Expecting the Boss’s Baby Page 7

  Confusion furrowed her brow. “Are you saying you had nothing to do with the recent donations?”

  “I’m not personally responsible,” he said carefully.

  “And if you were somehow involved, your complete motivation would have been for the tax write-off,” she said, clearly frustrated with his reticence. “Okay, well just in case you know someone who was partly responsible, I’d like you to give them a message.” She leaned her slim sexy body into his and pressed her lips to his mouth. “Tell him I said it was very nice.” She brushed her lips back and forth over his. “Tell him I said thank you.”

  Kate opened her mouth and Michael felt as if she’d set his clothes on fire. She rubbed her wicked open mouth over his, darting her tongue out to taste him until his brain went into complete meltdown.

  Michael took over the kiss, devouring her mouth the way he wanted to consume all of her. She tasted like chocolate chip cookies and her body held the promise of pure satisfaction. His blood racing through his bloodstream, he ran his hands down her sides to her bottom and drew her into the cradle of his thighs.

  She wriggled slightly against him and a groan escaped his throat. Sliding his fingertips beneath her panties, he touched her silky bare skin.

  She pulled his tie loose and tugged at his shirt buttons, and it dimly occurred to him that if this was how Kate reacted to a charitable donation, he might become the biggest philanthropist in St. Albans.

  He pulled her shirt loose, then backed down onto the sofa and urged her down on his lap. The sight of her breasts swelling over the cups of her lace bra reminded him how responsive she’d been the night they’d shared together, how she’d held back nothing.

  Needs denied roared through him like a freight train. He lowered his mouth to her breasts and nuzzled her bra down to taste her nipple. He heard her swift intake of breath as she grew taut in his mouth. He slid his hand upward between her thighs and felt her damp and swollen. The sensation only made him more hungry for her.

  He wanted all barriers removed between them. He wanted her naked and straddling him. He wanted to fill her as she pumped him into oblivion. Michael ripped her panties and rubbed his thumb over her tender engorged bead of sensation. Her breath came in short gasps. He could feel her nearing the precipice, and the sound was excruciatingly arousing to him. Closer. Closer.

  The phone rang. Once, twice, penetrating the thick, steamy intimacy surrounding them. Kate pulled back slightly, her cheeks flushed, the pupils of her eyes large with arousal, her lips swollen. She stared at him while the phone rang as if she knew one of them should be answering it, but she couldn’t coordinate her mind and body. “Can you get that?” she finally asked in a husky whisper.

  His body still clamoring for release, he gently put her to the side and rose to answer the phone. “Hello,” he said, and struggled to take in the words accompanying the voice of Kate’s mother. He handed the receiver to Kate.

  She met his gaze with a woman’s need in her eyes so powerful it made him want to toss the phone out the window. But she bit her lip, and looked away, covering her eyes with her hand. He heard her make a few soft comments, but she kept the call blessedly short. She pushed the Off button and looked up at him, her expression a mixture of too many emotions for him to read. “My parents are here early. They’re waiting at my house.”

  Although her legs felt like butter, she forced them to move. She stood and her partially ripped panties slid to the floor. Her head spun. They had been so close. Kate swallowed over a strange lump of emotion in her throat and tried to walk forward. Her knees buckled.

  Michael caught her and pulled her against him. “Are you okay?”

  Tears threatened, followed by a curtain of embarrassment. “I will be. I just—” She took a quick breath. “I was really—”

  “So was I,” he said in a rough voice that did serious damage to her already shattered nerve endings. “It’s only a week,” he said, but sounded as if he were reminding himself. “I’ll take you home.”

  “I can take myself.”

  “If you’re having a tough time walking, I sure as hell don’t want you driving,” he said bluntly, leaving her with no argument.

  On trembling legs, she made her way to the bathroom and pulled herself together. Since most of her things were still at her house, she only needed to pack a few toiletries. They left the apartment and Kate sat beside Michael with her eyes closed.

  Drinking in the heady scent of his aftershave, she felt a visceral response to him. She could have abandoned herself to him. She could have given herself to him again and again, and she had no clue how to hold back her heart and keep it safe. She knew she could give herself to Michael in a way that would change her forever. She also knew, however, that Michael would never give himself to her in the same way.

  When Michael pulled into her driveway, Kate’s parents rushed out of their motor home to greet them. Her mom swept her into her arms. “I’m so happy, darling,” she said, her voice swollen with threatening tears. “I’ve been dreaming of your wedding since you were born.”

  Kate’s heart constricted. “I know you have, Mom.”

  Her father pumped Michael’s hand. “Congratulations, son. You’ve got a jewel, but I’m sure you already know that.”

  The pretense of the situation turned her stomach. How was she going to survive a week of this? Kate closed her eyes and gave her mother an extra squeeze.

  “I’ll let the three of you visit awhile. I’m sure you’re tired from traveling and Kate’s been working on moving, so she’s beat too.”

  “You don’t have to leave,” Kate’s mother protested.

  Michael shook his head. “I don’t want to keep you up.” He met Kate’s gaze and reached for her hand. “You need some rest,” he told her, pulling her toward him. He lowered his head and kissed her, sending her heart into a staccato rhythm.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered in his ear as he held her.

  He nuzzled her neck. “You asked me to act like I’m crazy for you in front of your parents. How am I doing?”

  The next few days were a whirlwind of pre-wedding activity driven by the indomitable force of her mother. Kate’s waking hours held the quality of a circus carnival. During the days, she was so busy trying to convince her parents that everything was peachy that she didn’t have time to think until night. Alone in her bed, she thought about what would happen after the wedding. Would she and Michael be able to build something lasting when only one of them believed in love?

  Shoving the thought aside, she joined her mother on a mission to collect childhood pictures of Michael.

  “It wouldn’t look right for us to have pictures of you when you were a child at the reception and not have any of Michael,” her mother insisted. “I know he was a foster child, but somebody somewhere must have some pictures of him.”

  The two of them paid a visit to the Granger Home for Boys. Kate took in the large dark foyer and tried to imagine what Michael’s life had been like. The windows, she noticed, were shrouded in heavy draperies, and the floors were dark wood. It looked like the kind of place that would be drafty in the winter, and despite the cleanliness and strength of the surroundings, she could almost smell the scent of hopelessness and desperation.

  Wrinkling her brow, she peeked into the office. “Hello? Can you help us?”

  A young blond woman with startlingly green eyes standing in front of a desk glanced up. She looked from Kate to her mother. “I don’t know. I think everyone’s gone to lunch. I don’t work here, but I guess you could say I’m familiar with the lay of the land. My mother used to manage the cafeteria, so I spent many of my growing-up years here.”

  “We’d like some pictures,” Kate’s mother said. “My daughter is marrying one of the former residents, Michael Hawkins—”

  “Michael!” the woman exclaimed, and her face broke into a smile. “Michael is getting married? I’m stunned.”

  No more than Kate was.

  “Congratulation
s,” she said. “He was a fine person when I knew him.” She extended her hand. “I’m Alisa Jennings. I just moved back to the area and was taking a little visit down memory lane.”

  Kate shook her hand, liking the young woman immediately. “Kate Adams, and this is my mother Betty.”

  “You want pictures. Try this,” she said, walking behind the desk to a file room. “I bet they still keep them in the same place. Yes,” she muttered, as she surveyed the tall cabinets. “They haven’t changed the labels.”

  “Should we be in here?” Betty asked.

  “Probably not, but we can claim special dispensation if anyone fusses.” Alisa pulled open a drawer and grabbed a file. “Here’s Michael,” she said, peeking inside the file, then handing it to Kate. “They’re mostly black and white.”

  Kate opened the file and looked into a pair of grown-up eyes in a very young boy. Her heart wrenched. He looked thin, but sturdy, with hair a tad too long, clothes that didn’t fit exactly right, but the set of his chin showed pride and determination.

  “How serious,” her mother murmured, looking over Kate’s shoulder.

  Kate flipped through the pictures, seeing signs of the man she knew in the growing boy. The last picture was out of order. It showed Michael around five years old, dressed in Sunday clothes and his hair painstakingly combed. He stood in the circle of his mother’s arms. Dark shadows rimmed her eyes, but she and her son wore matching smiles.

  He had lost so much at such a young age. A tear slid down Kate’s cheek, surprising her. Quickly swiping it aside, she glanced up. “Is there somewhere we could make copies?”

  Alisa slid a glance toward the door. “There used to be a copy shop just down the street.”

  Kate didn’t pause. “Thank you,” she said, and her mother joined her. Betty filled the silence with chatter about the wedding plans as they located the shop and waited. Kate nodded, but couldn’t have repeated a word. She was steeped in thoughts of Michael and what his childhood had been like. She would have had to have been made of stone not to be moved by the pictures. Every time she looked at a picture, she bit her lip at the sharp emotions that stabbed at her.

  When the clerk finished the job, Betty reached for the copies, but Kate intercepted them. “I choose,” Kate said.

  Betty frowned. “But—”

  “I choose or none of them is displayed,” Kate said.

  Betty appeared to take in Kate’s determined expression. “You’ve got the same look in your eye you had when you told your dad and me you were moving to St. Albans.” She sighed. “There’s no fighting you when you’re like this. Will you consider the baby picture at least?”

  Kate smiled. Tucked between some papers, they’d found a baby picture of Michael. “Yes, but the rest is my choice.” She felt as if she’d stepped into a secret part of Michael’s life, a part filled with pain and vulnerability, and Kate was compelled to protect him. It was incredibly odd because if ever a man indicated that he didn’t need protection, it was Michael.

  They encountered Alisa Jennings just outside the main hall. “Oops, there you are. The secretary is back, so maybe you should let me return those for you.”

  “Thank you,” Kate said and meant it.

  “No problem,” she said and turned, then stopped and turned back around. “The thing I remember about Michael was what he did with his cookies.” She smiled. “My mom made the best chocolate chip cookies. Unfortunately, there never seemed to be enough to go around. Whenever she made them, the boys could smell them and they’d race because the ones at the front of the line were more likely to get cookies. There was a boy named Harold Grimley who wore braces on his legs and he never made it to the front of the line. But Harold always got cookies because Michael gave his to Harold. I bet Michael’s a tough nut to crack, but he’s a special guy.” She pulled a business card from her pocket. “Here’s my card if you ever need a liaison with the Granger Home again.”

  Kate watched Alisa leave. Another tear slid down her cheek. She brushed it aside and heard her mother sniff. “C’mon Mom,” she said, pulling herself together and telling herself she would sort all this out later. “You’ve managed the impossible again. You got the pictures.”

  Despite Kate’s protests, Betty insisted on a brief rehearsal at the chapel. This was the first time she’d been with Michael for more than a few moments, and seeing his pictures had shaken something inside her.

  “You look pale,” he said, brushing her lips with a kiss. Her heart sped up. This was for the benefit of her parents, she reminded herself.

  “I’m fine. The last few days have been challenging,” she said, wanting more than ever to sink into his strength.

  “You’re taking care of yourself,” he said, more as an order than a question.

  She nodded.

  “Your father is angry with me,” he told her.

  “Why?”

  “I wouldn’t let him pay for the rehearsal party.”

  Kate smiled. “Ah, you attacked his masculinity.”

  Michael scowled. “I was trying to protect his wallet.” He glanced across the room and nodded. “Here are the friends I mentioned to you.”

  Kate took in the two men as they stepped closer. Both wore guarded, assessing expressions. “Kate Adams, meet two of the most successful alumni of the Granger Home for Boys, Justin Langdon and Dylan Barrow.”

  Justin and Dylan gave Michael sideways glances, then turned their attention to Kate. Justin extended his hand. “Michael’s a catch since he hit the big time. Best wishes.”

  It took a moment for his message to sink in. Justin clearly felt protective of Michael. He probably thought she was a gold digger. Kate smiled broadly. “You mean since he hit eight figures.”

  Justin watched her carefully. “That’s the bottom line, isn’t it?”

  Kate sighed. Now she understood why Michael had harped on the money angle. “Just between you and me, I’m not marrying Michael for his millions,” she whispered. “I’m marrying him for his potential.”

  Justin wrinkled his brow in confusion. “Financial potential?”

  Kate shook her head. “No. This is related to cookies.”

  He looked at her as if she were crazy and she decided that was okay. She turned to Dylan. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. It means a lot for you to be here for him.”

  Dylan shook her hand and kissed her cheek. “Our honor,” he said and won her heart.

  “I ran into someone the three of you might know. I happened to be over near the Granger Home and met a woman named Alisa Jennings.”

  “Alisa,” Dylan said, his expression growing intense. “What was she doing?”

  “Just paying a little visit to the home. She told me she grew up there. Her mother was the cafeteria manager.”

  “The cookie girl,” Justin said. “She used to sneak cookies to us when we had to shovel snow.”

  “What were you doing at Granger?” Michael asked quietly.

  Too quietly, Kate thought and felt her nerves shake. “Showing Mom the town. Alisa was lovely. She said she’d just moved back here.”

  “I thought she was engaged to a politician in Connecticut,” Justin said, then glanced at Dylan. “Didn’t she have a crush on you?”

  “Long time ago,” Dylan said, but Kate got the distinct impression there was more beneath the surface.

  Kate’s mother clapped her hands together. “Time for the rehearsal. Kate, you go to the back of the chapel, and Michael, come up front. Where’s your bridesmaid, Donna?”

  “Right here,” Donna said, rushing in the door. “Sorry I’m late.” She stood beside Kate while Betty issued instructions. “I kept thinking you would come to your senses and cancel,” she whispered.

  “Get thee behind me, Satan,” Kate muttered, unable to dodge the enormity of what she was about to do.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Donna asked, concern shadowing her baby face. “You can still back out.”

  “It’s not a matter of being sure in the
traditional sense. It’s more a matter of trying to make the best choice in an imperfect situation.”

  “What a practical attitude. I wonder if the wives of Henry VIII said the same kind of thing,” Donna said slyly.

  Kate frowned at her friend. “Michael may be arrogant, but he doesn’t have a guillotine in the basement. Besides, you’re my maid of honor, so you’re supposed to be supporting me, not encouraging me to run away.”

  “I’ll encourage you,” she promised. “I’m taking you out on the town after the rehearsal party.”

  “You know I can’t drink.”

  “You can’t drink, but you can dance,” she said with a sweet smile that brought to mind discarded halos.

  “Time for the maid of honor,” her mother said.

  Kate swallowed a strangled sound of panic as her father approached her. Donna gave her arm a squeeze and silently mouthed the words, You can still escape.

  “Here you go, baby,” Tom Adams said, offering his arm.

  It’s still just practice, Kate repeated to herself as she slowly walked up the aisle. She looked into Michael’s eyes and took a deep breath. It would be okay, she told herself. It had to be.

  “Dearly beloved,” the minister began, but Kate was too aware of Michael by her side to hear anything else. Her father kissed her cheek and left, then Michael enveloped her hand in his.

  “After you repeat your vows, I’ll say you may now kiss the bride and present you—”

  Michael swooped down and kissed her. Chuckles followed. “You looked like you were about to faint,” he told her, concern darkening his eyes. “We should have gone to Vegas.”

  After the small rehearsal party at a local hotel where Kate faked drinking the champagne and smiled through the toasts, Donna whisked her away to a noisy, crowded nightspot.

  “Refresh my memory,” Kate said. “Why are we here?”

  “This is your last night as a single woman. We’re here to tear the house down. Your assignment is to dance with at least twenty-five men.”

  “Twenty-five!”