The Wedding Lullaby

by Melissa McClone

  She took a breath and then another to keep her temper from spiraling out of control.

  “Obviously, I made a mistake coming to you, but I thank you for your time.” Only the knowledge everything she owned was locked in his car kept her from storming out of the restaurant. She clenched her hands. Blinked away the tears stinging the corner of her eyes. “If you’d drop me off at Henry’s on your way home, I’d appreciate it.”

  “Henry is in France.”

  How could she have forgotten that? Laurel pasted on a smile. “That’s right. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  The waiter placed the check on the table. Thank goodness. Laurel didn’t want to hear Brett tell her memory loss was a common symptom of pregnancy. She had other concerns: where would she sleep tonight, when did the next bus head north, and how far could she get away from Portland on the money she had left?

  She reached for the check at the same time as Brett.

  “I’m not letting you pay,” he said.

  When he wouldn’t release his hold on the leather folder, Laurel gripped tighter. “That makes two of us.” She wouldn’t let him ease a guilty conscience by paying for dinner. Besides, she didn’t want to feel indebted to him. “Why are you being so difficult?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I’m the one who’s being difficult?”

  If she’d seen this side of him in Reno, there wouldn’t have been a honeymoon night. “Let go, please.”

  “You let go.”

  “You and I aren’t on a date.” She kept hold of the bill, even if it meant they were both acting like children. “We’ve never gone out on a date. Just had a wedding, a reception, and great sex. Now we’re having a baby. A modern relationship, wouldn’t you say?”

  Great sex? Laurel tried not to grimace. Had she really admitted the sex was great?

  His gaze softened. “It was great, wasn’t it?”

  Why had she said that? Now his ego would get bigger.

  Shrugging, she attempted to pull the check folder toward her, but Brett wouldn’t let go. He was the most annoying, arrogant, chauvinistic man. “We can’t sit here all night.”

  “Then let me pay, so we can get out of here.”

  “I’d rather spend the night—”

  “With me? I knew you’d come around eventually.”

  His grin surprised her, reminding Laurel of their wedding ceremony when he’d smiled the whole time she’d walked down the aisle to him. For a moment, she’d almost believed the wedding was real, with love and a happy future in store for her. That the marriage vows spoken would have meaning, and her groom would love her every day of her life, staying right by her side no matter what.

  For richer, for poorer.

  The phrase had filled her with a comforting warmth. The same warmth that had carried her through the reception and grown during the elevator ride to the honeymoon suite. But nothing had been real. She must have been delusional. Too bad she couldn’t chalk up the reaction to drinking too much champagne.

  He laughed as if this were a joke. “I’ll pay for dinner, and then you can agree to marry me.”

  Her stomach knotted. Brett might be tall, dark, handsome, and rich—the type of man she wouldn’t want to bring home to meet Mother because she would force her to marry him on the spot or marry him herself—but Laurel wouldn’t take this from him.

  “We’ll go Dutch.” She released the check, but only to whip out her wallet from her purse. Her gaze lingered on the shrinking amount of money—only a few bills remained. Mentally, she calculated what her soup and chicken Caesar salad cost and then added on a twenty-percent tip. She should let him pay, but pride wouldn’t allow her to give in. Earlier, she’d stuffed a couple of dinner rolls in her pockets to make up for what she might spend tonight. Thank goodness Oregon didn’t charge sales tax.

  Mouth tightening, he snatched up the folder and tossed a credit card inside it.

  When he set the bill a little too forcefully back on the table, Laurel grabbed it and shoved a twenty inside. She would have preferred to pay the exact amount, but she didn’t want Brett to know how much—rather how little—money she had in her wallet. They sat in silence until the waiter arrived.

  “We’re splitting the check,” Laurel said to the server.

  “Put the entire dinner on the card.” Brett handed the folder to the waiter.

  As if sensing the conflict at the table, the waiter hurried away.

  “What are you trying to prove?” Brett asked finally.

  “I don’t want your charity or your money. Only a job.”

  “Wouldn’t giving you a job be considered charity?”

  “No, because I’d work to earn every dollar you paid me. I’d do whatever it took to succeed. A win-win situation for us both. But hey, it’s your loss.” Laurel tried to sound nonchalant, even though she was scared. “Once I get to Alaska—”

  “Alaska?”

  She nodded. “Did you think I’d come all this way without a backup plan?”

  The waiter arrived with Brett’s credit card slip. He signed it, removed the twenty, and then tucked the cash and the titanium card into his wallet. “Why Alaska?”

  “I watched a TV show set there. They’ll pay you to live in the state.”

  He placed his napkin on the table. “What do you plan to do in Alaska?”

  “You can earn a lot of overtime working on one of those fishing boats. There is a big company hiring cooks.” She scooted out of the booth. In an instant, Brett was at her side, putting out his hand to assist her. Drawing away from him, she warded off his offer.

  Why did he keep touching her? His little impersonal touches sent her blood boiling. She didn’t like the reaction one bit.

  Leaving Portland and Brett would be better for her in the long run. She couldn’t afford to fall for him. Especially when she didn’t like the person he’d turned out to be. Finding a job elsewhere would be more difficult, and Alaska was so far away, but she could do it.

  Laurel touched her belly. She had the best reason in the world to succeed.

  “If you’ll drop me off at the bus station, I’ll be on my way.”

  His gaze darkened. “Isn’t it a little late—”

  “Buses run all night.” Hoping buses departed at all hours and one heading north would be leaving soon, she moved toward the exit. Worst come to worst, she could stay at the bus depot. The train station was nearby, so that might be a better option for the night. Before she could open the door, Brett touched her shoulder. Not again. “What?”

  “Forget Alaska,” he said to her surprise. “If you want a job at MGI, you’ve got one.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Brett couldn’t believe he’d offered her a job, but the thought of Laurel leaving Portland spurred him into action. The last time he’d been impulsive had been with her in Reno, but he had no other way to keep her in town. He couldn’t allow her to take his child away.

  Her eyes widened. “You’re serious?”

  “Yes.” He tried to figure out what she could do without causing trouble or getting in the way. “My assistant has been telling me she needs help.”

  Laurel’s smile spread across her face. “You won’t be sorry.”

  Brett hoped not. He only wondered what Danielle would say about getting her own assistant. Perhaps she would be so excited she wouldn’t demand a logical explanation, but knowing Danielle… “I’ll call my assistant tonight, so she can make arrangements for tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be a great worker. You’ll see.” Laurel squeezed his hand, clearly excited, and a jolt of awareness shot through him. “Thank you.”

  The warmth of her skin brought back memories of their night together. The way her hand lingered in his told Brett she might be remembering, too.

  Pulling away was the smart thing to do, but he didn’t. Not surprising. Logic failed him whenever Laurel Worthington was around. Hiring her was a perfect example, one he would have to discuss with his attorneys. Despite the circumstances, he couldn’t
deny his physical attraction to her. He couldn’t put his company at risk for a sexual harassment suit by the mother of his unborn child. Thinking about the possible headlines that could bring made him cringe.

  Brett drew his hand away. “I only offered you the job. You won’t report directly to me, so you’ll have to prove your worth to keep it.”

  “I’ll be MGI’s model employee.”

  For all the confidence in her voice, she’d be lucky if she survived the probation period. At least he could keep an eye on her at the office. Make sure she and the baby were doing well.

  “What’s my salary?” she asked.

  Of course she would be interested in money. Her type always was. “You can discuss your salary with your new boss.”

  She bit her lip, hesitancy and uncertainty warring on her face. “I don’t want to put you on the spot, but will I be paid more than minimum wage?”

  Seriously? He reminded himself this would only be the second job she’d had. “Everyone at MGI earns more than minimum wage.”

  “Great, because I need to be able to afford rent.”

  He couldn’t imagine Laurel living on her own. Maybe he should reconsider what to pay her. That might convince her working didn’t make sense and she would be better off marrying him. An idea popped into his head. “Do you have a place to stay tonight?”

  “I need to find a hotel. Nothing fancy. A motel will be fine.”

  Nothing expensive was what she meant. He wondered how much cash she was carrying around in her bag. Not much if she was stashing bread in her pocket. “You can stay with me.”

  “I—I don’t want to be in the way.”

  A little late for that. “My mother fixed up the guest room. She stays there when she’s in town. Which isn’t often now that she’s retired to Palm Springs.”

  “I don’t want to keep her—”

  “She’s not planning to visit until Christmas.” He knew Laurel was searching for a polite excuse because she didn’t want to stay with him. Her behavior was consistent. “My mom got tired of the rain, so she moved to Southern California for the sunshine. The room is yours. For as long as you need it.”

  “You make it sound as if I’ll be there forever.”

  That’s the plan. Having Laurel stay with him was the first step in convincing her to marry him. Keeping her close was the second.

  “I want to rent an apartment,” she added, chin tipped stubbornly.

  Not. Going. To. Happen. “This will give you time to learn the various neighborhoods. That way, you can find the perfect place instead of just settling with anything.”

  “Portland’s not that big.” She furrowed her perfectly arched brows as if she didn’t know whether to trust him.

  Welcome to the club, Ms. Worthington.

  “Do you live near your office?” she asked.

  “It’s a short drive.”

  “I need a place close to work since I don’t have a car.”

  “We’ll carpool.”

  “Together?”

  “That’s how carpooling works.” Brett wanted to high five himself at his stroke of brilliance. Building his own business from nothing had taught him what success took—hard work and patience. The more time he spent with Laurel, the more he’d be able to show her the benefits of marrying him. At home, at work, in the car. Saying “I do” again was as good as done. “Ready to go home?”

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  Home. The word conjured up different images—good and bad—in Laurel’s mind. Only the belt strapped across her chest and lap kept her from edging forward on her seat as Brett drove along Highway 43 to an area called Dunthorpe. An exclusive area given the large houses in the older established neighborhood, especially Henry Davenport’s estate, which Brett pointed out.

  As he pulled into his driveway, Laurel’s heart pounded in her throat. The English-style manor had aged well, radiating warmth and family. The picture-perfect house belonged in a painting, with blooming flowers and towering trees in the yard, while gaslights illuminated the interior.

  “I’ll get your suitcase,” he said.

  Carrying her tote, Laurel started along the stone path to the entryway. With each step, she fell deeper in love with the delightful house. The carefully tended gardens reminded her of the yard she’d played in as a child. The memories of happier times—of the secure childhood she’d known as a young girl and as a teen—were bittersweet.

  She hoped Brett’s house knew only happy days in the years to come. It was perfect for a child…a child who would only visit every other weekend and an occasional holiday based on whatever custody arrangement they ended up agreeing on.

  The thought saddened her, but she shook off the feeling.

  Laurel had a place to stay tonight. She should be relieved, not thinking about what might happen in the future. Being cared for by his house staff also sounded…nice.

  As she stood on the porch waiting for Brett, a moth fluttered around the light. Was she getting too close to the flame herself? Working at his company was one thing, but staying with him and wanting to be pampered?

  Laurel grimaced. Her days of being spoiled were over.

  She shouldn’t be here. Not even for one night.

  All she wanted was a job. Not a marriage proposal, not a place to stay, and not a ride to work every day. She definitely didn’t want her insides turning to melted butter with a touch of his hand.

  Yet, that was happening.

  Not once, but every single time.

  Being around Brett short-circuited her mind, her nerve endings, and her heart. The feelings weren’t real; they couldn’t be more than leftover attraction from the time they’d shared in Reno. Except how did she explain her roller-coaster ride of emotion?

  She wanted to laugh; she wanted to cry. Wanted to slap him. For some insane reason, she wanted to kiss him, too. It didn’t make sense.

  Must be the hormones.

  She hoped that was all it was.

  Laurel couldn’t risk anything else. She’d made her choices in Reno. One last weekend, one last time to be—or rather pretend to be—an heiress, who could have whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. She’d wanted to hold on to the only life she’d known for a few days longer.

  Meeting Brett had been a welcome surprise. She’d never experienced such intense feelings as she had when he’d kissed her during the wedding ceremony. It felt as if she’d won the lottery. She hadn’t thought of the consequences of their wedding night. The next day hadn’t entered her mind. Not really.

  Oh, how things had changed.

  With a baby growing inside her, she had to think of tomorrow and every day after that. Not only for her own sake, but for the little one she would be bringing into the world. The future mattered now.

  Would the baby have her blue eyes or Brett’s brown ones? Boy or girl?

  Laurel only hoped their baby—regardless of gender—got Brett’s money sense and his smile. She might not be thrilled with his personality, but his smile made her feel warm all over.

  He carried her suitcase from his car, unlocked the front door, and opened it. A beep sounded. “That’s the alarm system. I’ll give you the security code.”

  “I won’t be here that long,” she said a little too quickly. “I’ll look for an apartment tomorrow. After work, that is.”

  “Wait until Saturday. We can make a day out of it.”

  “We?” He’d suggested helping her get to know Portland, but Laurel had assumed he was only being polite.

  “I’ll show you around. We can check out apartments, tour a few to compare. I’d still suggest memorizing the code here, though, unless you plan to spend all your time with me.”

  Memorizing the code moved to the top of her to-do list.

  He stepped inside, flipping a light switch as he did so. Laurel followed.

  The wood floors in the foyer gleamed from the light of the chandelier above. A wide staircase with an elaborately carved balustrade led to the second floor. So lovely. The faint scen
t of lemon—wood polish, perhaps—lingered in the air.

  She glanced to her right. The room was dark but also had beautiful floors and…

  Oh, no. Panic flaring, she screamed. “Call the police.”

  Brett dropped her suitcase with a thud, rushing to put his hand on her waist. “Are you in pain? Is it the baby?”

  “No.” She choked on a sob. “You’ve been robbed. They took everything.”

  Only a fireplace remained in the living room. Even the lamps were gone.

  Tears welled in her eyes. She remembered standing inside her condominium, and her parents’ house, watching as item by item was sold to strangers, seeing piece after piece removed until only empty rooms and bare walls remained.

  “Oh, Brett.” Leaning into him, she placed her hand over his, trying to give him what small amount of comfort she could. “I’m so sorry.”

  He moved away. “Everything’s still here.”

  “Everything?” Baffled, she glanced around at the empty space. “Your living room is empty.”

  None of his muscles tensed. He didn’t blink. “I don’t have any furniture.”

  She stepped into the cavernous room. Books were stacked against the far wall. “You’re kidding, right?”

  Brett shrugged. “I haven’t gotten around to decorating yet.”

  “I’m sorry, I thought…”

  Staring at the living room, she imagined where the Christmas tree would go. Miniature blinking lights—colored, not all white—would show through the front window. An angel would grace the treetop. Greenery, candles, and bows on the wooden mantel with lighted porcelain village pieces and red velvet stockings. The scent of cinnamon and vanilla would fill the air, with a crackling fire as the finishing touch. The room would be the perfect place for a holiday gathering, or a family opening presents from Santa.

  “I usually don’t have guests,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone.

  She was one guest who needed to get out of here. The image of this room decked out for the holidays was too appealing. Laurel returned to the foyer. “How long have you lived here?”

  “A year next month.”