Читать книгу Wanted by the Boss - Maureen Child, Kathie DeNosky - Страница 14

Eight

‘‘How long does it take, anyway?’’

Eileen shot Rick a dangerous look. ‘‘Three minutes, okay?’’ She’d already told him that several times, but, apparently, it wasn’t getting through. But then, she could sort of understand that. She, too, was feeling a wild mixture of panic and fear and expectation and even, if she was completely honest and why the hell not, since only she would know…excitement.

She was about to find out if she was going to be a mother, for Pete’s sake. A mother. Her. She’d given up on that particular little dream when she’d found Robert doing the horizontal cha-cha with the bimbo of the week. Eileen loved being an aunt to Bridie’s kids, and she’d long told herself that that was enough. That she didn’t need to actually give birth to feel complete. But she obviously hadn’t believed herself because here she stood, hoping she was pregnant and terrified to admit it.

She pulled in a long, deep breath, let it out slowly, then repeated, ‘‘Three minutes.’’

‘‘Longest three minutes of my life,’’ Rick muttered, and paced the confines of the short hallway outside the bathroom.

‘‘Well, contrary to public opinion,’’ she said as she watched him turn and pace in the other direction, ‘‘snapping people’s heads off does not make time fly.’’

He stopped and looked at her over his shoulder. ‘‘Sorry. It’s just…’’

‘‘Yeah, I know.’’ Eileen leaned one shoulder against the doorjamb and somehow resisted peeking in the bathroom door at the pregnancy test wand laying on the counter. She’d know soon enough. And when she knew…that would be the time for panic. And decision making. And maybe, for scraping Rick up off the floor.

No, she thought, as she watched him shoving both hands through his hair with enough force to yank every hair out of his head, that wasn’t totally fair. He could’ve split, told her it was her problem to deal with and just disappeared. But he hadn’t. Instead, right after discovering the broken condom, he’d gotten dressed, driven to the drugstore and bought a pregnancy test kit. Now he was waiting out the results with her.

Of course, she knew darn well what answer he was hoping for. She could all but see him issuing fervent prayers to the gods of fortune.

‘‘Just because one broke doesn’t mean the others were faulty,’’ he said, and she was pretty sure he was talking to himself more than her.

But she answered him anyway. ‘‘Condoms aren’t a hundred percent effective anyway.’’

‘‘Thanks for that.’’

She shrugged and folded her arms across her chest. ‘‘I’m just saying—’’

‘‘That maybe a stop-and-shop gas station wasn’t the best place to buy protection?’’ he finished for her.

Eileen smiled. Her stomach was in knots, her hands were shaking, hence the folded arms thing, after all, why should she advertise her own case of nerves? ‘‘The point is, there’s no use in rehashing now. Or saying what if. The deed is most definitely done.’’

‘‘I know,’’ he said, and turning around, leaned back against the wall, his gaze fixed on the bathroom doorway.

When the timer went off, both of them jumped. He took a step, then stopped, letting her go into the room before him. Eileen hit the stop button on the timer first, since the incessant ringing was drilling a hole through her head. She picked up the wand carefully, as if it might explode if handled roughly. Glancing back at him as he came up behind her, she said, ‘‘We look together?’’

He nodded. ‘‘Together.’’

Staring down at the tiny window where the results were displayed, she saw the tiny pink plus sign. Her stomach fisted. She heard his quick intake of breath. Her fingers tightened on the plastic. ‘‘Since it’s pink, do you suppose that means it’s a girl?’’

If he could have figured out how to do it effectively, Rick would’ve kicked his own ass. Stupid, he thought. Stupid and careless and now…caught.

From his chair at the two-person table, he watched Eileen move around the small homey kitchen. She’d already made a pot of coffee and now she busily brought cups and a plateful of homemade chocolate chip cookies to the table. She hadn’t said a word in fifteen minutes and the silence was beginning to stretch a little thin. Although, Rick thought, he really couldn’t blame her for not speaking. Hell, he couldn’t think of anything to say, either. An apology didn’t seem right, but congratulations was clearly out of the question, too.

When she finally sat down opposite him, she poured a cup of coffee for each of them, picked up a cookie and proceeded to nervously turn it into crumbs.

Rick reached across the table and covered her hands with his. ‘‘We have to talk about this.’’

Her gaze lifted to his and he tried to read the emotions darting across the meadow-green surface of her eyes. But they shifted and changed so quickly it was impossible to nail one down.

‘‘Look Rick,’’ she said after a long minute, ‘‘I know you’re trying to help, but honestly, I don’t want to talk about it right now.’’

‘‘But we have some decisions to make.’’ Hell, they had a ton of decisions to make.

She smiled, shook her head and leaned back in the chair. ‘‘I’m not deciding anything tonight.’’

‘‘Eileen, this is serious.’’

‘‘Really?’’ She took a bite of her cookie, chewed it and swallowed. ‘‘You mean being pregnant isn’t a joke? It’s not all fun and games? Wow. I’ll alert the media.’’

‘‘Funny.’’

‘‘Didn’t mean to be.’’ She ate the rest of her cookie and reached for another one.

‘‘Is chocolate really the answer?’’

‘‘Chocolate can solve just about anything.’’

‘‘Not this.’’

‘‘I said, just about. Besides, it’s worth a try.’’

He pushed his chair back and the legs scraped against the worn linoleum with a screech. Standing up, he came around the table, reached down and grabbed her hands, then pulled her to her feet.

Her eyes looked bruised, worried and that ate at him. If she hadn’t come to help him out—to do him a favor, they never would have connected again and she wouldn’t be standing here pregnant.

With his child.

That last sentence bounced around the inside of his heart and cracked the edges of it just a little. A child. He’d never expected to be a father. Well, certainly not after his wife had left him. When he first got married, he’d convinced himself that he was in love. That he and Allison would build a family together. But then in a few short months, he’d discovered that Allison had had her eye on his bank account, not their future.

When she left, his dreams had died. And out of the ashes, he’d built a new company and a new life for himself. If that life was a little lonelier than he’d once imagined he would be, at least it was a fair trade-off. He’d never have to watch another woman walk out of his life.

Now, suddenly, the rules had changed on him again. Now there was a tiny life inside Eileen that existed because of him. Whether or not they’d wanted this to happen, it had. And he wouldn’t brush it aside. Wouldn’t walk away. He’d be damned if he’d abandon his own child as his parents had done to him.

And since walking away wasn’t an option, there was only one thing left.

‘‘Eileen,’’ he said, staring down into the eyes that had haunted him since first seeing her walk into his office more than a week ago, ‘‘marry me.’’

She blinked, shook her head and blinked again. ‘‘What?’’

‘‘You heard me.’’

‘‘I know what I think I heard, but pregnancy must affect your hearing.’’ She tried to pull away from him, but he held her tight. ‘‘You’re just reacting—you’re not thinking rationally.’’

He laughed shortly and let her go. ‘‘You? Teaching me about rational?’’

‘‘Somebody has to.’’ Eileen reached up and scooped her hair back from her face. She felt trapped. Standing with her back to the wall, the fridge on one side of her, the table on the other and Rick blocking the way out, she suddenly couldn’t catch her breath. Pent-up emotions charged through her body, closing her throat and sheening her eyes with tears she didn’t want to cry.

She needed time to herself to figure this out. To deal with everything that was crowding her mind and her heart. She was pregnant. She had a baby inside her. Living. Growing. Oh, my.

‘‘Marry you?’’ she repeated, and pushed him out of her way so she could walk past him, ‘‘God, Rick. I’m about ten minutes pregnant and you want to plan a wedding?’’

‘‘It’s the right thing to do.’’

‘‘Sure,’’ she said over her shoulder as she stalked into the living room, ‘‘if you’re living in a movie from the fifties.’’

He was right behind her. And suddenly, her living room seemed a lot smaller than usual.

Grabbing her forearm, he turned her around to face him. ‘‘Eileen, that’s my baby you’re carrying.’’

‘‘Rick, it’s too soon to talk about this.’’ She needed quiet. She needed to think. To feel. To plan. Good God. She, Eileen Ryan, needed a plan? The woman who hadn’t planned anything in years? If she wasn’t so scared, she might have laughed at the idea.

‘‘Fine,’’ he said, and let her go, taking a step backward as if to keep himself from reaching for her again. ‘‘It’s too soon. But—’’ he waited for her to meet his gaze before continuing ‘‘—I have to know you’ll talk to me before you decide anything.’’

His features were taut, strained, and Eileen knew he was feeling the same turmoil racing through her, so she smiled as she reached up to cup his face in her palm. ‘‘I promise. Just…give me a little time, okay?’’

A few hours later, Eileen let herself into Larkspur, shutting the front door quietly behind her. Instantly she was enveloped in the commingled perfume of flowers. The scents of chrysanthemums, roses, sweet peas and dozens of others filled the small shop.

Strings of tiny white lights outlined the two large windows that fronted Pacific Coast Highway and threw shadows around the small showroom. Galvanized buckets of water crouched in the center of the room, holding the flowers that didn’t need refrigeration to retain their freshness. Across the room were the glass refrigerator cases, where the roses, orchids and other more fragile flowers stood waiting their chance to be admired.

She hit the overhead light switch and a bank of fluorescent lights flickered to life, dropping shadows around the room. Eileen walked into the back room where the florist supplies were kept. Glass vases in varied shapes and sizes and colors were stacked on a series of shelves. Nearby, there was florists tape and shears and green foam and everything else required to build the fantasy flower arrangements Larkspur was known for.

Everything was neat as a pin. The floor was freshly swept and the cuttings from the day had been carried out to the trash can behind the shop.

Flipping on the radio, Eileen listened to a slow, sad song about love and loss. Then she shrugged out of her sweatshirt and reached for one of the vases. Working with the flowers always relaxed her, gave her a chance to think. To let her mind wander while her hands were busy.

And boy, did she need to think.

Rick’s apartment was dark. Empty. He stood with his back to the room, staring out a bank of windows at the ocean below. Off shore, oil derrick islands were lit up like a tropical paradise and a few boats bobbed in the harbor, their running lights twinkling on the dark surface of the water.

The quiet was starting to get to him. But he was used to being alone and he couldn’t remember it bothering him much before this past week and a half.

Now, whenever he was in this place, all he could think about was leaving it. Going to work, where he’d see Eileen—or better yet, going to her house, where he could be with her. Being there, in her house, he felt…alive. There was warmth there. And laughter. There were long hours cuddled together on her couch watching old movies. There was music, drifting from her neighbor’s backyard and the sound of kids playing hoops down the street.

Here…he turned from the windows and raked his gaze across the narrow, sparsely furnished room. After his divorce, he’d moved into this apartment, thinking it was a temporary thing. Then the days and weeks and months had slipped past and he’d stopped thinking about moving. Stopped living—beyond his work. Until Eileen.

Fear chewed at his insides, though he didn’t want to admit it even to himself. When she left, as he knew she would, she’d not only be taking the warmth he’d only just discovered—she’d be taking his child.

He couldn’t allow that.

Taking a sip of his twelve-year-old Scotch, he felt the fiery liquid spill heat throughout his body and knew it wouldn’t last. The chill gripping him since leaving Eileen was bone deep.

And it was only going to get worse.

The ball whizzed past his opponent’s ear and Rick winced as the man ducked. ‘‘Sorry.’’

‘‘Man, who’re you trying to kill?’’ Mike Taylor asked. ‘‘Me? Or just a poor innocent ball?’’

‘‘Neither,’’ Rick said, and stalked to the sidelines where he’d dropped his towel and a quart-sized bottle of water.

The early morning game of racquetball wasn’t going so well. He’d thought that a quick game would clear his head. That working up a sweat would somehow help him clear things in his mind. But it wasn’t working. Hell, he wasn’t even winning. Usually he was way ahead of Mike by now. Instead, he was six points behind and fading fast.

Wiping his face with the towel, he slung it over his left shoulder and watched his friend approach. He and Mike had been college roommates. And that was the only thing they had in common. Rick studied the market and Mike built custom motorcycles for the idle rich. He was so damn good at it, he’d become rich himself—though far from idle. He still built the bikes himself, preferring to stay in the ‘‘pit’’ as he called it.

‘‘So what’s goin’ on?’’ Mike reached out for his bottle of water and unscrewed the cap.

‘‘Nothing.’’

‘‘Sure.’’ Mike took a long drink, then capped the bottle again. ‘‘You never play this bad, man. Something’s on your mind.’’

Rick looked at his old friend for a long minute. ‘‘I asked Eileen Ryan to marry me.’’

Mike was so damn impassive, Rick wasn’t really sure his friend had heard him. Until he said, ‘‘Are you nuts?’’

‘‘Entirely possible,’’ Rick muttered.

‘‘Thought you swore off marriage after Allison left you bloody and broke.’’

‘‘I did.’’

Mike snorted a laugh and slung his towel around his neck. ‘‘Proposing’s a weird way to avoid marriage, man.’’

‘‘She’s pregnant.’’

Mike’s blue eyes went wide as he scraped one hand across his jaw. ‘‘You sure it’s yours?’’

That was the one worry that had never crossed his mind. Eileen was too honest and outspoken to lie about something like this.

‘‘Yeah, I’m sure.’’

Mike nodded. ‘‘Is she keeping the baby?’’

‘‘Don’t know.’’ Rick shifted his gaze toward the plate-glass wall that divided this racquetball court from the one beside it. The gym was crowded, with everyone trying to get in a workout before heading off to their jobs. But he wasn’t paying attention to the people surrounding him. Instead, his mind was focused, as it had been all during the sleepless night, on Eileen. And his child.

He’d never wanted to be a father, but now that the baby existed, he couldn’t stand the idea of losing it. And if she decided to end this pregnancy, there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. His hands fisted helplessly at his sides.

He didn’t want a wife.

But he damn sure wanted his child.

By the end of the week, Rick was holding on to his unraveling temper with a tight fist. Somehow or other, Eileen had managed to avoid him for the last few days. Oh, she showed up for work every morning, right on time. She was polite, efficient, and completely shut him out anytime he tried to talk to her about what was happening. About the baby. About them. Hell. About anything other than work.

Rick had tried to give her space. He’d swallowed his impatience and buried his concerns. He looked into her soft green eyes and read no welcome there, so he didn’t force the issue. He hadn’t stopped by her place after work, even though it was killing him to stay away. He missed her, damn it. He’d driven down her street and paused long enough to look at her lamp-lit windows, but he hadn’t stopped, not sure if he’d be welcome or not. And to be honest, he didn’t think he’d be able to stand it if she opened the door and told him to leave.

But he’d waited as long as he could. Today was the last day she’d be working for him. By Monday, he’d have some anonymous temp in the outer office and Eileen would be back in her flower shop—as far away from his world as if she were on Saturn.

So it was now or never. Standing up from behind his desk, he crossed the room and stood in the open doorway leading to the outer office. Eileen had been here only two short weeks, but her presence had been made known. There were sweet-smelling flowers in a glass bowl on her desk, colorful throw pillows on the plain, dark blue couch and a small watercolor in a pale yellow frame hung near the file cabinets. With just a few minor changes, she’d lightened up his reception room—made it more welcoming for clients.

Just as, simply by being her, she’d made changes in his life.

He used to be content to spend his evenings alone, mapping out the next day’s work. He’d focused all of his energies on the business that had been his whole life. Now, when he wasn’t with Eileen, he was thinking about her. He couldn’t sleep at night because her image kept him awake. His bed felt empty and the quiet was deafening. He’d never considered having a family—now he was worried about a baby that wasn’t even the size of a pencil eraser.

His gaze locked on Eileen as she sat with her back to him, the phone held to her left ear. Morning sunlight drifted through the tinted windows and lay over her like a gentle haze. She almost seemed dreamlike. But Rick knew, only too well, just how real she was.

‘‘Okay, Paula,’’ she was saying. ‘‘I’ll be back at the shop on Monday.’’

Monday, he thought, realizing that was just a few days away. When she wasn’t here, in the office every day, how would he get her to talk to him? How would he prevent her from slipping out of his life and taking his child with her?

‘‘That’s great!’’ Eileen’s voice hit a high note. ‘‘The Baker wedding? That’s terrific.’’

Joy filled her voice, and when she laughed it was like music. Rick leaned against the doorjamb and folded his arms over his chest, just enjoying the sound of it. When she was gone, the emptiness she’d leave behind would be impossible to fill. Damn it, she hadn’t even left him yet and he already missed her.

Eileen half turned in her chair to reach for a pad and a pen. That’s when she spotted him. ‘‘Um, Paula? I’ll call you back later, okay?’’ She smiled into the phone, shifting her gaze from his. ‘‘Yeah, I’ll do that. Okay. Bye.’’

He waited until she hung up. ‘‘Paula?’’

‘‘She’s the manager of my flower shop.’’

Rick didn’t give a good damn who Paula was, but at least Eileen was talking to him. ‘‘Problem?’’

‘‘No,’’ she said, and turned away, rummaging through her desk aimlessly. Finally she grabbed another of the chocolates Margo had left behind and quickly unwrapped it. Popping it into her mouth, she bit down hard and said, ‘‘Actually, it’s good news. We landed a big wedding.’’

‘‘Congratulations.’’

‘‘Thanks.’’ Her fingers twisted the scrap of silver foil candy wrapper.

She wouldn’t even look at him and the tether on Rick’s temper strained to the breaking point. ‘‘I’m the boss here,’’ he said. ‘‘You can’t ignore me.’’

She glanced at him, then away again. ‘‘I’m not ignoring you, I’m overlooking you. There’s a difference.’’

‘‘Funny, feels the same.’’

‘‘Yeah, I guess it would.’’

He came away from the doorway, walked up behind her and gave her chair a spin hard enough to turn her around.

‘‘Talk to me,’’ he said.

She nodded and stood up to face him. She was close, really close. Trapped between the chair and his body. Typical Eileen, she didn’t try to run, just stood her ground. She reached up, and for a split second he thought she was going to touch his face and his heart stopped. But all she did was tuck her hair behind her ears, displaying her simple silver hoop earrings. They winked at him in the sunlight. ‘‘You’re crowding me,’’ she said, then reached out and casually pushed against his chest until he stepped back out of her way. ‘‘I appreciate you not pushing me this week, Rick.’’

‘‘It wasn’t easy.’’

‘‘I can see that,’’ she said, and lifted one hand to briefly touch his cheek. ‘‘You look like you’re ready to implode.’’

He blew out a breath, pushed his suit jacket back and shoved his hands into his pants pockets. ‘‘Close.’’

‘‘Well, don’t. Everything’s fine. Or—’’ she thought about it for a moment ‘‘—will be fine. I’m keeping the baby.’’

Rick’s heart started beating again. Now that he knew that, the rest would fall into place. It would be all right. ‘‘So you’ll marry me.’’