“No,” she said quickly, “I didn’t mean that, exactly. Just...just... I’m asking you to be honest.”
He measured his words, searching for the best way to win his way around her. “Okay, but on one condition.”
“What would that be?” she asked warily.
“That we use this time together as dates. Real, honest-to-God, get-to-know-each-other dates. You’ll see firsthand that we can balance work and romance.”
Her jaw dropped. “Dating? You’re serious.”
“Absolutely, take our time.”
She fidgeted with her purse gripped in her hands. “And when you say take our time, how long are you talking?”
“However long it takes. Trust me, I don’t take this lightly. I’m not the type to let relationships into the workplace, never have been. You’re just that damn amazing.”
“Flattery already? I haven’t agreed yet, so you can hold back on the wooing.” For the first time since the kiss in the exhibit, Amie looked relaxed. Receptive.
The smile on her face reached her eyes, setting them aglow in the muted streetlight. She shoved him with her shoulder playfully. This was the Amie he wanted to get to know.
“I only speak the truth.” God, she was mesmerizing. So much so, it was hard as hell to see anything but the stars shining in her deep blue eyes.
So hard he almost missed the shadowy figure lunging from behind a billboard. The man was broad, built and hardened by the streets. His frenetic eyes focused on Amie with a repugnant leer. On instinct, Preston stepped in front of her. Crooks like this never risked leaving people alive to identify them, especially when drugs were making their decisions for them.
The man loomed in front of them, a knife in hand, waving it menacingly. Erratically. “Give me your cash and jewelry now and nobody gets hurt.”
Five
“Amie, get back.” Preston pushed her behind him, the street lamp casting a halogen halo over the man with a knife, his face shadowed by the brim of a ball cap. “We don’t want anyone to get hurt.”
Fear chilled Amie so thoroughly her boots felt frozen to the pavement. She stared at the jagged-edge blade glistening in the night.
“Then pass over your money, dude, and quit screwing around here.” The broad shouldered young guy stood close, looking from side to side, jittery. The rest of the world oblivious or uncaring. Or perhaps too busy rubbernecking over the three-car pileup to notice a simple purse snatcher by a trash can.
In a flash, Preston swept a foot behind the guy, knocking him to the ground, stunning Amie with the speed and power. Preston stomped a foot on the crook’s wrist, pressing until the criminal screamed. His fist unfurled and he released the jagged knife.
The clatter of metal on concrete released Amie from her daze. She sprinted toward the flashing lights at the car accident. Surely there had to be a cop there who could assist.
“Help, please,” she called out, waving one hand and hitching the hem of her layered skirt with the other. “Someone tried to rob us. My...boss has him restrained. The man had a knife. My...date...has him restrained.”
A few heads turned, two rescue workers returning to their efforts to dislodge a woman from a smashed-up car. But one cop disengaged from the accident scene.
“Yes, ma’am?” The policeman with a shaved head and steely jaw jogged closer.
Thank God. She waved for him to follow her.
“Over here, by the closed toy store.” Her heart in her throat, she raced back to Preston.
A small crowd had gathered around the fallen thief, suddenly interested, after all. The onlookers hungrily digested the scene, pointing and murmuring at Preston, who had the young man pinned to the ground with his knee planted on the guy’s back, gripping the assailant’s hands.
The officer and Amie pushed past the crowd, walking with determined footsteps to Preston. Relief deflated her fear, but even relief didn’t keep her knees from trembling as she thought of how wrong this could have gone. And she had a baby to think about now. Preston’s baby. If something had happened to either of them... She started toward him, needing to touch him and feel him vibrantly alive. But he shook his head, keeping her at bay until he passed over the crook.
“Officer,” Preston said, “that’s his knife there. You’ll find his prints since he didn’t bother to wear gloves. I didn’t touch it.”
The policeman knelt beside them and secured the man’s hands with cuffs. “I’ve got this now, sir. I’ll be right back to take your statements.” He read the guy his rights and walked him to a police cruiser.
Standing, Preston straightened his jacket and cupped her shoulder to steer her away from the subdued criminal. “Are you hurt, Amie?”
“I should be asking you that.” She pressed her hands to her chest, vaguely aware of camera flashes in the background. Photos of the wreck? Cell phones were everywhere these days. “You’re the one who took on the man with the knife. Thanks to you, there’s not a scratch on me. You acted so quickly. I thought we would have just handed over our money.”
“He was high on something.” Preston’s jaw flexed with tension. “I couldn’t trust him to walk away, not even in this crowd.”
“I’m just glad you were here with me. I’m sorry I forced us to walk and put you in danger.”
“It could have happened anywhere, anytime. All that matters is you’re okay.” He clasped her elbow and nodded to the policeman. “We should go inside to wait for the cops to take our statement. The last thing I want is for someone else to try a repeat.”
“Of course. I know I’ve already apologized, but I am so sorry for leaving the limo.” Guilt pinched tighter than her boots as she strode through the lobby doors of their hotel, passed a small group of guests peering out the windows onto the street outside. The posh interior felt like a different world. “Where did you learn to defend yourself like that?”
“I grew up in a neighborhood where you had to look out for yourself.” He gestured to a green velvet sofa by the window overlooking the street.
“Still, that was such a risky move to make.” She sank onto the couch and smoothed her skirt. “You could have been injured—or worse.”
“Less risky than trusting a twitchy user to let us go unharmed. My only concern was keeping you safe.” He sketched a finger down the braid trailing over her shoulder. “I could see in his eyes he was never going to let us walk away and risk having us ID him. He wanted you. I couldn’t let that happen.”
Unable to resist, she leaned her cheek against his hand. “Thank you for keeping us safe.”
“Us?”
She bit her lip, realizing she’d almost let it slip about the baby at a totally awkward and public time. “Us—as in you and me.” She stood quickly when the door to the hotel opened, relieved at the intrusion. “I think I see the officer coming this way to speak with us now.”
* * *
Amie sat on her bed, cloaked in her favorite black silk robe, absently stroking her cat. The cat purred loudly, but refused to lie down on her lap. He was fidgety.
She felt just like Roscoe. He refused to sit down, to commit to a direction. Just like her. She couldn’t stop thinking about this evening, either. About the whole varied experience. Her kiss with Preston. Her grandmother’s desires. Her child. The man with the knife. All of it swirled around her head.
“Oh, Roscoe, what am I supposed to do?”
The cat nudged her hand in response. “Thanks, kitty. That’s clearly very helpful. Great advice.”
She stopped petting the cat, pushed herself off the bed and made her way to the minifridge. Water. She needed some water.
Things with Preston were more complicated than ever. She wanted to be with him. Wanted to let herself give in to him.
It wasn’t that easy. Her own happiness wasn’t the only consideration. She unscrewed the wat
er bottle cap and took a swig of water.
Roscoe slinked off the bed and rubbed up against Amie’s legs, threading around her feet with determination. He let out a low mew. He sounded more like a kitten than an old cat.
“All right, Roscoe, let’s get you settled for the night. I’ve got your favorite treats.”
Whenever they traveled, Amie made sure to pack the best assortment of toys for the cat. He was so loyal, her constant companion. She dug around Roscoe’s traveling bag and pulled out a can of tuna, a bowl, a can opener and a blue mouse toy.
Absently, Amie drained the tuna water into the bowl and set it on the ground. The cat rushed the bowl, eager to lap up the treat. Roscoe didn’t actually like the fish, just the water. Small indulgences.
Which, if she were being honest, is what she wanted with Preston. A small bit of fun.
It was more than that though. The way he looked at her tonight when her grandmother had called. He had such genuine concern in that handsome face of his. In those kind hazel eyes. And he had saved her. Stood up to that mugger without a moment’s hesitation. So protective of her already.
And that was part of the problem. If she had let it slip that she was pregnant, Preston would stay close to her for the baby’s sake. She would never be able to tell what he really felt for her. And selfish as it was, she wanted to know. Needed to know.
Glancing at the clock, Amie realized she was late in giving Roscoe his insulin injections. She readied the needle, scooped Roscoe up and pinched the extra skin around his neck. The cat was perfectly still.
“Good boy. You’re such a good boy. I always know what to expect from you, Roscoe,” she said softly as she slid the needle into his scruff.
“Brave kitty. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” She capped the needle and rubbed under his chin. Roscoe circled once on her lap, sat down and purred.
She still had to figure out Preston. Tomorrow, in New York City, she would get to know him better. Which was what she had started to consider just before she’d realized she was pregnant. Baby announcements could wait a while longer. There was something about him that made her want to hold out. Just a little longer.
* * *
Preston hadn’t found much sleep after the holdup. Instead, he had paced restlessly around the suite replaying events and how damn wrong the evening could have gone. How something could have happened to Amie. And how deeply that would have affected him.
She’d come to mean more to him than he’d realized. So much more.
He was still processing that after their flight across the country to New York City the next morning. Their event wasn’t until tomorrow evening, which normally meant he would fill the free day with work. However, he found himself wanting to spend every moment with Amie. When he couldn’t sleep the night before, he’d heard her moving about in her room for a long while, but just as he weakened and started to knock, all noise ceased. She settled for the night, leaving him to his thoughts and an aching need to be with her. The trauma of the attack must have worn her out, because she slept during most of the flight, too.
Now that he had New York City at his disposal, he didn’t intend to waste an instant of his time alone here with her.
Figuring out what to do for one of the wealthiest women in the country hadn’t been easy, but then he’d always enjoyed a challenge.
He’d arranged for a rickshaw to take them to Central Park to attend a Wild West film festival. The muggy day had eased with the setting sun, a pleasant breeze added to the wind from the ride. The click, click, click of the cyclist pedaling along the street was rhythmic, lulling. Amie sat beside him in killer shorts and heels with a flowy shirt that the wind molded to all her beautiful curves.
She leaned back, her high ponytail sleek and swinging with the pace of the horses. Her eyes took in the scenery. “I love New York, I always have.”
“Always?” He propped a foot up on the other seat across from them, not remembering the last time he’d relaxed in the city. Hell, most people he knew probably wouldn’t even recognize him in khaki shorts and a polo shirt. He’d spent all his time in planes, boardrooms and carefully chosen social functions for years.
“My grandparents used to bring Alex and me here as kids. We would see a show, do some shopping.” Her blue eyes turned sentimental as they passed Rockefeller Center, a lighter blue as she offered him a small smile.
“I can see why that would give the town good memories.”
She glanced at crowded streets as tourists jostled for pictures. “My grandmother always let me choose my own clothes, no worries about impressing a pageant judge.”
“You didn’t enjoy any part of the pageants?”
“To be honest, I did at first. I liked that my mom spent time with me. I enjoyed the attention. And I really enjoyed getting to have a Mountain Dew and Pixy Stix if the pageant ran past bedtime and I needed a pick-me-up.” She shrugged sheepishly, her shoulder brushing his in the confines of the small rickshaw. “Later, though, I wanted to enter the competitions that included talent and grades and community service. But my mother told me that would be a waste of time. I stood a better chance at the ones based only on looks.” She stopped short and held up an elegant hand, a silver bracelet wrapped from wrist to elbow. “I don’t mean that to sound vain. Scratch everything I said. I shouldn’t have—”
“I heard what you meant.” And he couldn’t imagine ever having said something like that to his daughter. That kind of behavior was inexcusable. “You’re clearly a talented artist and intelligent individual.”
She snorted inelegantly. “You have to say that because my grandmother owns the company.”
“No, actually, I don’t,” he said with a raised eyebrow as they turned in to Central Park, the sound of street musicians drifting on the wind as the sunset hour turned the sky to golds and pinks. “If I didn’t believe in your work I would have moved you to another department.”
“Even if that made my grandmother angry?” she pressed.
Did she really think he was only pursuing her for her grandmother’s approval? He could clear that much up at least. “My condition to signing on was I have complete authority over hiring.”
“But my father still works for the company and we know he doesn’t do anything.” Her cheeks flushed with color.
And he understood that. She had one helluva work ethic he respected.
“Your father doesn’t get a salary from the company coffers so it’s not an issue for me. He has an office where he holds social meetings with possible connections. I can live with that.”
“It’s awkward,” she said through clenched teeth, absently toying with her bracelet. “I don’t want to be an embarrassment.”
He slid his arm along the back of the leather seat and cupped her shoulders. “There’s not a chance anyone can miss your work ethic and talent. The other designers are solid, and the occasional design from your cousin adds variety. But the sales numbers for your designs speak for themselves, putting you at the top of the heap.”
She glanced at him, her mouth quivering, tempting him. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“Just stating business.” Which meant that wouldn’t be a good time to kiss her. He searched for a distracting subject to keep him from kissing her in front of all of New York. Not that anyone would care. “What about vacations with your parents?”
“We went to my pageants and my brother’s rodeos together.”
“But what about vacations?”
“They took those on their own to have together time as a couple, which is great, of course. And if Alex or I won, then all the better.”
So her parents only had time for her and her brother if they were competing like show horses? He didn’t like the sound of that at all. No wonder she was so concerned with rising to the top of the company. It wasn’t about success but the only way she
would know to feel valued.
She rested a hand lightly on his knee. “What about you? What kind of vacations did you go on as a kid?”
His body leaped in response to her touch and it took him a second to focus on her question. “My folks didn’t have much money, but we went camping and trail riding. You may remember me telling you my mom worked for a cleaning service. She worked overtime cleaning offices for a stable, so we got discount rates and we could ride. It was actually therapeutic for my dad’s injury.”
“Your mom sounds awesome.” She smiled with that million-watt grin that had stolen his breath from across a room. “So you’re the real-deal cowboy. Is that what brought you to Diamonds in the Rough?”
“It was part of the allure of the job offer.” He liked riding to unwind after a long day at the office. It gave him peace of mind.
“So, where are we going?”
“Wild West film festival in Central Park. Our first date.”
“Date?” Her delicately arched eyebrows shot upward.
“What we talked about last night. Dating. Spending time together. How did you put it?” He scratched his temple, then pointed. “I’m ‘wooing’ you.”
The bicyclist braked to a stop close to the Sheep Meadow portion of the park, an open field teeming with people, with plenty of visible security. After last night’s scare with the purse snatcher, he’d wondered if he should just lock them both up in their suite. But he also knew too well he couldn’t control everything. So he would keep her close. Which was how he wanted her.
Snagging a folded blanket and tucking it under his arm, he jumped to the ground and extended a hand for her. She stepped down gracefully, her slim fingers resting in his, her unique silver-and-turquoise ring a walking advertisement for her talents. They walked side by side through the crowd to find a seat. Some were in chairs but others sprawled on blankets. His preference for tonight. He saw her eyes landing on a food vendor and he waved for an order of pizza and bottled waters before they sat down for tonight’s first feature under the stars.
He spread the red plaid blanket while she arranged the food. Families and couples dotted the field. A few strollers and kids running in the last light of day. Some people had brought extravagant picnics, complete with linen, silver and candelabra. But most of the attendees had just showed up in jeans with a blanket. Amie seemed content with their spot. She extended her legs and bit off the end of a slice of pepperoni pizza, chasing the oozing cheese with her mouth. Groaning. Pleasure obvious.
Pregnant by the Cowboy CEO Page 7
