by Addison Fox
Mayson curled her legs under her on the bed as Camryn carried two steaming mugs across the room. “I liked the fact everyone was on their best behavior. It wasn’t all business talk the entire evening.”
“Occupational hazard.” Camryn handed over a mug of tea. “But, yes, it was nice to talk like regular human beings. I think my favorite story was the one Holt told about the showgirl.”
Mayson didn’t miss the interest stamped across her sister’s face, but she played it cool. “She sounds like quite a character. Vegas is full of them.”
Camryn blew on her steaming mug, her words deceptively casual. “Holt seems like an interesting man.”
“Wow, Cam, that was quick. You didn’t even work up to that or beat around the bush or anything.”
“I noticed how he kept looking at you. And you weren’t exactly looking away.”
“Hardly.” At her sister’s pointed stare, Mayson couldn’t resist adding to her own defense. “On his looking or my looking back.”
“Your protests are only proving my point.”
Unwilling to give any further credence to Camryn’s all-too-perceptive musings—especially when she knew there was a history between her and Holt—Mayson changed gears at the last minute. “What makes you so sure about this?”
“Is it even remotely possible you missed the smoldering glances? Especially since you were on the receiving end of them.”
“We were having a casual conversation. I have been known to have those with men from time to time. There was no smoldering involved.”
“There was so much smoldering I think the ends of my hair got singed. And while I know full well you could enjoy the company of men every night of the week, I’ve yet to see you look at any of them with even a tenth of the interest you showed Holt Turner.”
“I slept with him.”
“Holt?” Camryn bobbled her mug but steadied it at the last minute. “When?”
“At the wedding.”
“Who’s wedding?”
“Sheesh, Cam, the only wedding I’ve been to in like a year. Keira and Nathan’s wedding.”
“How?”
The tight knot in her throat, the one she’d borne since the morning after the wedding, loosened on a hard laugh. “The usual way.”
“Yes, but I mean, how did you meet him and, well, go for the gusto quite so fast. I didn’t know you even knew each other.”
“We didn’t. It just sort of happened.”
“That’s wonderful.”
“It was at the time. Now it’s horribly awkward.”
“Why? You’re not attached. From all appearances, he’s not either. And for the record, neither of you looked remotely awkward.”
Heated images filled her mind’s eye. They’d been her constant companion, every exquisite detail etched so firmly in her memory there were moments she could still feel his hands on her body, his fingers grazing her flesh. “There was nothing awkward about that night. It was completely wonderful.”
“So what are you doing up here, talking to me? Go spend some more time with him. Have some more of the completely wonderful and enjoy yourself.”
“It’s not that easy.”
The eager smile on Camryn’s face faded, replaced with a sudden understanding. “Was it bad?”
“God no.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“I can’t shake the feeling something monumental happened that night.”
“One-night stands can be awkward that way. Do you have feelings for him now that you slept together?”
“I don’t mean that sort of monumental.”
Whether her concerns were telegraphed in her gaze or it was just the comfortable bond between sisters, Cam’s gaze narrowed. “What is it?”
“I think I’m pregnant.”
Chapter Four
Mayson let her words hang there, convinced her sister’s smack down was coming any moment, when Camryn surprised her by leaping across the bed to pull her into a tight hug.
“Mayson! I’m going to be an aunt!”
With her sister’s arms banded tightly around her shoulders, tears welled up without warning. The pregnancy thoughts had been a near-constant companion throughout the day, and she’d grown increasingly convinced she was right. But it was her unsuccessful attempt at fitting into an outfit before the barbeque that had been the final clue.
Camryn sat back. “Why the tears?”
“I’m pregnant. A single mother.”
“It doesn’t make the news any less joyful.”
“No, but it doesn’t exactly paint me like a saint.”
One lone, well-manicured eyebrow inched toward her sister’s forehead. “I wasn’t aware you were aiming for sainthood.”
“I’m not.” Mayson brushed at the tears. “But come on. Admit it. It’s a bit socially awkward, especially since I’m not dating anyone.”
“You’re not fifteen, Mayse. I don’t mean to minimize your concerns, but you’re a grown woman. You can care for your child.”
“What about my work with Hands, Hearts and Hugs?”
“What about it?”
“It’s physical work with the kids. And I’ve made a commitment to them to spend time there. I’m not going to have a lot of free time after the baby comes.”
“One day at a time, sweetie. Besides. I’ve seen you with those children. You bring joy and encourage them to be all they can be. You’ll figure it out, but you don’t have to decide it all right now.”
While she appreciated Camryn’s ready defense, Mayson knew it wasn’t that easy, especially with the funding they were trying to get for the expansion of the facility. She needed to be there and devote time to the site, yet her commitments to her child would come first. Not to mention all of her commitments to her job.
“You need to tell Holt.”
Camryn’s comment pulled her back into the here and now. “I need to take a pregnancy test.”
“Fine. After it’s positive, you need to tell Holt.”
Positive.
The word slammed through Mayson like an avalanche. Was it really possible? “I don’t want him to think I trapped him.”
“Did you use protection?”
“Yes.”
“The kind he had to put on?”
“Yes.”
“Then how could he think you trapped him?”
“I know, but…” She shook her head, the odd mix of complications swirling in her mind with gale-force winds.
She’d only ever had one other one-night stand, and that was in college. It had left her feeling strangely empty and disillusioned, and she’d avoided them ever since, preferring her sex inside a monogamous relationship. Adding to the complications, she and Holt used protection. She remembered them using protection, especially since they’d joked about it and she’d ordered him to get the condoms from his pocket.
So what the hell had happened?
Her hand strayed to her stomach, the thought of a life growing there—a one-in-a-million life, based on what had to be their odds—filling her with a quick rush of excitement.
She caught Camryn’s mushy smile. “What?”
“It’s sinking in.”
“I don’t know for sure.”
Camryn leaned forward and pulled her into a tight embrace once more. “Yeah, Sweetie, you do.”
…
Mayson stared at the stick on the bathroom counter and tried to grab hold of the myriad emotions swamping her in thick, heavy waves. Happiness and joy. Panic and fear. Even more happiness and joy.
She was pregnant.
Once she’d finished her cry-fest the night before, she and Camryn had driven into town and picked up a kit. She’d purposely waited overnight to do the test, which meant she’d had very little sleep. Of course, she mentally admonished herself, she wouldn’t have gotten a lot of sleep had she had the results in hand, either.
After another half hour of aimlessly roaming her room, she finally threw in the towel and put on her workout gear
. “Might as well have a productive morning if nothing else.”
Keira had given them a quick tour the day before, and Mayson only took one wrong turn on her way to the house’s workout room. And stopped short as she walked in on Holt, his large form striding impressively on one of the room’s treadmills. His smile was broad as he eyed her from across the room.
“Morning.”
“Good morning.” Mayson crossed to retrieve a towel and bottled water from a small alcove along the far wall, then headed for the empty treadmill next to him. She’d have selected another machine, but her stomach chose that moment to protest its empty state and she was suddenly afraid of passing out on the elliptical.
He eyed her sideways as he ran a towel over his head. “You’re up early.”
“I couldn’t sleep. What’s your excuse?”
“A maniacal unwillingness to miss a work out.”
“Impressive.”
“Obsessive.”
“Clearly it’s working for you.” She laughed as she said the words, but the moment they were out, Mayson wished she could snatch them back, especially when images of every inch of his hard body floated through her memories. She fiddled with the treadmill’s control panel and searched for a new topic. “I think we’re the only ones up.”
“A lot of people were up late. Nathan and your sister know how to entertain.”
The treadmill came to life beneath her feet. “They’re in sync with each other. It’s nice. Even if it means neither of them will get much sleep this weekend.”
“I didn’t see much of you.”
She nearly stumbled on the treadmill but righted herself just in time. “It was a long week and I pooped out early.”
If he suspected anything underlying her words, he didn’t show it, and they moved into their respective workouts, the quiet between them punctuated only by the heavy whirl of each machine and a flat-screen TV on the opposite wall. She pointed toward the screen. “I didn’t take you for the hard-hitting celebrity journalism type.”
“I’m not.” Holt nodded toward the blonde who filled the screen. “I’ve been watching to see if the recent rumors about her were true. She’s sent her business people to sniff around investment opportunities at the Vegas property. Rumor has it she’s getting ready to launch a lingerie line and wants to open a flagship store.”
“From the sounds of that story, she knows her way around lingerie. And cocaine.”
“And if that story is even half-true, I don’t think we’ll be inviting her to join us any time soon.”
Mayson knew her work put her in contact with the mercurial lives of the rich and famous, but she hadn’t realized his would do the same. While McBride Media had always made it a policy to avoid coverage of out and out bad behavior, she knew the success of their magazines and websites hinged on keeping tabs on what was considered hot and newsworthy. Qualities that wouldn’t necessarily be a plus in Holt’s line of work. “Likely a wise choice. Her erratic behavior’s been on the rise. Even by Hollywood’s standards.”
“Yet one more reason I’m more than happy to call New York home.”
She’d always loved her home, and she couldn’t hold back a conspiratorial smile. “I know exactly what you mean. There’s no place like it.”
“Nope.”
His ready acquiescence had her probing further. “Are you a native?”
“No.”
Although it was subtle, she didn’t miss the slightest hesitation in his voice before he answered. “Where are you from, then?”
“Small town Midwest.” His shoulders lifted in a slight shrug.
“What brought you to New York?”
“A bus ticket and fifty-four dollars in my pocket.”
The answer was so honest—and so unexpected. “Wow. That’s pretty amazing considering what you’ve created.”
“I had a lot of attitude and determination to go with the bus ticket.” His grin was back, and whatever brief hesitation she’d sensed in his words was gone.
“Those two traits will take a person far.”
“Something you and your sisters know something about.”
She smiled at that, the we-will-not-fail mentality the three of them had carried into the restoration of the family business front and center in her mind. “You could say that.”
“Why don’t you tell me more about it over breakfast?”
Here was the chance she was waiting for. Breakfast would get them out of the house and away from the possibility of prying eyes or interruptions. “There’s a small diner on the main drag in town. We passed it on the way in yesterday.”
“Good. I’ll meet you back down in the lobby in an hour.”
…
Holt parked his two-seater in front of a quaint restaurant he’d seen on his drive in. The early morning hour ensured the crowds were minimal and parking readily available. The heavy smell of the ocean floated on the breeze, and he was captivated by the way it blew the dark strands of hair around Mayson’s face. After a swift mental shake to pull him out of his reverie, Holt crossed around the car and snagged her door just as she had it open, one long leg planted on the asphalt.
Damn, but she was gorgeous.
The thought hit him hard, with a heavy clutch in the belly. He was captivated by her. And while the outer package was beautiful, it was the woman inside he kept snagging glimpses of that had his fascination growing deeper.
A bright smile filled her face as she looked up and down the street. “I can feel the ocean, even if I can’t see it. It sort of surrounds you here.”
“We’ll go look at it after breakfast. I’m starved and in desperate need of coffee.”
That smile stayed firmly in place as she offered him a jaunty little salute. “Excellent idea, Captain.”
Within moments, they were seated in a booth, the vivid smells of toast, muffins and coffee replacing the lingering scent of saltwater. A young girl stopped by their table, a full pot of coffee in hand. “What can I get you?”
Mayson handed over her menu, her eyes bright and her smile warm and open. “Spinach and cheese omelet, a side of corned beef hash, and a croissant. And orange juice.”
“I’ll have the same, with bacon instead of the corned beef.”
Their waitress departed, and Mayson assessed him over her mug. “You’re not a corned beef fan?”
“Only on St. Patrick’s Day, and even then, I prefer mine in a sandwich.”
“Some think it’s an acquired taste for breakfast.” She let out a small laugh. “It was one of my grandfather’s favorites. On the rare occasion my grandmother allowed him to indulge.”
“A treat’s a treat, no matter the age.”
“That’s what he always said.”
“You have good memories of him?”
“The best. He was absolutely everything a grandfather should be. Warm and caring, and he spoiled my sisters and I rotten. And he believed in who we were and always looked at us as if we were perfect.”
“You mean, the formidable McBride sisters aren’t perfect?”
“Hardly. But it was nice that both my grandparents never seemed to notice.”
“I think it’s part of the job description.”
The image Holt had in his mind’s eye—a vague memory of seeing an interview with her grandfather late in his life—wasn’t one of a doting grandfather, but more of a cunning business man. Her warm memories and soft smile only proved a fact he’d long knew—the image one person generally held of another was forged in the circumstances of the relationship.
“So what about you? You had to be the apple of a doting grandmother’s eye. Or a doting mama excited about your accomplishments.”
The reality couldn’t be any farther from the truth, but Holt wasn’t about to tell her that. Instead, he offered up the same polite platitudes he’d uttered on the rare occasion a business reporter probed into his private life. “I lost my family pretty young, so my memories are limited.”
He uttered those words many ti
mes throughout his adult life and had never felt a moment of remorse at the implication in his words. His loss of family had been through choice, not death, but most simply took the comment at face value. So why did he feel a distinct layer of guilt now? Before he could dwell on it, Mayson reached out and closed a hand over his. An unexpected jolt at the contact coursed up his arm, but in lieu of the sympathy, he only saw understanding.
The strangest urge to tell her about his mother gripped him, but years of keeping up pretenses prevented him from saying anything. Then the moment was broken by the arrival of their waitress bearing breakfast, but he felt the subtle squeeze of Mayson’s fingers over his before she removed her hand. And as she reached for the orange juice the waitress set down with her meal, Mayson deftly moved the subject to less choppy waters. “So how’d you end up in real estate?”
“I’m not sure it was a conscious choice so much as it was a necessary choice.”
“Necessary? I’m intrigued. Tell me more.”
As was he, Holt thought. He took in the soft swirl of hair that framed her face and the bright, vivid interest shining in her dark eyes. “Working in real estate gives you an opportunity to leave a mark. Some tangible proof you’ve walked this earth and left something lasting in your wake.”
“What a feeling. To know you’ve left a mark that way. Like that building in Dubai.”
Holt wasn’t sure where the words came from, but now that she’d asked the question, he found he was loath to ignore them. “Exactly. There’s always been something there for me, and I caught the bug early, while still in college.”
“What was your first project?”
“A small condo renovation in Brooklyn. Bought it and flipped it in two months. It’s still one of my favorite projects. I’ve been known to drive by from time to time, just to take a look at the bright lights shining in the third floor windows.”
“What followed from there?”
“A few more condos along with a degree, then a move out west for a few years. Brick by brick it just all came together.”
“You may be a real estate maven, Holt Turner, but I think you’ve got the soul of a poet. It’s such a shame your family never got a chance to see it.”
