The Boss's Baby Bargain

by Karen Sandler

  “Yes, then,” she said, nodding. “We’ll marry.”

  A smile flashed on his face and was gone in an instant. Tension seemed to drain from his body. “Let me update you on my conversation with my attorney.”

  He launched into an explanation of the terms and conditions of their prenuptial agreement, his tone as impersonal as if he were discussing an upcoming corporate takeover. This was a union between a man and a woman, a joining together that should be done in love. She wished she could reach inside him somehow and shake that fierce reserve. But he’d withdrawn behind his barriers, unreachable.

  She knew one way to shake him. She’d seen it last night when he’d leaned into her car to kiss her. He hadn’t planned it, she was sure of that. Something other than his formidable mind had taken charge, pulled him to her.

  What if she initiated a kiss? What if she rounded his desk right now and touched him? Slipped onto his lap, threaded her fingers into his hair and brought his mouth closer to hers? She’d gotten such a brief taste of him last night and the images had replayed themselves over and over in her mind as she’d tossed and turned in bed.

  Closing her eyes, she raised her hands to her heated cheeks. She couldn’t let her thoughts stray like this. A chaste marriage with Lucas would be difficult enough without fantasies to distract her.

  “Allie, is something the matter?”

  Her eyes flew open to see him staring at her intently. Thank God he couldn’t read her mind. “I’m fine. What were you saying?”

  “The prenuptial includes a settlement for you when the marriage terminates.”

  Planning the ending of their marriage so cold-heartedly only heightened her misgivings. But she was committed now, no matter how wrong it felt. “I don’t need a settlement. You’re already loaning me the twenty thousand.”

  “Giving, not loaning.”

  “I’m planning to pay it back.”

  “Don’t be pigheaded about this, Allie. The money is yours, free and clear as of today. The rest will compensate you for the one to two years this process could take.”

  “It’s not a process, Lucas. It’s a marriage. An adoption of a child—a human being. You can’t keep treating this as some sort of business transaction.”

  His fingers wrapped more tightly around the arms of his chair, the only indication she’d hit home with her comment. “You’re right, of course. But I intend to give you the settlement, nonetheless.”

  “How much?” she asked warily.

  “Two million.” He said the amount casually, as if he were only offering her a couple hundred.

  “You’re crazy!” She leapt to her feet. “Totally nuts! That’s too much, Lucas.”

  “The hell it is.”

  “I can’t take that much.” She shook her head. “No way.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest, his expression cold. “I’m damn well not budging on this, Allie.”

  She stared at him, completely flabbergasted. This was a man she’d seen go toe-to-toe with hardened businessmen, shaving millions off a deal if he felt the price was inflated. How could he justify giving her so much money?

  But there was no arguing with him, at least for now. She’d have to find a way to refuse the money when the time came. She nodded her head in acquiescence.

  “Give me your account number,” he said, moving his chair up to the desk again. “Then we have to get on with the day. When’s my first meeting?”

  Lifting the laptop from his desk, she sank into her chair, trembling. Every time she thought she might have the upper hand, he backed her into a corner. How would she handle two years of this?

  “The account number is in my purse. Why don’t we go through your schedule first?”

  He gave her a brusque nod, then she read off his commitments for the day. He told her what data he needed for his various meetings, reeling off the information with machine-gun rapidity. Somehow he seemed able to maintain his same businesslike demeanor while her hands shook on the keyboard, making one error after another as she typed.

  When she finally escaped from his office to retrieve her purse, she had to give herself a moment to recover before going back inside. She sagged over her desk, leaning against it as she took a few deep breaths. Helen, who worked for one of Lucas’s vice presidents, gave her a sympathetic smile. Allie responded in kind, although it was a weak effort.

  Helen would know soon enough, and word would pass around the company from her and the handful of others Allie would tell. For now, she was just as glad to keep the news to herself, to have a chance to accustom herself to the shock.

  Her phone buzzed, startling her. It was Lucas. Probably wanted to know what was keeping her. She picked up the phone. “Yes?”

  “The account number?” he snapped out.

  Struggling to hold onto her patience, she pulled out her checkbook and read off the appropriate digits. “Anything else?”

  “Get on that church right away,” he said.

  “I will.”

  He fell silent and Allie assumed his mind had already shifted to his day’s meetings. She was about to take the phone from her ear when he said, “Allie?”

  The tentativeness of his tone surprised her. “Yes?”

  Another long pause. “Thank you.”

  She didn’t know what shocked her more—that he’d said it or that he sounded so genuinely grateful. “You’re welcome.” She lowered the phone back to its cradle.

  She sat for a moment at her desk, trying to resolve the tumultuous feelings inside her. She was marrying Lucas Taylor, her boss. They would put on a facade of a happy marriage to allow him to adopt a child. She would be on her guard every moment against his overpowering personality, against her own inappropriate desires.

  She understood the fear inside her, even the excitement. But one emotion roiling within her baffled her completely.

  Joy.

  After a day spent playing telephone tag with Lucas, Allie returned home with her nerves in a frazzle. She’d finally left a note on his desk about the church, giving up on actually seeing him face-to-face again that day. Now as she threw together a quick meal in the microwave, her gaze kept straying to the phone. She’d thought he might call her, to touch base, to compare notes on how the plans for their wedding were coming along. But it seemed now that he had her consent, he’d relegated her to one of those myriad compartments in his brain.

  She had to call her sister and brother, had already put it off too long. She just didn’t relish the inevitable questions and the answers she would have to fabricate. Not to mention she might miss a call from Lucas if she tied up the line.

  She dawdled through her meal, eating little of it, then hurried downstairs to the apartment complex laundry room and started a load in the washer. When she returned, she quickly checked her answering machine—no message from Lucas. It was nearly eight; she couldn’t put off her calls to her family any longer.

  Her sister Sherril’s husband answered the phone, giving Allie a few moments to compose what she planned to say. After assuring Sherril everything was fine both with her and their father, French, Allie asked, “Are you sitting down?”

  Sherril’s throaty laughter eased the tension in Allie’s shoulders. “Lying down, actually. The baby’s been playing the tom-toms on my spine.”

  Allie blurted out the news. “I’m getting married.”

  The silence stretched out uncomfortably before Sherril finally spoke. “How could you be getting married? You haven’t even been dating anyone.” Another pause. “Have you?”

  Allie had realized before she picked up the phone she couldn’t tell her sister the truth, not if she wanted to keep the predicament of their father’s care to herself. She could only hope the lie she’d concocted would sound believable.

  “I’m marrying Lucas Taylor. My boss.”

  Sherril was quiet so long, Allie wondered if the connection had been broken. Finally she said, “I had no idea there was anything going on between you two.”

  Al
lie forced a laugh. “Neither did we. Just kind of sneaked up on us, I guess.”

  “Well…congratulations, then. When’s the wedding?”

  Allie braced herself for her sister’s reaction. “End of September.”

  “What! I’ll still be pregnant then,” Sherril moaned. “Unless this beast decides to come early like his sister did. How am I going to find a whale-sized matron of honor dress?”

  Allie smiled, pleased at Sherril’s assumption she would be matron of honor. “I’m sure we can find something. Besides, this way, I have at least a hope of outshining you at the wedding.”

  “Allie, I gave up the crown of prettiest sister to you with my first set of stretch marks. Are you having it at the church?”

  “Yes, the minister was able to fit us in, even at such short notice.” Reverend Harmon had been so delighted at her news. Even now, Allie felt a stab of guilt at the lies she’d told him. “The reception will be at Lucas’s estate.”

  Allie filled Sherril in on the remainder of the details, then begged her to pass on the news to their brother, Stephen. She simply didn’t have the energy to spar with her brother, who still thought his baby sister needed his protection.

  After she hung up the phone, Allie headed outside to the apartment complex laundry room to shift her clothes to the dryer. As she fished quarters from her pocket to start the dryer, she realized even this mundane task would change when she moved to Lucas’s expansive estate. No more lugging laundry down two flights of outside stairs in the winter rain or blistering summer sun. No tossing quarters into a jelly jar to have them ready for laundry day.

  Would they wash their clothes together? Intermingling her life with Lucas’s in such an ordinary way seemed terribly intimate. It made their upcoming marriage somehow more real, more valid.

  Rattled by the notion, Allie left her clothes tumbling in the dryer and returned to her apartment. The flashing light on her answering machine sent her heart into overdrive—had Lucas called her after all? But it was only her brother Stephen, demanding she call him back tonight.

  The last thing she needed was Stephen and his lectures. She’d committed herself to Lucas, to their marriage. Her brother’s haranguing would only heighten her doubts.

  Flipping on the TV, she watched a mindless cop show as she waited for her laundry to finish. Lucas never did call, but Stephen did, twice more. Allie resolutely ignored him each time.

  With morning light spilling into his office, Lucas paced in agitation. In the week since he’d proposed marriage to Allie, he still hadn’t regained his focus. Each day his preoccupation with his admin assistant grew until it had become a nearly unmanageable obsession.

  When he first arrived in the mornings he was barely able to pass her desk without touching her, without threading his fingers through her hair and tipping her head up to kiss her. He could hardly make it through their morning reviews, the urgency to round the desk and pull her into his arms so overwhelmed him. Sometimes her gaze met his as they worked together and he could see the wariness in her eyes. She had to sense his attraction for her.

  His only recourse was to rush her through the recitation of his schedule, to hurry her out of his office. But her absence seemed to tantalize him more than her presence. Just the thought of her expressive green eyes set off a throbbing low in his body, a response he couldn’t seem to control. Fantasies played themselves out in his mind—of him calling Allie into his office, tugging the dove-gray sleeveless shirt she wore today from the matching skirt, slipping his hand under it to cup her breast. Then lifting her to the desk, parting her legs and—

  Damn, he had to get himself under control. He strode behind his desk and forced himself to sit. Locking his fingers together, he gripped them tightly on his desk.

  If he couldn’t keep his hands off her in these weeks before their wedding, how the hell would he do it once they were married? Once they were sharing his home, he wouldn’t have a prayer if he didn’t keep his rampant desires in line now. And he damn well intended to keep that promise.

  Lucas dragged in a long breath and let it out. Most of the women he knew looked at sex the way he did—a necessary physical release. No messy emotions to get in the way. But Allie—still young and idealistic and full of hope—she might think physical intimacy meant more than it did. And the last thing he needed was Allie believing she was in love with him.

  Unclenching his hands, he lifted a small Post-it square from the left side of his desk and repositioned it on the right. The note had been there all week, a glaring reminder of the upcoming wedding. On the pale-yellow square of paper, Allie had written down the name of the Methodist church in Fair Oaks and the time and date of the ceremony. Reverend Frank Harmon, she’d penned across the bottom of the note, the neat flowing loops of her script as feminine as the woman who wrote them.

  A knock on his office door sent tension zinging up his spine. He dragged a folder to the center of his desk and opened it, dipping his head down to the stack of papers he should have been reviewing. “Enter.”

  Allie slipped inside, shutting the door behind her. As she crossed the office, her soft skirt rippled around her, shaping itself to the curves of her body. “Could we talk?” The faintest trace of irritation colored her tone.

  He closed the folder with precise care. “Certainly.”

  She stood before his desk, shoulders thrown back. “You might be able to see our marriage as a cold-blooded business deal, but I can’t. Even though we’re not marrying for love, we’re going to live together for the next two years. We ought to get to know each other better.”

  He struggled to focus on what she was saying, distracted by the way the late-morning sun lit her slender form. Would her skin feel warmer under that yellow glow? He shook off the image. “What do you want, Allie?”

  “I want you to stop avoiding me.”

  “I haven’t been avoiding you.”

  She just stared at him a moment, her expression telling him she knew a snow job when she heard one. “I want to spend some time with you, Lucas. I want a chance to get to know you a little better before the wedding.”

  It wasn’t an unreasonable request, if you ignored the heat rippling through his body that urged him to get to know her much, much better. More time spent with her meant an even greater trial for his libido. But hell, he was a grown man. He ought to be able to give Allie what she wanted without breaking his promise of a platonic relationship.

  She stood there, watching him, no doubt preparing her next argument if he turned her down. Lord, she was a hell of a fighter.

  “What am I doing for lunch?” he asked her.

  The question caught her off guard. She glanced around her as if seeking her laptop. “No meetings scheduled.”

  “I have one now,” he said. “With you.”

  Her brilliant smile cut straight to his heart, setting off a flurry of unfamiliar emotions. Before he could catch his balance again, she’d moved around his desk and bent to put her arm around his shoulders. “Thank you,” she murmured in his ear.

  The warmth of her breath teased him, the nearness of her crumbled his good intentions. Before she could straighten, he’d curved his hands around her face, brought her mouth to his.

  His fingers dove into her silky black hair, the softness against his skin a sweet torment. He brushed his mouth against hers, telling himself with each light touch to back off, to push her away. But when he’d kissed her a week ago, he’d had only the briefest taste. The memory of it had haunted him every night, stealing his sleep, infiltrating his dreams.

  And he had to have more.

  Chapter Four

  Allie never should have touched him. In her delight over sharing lunch with Lucas, she’d let impulse take control. Now with him so near, with his breath fanning across her face as he stroked her lips with his, the snare of his passion wound around her.

  She had to pull away. She took a step back to do just that when Lucas’s mouth drifted from her lips, along her jaw to nuzzle in her
ear. She swallowed back a moan, her pleasure easing out in a sigh instead. The hand he’d buried in her hair moved restlessly, its random pattern electric and breath-stealing.

  Her own hands took their cue from him, gliding along the stiff shoulders of his jacket to the warm column of his throat. She wanted to ease her fingertips into his hair, explore his sensitive scalp as he did hers. She wanted to do more—to shift to stand in the V of his legs, to press her aching breasts against his chest.

  She was lost. With so little effort, Lucas had taken over. And yet she had only to take another step back, to straighten and tug herself away and he would let her go. He had to let her go.

  Drawing in a trembling breath, Allie struggled to regain her strength, her will. She slid her hands from Lucas’s throat, pressed her palms against his shoulders. The instant he felt the pressure of her hands against him, he released her so that she nearly stumbled as she backed away.

  He sprang from his chair, turning away from her. Facing the window, he pressed both palms against the glass, arms stiff with tension. “Hell.”

  She heard a tremor in the softly spoken word. Raising a shaky hand, she smoothed her hair from her face. “I’m sorry.”

  His head swiveled toward her, his eyes blazing. “What the devil do you have to be sorry for?”

  “Because I…” Her stomach knotted, cutting off the words. She took a breath. “I shouldn’t have touched you.”

  For a long moment, he just stared at her. Then he pushed away from the window. “No you shouldn’t. Because I damn well can’t seem to control…” Stabbing his fingers through his thick dark hair in agitation, he raised his gaze to hers. “I’m the one who should apologize. You did nothing wrong. I took advantage…hell.”

  She’d seen Lucas angry, seen him throw on a cloak of intimidation that drove fear into the hearts of his adversaries, but she’d never seen him this way—flustered, uncertain, off-balance. His unsettling vulnerability set off a chord inside Allie, an unexpected tenderness.