Читать книгу Bossman's Baby Scandal / Executive's Pregnancy Ultimatum - Catherine Mann - Страница 13

Loneliness echoed around her in the empty bedroom.

Lauren slumped against the closed door, Jason’s footsteps growing softer as he made his way to his recliner. Sure, she jammed too much furniture and plant life into her apartment back in Manhattan, but this space? It was beyond sparse.

A mattress on a frame.

One brass side table for a lamp and alarm clock.

And a closet full of clothes hanging from the racks and neatly folded on the shelves.

She pitched her purse on the bed, the bag bouncing to rest on the brown-and-blue comforter. Again the ring rolled out like a bad penny that kept turning up. Lauren placed it on the brass table. The generic piece of furniture.

Damn it, she didn’t want to feel sorry for him. Jason was known as a shark in the business world, and stakes were too high for her to be caught unawares. But something about this place made her sad, made her want to bring flowers and color and noise to his world.

His whole house looked forlorn, for that matter, all the sadder given the home absolutely shouted out for love and attention, parties and family. Although he did have two bar stools in the kitchen. Had they come with the place or had be bought them with the notion of entertaining someone?

Kneeling, she unzipped her suitcase and pulled out the silky nightshirt that still fit. But for how much longer? She smoothed a hand over the growing curve of her stomach. Certainly not femme fatale material.

Her eyes scanned the empty walls, the barren bay window that cried out for a pair of comfy chairs, perfect for a couple watching a sunrise together. But other than those bar stools, it didn’t appear he’d brought anyone here.

Anyone except her.

He knew she hadn’t been dating anybody for the last six months he’d lived in New York—but he had been. Well, up until a couple of months before he’d left, that was. She wouldn’t have slept with a guy who was seeing someone else, no matter how swept up into the attraction she may have felt.

Lauren peeled off her travel-weary clothes and slid the nightshirt over her head. The silky fabric teased her breasts to pebbly peaks, leaving her achy. Wanting. God, it would be so easy to walk down those stairs and satisfy the ache between her legs.

She eyed the door and actually considered taking what she wanted. She even stepped forward. Her toe hooked on the strap to her computer bag.

Her computer. Her work. She needed to remember her reason for coming here in the first place—to give herself time to plan, to save her business, to save her pride.

Too bad a laptop and pride made for very chilly bedfellows.

Jason stepped over the serpentine computer cord, Lauren’s laptop closed and resting on the bedside table by his alarm clock. The ring box sat by the clock, closed. Her ring finger was still bare. She’d agreed to be his fiancée, even flown to California, but she hadn’t committed one hundred percent to the plan.

He set the breakfast tray on the corner of the mattress and took his time studying the sleeping woman in his bed. Her auburn hair was spread over the brown cotton pillowcase, the sheets tangled around her legs. Her lemon-yellow nightshirt rucked up to the top of her thighs. He remembered well how soft those legs were to the touch, how strong when wrapped around his waist, insistently urging him along. Keeping his hands to himself with her in his space all the time was going to be tougher than he’d expected, but the game went to those who were patient.

Jason sat on the edge and indulged himself by stroking her hair away from her face. He hated to disturb her, but also didn’t want to leave her alone in a strange place without checking on her. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

She rolled to her back and stretched, the nightshirt pulling taut over the growing curve of her stomach. Feeling the baby move the other day had been … amazing. And unsettling.

Persuading Lauren to stay became all the more important.

Her eyes flickered open, vague and unfocused. She smiled, reaching up to him, and just that damn fast he forgot about careful plans and brushed a kiss over each beautiful eye. Her soft skin enticed him to hang around a while longer, kiss the tip of her nose, her chin. He would have liked to work his way lower, but she wasn’t fully awake yet, and he wanted her aware and consenting the next time they had sex.

She wriggled slowly, sensuously, beneath him, waking him up hard and fast, harder still as she sighed sweetly. He rested his forehead against hers.

And then she froze, her eyes snapping open wide. “Jason—” she shoved at his chest and slid to the side “—I thought I told you to stay out of my bed.”

He eased back, frustration pulsing through his veins. Patience. “You’re in my bed, remember?”

“A technicality.” She tugged her nightshirt down to her knees with one hand and pulled the sheet up higher with her other.

“I remember you being more of a morning person.” He lifted the black lacquer tray from the corner of the bed.

“That was back when my stomach didn’t live in my throat.” She eyed the breakfast tray packed with juice, milk, toast and eggs. “Thanks, though. This is nice of you.”

“I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.”

“I’m better now. At least I can keep food down.” She plucked up a piece of toast and nibbled at the corner.

Content she was going to eat, he stood, for the first time in … well, ever wanting to delay leaving for the office. “I’ll be back at lunchtime.”

“You don’t need to. I can entertain myself.” She sipped her milk. “I have work on the computer and calls to make.”

“All right, then. We’ll meet up for supper. Tomorrow I need to introduce you to my boss, and there’s a big shindig in the evening later this week.”

“Ah, so I’ll get to meet the people who don’t like the fact that you have a pregnant girlfriend.” She scrunched her slim nose. “Great. I can’t wait.”

“Actually it’s the client who has the problem, not my coworkers.” He tugged a tie out of the closet, slid it under his collar and began knotting it.

“Oh, that’s right. The old-fashioned guy.”

He flipped his collar back in place and reached for his suit jacket, the intimacy of the morning stealing over him and she’d only been in his house one night. “It’s his money to spend how he chooses. If we want his account—and we do—then we have to play by his rules, especially with Golden Gate Promotions nipping at our heels. Surely the businesswoman inside you understands that.”

“I hear what you’re saying.”

“It would really help convince people to buy into our engagement if you would wear this.” He scooped the ring box off the table and placed it on her breakfast tray. Winning a point was all about the presentation. If he offered her the diamond nestled in his palm, it seemed too much like a real proposal. Hopefully, by casually dropping it on the tray, she would feel less crowded.

Lauren nudged the box with the tip of her index finger. “You can’t really expect to marry someone just to please a business associate.”

Her question churning in his brain, he decided honesty would work best. She was smart and insightful, two things he enjoyed most about her.

“Honestly, Lauren, I’m not sure how far I would go with this. I’m still taking things a day at a time, working to make the best decision possible to secure the baby’s future, which means smoothing out your world and mine. Making the engagement as official as possible—including flashing this ring around—will go a long way toward taking care of those concerns. It could keep your mother off your back for a while, too.”

Lauren lightly punched his arm. “Now you’re playing dirty pool.”

“I’m a man on a mission.” He tapped the little velvet box.

She hugged her knees and stared at the ring as if it was a bomb, not a three-carat, flawless rock.

Nice. He restrained the urge to laugh. Especially since it really wasn’t all that funny.

Lauren tore her eyes from the ring. “What will I say if someone asks when we’re getting married?”

He cricked his neck from side to side, working out the stress already knotting its way up and it wasn’t even seven o’clock yet. “Tell them your mother is planning the wedding. Tell them we’re looking for a date that fits in with our work schedules. Tell them we’re thinking about bolting to Vegas and will keep them posted.”

She scooped up the box and held the ring so it reflected the morning light streaming through the stained-glass window. “You’re really, really good at lying.”

Lying? He prided himself on being a man who stuck to the truth, even if he did his best to make that truth something others would buy into. “I’m just an ad man spinning the product.”

She stayed silent, but her eyes said loud and clear she thought he was lying to himself.

Steam from the shower still coating the air, Lauren tucked the towel more snugly around her body and raced to the telephone. God, she felt like a teenager rushing to catch a call from a guy.

Gasping, she snatched up her cell phone from the bedside table, her wet hair a dripping rope over her shoulder. “Hello?”

Her mother’s voice popped through the airwaves, loud, high-pitched and frantic. “Lauren, I got a call from the lawyer for Aunt Eliza’s estate today.”

Lauren dropped to the edge of the bed, her stomach knotting as she mentally kicked herself for not checking caller ID. “Why is he speaking with you, instead of phoning me directly?”

Could something actually be wrong? The money from Aunt Eliza’s estate had already been transferred to her—and stolen by the crooked accountant.

“He said he’s looking for you and can’t find you. Where are you?”

“I’m on a business trip, but I have my cell phone and am checking e-mail. I’ll give him a call. Thank you for the heads-up,” she said quickly, hoping to end the conversation.

“Dear, he says you’re having financial troubles.”

Lauren measured her words carefully. Her parents had plenty of money and didn’t hesitate to share it with her, which was generous. Except that money came with big strings attached. And quite frankly, she didn’t want to be a trust-fund kid, living her entire life off Mom and Dad’s hard work, never accomplishing anything on her own. “Things are tight at work, but I’m settling that out.”

“Tight? Most businesses fail in their first year, you know, dear.” Her mom’s jeweled glasses chain clicked in the background as she fidgeted.

“Yes, Mother. I know the statistics.” And she prayed her business wouldn’t add to the failed numbers on that list. “Thank you for passing along the message.”

Jacqueline pressed ahead. “You know, I’m going to call my accountant to talk to you. Make sure to keep your cell phone with you.”

“Thank you, Mom, but I can handle it.” And she would. She hugged her towel closer, shivering.

“You’ve never been good with money, dear.”

Staying silent, she bit her lip. Hard. The barb dug deeper than her teeth.

Her mother continued. “Remember when you blew your entire savings on that watch?”

“Mom—” the words bubbled up in spite of the fact she knew better than to argue with her mom on a rant “—I was in the third grade. My savings fit in a piggy bank.”

Her mother’s voice cracked on the start of a sob. “Of course. What do I know? I only care about you.” Jacqueline gasped again and again between words, her voice bobbling. “There’s no need to attack me. You’re just like your father, always picking, picking, picking at everything I do.”

“Mom, I’m sorry—”

“Yes, well, at least I have somewhere to go to relieve the stress. Did I tell you about my new vacation home?”

Lauren closed her eyes. Already weary and it wasn’t even lunchtime. Her mother’s mood swings were nothing new, but exhausting all the same. She just listened and hmmmed when her mother shared the details of the latest perfect place to get away to.

Which actually meant a new place to start over, since she’d alienated the people in her old vacation community. Lauren had seen it play out time and time again. While she half listened to her mother, she stared at the little velvet box.

Jason had been so calmly helpful in dealing with her mother. He’d helped her with her business troubles and her mother. He was certainly trying to understand what she needed, as well, even down to small details like the flowers in her office and the toast for the morning.

His reasons for becoming engaged might feel calculated, but what did she really have to lose by simply wearing his ring? Just by sliding that diamond on her finger, she could help him secure his job, which made for a more secure future for their baby. He was already doing everything he could to help stabilize her business, too.

She slipped the velvet box from the side table. The ring winked suggestively from the bed of velvet.

It was just a formality, really. She was here, in his house, pregnant with his child. What did it matter if she wore the ring?

Phone tucked under her chin, Lauren slid the ring in place and closed her fist. She knew this was the right thing to do, but the thought of sitting around here all day staring at that ring and second-guessing herself made her nerves churn so fast she feared losing her toast.

Jason wanted his office to know about their engagement. He’d given her time to gain her footing even though the delay could cost him. So why bother waiting? She could meet the people he worked with and even surprise Jason with a casual meal out where they could start on their path of a smoother relationship for the baby’s sake.

Decision made, she stood. “Mom, it’s been great talking to you, but I have a lunch date I just can’t miss.”

Staring out the taxi window, Lauren took in the towering white buildings of Union Square’s posh shopping district. Somewhere in that concrete jungle with palm trees waited Maddox Communications. She’d done more research on the Internet about MC before leaving Jason’s house. She was a businesswoman in her own right and knew to arm herself as well as possible before entering any new camp.

The Maddox patriarch, James, had founded Maddox Communications more than fifty years ago. He’d married Carol Flynn and they’d had two sons: Brock and Flynn, who each went into the family business. When James died eight years ago, Brock took over the helm, with his brother acting as vice president.

Lauren leaned forward, reading signs, watching for Powell Street, and, more important, the building referred to as The Maddox. Finally the cab cruised to a stop in front of the seven-story, Beaux Arts–style building constructed in 1910. The article she’d found said the building had been set for demolition when James Maddox saved it from the wrecking ball and had it lovingly restored in the late seventies.

Now the building was reputed to be worth ten times his purchase price.

She tipped the cabbie and stepped out of the taxi. Automatic doors whooshed wide. The first floor was home to the trendy New American cuisine restaurant Iron Grille and several retail stores. At the elevator, she consulted the building legend and found the second and third floors were rented out to other businesses.

Floors five and six were the corporate offices. Directions indicated that clients and visitors to Maddox Communications should enter the offices on the sixth floor.

Elevator Muzak piped jazz horns, floors chiming smoothly and quickly. The elevator opened directly to a reception desk and total opulence and edginess, from the black-stained oak floors to the stark white walls with original art. Two seventy-inch plasma screens sat on either side of the large reception desk, showing videos/commercials with a small scroll of words along the bottom proclaiming they’d been produced by Maddox Communications.

Jason had landed well in his new job. A sense of pride in his accomplishment beyond his parents’ wealth stirred. She sure understood how tough it could be to step out of the shadow of influential parents to make your own mark in the world.

Lauren’s low heels clicked along the high-sheened floors.

The receptionist smiled. “Welcome to Maddox Communications.” Her short brown hair swished with every perky twitch of her head. “How can I help you?”

Lauren glanced down at the woman’s name plate—Shelby—and smiled. “Hello, Shelby, I’m here to see Jason Reagert. My name’s Lauren Presley.”

“Yes, ma’am, if you’ll wait over there?” She gestured to the large white leather sofas.

Lauren flickered her thumb over the engagement ring nervously as butterflies stirred. Shelby eyed her with undisguised curiosity. Lauren’s stomach flipped again.

Suddenly Lauren wasn’t so sure this had been a good idea, after all. What kind of game had she been expecting to play? She’d wanted to show Jason she was in charge and had only succeeded in looking erratic.

She cringed inside. Maybe she should just leave. She inched her purse around to cover her stomach, starting to stand.

A shadow stretched from the hall and she hesitated. Was it Jason already?

A lean man, around forty with black hair, came into sight, stern and very obviously not Jason. The man stopped at the desk, passing a note, his voice low. Lauren decided to make her big escape—

Shelby whispered back and pointed to Lauren. He straightened and walked toward her. Damn.

He extended his hand. “Hello, I’m Brock Maddox.” The CEO. The big boss and obviously one confident son of a gun. “I understand you’re here to see our wonderboy.”

Busted. She shook his hand. “Lauren Presley. I’m a friend of Jason’s. I’m also a graphic designer. We worked together on a couple of projects back in New York.”

He eyed her stomach briefly. Sheesh. Was it that obvious? Apparently so. “Are you in San Francisco on work or vacation?”

“Both,” she answered noncommittally. “Shelby was just about to let Jason know I’m here.”

“Follow me. You can surprise him.” Brock gestured over his shoulder and began plowing deeper into the Maddox offices, making low small talk she barely registered.

She was committed now to seeing this through. She quelled her nerves as he stopped in front of a door with a brass plate: Jason Reagert.

Inhaling a bracing breath, she pushed open the door and stopped short. Jason stood with his back to her—with a woman. A smiling, stunningly beautiful red-haired woman who had her hand placed intimately on his arm.

Fluttering nerves morphed into stone-still anger and a possessiveness that unnerved her to the tips of her toes.

He couldn’t actually be seeing someone else? For a guy who cared about causing a scandal at work, he sure was playing with fire on a lot of levels.

Lauren stiffened her spine, feeling as frozen as the chill seeping into her heart. As she took in the couple standing together in his sleek office full of nautical prints, she couldn’t believe she’d actually allowed herself to be hopeful simply because he’d brought her some toast and milk.

God, she was too easy. She’d had it with passively letting people walk all over her—her mother, her accountant, now Jason. She twirled the ring on her finger. At least she’d gotten a wake-up call when it came to the father of her baby.

He’d brought her here, damn it. And she wasn’t going to scamper off like some scared rabbit. He wanted a fiancée? He was about to get one. Big-time.

“Hey there, lover.” Lauren rested her hands on her stomach. “I’m absolutely starving. Are you ready for lunch?”