Читать книгу The Boss's Baby Bargain - Karen Sandler - Страница 11

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.

Which sent her thoughts marching in a perilous direction. She edged away from him, headed for the door. She could feel his eyes on her every step, but couldn’t quite meet his gaze. “Is lunch still…do you still want to…?”

“When are my appointments finished?”

“Twelve-thirty.” She chanced a quick glance at him. The softness she’d seen before in him had gone, replaced by his usual icy calm.

“Twelve-thirty, then.”

He retrieved his chair and lowered himself into it. She reached for the door.

“Allie.”

The gentleness of his tone drew her back around. Arms across her middle, she faced him. Something flickered in his eyes, emotions that seemed to struggle to the surface before sinking again into the mystery that was Lucas Taylor.

He dropped his gaze, shuffled papers into the file folder on his desk. “I’ll need that production cost spreadsheet for the eleven o’clock sales meeting.”

He’d shut himself off again, reverting to the businessman. He so easily suppressed the emotions that still had her in turmoil.

Irritation gnawed at her. “How many copies?” she snapped out.

“Ten should do it.”

He still kept his gaze fixed on the file folder as if it revealed some crucial secret. Despite the bland neutrality of his expression, tension gripped him, holding him so tightly Allie’s heart ached for him.

Her irritation faded away. “I’ll have them ready for you in ten minutes.”

She slipped from his office, moved to sit at her desk. As she connected her laptop with her desktop computer, she tried to untangle the confusion inside her. But when it came to Lucas Taylor, nothing was simple.

With a sigh, Allie brought up the spreadsheet program and with an effort of will, threw herself into her work.

At exactly twelve-thirty, Lucas returned from the sales meeting and strode to her desk. “Let’s go,” he demanded.

In the process of transferring figures from the quarterly marketing report to a spreadsheet, Lucas’s command splintered Allie’s hard-won concentration. She pressed the wrong key and deleted the last hour’s work. “Damn!”

She glared up at Lucas, then quickly clicked the Undo command. Banging at the keyboard, she saved her work and set her laptop on standby. With an angry jerk she pulled open her desk drawer and grabbed her purse.

She seethed silently in the elevator. He seemed oblivious to her anger. When they reached the ground floor, he laid his hand lightly at the small of her back and guided her through the lobby.

“We’ll visit my jeweler after lunch.” He opened the lobby door for her, stepping aside to let her go first. “We haven’t selected rings yet. I’d rather have you there since I don’t know your preferences.”

The midday heat scorched her in the first few steps outside the building’s air-conditioned comfort. She couldn’t hold in her agitation an instant longer. Whirling to stand in his path, she stopped his forward progress.

“My preference is that you treat me with a modicum of respect and courtesy. My preference is that you remember I’m not a serf you can order to do your bidding.”

He gazed down at her, his expression baffled. “What are you talking about?”

She clenched her jaw and looked away a moment to gather her patience, then she returned her gaze to his. “If you hadn’t noticed, I was working in there, doing your work as a matter of fact. In the time I’ve been employed by you I’ve put up with your arrogance because you were my boss.”

She pointed a finger at him, prodded him in the chest for emphasis. “You’re still my boss. But if we go through with this crazy idea of a marriage, I want you to ask politely, not bark out an order.”

Before she could take another breath, his hand flew up to capture hers. He held it against his chest, his lips thinning with what looked like the genesis of anger. For an instant, he was her father, his rage at her impertinence a storm brewing inside him. It had happened every time she’d stood up to him, asserted herself as an individual. And even knowing this was Lucas, not her father, she couldn’t help the first tendrils of insecurity winding around her stomach.

Even as she tensed for the anticipated explosion, his mouth relaxed, his lips softening and curving into a faint smile. “I’m sorry,” he said, his thumb moving against the back of her hand. “I’m too much a creature of habit.”

Relief flooded her, even as her body responded to the stroking of his thumb, to his gaze fixed briefly on her mouth. She supposed she should pull her hand away, but it felt so pleasant enfolded in his, resting lightly against his chest. He’d worn a pale-gray shirt today and she imagined gliding her palm along the crisp smoothness, shaping the musculature underneath.

“Thank you,” she said, not sure what she was thanking him for. The sun beat down on them, rivaling the heat Lucas’s touch had set off in her. “I guess we should go.”

She thought he would release her hand, but he kept it in his, interlacing his fingers with hers. Her bare arm rubbed against the sleeve of his suit jacket as he kept pace with her.

Up ahead the parking lot steamed in the brilliant sunlight. When they reached his silver Mercedes, he paused before pulling out his keys, raised her hand again to his chest. “It’s been a long time since I’ve held a woman’s hand.”

His comment startled her. She knew he hadn’t been without a woman for long; he’d been dating someone as recently as late spring. The woman had come into the office a half dozen times, a tall edgy blonde who apparently owned a high-power consulting firm in downtown Sacramento. Allie tried to remember if she’d ever seen Lucas holding the woman’s hand. She could only recall the blonde’s stunning looks, how striking a couple she and Lucas had made.

Yet another puzzle piece that didn’t seem to fit. Lucas brushed his lips against her knuckles, sending a tremor through her, then let go to fish the car keys out of his pocket. He opened the passenger-side door, helping her in before rounding the car to the driver’s side.

As they pulled out of the lot, Allie remembered what Lucas had said about the jeweler. “We don’t need rings,” she told him.

He didn’t even look her way, just glanced at the rearview mirror as he merged into traffic on Douglas Boulevard. “We’re getting rings.”

“I’ll just have to return mine when we…after.”

“You’ll keep it.”

Along with that ridiculous amount of money he was insisting she take. “Then we’ll just get plain bands. Something inexpensive.”

Brow arched, he shot his gaze her way, then returned his attention to his driving. Allie sighed, realizing he might have agreed to treat her with courtesy, but it wouldn’t change his attempts to run her life. She’d have to be constantly vigilant, or he might smother her very identity as her father had done for all those years.

Lucas saw the surprise in Allie’s face when they pulled up to the tiny Mexican restaurant he’d decided on for lunch. She’d expected something pricey and upscale, more like the Cliff House where they’d dined the night he’d proposed to her. Cocina Caldera was nearly a hole-in-the-wall by comparison, but the food was good, the service excellent. That he had a connection to the owner, Teresa Caldera, that he felt a certain comfort here he felt nowhere else was immaterial.

When they stepped inside the packed restaurant, Teresa Caldera and her daughter Inez greeted Lucas by name as they hurried by with steaming plates. As he and Allie waited for a table, Lucas shifted uneasily, wondering what Allie thought of the place, wondering if by being here he somehow revealed too much of his past.

Suddenly anxious to leave, he said, “It’s too crowded. We’ll try somewhere else.”

She smiled up at him. “I’m not in any hurry. This place smells wonderful.”

By now they’d edged their way up to the cash register where Teresa rang up a sale. The stout woman, her dark hair threaded with gray, grinned up at him. “Hola, guapo, ¿Cómo estás?”

“Bien,” he replied in automatic response to the familiar greeting.

Teresa gave Allie a pointed look, and Lucas felt suddenly awkward, like a teenager introducing his girlfriend to his parents for the first time. This was the only time he’d brought anyone but a business associate to the restaurant.

“This is Alison Dickenson, my administrative assistant. Allie, this is Teresa Caldera.”

The two women shook hands, then Teresa rushed off to pick up another order. Inez came to seat them and Lucas sank into the booth in relief.

As they scanned their menus, the crowd thinned out and the din quieted. Lucas could feel Allie’s gaze on him. He raised his eyes to hers.

“What?”

She shrugged. “You didn’t introduce me as your fiancée.”

Of course she’d noticed. “It slipped my mind.”

She eyed him in frank disbelief. “Nothing slips your mind, Lucas.”

“Teresa would have made a big deal over it. I didn’t want her fussing.”

“You must know her well to have her fuss over you like that.”

Damn Allie and her observant nature. “I eat here often,” Lucas said evenly as the plastic edges of the menu bit into his palms. “Teresa has a way of making her regulars family.”

Lucas could see she wanted to push the issue of Teresa. He set the menu down. “Are you ready to order?” Without waiting for her to answer, he signaled Inez.

Out of habit, he ordered in Spanish and Inez joked about his atrocious accent as she always did. She insisted he introduce Allie, her dark brow rising when he described Allie as “his good friend.” No doubt Inez would be comparing notes with Teresa back in the kitchen.

The questions seemed to pile up in Allie’s green eyes. While they waited for their food, Lucas kept Allie busy with questions about work, querying her about when she’d have the month-end reports ready.

When Inez brought their lunch, Lucas dove into his fajitas, focusing on piling strips of beef, red pepper and onion onto the flour tortillas. From the corner of his eye he could see Allie watching him.

“Is there something wrong with your molé?” he asked. “We can send it back.”

“The molé is fine,” Allie said. “But we’re kind of defeating the purpose here. The whole point to having lunch together was to get to know each other. We never will if we keep talking about work.”

He set down his fork. “What do you want to know?”

She smiled at him across the table. “I’d just like to learn a little more about you.”

Wariness crept into the pit of his stomach. “Like what?”

“Where you grew up, where your parents live, if you have brothers and sisters.”

Such ordinary questions, easy enough for most people to answer. But for him, they opened a can of worms he had no intention of opening. “I grew up in the Sacramento area. I have no brothers and sisters. My parents are dead.”

He could see the sympathy in her face. “I’m sorry. How long have they been gone?”

“A long time.” To cut short her inquiry, he turned the question around to her. “What about your family?”

“A brother and a sister. Both married, both have kids. I have four nieces and nephews with another on the way. My mom…” She looked away a moment, and grief flashed across her face. “She died a few years ago. My dad…he lives in Reno.”

“French Dickenson, right? Forbes did quite a write-up on him, what…ten years ago?”

“Twelve.” Her gaze dropped to her plate and she ran the tines of her fork through the thick molé sauce. “He was very proud of that article.”

The motion of Allie’s wrist as it bent and straightened, bent and straightened, snagged Lucas’s attention. He could imagine that same mesmerizing movement against his own body. Shaking the image off, he asked, “Is he still running Postal Express?”

Her hand froze. She kept her eyes on her plate. “No. He’s retired.”

Lucas could see something in her face…. Sorrow? Regret? He wanted to reach across the table, lay a soothing hand against her cheek. He squelched the impulse. “Will he be coming to the wedding?”

Now she did look up at him, eyes wide. “No!” She smiled, gesturing with her hand as if to take away the vehemence of her denial. “Traveling is difficult for him. He’s not in the best of health. Sherril, Stephen and I visit him on Sundays.”

Now it was his turn to be curious. He tried to remember what he might have read in the business-trade magazines about French Dickenson’s retirement. If there had been mention, it must have been small enough to have passed his notice.

“I’ll meet him later, then,” Lucas said.

She nodded, then bent her head to her lunch. She pushed more of it around on her plate than she actually ate. By the time Inez came to bring the check, Allie had slid the nearly full plate aside.

She laced her fingers together and rested them on the table, tipped her head up to him. “So you won’t have anyone to invite to the wedding. No family, I mean.”

Across the room, Teresa stood at the register. She smiled broadly, speculation clear in her lined face as she watched him with Allie. There were people he could invite—Teresa, her brother Guillermo, Inez. Until this moment it hadn’t crossed his mind. Until this moment, it hadn’t occurred to him how hurt Teresa would be to be excluded. He’d gone off to Tahoe to wed Carol and Teresa still nursed that pain. It had been enough of a disappointment that his chosen bride hadn’t been Inez.

Yet, by inviting the Calderas, Lucas risked opening a door to his past he’d long ago nailed shut. How would he explain to Allie what Teresa and Guillermo were to him without telling her the rest? Only by flat lies which his foster mother would never be party to.

Damn, he never should have brought Allie to Cocina Caldera. What had he been thinking?

Glancing at the check, Lucas tossed down a twenty and rose abruptly to his feet. “The jeweler’s expecting us.”

He put out his hand to help Allie from her seat, conscious all the time of Teresa’s eyes on him. As he followed Allie from the restaurant, he waved to Teresa and Inez, glad to escape from their scrutiny.

Allie looked thoughtful as she sat beside him in the Benz, as if she was considering all the evidence and waited for it to click into place. The leather-wrapped steering wheel went slick with the sweat of his palms.