The Boss's Baby Bargain

by Karen Sandler

  Lucas slid the wedding ring on her finger, and she gazed down at it, the concrete symbol of their promise. That the promise would only last a year or two she banished from her mind.

  Then the pastor invited the groom to kiss his bride, and Lucas reached for Allie’s veil. His hands trembled a little as they pulled away the gray tulle, then smoothed it behind her head. He paused a moment before he leaned in, and Allie couldn’t take a breath.

  As he lowered his lips to hers, Allie was starkly aware this would be the first time he had touched her since her visit to his house last week. She felt grateful for their audience, that there was something to keep their passion from flaring out of control.

  He pressed his lips to hers, enough to satisfy the tradition of a kiss, not nearly enough to quench Allie’s thirst. As he drew back, she had to squelch the urge to throw her arms around him and haul him back against her. Instead she turned to her sister to retrieve her bouquet, then with Lucas beside her, she faced the sparsely filled pews.

  Behind her, Reverend Harmon beamed. “I now introduce to you Mr. and Mrs. Taylor.”

  Allie Taylor. That cemented their commitment like nothing else. When he’d asked if she would take his name, she had said yes without equivocation. It had immediately seemed right and now the magnitude of what she’d done washed over her.

  At Lucas’s urging, she started back down the aisle with the wedding march swelling on the organ. Pale-pink rose petals cushioned her feet with each step, but her greatest awareness centered on Lucas’s hand gripping hers. When they stepped out into the autumn sunshine, rice showered them, thrown with gusto by her nieces and nephews.

  She turned to face her sister and brother, their spouses and her grinning nieces and nephews. And with the suddenness of a thunderclap, she lost her tenuously balanced control and burst into tears.

  Lucas stood alone in the quiet of the Cocina Caldera kitchen, the hum of voices drifting through the doors from the dining room beyond. He didn’t like to think he was hiding, but in bald truth he was. He needed this brief space to breathe, to let the day’s events settle inside him.

  His suit jacket hanging on a chair in the dining room, his shirtsleeves rolled up and his tie loosened, he should have been the picture of relaxation. But although the ceremony was finished and the post-wedding celebration was winding down, every fiber of his being felt on edge.

  He knew why, could spell the answer out in five letters—Allie. His new wife. The woman he’d married not for love but for convenience. And yet he couldn’t shake loose the vision of her when he had first seen her at the church, moving up the aisle toward him.

  Settling against the butcher-block counter beside him, he surrendered to the memory, closed his eyes and let the image come. He recalled the stuttering of his heart, the overwhelming awe of her beauty. In that instant, he’d felt like kneeling at her feet, pouring out his gratitude that she would be his wife.

  His fervor had shaken him bone-deep. His response to Allie had caught him entirely off guard.

  The clatter of the kitchen doors snapped his eyes open. Inez, her hands full of dirty plates, grinned at him. “Looking forward to the night to come, guapo?”

  His stomach lurched and his groin tightened at the thought of a wedding night with Allie. He scowled at Inez as she slid the dishes into a waiting bus tray. “Just looking for a little time alone,” he said pointedly.

  “With your new bride?” Inez poked him in the ribs. “¿La primera noche?”

  The first night. But there wouldn’t be a first night with Allie. Not if he kept his head, upheld his solemn promise. His heart thundered in his chest, showing him just how tenuous his grip was on his libido.

  He raked a hand through his hair. “Sometimes you’re just too damned personal, Inez.”

  Her expression softened and she gave his hand a squeeze. “Hey, Lucas, I’m sorry. You never could take the teasing.”

  He clumsily patted her hand. “This is just a little new to me.”

  Her brow furrowed. “Not so new. There was Carol, remember?”

  He shook his head. “Carol was…” He tried to frame the words. A thousand years ago and a million miles from the enigma of Allie. “Carol was different.”

  “Because you didn’t love her,” Teresa declared as she carried a half-empty platter of pork carnitas into the kitchen. “This one you love. This one is la esposa de tu alma.”

  His soul mate. But she wasn’t; she was only his temporary wife. But he couldn’t tell that to Teresa. She’d gotten so much joy from his marriage, from the chance to host this party.

  There was really no point in telling her the truth. Let her believe his and Allie’s union was a love match. When they parted later, Teresa would deal with it, just as she had with Carol.

  So he smiled at Teresa, let her tug him down to her diminutive height so she could kiss his cheek. “Buena suerte, mijo,” she said.

  Allie watched from the kitchen doorway as Teresa went up on tiptoes to press a kiss to Lucas’s cheek. The older woman’s wish for good luck Allie understood; the other word, mijo, was unfamiliar. The softness in Lucas’s eyes as he gazed down at Teresa was just as foreign to Allie.

  He straightened, spotting her in the doorway; the tenderness vanished in a heartbeat. He glanced quickly at Teresa then back at Allie as if to assess whether she’d seen the older woman’s gesture. Allie doubted Lucas would feel comfortable knowing she had.

  Seeing Allie, Teresa beamed, pride lighting her weathered face. As if she simply couldn’t contain her joy, she enveloped Allie in a hug, then planted a kiss on her cheek. Gesturing to her daughter, Inez, she hurried out. Inez winked at Lucas as she departed, then Allie and Lucas were alone.

  She approached him hesitantly. “It’s after nine. I thought we ought to go, let the Calderas close up.”

  He checked his watch, and she saw his surprise when he registered the time. “Sorry. I didn’t know it was so late.”

  His glower was spoiled by the red imprint of Teresa’s lipstick on his cheek. “Good thing I saw Teresa kiss you.” She reached up, rubbed with her fingers. The beginnings of a beard rasped under her fingertips. “Or I might be jealous.”

  The words came out in a breathy whisper. She couldn’t seem to touch him without reacting.

  Color rose in his face. Embarrassment? Or something else? “She’s very demonstrative.” He swiped at his cheek.

  “You two seem very close.” Allie grabbed a paper napkin, cleaned the bit of lipstick from her thumb. “You must be longtime friends.”

  He gave her a noncommittal shrug. “Let’s get going.”

  The lightest touch on her shoulder turned her toward the double doors, the skirt of her gown swirling around her ankles. A frisson of awareness shot up her spine as he walked close behind her into the dining room. She could feel the heat of his hand hovering at the small of her back where the low-cut dress left her skin bare. Dangerous, impossible visions tumbled in her mind.

  Allie shook off the images, focused instead on her family seated around the cluttered table. Sherril sat with shoes off, her feet in her husband’s lap. Pete rubbed Sherril’s feet while her youngest, Daniel, snuggled in the curve of her arm, leaning against her belly. Teresa cradled Stephen’s infant girl, Juliana, while his wife, Anne, looked on in serene approval. Stephen’s three-year-old, Patrick, chattered away at Lucas’s friend, John, the one-way conversation ranging from the latest superhero craze to favorite dinosaurs to the icky stuff his baby sister did. John’s attention wavered between Patrick’s jet-speed talk and dark-eyed Inez’s enigmatic smile.

  Watching them all, a bittersweet longing filled Allie. This was what she’d always looked forward to having when she married, the sweet chaos of children and family. She should be looking forward tonight to a full life with the man beside her, to all the joys and sorrows, triumphs and failures life brought. Instead, an ending loomed in her future before she’d even started.

  Allie moved around the table, leaning to kiss her sister
’s cheek, give Daniel’s head a pat, then moving on to give her brother a hug. Behind her, Lucas murmured his goodbyes, shaking Pete’s hand, then Stephen’s and John’s.

  As they drifted toward the door, the ebullient Patrick raced across the room toward Lucas. “Are you my uncle now?”

  Allie could see the fascination in Lucas’s face, his avid interest in the small, pugnacious boy standing before him. Lucas smiled. “Yes, I am.”

  Patrick thrust his hand out for Lucas to shake. “Welcome to the family, Uncle Lucas.”

  Lucas seemed stunned, then to Allie’s surprise, he went down on one knee to meet Patrick eye-to-eye. “Thank you,” he said, shaking the boy’s hand.

  When Patrick flung his arms around his new uncle, Lucas hesitated only an instant before hugging the boy back. Then Patrick broke away, dancing back to his mother.

  With his gaze still on Patrick, Lucas rose to his feet, groped for Allie’s hand. One last nod to her family and he led her from the restaurant and into the cool autumn night.

  Lucas pulled up the drive to his house, acutely aware of Allie seated beside him in the Mercedes. He’d navigated the short distance from Fair Oaks to Granite Bay on automatic, his senses too full of Allie—her scent, the soft curves of her body—to even think. Now, as he stopped at the garage and clicked the door open, images crowded his mind of her in his arms, melting against him as he kissed her, touched her.

  Gripping the wheel, he guided the Mercedes into the garage and cut the engine. This was a moment he’d both dreaded and anticipated—bringing Allie home as his wife. Even knowing the limits of their marriage, he couldn’t seem to drive from his mind the forbidden possibilities.

  She sighed, a tantalizing sound. Huddled in the suit jacket he’d given her against the chill autumn air, she rested her head against the seat, her eyes closed. Her upswept hair had come loose on the sides and the temptation to stroke it back behind her ears overpowered him.

  But he didn’t touch her. He opened the car door and the dome light illuminated her face. “Tired?” he asked.

  She groaned. “I could sleep a week.”

  He jiggled the car keys in his hand. “You could still take the time off.”

  She turned toward him, looking up at him. “What about you?”

  He shook his head. “I can’t. There’s the Golden Snack deal, and the fiscal year-end reports.”

  Her gaze was fixed on him, her direct green eyes mesmerizing. “Then I can’t, either. I’d rather be…”

  With you, his mind finished for her. I’d rather be with you.

  She turned away. “I’d rather be at the office.”

  Of course. She wouldn’t want to neglect her work. “Good. Just as well. Not the best time to take off.”

  He slid from the car, rounding it to open her door, take her hand and help her from the car. His jacket slid from one shoulder and when he grabbed it to pull it back into place, his wrist grazed her bare back.

  Hot sensation shot straight to his core. He backed away to put space between them. “Allie.”

  Already moving toward the door leading to the house, she turned to him, exhaustion lining her face. He ought to leave this until tomorrow, but her tiredness would work in his favor. She had less energy to argue.

  He gestured her over to the rose-gray Volvo parked between the Mercedes and his Explorer. Opening the door, he picked up the set of keys on the front seat, dangled them out to her.

  “What is this?” she asked.

  He pulled her hand toward him, pressed the keys into it. “Your new car.”

  Her eyes narrowed on him. “I have a car. My Buick.”

  “I had it towed to a wrecking yard earlier today.”

  Her mouth dropped open. The jacket slipped from her shoulder again as she straightened. “You did what?”

  “Had it towed.” He tried to reach for her, to pull the jacket up, but she jerked away from him.

  “How could you?” Her hand closed in a fist around the keys. “That was my car.”

  “For God’s sake, Allie, it was a death trap.”

  “It was my car,” she repeated, her voice trembling. She stood silent a moment, eyes brimming with tears, then she threw the keys to the ground. “Damn you, Lucas Taylor.”

  Before he could take another breath, she was gone, and the slamming of the door to the house rang in his ears. His jacket lay crumpled in front of the Mercedes where it had fallen from her shoulders. The keys to the Volvo had landed under the car; he had to fish for them to retrieve them.

  Keys biting into his hand, Lucas sank into the driver’s seat of the Volvo, the plush leather upholstery giving under his weight. Good God, how could such a simple thing go so wrong?

  He’d only wanted her to be safe, to have a reliable car to drive. He’d suspected she’d object to him giving it to her, which was why he’d disposed of her Buick without her knowing. Presented with a fait accompli, he’d thought she would accept the gift more willingly.

  Yet he’d only managed to bring her to tears—for a second time today. The first, after the wedding ceremony, had seemed more than the usual high emotions of a new bride. He’d apparently let her down there. Somehow, in the course of the ritual, she’d needed something, asked him for it. But he hadn’t even the slightest clue what she wanted him to give her.

  So he gave her a damn car instead. No wonder she’d run into the house sobbing. He’d demonstrated for probably the hundredth time that he lacked what it took to be a husband. More than ready to be her lover—even now his body clamored for release in her sweetness—he hadn’t the first notion how to be her beloved.

  That hadn’t been part of the deal, but still the realization burned in the pit of his stomach like bile. He’d failed again at making Allie happy. He would no doubt fail as well in doing right by a child. What the hell did he think he was doing, marrying her?

  Heart heavy, his feet leaden, he locked up the Volvo and followed Allie into the house.

  Chapter Seven

  After that inauspicious start, Allie’s life with Lucas settled into a deceptive equanimity. They rode into work together, performed their routine tasks as they had before the marriage, drove back home together at the end of the day. They shared the meal Mrs. Vasquez had prepared for them, discussing the details of the day as if they were business partners who happened to be cohabiting.

  But in Allie there was always the breathless anticipation of waiting for the other shoe to fall. Lucas never touched her in those first two weeks of their marriage, other than to take her hand to help her in and out of the car. He never said a word that could be construed as even remotely intimate, not at work, not at home. In fact, other than the short drive to work and home and the hour or so they spent at dinner, she was rarely in his company.

  She might have thought the marriage would work exactly as they had planned if it weren’t for those moments she caught him looking at her.

  Sometimes it would happen in a meeting, when she sat with him in a room crowded with people. She would glance up at him from her laptop, see his gaze fixed on her, the heat of it searing her from head to toe. Or at the dinner table, as she raised a forkful of some rich dessert left for them by Mrs. Vasquez, the hunger in his gray eyes would consume her. It would be all she could do not to answer that hunger, not to step around the table to his side, let him pull her into his arms.

  Even now, as she sat here in the sun-washed breakfast nook, her bagel uneaten on her plate, she waited for his scorching hot glance. Despite the peril of letting those feelings flash between them, she’d become addicted to the sensual rush.

  He didn’t disappoint her. As he lifted his coffee, he passed his gaze over her, as palpable as a touch. Allie could feel the heat rise in her cheeks, her breath becoming shorter. A tingle started up her spine and she imagined it was his fingertips, drawing a line of sensation over the length of her back.

  He slammed down the mug, sloshing coffee, then sprang to his feet. Covering the short distance to the kitchen in
three long strides, he grabbed a towel and dried his hand. Then with the kitchen island between them, he turned to her.

  “I have to drive down to Modesto this afternoon,” he said, tossing aside the towel. “I won’t be back until late this evening.”

  Allie had sat in on enough conference calls to know TaylorMade’s problems with the Modesto plant had gotten worse the last two weeks, despite Lucas’s best efforts. “Did you need me with you?”

  She hadn’t intended to, but her tone colored the question differently, more personally—Lucas, do you need me? Despite her better sense, she held her breath waiting for an answer.

  His palms were planted on the kitchen island. She saw something flicker in his face and wondered if he’d heard her unvoiced plea. Then he pushed away from the island, retrieved the towel from the kitchen counter.

  “No.” He rubbed at his hands again, as if he hadn’t done a thorough enough job before. “I need you more in the office. Might need some reports, documents faxed down to Modesto.”

  “Fine.” Allie rose from the table, took her plate and dumped the bagel and cream cheese into the trash. “We’d better get going, then.”

  The towel twisted in his hands. “We can’t drive in together. I won’t be able to bring you home.”

  Of course. That was what he’d been leading up to. She’d have to drive in alone in the Volvo.

  Her stomach tightened in rebellion. She hadn’t so much as sat in the car in the time since their wedding. Anger still nipped at her that he’d high-handedly sold her Buick out from under her.

  But it couldn’t be helped. She’d have to drive the car, accept the gift. She lifted her gaze to his. “Where are the keys?”

  He reached into his pocket, brought them out. He placed them into her outstretched hand.

  Dropping the keys into her skirt pocket, Allie moved to the dishwasher, slid her plate inside. “Thank you.”

  “Allie.”

  She hesitated before turning toward him. “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry.” He looked away, his gaze raking the ceiling before returning to her face. “It seems I’m always apologizing for something with you.”