by Leanne Banks
That night, Kate fought her nerves and her hair. She scowled into the mirror. Why had she agreed to this? She should have stayed at the hotel, or at the very least moved back into her duplex. Michael might be fascinating, but he was difficult too, which meant her life would likely be difficult.
And fascinating, the small voice inside her said.
“Oh, shut up,” she muttered. “Listening to you is how I ended up pregnant and married.”
She adjusted the black sheath dress and turned to the side. She didn’t quite look pregnant yet. Just fat, she thought with another scowl. She heard the kitchen door open and jumped, dropping her lipstick. There was no reason for these nerves, she told herself. This may be a first date, but she was married to the guy, for Pete’s sake. She quickly applied the lipstick and left the bathroom.
Michael stood next to the kitchen counter glancing through the mail. He wore a dark sport jacket, white shirt and silk tie, and when he directed his attention from the mail to her, his expression was just this side of predatory. “You look good,” he said. “Ready to go?”
“Yes, thank you,” she said, fighting her awkwardness. “Where are we going?”
“A surprise,” he said with an enigmatic gleam in his eyes and ushered her out the door.
They were quiet during the drive. When he pulled into a parking lot, and she saw the restaurant he’d chosen, she smiled in pleasure. Although she’d never been here, she’d always wanted to come. “The Vineyard,” she said. “I didn’t know this was one of your favorites.”
“It wasn’t. This will be my first visit.”
“How did you find it?”
He hesitated. “I did some research.”
Curious, Kate studied him. “Why do I sense there’s a story here?”
Michael sighed. “Do I have to reveal my sources?”
“Yes.”
“I sent an e-mail to five employees and one friend asking for their top three favorite restaurants along with descriptions. You’ll understand why I chose this one when we get inside.”
As soon as they were led to the table and placed their orders, Kate understood his choice. The restaurant boasted a ceiling of skylights, ficus trees with tiny white lights, and a waterfall in the center. “I love the greenery.”
“I thought you would. I pulled a few strings to get us next to the waterfall,” he said.
“Whose suggestion was this?”
“Dylan’s. He has a busy social life. Lots of different women.”
“You don’t sound envious,” she said.
He looked at her meaningfully. “I’m not.” He pulled out a handful of change and put it in the middle of the table. “Bet you can’t reach that stone on the other side with a coin.”
Challenged and charmed, she took three coins. “What do I get if I can?”
“What do you want?”
She thought for a long moment and felt a strange yearning swell inside her. He was such a dichotomy for her, such a challenge. She feared loving him, and at the same time she couldn’t stay away from him. “I want a story,” she said. “I want you to tell me something about yourself that I don’t already know.”
“Okay,” he said, with the same expression he might wear if she were giving him a tetanus shot.
She took a penny, aimed and missed by inches. She chose a nickel next, aimed and hit it.
“Something tells me there are a few things I don’t know about you,” he said, lifting his brow.
“I was pitcher for the high-school girls’ softball team and played intramurals in college,” she said with a smile. “Pay up.”
“My favorite ice cream is—”
“—raspberry sherbet. You have to do better.”
“I made excellent grades in high school without studying,”
“I could have guessed that,” she said.
He frowned at her. “I graduated number three in my high-school class.”
“That low?” she teased with a cheeky grin.
“Did anyone ever tell you that you’re demanding?”
Remembering what a challenging boss he’d been, she couldn’t contain her smile. “Talk about the pot calling the kettle—”
He lifted his hand to cut her off. “Okay. I wanted to learn to play the guitar when I was a teenager, but couldn’t afford one.”
She paused, trying to imagine Michael as a teenager. She suspected he’d grown up quickly after his mother died. “Very good. Acoustic or electric guitar?”
“Electric,” he said.
“You wanted to be a rock star!” she said, the realization delighting her.
“I did not,” he quickly denied. “Okay, I might have worn an Eric Clapton T-shirt for most of a year, but that was just a stage.”
“Did you play any sports?”
“Basketball in the gym at Granger’s. I kept a part-time job, so I didn’t have time for school team sports.”
“Always a working man,” she said, wondering if some of the same things that had driven him as a teen still drove him now.
“Dinner,” he said, closing the discussion as the waiter delivered the meal.
Kate saw a flicker of relief cross his face. Why, she wondered, did he find it so hard to talk about himself?
After dinner, Michael drove them to his apartment. It had been a long meal and the hour was late. A darkened kitchen and her cat greeted them. She reached for the light switch, but he covered her hand. “Leave it dark.”
Her heart flipped at the hint of sensuality in his tone. She allowed her hand to drop from the switch.
“I haven’t dated much in the last few years,” he said. “But I recall a tradition.”
“What’s that?” she asked, his nearness doing crazy things to her pulse. The darkness blocked everything out of her senses except him, the sound of his voice and his clean, musk scent.
“A good-night kiss,” he said, sliding his arm to her waist and drawing her to him. His lips, firm, yet full, brushed over hers. Side to side, he moved his mouth as if savoring the sensation of her. He was slow, seductive and so gentle it made her chest tighten up with tenderness and longing. He stood so close Kate wondered if he could hear her heart beat.
His tongue slid past her lips, still slowly, inviting her to taste him. He tilted her chin for better access and she couldn’t hold back a soft moan at the sweet richness of the moment.
He continued the kiss as if her mouth absorbed and fascinated him. Spreading his legs, he drew her lower body against his. She felt his swollen arousal, but his mouth was her focus.
With each seductive stroke of his tongue, she felt her breasts grow heavy and a yearning tighten between her thighs. Instinctively, she rubbed against him.
Giving a groan of approval and pleasure, he gently ground her against him. Kate felt her breath slip away. It was so easy for her to want him, to want to feel the power of his arousal, to allow him to take her at the same time she took him. It would be so easy to make love with him now, here in the kitchen, against the wall, or in the bed she shared with him.
Justin’s taunt rang through her mind like an ill-tuned key on a piano. The hurt sliced through her again. She pulled back and dipped her forehead. The sounds of their fast breaths were mingled in the darkness. She felt the tug of unspent passion in her pulse and his.
“You’re remembering what Justin said,” Michael said in a low voice. “Forget it.”
Her heart twisted. “I can’t,” she said. “Not yet. Too soon.”
He gave a ragged sigh.
“You’ve given up your bed enough for me. I’ll take the couch.”
“No,” he said. “We’ll sleep in the same bed.”
“But—”
“It’s where you belong. I’ll wait for you.”
Kate searched the planes of his face in the darkness. “Wait for me to do what?”
He looked at her and his gaze had the impact of a sexual loaded pistol. “For you to want me again.”
As if by mutual consent, Kate and
Michael stayed busy every night. The following week they took a whirlwind tour of homes for sale and found the house on the seventh night. The two-story brick colonial boasted four bedrooms, a study, a den, formal living and dining room, kitchen with a nook and a surprise sunroom. Kate was pleased to see several young children playing in the neighborhood and Michael had no complaints about the twenty-minute commute.
True to form, Michael didn’t waste time. He signed a contract for the house the same night they found it, then left for the west coast the next morning. Out of consideration for Cupcake, Kate stayed in St. Albans. She’d read that flying and early pregnancy might not be a great combination, so she made a few purchases for the new house.
Every night as she went to sleep, she looked at the pillow beside her and remembered how it had felt to share the bed with Michael. She tried to deny it to herself, but every night she missed him more.
The evening Michael was scheduled to arrive she went to the airport even though they’d agreed he would catch a cab. She watched him disembark and immediately sensed something was wrong. His face was lined with strain and his gaze was focused somewhere out there. She had to call his name twice to get his attention.
“Michael,” she said for the third time, stepping in front of him. “Hello,” she said with a laugh.
He blinked, then glanced from side to side. “Hello,” he murmured. “What are you doing here? Was there an emergency call from the office?”
“No,” she said, growing concerned with his strange attitude. “I wanted to surprise you.”
Then he looked at her and really saw her. He dropped his carry-on and took her in his arms. Kate could have sworn he was seeking some kind of solace. She returned the embrace. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“Not much,” he said, but his tone didn’t echo his words.
She pulled back and searched his face. “I think you’re not telling me something.”
His eyes were hard. “I think this is none of your business.”
Kate stared at him in shock. He was so far from her he might as well still be in California.
Nine
“Is that everything?” Kate asked, after Michael had loaded the trunk.
The weight of her concerned gaze and determined cheerfulness grated on him. After this trip, however, everything on the planet would grate on him. “Yeah. I’ll drive,” he said, wondering how he could be so damn glad to see her at the same time that he didn’t want to see her at all.
“Oh, no. I’ll drive. You’re tired,” she said, letting herself into the driver’s side of the vehicle. “And cranky.” She smiled a little too brightly. “It’s always been my belief that cranky people don’t belong on the road.”
“That could cover half the population at one time or another,” he said, sliding into the passenger seat and closing the door.
“My point exactly.” She pulled away from the metropolitan airport and pushed a CD into the player. The familiar guitar strains filled the car. Eric Clapton.
Michael took a deep breath and tried to relax.
“Y’know,” she said calmly as she pulled onto a main thoroughfare, “if I weren’t so happy to see you, I’d club you for talking to me that way in the airport.”
Michael did a double take. “What way?” he asked, even though he knew. He was chomping at the bit for a fight.
She shot him a quick glance. “None of my business,” she quoted him.
“It is,” he said grimly, “none of your business.”
Kate’s cheeks turned pink. She jerked the steering wheel to the side and pulled into a gas-station parking lot. She turned on him. “I’m your wife, bozo brain. If something’s bothering you, it sure as hell is my business too.”
She rarely swore, Michael thought, taking in the glorious sight of her anger. Pink cheeks, sparks shooting from her eyes, and tongue primed to rip him to shreds. “Bozo brain?”
“If the shoe fits,” she said, over-emphasizing her consonants. He would have to remember that sign for the future. “Only a bozo wouldn’t tell his wife if something was bothering him.”
“I don’t want you worrying.”
“Cut the bull, Michael. You know as well as I do that you didn’t marry any fragile flower. If I could take three years as your assistant, I can handle whatever happened to you in California.”
“Takeover,” he said, amazed at the instant relief telling her provided. “Only I’m not doing the taking this time. Another company is prepared to make a hostile takeover of CG Enterprises.”
She stared at him silently for a long moment.
He rushed to reassure her. “You don’t need to worry about money. We’re set if I don’t work another day. You and the baby will be—”
She covered his busy mouth with her fingertips. “At this moment, I am much more concerned about you.”
Michael felt his chest swell with the oddest, most disconcerting emotion. He didn’t know what to make of it. He just knew it wasn’t all bad. “I’m okay,” he said. “I have to get together a strategy for how to fight this. It will involve some long hours,” he warned her.
“But not tonight,” she said, and leaned forward to kiss him. “I’m glad you’re home.”
Michael settled back in his seat as she drove toward the apartment. He was ironically uneasy with the ease he felt with her. He trusted her, but he always had. There was something else. After a cross-country flight, he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he wasn’t totally comfortable with the situation.
He carried his luggage inside and Parkay greeted him with her customary snarl. He wondered if that cat would ever accept him. He inhaled a heavenly aroma. “What do I smell?”
Kate smiled. “Chocolate chip cookies. I made them this afternoon. Milk or beer?”
“Beer,” he said.
He stowed his luggage in the bedroom, then returned to the den and sank down on the sofa. He started to go through the mail, but she took it from him and handed him a beer and two cookies.
Kate sat down beside him. The silence between them was easy. He wolfed down the cookies, swallowed the beer, and drank in the sight of her. Her blue eyes held secrets he wanted to know. Her hair looked like rich silk, her cheeks glowed, and her mouth looked inviting. It felt as if it had been forever since they’d made love. His gaze traveled down her body. Everything about her seemed more ripe, including her belly.
“You look pregnant.”
“Thank you,” she said, beaming. “Wanna see my belly?” She poked it out at him.
Charmed, he nodded. “Do I get to touch?”
“Yes. Cupcake is moving.”
He felt his gut tighten. He slid his hands up under her blouse. “You felt the baby move?”
She nodded, clearly delighted. “At first I thought it was gas, but it’s the baby. It might be a few more weeks before you can feel the movement.”
Losing his company, knowing his baby was moving. He was hitting both ends of the scale at once. Michael closed his eyes at the dichotomy of emotion. He felt Kate’s fingers on his forehead and wanted more. But he’d made a promise, he reminded himself.
Unwilling to test his ragged control tonight, he stood. “I’m beat. I’ll take the sofa tonight.”
Her eyes met his, seeing possibilities in him he hadn’t known existed. She stood too. “No. You belong in our bed.”
He felt a knot in his stomach. Knowing he could probably persuade her to give him ease in the most sensual sense didn’t mean it would be best in the long run. “Kate, I want you tonight, and I’m fresh out of any Boy Scout chivalry.”
She laced her fingers through his, and even that sensation affected him. “I think you should get ready for bed. There’s something I want to tell you.”
Too tired to argue, he headed for the bathroom and washed the day off himself. When he finished, he looped a towel around his waist and walked through the open door.
With the bedside lamp’s gentle illumination, she sat in the middle of his bed wrapped in
a short white filmy nightie that revealed the hint of her dusky nipples and the slight swell of her belly. She reminded him of all the Christmas presents he’d ever wanted and not received. She crooked her finger at him and patted the bed beside her.
He took the dare in her eyes and dropped the towel before he joined her on the bed. “What do you want to tell me?”
“Number ten,” she said, touching his face with one hand, skimming her other palm down his shoulders and chest.
Michael would have traded his soul for her touch. He wasn’t sure his soul was worth much, but it was all he had, save his millions. And Kate, being Kate, wasn’t interested in his millions.
“What is number ten?” he asked, closing his eyes and giving into the pleasure of her slow touch.
“The tenth reason I want you,” she said.
He grinned slightly. “Ah, the secret reason. The one you wouldn’t tell me the night before our wedding.”
“Right,” she said. “The reason that kept me from running.”
“What is it?” he asked, opening his eyes.
“Chocolate chip cookies.”
Confused, he wrinkled his brow. “Chocolate chip cookies,” he echoed, wondering if she was missing a few cookies herself.
“You used to race to the front of the cafeteria line and you always got cookies. But you always gave your cookies to Harold Grimley.”
Stunned, he stared at her. “How did you know that?”
“That’s for another time,” she told him, waving her hand in a dismissing gesture. “Now is the time for me to show you what happens to the man who gave his cookies to Harold Grimley,” she said and kissed him.
She flowed over his body like a soft, sensual shower. She lingered with her mouth on his, then dragged her lips down his throat to his chest. Her combination of tenderness and passion nearly undid him.
She nuzzled his chest and he felt her chiffon-covered breasts against his crotch. Each movement of her body taunted his burgeoning hardness. Michael felt his blood soar through his veins.