wasn’t easy, since he couldn’t really ask her to talk about herself—he already knew the important things, and there was no sense in making her repeat them, especially since it might make her cry again. He couldn’t talk about himself—that would be rude and his mother had raised him to be polite—and on the surface, they had very little in common, apart from the fact that they both disliked basketball.

  The arrival of the food came as a relief, because it meant they could fill their mouths and not have to come up with anything to say.

  “So what do you think?” he asked after she’d taken a few bites of the Chicken Marengo a la Provencal. “Good?”

  Her mouth was full, so she couldn’t answer, but she nodded.

  “Great.” He devoted himself to his own food.

  “Dessert?” he asked after the main meal was over. Kaylee looked wistful, but shook her head.

  “Can’t. I’ve already gained too much weight.”

  She didn’t look like she weighed any more now than she did before she got pregnant. “How much have you gained?”

  “Five pounds,” Kaylee said.

  “And how much were you supposed to gain?”

  “Between one and four and a half pounds the first trimester.”

  He tilted his head. “So you’ve gained a half pound more than you should?”

  Kaylee shook her head. “I’ve gained four pounds more than I should.”

  “You may not be one of the women who gain the minimum, sweetheart. It might be a big
baby. And anyway, it’s only four pounds. I wouldn’t worry about it. If you want dessert, you can have dessert.”

  “I better not,” Kaylee said.

  Owen shrugged. “It’s up to you. I’m not going to make you. But the café caramel is good here. And you don’t know when you’ll have the chance to come back.”

  She hesitated, but eventually she allowed him to order the caramel custard for her. She ate every spoonful too, with every sign of enjoyment, and when she was finished, she looked up at him with this expression—her face soft and her eyes dreamy—that made his stomach clench and something a bit lower wake up with a vengeance. “Thank you.”

  He shut it down, ruthlessly. “You’re welcome. I thought you’d enjoy it.”

  “Not just the dessert,” Kaylee said, glancing around, “but everything. The food and the restaurant and telling me I look pretty and offering to—”

  He was on his feet before she could get the rest of the sentence out, and around the table to pull her chair out. “Let’s go, OK?”

  Kaylee blinked, but got up, obediently. “OK.”

  “We’ll talk later.”

  “OK,” Kaylee said, and let him put his hand on her lower back and escort her toward the door.

  As they passed the maitre d’, the man gave Owen a little bow. “Bonsoir, Monsieur Taylor. I trust everything was satisfactory?”

  “Thank you,” Owen responded automatically, “it was great.”

  It wasn’t until they were outside, waiting for the valet to bring the car, that he noticed that Kaylee was looking at him. But before she could ask, the valet pulled the car up. Owen got busy putting Kaylee into the passenger seat, and then tipping the valet before sliding into the other side of the car. And so it was that they were on their way down the street before she had a chance to say, “That guy knew your name.”

  “Who?”

  “The maitre d’. He called you Mr. Taylor when we left.”

  “So?”

  “How did he know who you were?”

  For a second he was tempted, so tempted, to say he was Gil Norris’s grandson and heir to the Norris Industries fortune... but then he thought better of it. “I had to give him my name when I made the reservation. He gets paid to have a good memory.”