Читать книгу The Billionaire And The Bassinet - Suzanne McMinn, Suzanne Mcminn - Страница 11

Chapter Three

Lanie noticed Garrett looked kind of nice when he smiled. Less like a power broker, and more like a human. He even had a dimple, just on the left side, which she hadn’t noticed before. Perhaps because the man didn’t seem to smile all that much.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to stay here tonight.” As tempting as his help sounded, she didn’t think having Garrett around, any more than necessary, would be a good idea at all. He hadn’t been in town five minutes before he’d started trying to take charge of her life—demanding tests on the baby, commanding her to go to Austin and live under the Blakemores’ thumbs until the baby’s birth, insisting he drive her to the doctor’s office.

Of course, driving her to the doctor’s had been a good idea, but none of the rest of it was. She didn’t want the Blakemores running her life—or worse, taking control of her baby.

“It’s a great idea,” Garrett persisted. “You need to rest, and I need a place to stay.”

“You could drive back to the city,” Lanie pointed out, pushing back the temptation he offered.

Help sounded awfully good, whether she wanted it to or not. She was just so tired.

She pulled herself together. “It’s not that far to Austin,” she dismissed. She turned her back on him and his help, trudging up the walk.

He came up behind her. “Are you always this stubborn?” he asked.

“Stubborn! Me?” Lanie stopped long enough to cast Garrett an arch look as he reached her side. “You’re the one who can’t take no for an answer.”

She arrived at the front door and scoured her handbag for her housekeys. She found them, then immediately proceeded to drop them on the ground.

Garrett started to retrieve the keys for her, but Lanie knelt, awkwardly, and snatched them before he could.

“Please leave me alone.” Tears stung at the back of her eyes again. Bending wasn’t her best event these days, but she shook off Garrett’s arm as he tried to help her straighten.

She felt as if she were teetering on the edge. Her exhaustion combined with the stress of the afternoon had been too much, and the last thing she wanted to do was break into one of those sudden bouts of hormonal tears that had plagued her throughout her pregnancy—right in front of Garrett.

She fumbled with the key, wiggling it into the hole, struggling with the old lock. Blinking back traitorous tears, she gratefully pushed the door open. A few more seconds and she could shut it in his face.

“Are you crying?”

She tried to ignore him as she moved through the doorway. He stuck his foot in the door and prevented her from closing it.

She didn’t want to look at him, but he reached out and turned her face toward him, the touch strong and gentle at the same time. Lifting her eyes, she met his reluctantly. She dashed a hand at the moisture on her cheeks and lifted her chin a notch.

“You are crying.” He sounded confused. He dropped his hand from her face, but not his stare. “Look, I don’t know if this is pride or stubbornness or just that you don’t like me much.” An odd, almost painful light flickered in his eyes for a second, then disappeared. “But I think you need some help tonight.” His voice was soft. “Will you let me stay?”

Lanie thought about going to the backyard and dragging the sheets off the line, hauling them upstairs and making up the bed, then greeting the guests with the customary refreshments. Her feet, her knees, her hips—every place where the baby’s weight put unaccustomed pressure—ached like she carried a two-ton truck instead of a tiny human being.

She wanted nothing more than to drop into bed and let someone help her. But it wasn’t safe for Garrett Blakemore to be that someone. She knew that.

But she said, “All right,” anyway.

Garrett knocked lightly on the closed door to Lanie’s bedroom. “Lanie?”

“Come in,” she called.

He poked his head around the doorjamb in time to see her sitting up in bed, a fat pillow propped behind her back. She was still dressed, her long legs stretched out on a colorful quilt decorated in a pattern of interlocking rings. A white lace curtain blew softly at the open window, bringing the warm afternoon inside.

Despite the obvious reluctance with which she’d agreed to let him help her out for the evening, she’d acquiesced with surprising ease when he’d insisted she go straight upstairs to rest. He knew this was more likely an indication of the true state of her exhaustion than any sign of surrender on her part.

She’d given him brief instructions about making up two rooms with sheets from the line outside, and had explained where to find the refreshments she had prepared She’d asked him to call her when the guests arrived so she could come down to greet them. But before he tended to any of the other preparations, he’d decided to fix her something to eat.

“I brought you a sandwich and a glass of milk,” Garret said. He came around the side of the antique spool bed and placed a tray on the end table near her. Her wary gaze never left him. “And some cookies.” He held out the glass of milk.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Surprise widened her eyes as she took in the tray.

“Of course I should have,” Garrett said. Her aversion to his assistance was really starting to annoy him.

He kept holding out the glass, and she finally took it, her slender fingers lightly brushing his in the exchange. A small electrical charge zinged up Garrett’s arm, filtering through his irritation.

He backed up slightly in reaction, putting a little distance between himself and Lanie. It was just the oddness of being in her bedroom, he told himself. The situation was overly intimate, considering they’d only known each other a few hours.

“I don’t want you waiting on me,” Lanie protested. She set the glass down on the tray.

Garrett shrugged. “It’s just a little something to eat. It’s not a big deal. You need to keep up your strength.”

She looked wan, and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like how it made him feel. He didn’t like how he was worrying about this woman he’d only just met and had no reason to trust or even like.

Of course, he reminded himself, he did have one good reason for caring. The sooner she rested up, the sooner he could tackle the business at hand—getting her to agree to come back to Austin with him. He worked to focus on the reason he was in Deer Creek, and to forget how pale and defenseless Lame looked, propped in bed, surrounded by all this soft lace and patchwork simplicity.

The scene was a false picture, making her seem more maternal than small-town schemer. The whole setup was what was throwing him off balance, he decided. The sooner he got out of her bedroom, the better.

He strode to the door, determined to get the sheets and make up the guest rooms. And put as much distance as he possibly could between himself and Lanie’s sweet, vulnerable eyes.

“Garrett?”

He stopped in the doorway and turned to look at her. She chewed her lip, hesitating, the glow from the sunset lighting her fine features. Her hands moved over the rounding of her belly in a seemingly unconscious gesture.

Garrett’s gaze followed the movement of her hands, lured by the slow caressing motion that spoke of tender care for her unborn child. He wondered if the baby was moving, what it would feel like to place his hand there and feel the tiny life inside her kick....

He jerked his attention back to her face. “What?” he prompted curtly. He really needed to get out of her bedroom.

“I—uh...” She glanced at the tray, then back at him. She bit her lip again. “Thank you,” she said finally, as if the words came with great difficulty. “I hope I didn’t sound rude. I didn’t mean to.”

She sounded so sincere. Her hand moved over her stomach again. The light from the window settled around her like a halo.

Garrett swallowed tightly. “No problem,” he answered, and made good his escape.

Lanie watched Garrett through her open window as he crossed the backyard, heading for the clothesline. The curtains fluttered about as the light breeze infused a warm, comfortable breath of fresh air into the room. She took a big gulp of it. She needed it. She needed something, anyway—something to stop her from making a complete and total fool of herself.

She felt touched by Garrett’s thoughtfulness in bringing her supper. He’d even brought her cookies. It was such a simple yet considerate gesture. The sort of gesture she wouldn’t have expected from the hard, cold businessman who’d all but accused her of trying to defraud his uncle.

Lanie tensed at the thought. The whole thing was so insulting. Why was Garrett really so intent on helping her this evening? Out of the goodness of his heart?

Fat chance of that! She blew out a frustrated breath. His help—and his suppers—were part of his plan to manipulate her into going back to Austin with him.

She should have thrown the supper tray right back in his face.

She eyed the meal in front of her. She was hungry, and she didn’t see anything to be gained by not eating. After all, she’d need her strength if she was going to resist his power plays.

And there was no point wasting perfectly good cookies, was there?

Picking up the sandwich first, she took a bite and narrowed her gaze on her adversary. He’d rolled his sleeves up and begun tearing sheets down.

The muscles of his arms flexed in the sun as he reached upward. Lanie stared for long seconds before swallowing the bite of sandwich, then forcibly ripped her gaze from the sight in her yard. She took a swig of cold milk. Really, what was wrong with her? She was practically ogling the man.

She couldn’t believe now she’d ever mistaken him for Ben. He was nothing like Ben. It was more than the subtle physical differences. There was something so serious, so earnest about Garrett.

Ben had been funny and exciting—in the beginning. They’d had a whirlwind courtship. He’d dared her out of her quiet life. Her quiet rut, as her grandmother who’d raised her used to say. She’d known Ben was marrying her over his wealthy father’s objections, but he was determined and had insisted his father would come around. He said he wanted to get married and help her rebuild the bed-and-breakfast business she’d recently inherited after her grandmother’s death.

Even though her grandmother was gone, Lanie could still hear her nagging. Life is short, live while you’re young, let your heart lead you.

And in a moment of uncharacteristic spontaneity, Lanie had let her heart lead her. She’d married Ben.

The disillusionment had come quickly. Walter Blakemore couldn’t accept his son’s abrupt marriage, or his decision to leave the family business. He’d underscored his unbending resolve by cutting Ben off financially. But that hadn’t been the worst of it. It was only after they’d married that Lanie finally understood what Ben’s power struggle with his father was all about. He wanted his father’s love—and no matter how much love she gave him, it could never be enough, never make up for what his father had withheld from him his entire life.

Ben had grown distant and morose, alternating between long silences and angry outbursts. And Lanie knew she’d made a mistake—that they had both made a mistake. But she wasn’t a quitter and she’d tried to make their marriage work despite the coldness with which he’d pushed her away.

By the time he died, she wasn’t sure if Ben had ever loved her or if she had merely been a means to break away from his father. But whatever the fate of their marriage might have been if he’d lived, she still mourned him—that his life had been cut too short, that her baby would never know its father.

She had little family of her own left—only a brother on military duty overseas. But Ben had family, and so did her baby.

Her gaze moved out the window again. The yard was empty now, the clothesline bare. Garrett was gone, which was just as well. She didn’t need to be tempted by his strong arms, to fantasize what it would feel like to have those arms around her, to feel that exciting ripple of warmth inside her when he looked at her. Not when she felt so very lonely.

Thoughts of Garrett were dangerous. Garrett was dangerous. He was the sort of man who would have everything he wanted, wouldn’t settle for less.

And he wanted something from her.

This time, Lanie couldn’t hide from the little ripple that shuddered inside her. This time it was fear.

“Your home is lovely.”

Garrett opened his mouth to explain to the Berringers, Lanie’s guests for the night, that the Sweet Dreams Bed and Breakfast wasn’t his home, but a soft voice from behind stopped him.

“Thank you.”

He turned. Lanie, dressed now in a flowing yellow undress that lit up her eyes and hair, seemed to float into the parlor. She smiled at the Berringers, looking rested and relaxed.

Weren’t pregnant women supposed to be awkward? Garret thought. There was nothing ungainly about Lanie.

She moved like a feather. A delicate, beautiful feather. Garrett found her gracefulness annoying.

But then, he found her mere presence annoying, he decided. He hadn’t meant to call her down when her guests arrived—despite her instructions. He’d intended to avoid her entirely for the rest of the evening. But here she was, anyway.

“I hope you had a nice trip,” Lanie was saying. She still hadn’t looked at him.

He, on the other hand, was having a hard time taking his eyes off her.

“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Berringer replied. She was a heavyset woman and the sofa made a groaning noise when she sat down on it. “But I’m so glad to be here.”

She reached for one of the canapés artfully arranged on a tray on the coffee table. Garrett had placed the tray of appetizers out, just as Lanie had instructed.

Mr. Berringer settled into an armchair.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Lanie indicated a bottle of wine chilling in a bucket near the canapés. Another tray held several glasses.

The Berringers accepted, and Lanie sat down, leaning forward to pour the wine into the glasses. Garrett watched her long hair fall over her bare shoulders in shimmery, touchable waves. Unbidden came the urge to reach out, to wrap a finger around one of those locks, to discover just how soft and touchable they really were....

Garrett’s chest tightened, and he realized he’d almost forgotten to breathe. This whole domestic setup was doing a number on his brain, he told himself. Either that, or she was, indeed, a sorceress.

“I’ll take these things upstairs,” he announced abruptly.

He grabbed the bags and bounded up the creaking, narrow stairs. When he came back down, he found Mrs. Berringer stuffing a canapé into her mouth and Lanie in the middle of what sounded like a history of the house.