The Boss's Baby Bargain

by Karen Sandler

  He took the ring box from her and she half expected him to return it to the jeweler. Instead he slipped the engagement ring from the deep-blue velvet, set the box aside and took her left hand.

  His gray gaze on her face, he slid the ring onto her finger. It went on too easily, would probably have to be sized to fit her, but it looked so exquisite she hated to give it up. And the way Lucas’s warm fingers enfolded her hand, she wanted to stand there forever, her gaze locked with his.

  The jeweler cleared his throat. “I can have those sized for you this afternoon, have them ready by six.”

  Flustered, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks, Allie tugged away from Lucas. Her hands trembling, she pulled the ring off and fitted it back into the box. She glanced up at the jeweler, saw his pleased smile.

  “This is the best part of my job.” The man beamed as he set aside the rings. “Especially when a couple is as in love as you two obviously are.”

  She almost shook her head to refute the jeweler’s assessment. Because certainly they weren’t in love. This marriage between her and Lucas had nothing to do with devotion to one another. Yet that was the illusion they intended to convey, and somehow the jeweler had seen the facsimile of love in them.

  She stole a glance at her husband-to-be, tried to read the thoughts behind the implacable lines of his face. The raw angle of his jaw, the slash of his cheekbone told her less than nothing. If he felt awkward or embarrassed by the jeweler’s assumption, he didn’t show it.

  As she gazed at him, a yearning rose in Allie, a desire not quite fully formed. There existed deep within this man something so precious it far outweighed the value of the gaudy stone he’d wanted to buy her. She ached to delve inside him, to take a breath like a pearl diver and bring the priceless treasure to light. An impossible task. A man as formidable as Lucas had more barriers than the most protected fortress, more twists and turns than the most torturous maze.

  And then, even as she watched, the steel-gray of his eyes softened, ever so slightly. He reached for her hand, lifting it to his mouth. He brushed his lips across her knuckles, a whisper of a touch. Then, before he released her, he paused, eyes shut, his warm lips pressed against her skin.

  In that instant she would have given anything, everything, even the exquisite ring about to become the token of their marriage, to know what emotions stirred inside him.

  Then he let go and with the loss of contact, the marvelous, precarious moment was lost.

  Chapter Five

  Lucas stood motionless in the center of his expansive living room, staring out the windows overlooking the lake that marked the back boundary of his property. With the arrival of September, the days had seemed anxious to end earlier and earlier. As 7:00 p.m. dragged into 7:30, the sun teased the tops of the oak trees off in the distance.

  She would be here any minute. Their Saturday-afternoon wedding would be a week from today, and Allie had yet to visit his house. Tonight she would be bringing over some of her things, would take the first steps in claiming one of the guest rooms as her own.

  It was ridiculous that he should be nervous. Ever since the episode at the jeweler’s when he’d so badly misjudged the style of ring she would want, uncertainty about anything to do with Allie was his constant companion. Now he worried that she would hate his house, that the moment she stepped inside, her face would fall and dismay would be obvious in her expressive eyes.

  Stress set his stomach churning, making him sorry he’d eaten that quickly slapped-together sandwich an hour ago. He’d wanted Allie to join him for dinner and had asked his filipina housekeeper, Mrs. Vasquez, to make something special. Knowing his fiancée would be sharing the meal with him, Mrs. Vasquez had gone into a culinary frenzy, preparing two filipino favorites—a massive bowl of pancit, with brazos for dessert. The fragrance of the pancit and its sautéed noodles, vegetables and shrimp still lingered.

  But the piled-high bowl of pancit sat untouched in the refrigerator. Allie had called at six, sounding frazzled and rushed and had begged off dinner. She was running late, would have to grab something on the run, didn’t want him to wait for her. The bite of disappointment had surprised him, threatened to rouse old memories of childhood hurts, of carefully prepared meals left uneaten.

  He brushed away those memories now as the sun edged a bit closer to the lattice of oak tree branches. He’d been a lost child then, powerless over the one adult in his life who meant so much to him. To compare that to the inconvenience of missing dinner with Allie was ludicrous.

  Yet his fingernails had dug half moons into his palms. He shook the tension from his hands, shoving them into the pockets of his khakis. He twisted a little, left and right, then rotated his shoulders. Despite the perfectly controlled climate in his air-conditioned house, his polo shirt clung to his body, damp with perspiration.

  He took one step toward the tall windows overlooking the lake when the sputter of a badly tuned engine turned him around. He spotted Allie’s Buick winding up the drive, slowing as it approached the house. He strode quickly to the front door, wrenching it open and hurrying down the stairs.

  By the time he reached Allie’s car, she’d opened the door herself and stood looking over the top of the Buick toward the house. She stared at it silently, her gaze moving along the wraparound porch, along the second-story windows to the barely visible lake beyond. Lucas took a deep breath in an attempt to quiet the rapid beating of his heart. He couldn’t understand his reaction. Why was it so damn important to him that she like his house?

  She turned to him, smiling, her eyes bright with pleasure. “It’s beautiful, Lucas. It’s a dream house.”

  He couldn’t have stopped his answering smile to save his life. The joy that rocketed through him at her approval threw him off-balance. He couldn’t think of what to say in response, especially with her green eyes fixed on him. His “Thank-you” came out with stiff formality.

  Grabbing her purse, she swung the car door shut, then opened the back seat. “These wouldn’t fit in the suitcases.” She reached in for a pile of clothes on hangers, then jiggled the keys wedged in her hand. “The rest is in the trunk.”

  He took the keys from her and unlocked the trunk, pocketing the keys. One way or another, he was going to find a way to get her another car. Maybe he’d force the issue by not returning her keys. Her arms around a thick stack of clothes, Allie waited while he retrieved the three bulging suitcases from the trunk.

  “Lead the way,” she said, smiling up at him.

  At the sight of her tipped-up face, the sweet curve of her mouth, her vivid green eyes, heat spiraled throughout his body. Even with her hair escaping her ponytail, her face washed clean of makeup, in her well-worn tank top and jeans, she couldn’t disguise her sensuality. He ached to touch her, to throw aside their burdens and draw her to him. He wanted her body against his, wanted to relieve the pressure in his groin with her softness.

  He gasped in a breath and turned away from her abruptly. “Your room is upstairs.”

  Allie watched Lucas stride up the porch steps, his body ramrod straight. In an instant, his mercurial moods appeared to have shifted from uncertainty to joy to a blatant attraction she couldn’t deny. In the space from one heartbeat to the next, he had cast her into complete confusion.

  He waited for her in the foyer, stepped way back as she entered the house. He nudged the door shut, then paused again while she perused his living room. Just as he had outside, he gave her an expectant look, as if he waited for her judgment, almost like a child searching for approval.

  Struggling to resolve the paradox that was Lucas, Allie turned away from him to gaze out the windows on the other side of the room. A lake glowed in the last of the sunlight, a dock on its near side, massive blue oaks on its other shore.

  A private lake. A fairy-tale house. And Lucas Taylor, the handsome prince she would share it with. The enormity of it threatened to overwhelm her.

  Forcing a smile, she turned back to him. “Do you swim in the lake?
Does it have fish?”

  Whatever uncertainty she’d seen before in him had vanished. “Yes to both,” he said. “I keep it stocked with trout and bass.”

  She laughed. “Your very own lake. That’s amazing.”

  He gestured with the suitcases toward the stairs. “There’s a room adjoining yours. I thought we could make that the nursery.”

  A nursery. In the crazy whirl of details she’d had to handle in the past few weeks, she’d boxed away in her mind the real reason he’d asked her to marry him. To allow him to adopt a child.

  Now, as she followed him up the stairs, she tried to picture a youngster in this pristine and formal house. Stopping to look over the railing of the landing to the living room below, she saw hazard after hazard in Lucas’s exquisite home.

  Her arms growing tired with their load, she rested them on the railing. “How old a child had you planned to adopt?”

  He hesitated before answering. “My attorney has been looking for an infant.” He set down the suitcases, opened a door. “Your room is here.”

  She ran her gaze along the curve of stairs, then out the back windows where she could see the edge of the lake’s near shore. “Then you’ll have some time to set things up.”

  She turned to see him standing between the suitcases, his arms rigid at his sides. “Set things up?”

  Sidling past him into the room, she dumped the stack of clothes on the bed. “A child safety gate on the top of the stairs, something to fence off the lake.”

  She might as well have been speaking in Greek for all the comprehension he showed in his face. “Why would I fence off the lake?”

  She went to retrieve a suitcase, brought it over to the double oak dresser at the foot of the bed. “Once the baby’s walking, you’ll want to restrict him or her to safe areas. That means fencing off the lake or providing an enclosed play yard. Child latches on the cupboards in the kitchen, covers for the outlets.”

  Lifting the suitcase to the top of the dresser, she opened it and began to empty the contents into drawers. She looked over her shoulder at Lucas, feeling a little awkward having him watch her fill the drawers with panties and bras. But he seemed a million miles away, his eyes downcast.

  Sliding a drawer shut, she moved to where he still stood in the doorway. “It’s a lot to think about, isn’t it?”

  His head swung up, an intense light in his eyes. “I haven’t thought about it at all. I never thought past getting a child.”

  He spoke of the adoption as if it were an acquisition, like buying a car or a piece of property. Surely he couldn’t be that cold. “Lucas.” She placed her hand on his arm, momentarily distracted by the feel of his warm skin, the flex and pull of the muscles beneath. “Have you truly thought this out? Are you genuinely ready to adopt a child? It’s a lifetime commitment—is it really what you want?”

  She knew immediately the question was a mistake; could see it in the storm of emotion that played across his face. First anger, then a haughty arrogance. If it hadn’t been for one telltale gesture, she would have believed he was in a rage over her impertinence.

  He looked away. For just an instant his gray eyes couldn’t meet hers and doubt held sway. Then he fixed his hard gaze on her, his jaw set, his expression harsh.

  “It’s not your place to ask that question,” he said, biting out the words. Then he turned away, and she heard his footsteps sounding along the landing, the opening and slamming of a door.

  With a sigh, Allie shoved aside the clothes on the bed and lowered herself to the edge. She felt taut as a bowstring, aching from the inside out. She ached for Lucas and the pain he wouldn’t share, ached for the child that would soon come into this house to live with him. Every uncertainty she’d had about the madness of their upcoming wedding assailed her now, urged her to break away while there was still time.

  But nothing had changed. Not her need for money, not the commitment she’d made. Lucas had already paid her debts; how could she not follow through? Even if she promised to repay the money, it wouldn’t be right to renege on her part of the bargain.

  She would have to follow through. There was really no other choice.

  Heart-sore, she rose, looked around her at the room. The double bed and two nightstands filled one wall, the dresser and a small dressing table the opposite wall. To her left were a walk-in closet and a door to the bathroom beyond; to her right a door that must lead into the nursery.

  He’d furnished the room plainly. Plantation shutters covered the windows flanking the bed, the oak dresser and nightstands were simply made, without ornamentation. Perhaps he sensed she’d want to impose her own personality on the room and had left it to her to add the final touches.

  With some trepidation, she moved toward the nursery door, wondering if that room would be as featureless. Easing open the door, she poked her head inside, saw a crib and a changing table, a small white dresser and a toy chest. The crib had been made up with sheets and sported a pastel comforter; a nondescript mobile hung above it.

  She moved around the foot of the crib, set the mobile spinning with her finger. She imagined a baby sleeping here, snug under the comforter, warm and loved. Smoothing a hand over the covers, she tried to picture Lucas lifting the baby in his arms, holding it close. Instead she recalled him standing in the doorway of her room, stiff and prickly, with nothing soft about him.

  Turning to go, her gaze fell on something propped in the corner of the crib. Tattered and stained, a ragged bear leaned against the crib slats, its eyes blank brown buttons. Its left foot was scorched and a little stuffing had leaked out. As bedraggled as it was, the stuffed toy begged Allie to pick it up.

  As she reached for it she wondered if the housekeeper had put it here. Perhaps the well-loved toy had been a grandchild’s and the woman knew the room needed something real, something personal. It surprised Allie that Lucas would have allowed it to stay.

  Turning the bear over, Allie found a frayed tag still attached by a few threads. Flipping over the tag, her heart squeezed tight in her chest. Scrawled on the tag, nearly illegible, was the letter L.

  L for Lucas. It was his bear. Tears tightened her throat, brimmed in her eyes. Lucas had played with this bear as a boy, had saved it all these years. And now, when he seemed to know nothing about children, how to love them, how to raise them, he knew at least this much—that a child needed something like this bear to hold on to for comfort.

  She set the stuffed toy back into the crib where she’d found it, brushed away the tears that had spilled down her cheeks. The sound of nearby footsteps startled her and she realized they came from the room next door, Lucas’s room. She heard his door open again, then close, then Lucas walking along the landing toward her room.

  Not wanting him to find her in the nursery, she quickly slipped out, shutting the door behind her. Although her bedroom door was still open, he rapped on the doorjamb without coming inside. “Allie?”

  “Yes.” She smoothed away the rest of the moisture from her cheeks. “Come in.”

  He stepped inside, his expression wary, his gray eyes turbulent. He stood stiffly, his wide shoulders stretching the knit of his pale-gray polo shirt, the raw lines of his face set. Feature by feature, he wasn’t a handsome man, but taken as a whole he was devastating. Allie fought to resolve the image of the man before her with the stuffed bear she’d found in the nursery and could not.

  She was completely unprepared for what he had to say. “I’m sorry.”

  She shook her head slowly. “For…?”

  “What I said before. That you had no right…” He tightened his hands into fists, then uncurled them with effort. “You have every right. You’re to be my wife.”

  The words were stilted and awkwardly spoken, but she could see the effort it took him to say them. She smiled, gestured to the suitcases, the clothes piled on the bed. “I guess I should get back to this.”

  He stepped inside the room. “Can I help?”

  “No, I…” She laughed. “Yes,
please. I’m so used to me helping you in the office, it seems strange for you to…”

  “This isn’t the office. You don’t work for me here.” With one finger on her chin, he tipped her face up. “You understand that, don’t you? You will be my wife in every way but one.”

  She stood there, stunned, trying to absorb what he’d said. “But only until the adoption is final,” she reminded him.

  He kept his gaze steady on her face. “Yes. Until then.”

  Turning away from her, he reached for the suitcases still outside the room, brought them in. “Now, what can I do?”

  Allie leaned against the kitchen island, surveying the large room as Lucas prepared coffee. Miles of granite countertops, acres of rich oak cupboards, gleaming pots and pans hanging from wrought-iron hooks—the room made her own pint-sized kitchen seem like a broom closet.

  As he measured out coffee and water, Lucas stood with his back to her, the display of muscles under his shirt tempting her to touch. Working together in the close quarters of her room, watching him handling her clothes as he hung her dresses, blouses and slacks in the closet, had tautened the sensual thread that always seemed to run between them.

  Once when she’d looked over her shoulder at him, she’d caught him with one of her silk shirts in his hands, fingers caressing the delicate fabric while he stared thoughtfully at her. He’d looked away quickly, leaving her with her heart beating crazily, fingers trembling as she continued to stow her things in the dresser.

  Now he turned to face her, leaning against the kitchen counter while the coffee brewed. “What do you take in your coffee?”

  The simple query seemed layered with meaning. There was nothing intimate about a cup of coffee, but in that charged atmosphere, he might as well be asking her preferences in bed.

  Elbows resting on the granite-topped island, Allie crossed her arms over her middle. “Two sugars.” She laughed softly. “We’re marrying in less than a week and we don’t even know how we each take our coffee.”