From Boss to Bridegroom

by Victoria Pade

  “There wasn’t anyone else. Sadie was here and she was all the family we had. And my mother didn’t have any friends to speak of.”

  “What would you do?”

  “Everything that needed to be done. The cleaning, the cooking, the laundry. And I’d try to cheer Mom up. I’d do puppet shows from the foot of the bed. Sing and dance for her, tell her stories.”

  His smile this time looked sweet and troubled. “Did it work?”

  “No, not really,” Lucy admitted. “But I kept at it and eventually when she’d get up again I’d hope maybe I had something to do with it.”

  “So you learned to take care of everything—yourself included—and to be very efficient,” Rand concluded.

  “Good skills to have,” she confirmed. “I also learned to value my own child and not to ever put him in a position where he felt like he had to parent me or needed to be the caregiver.”

  “In other words you learned to be a better mom through your own mother’s shortcomings.”

  “I think so. I also think it’s important to look at the positives that come out of every negative experience. I could never get my mother to do that. My father’s leaving and not paying child support was bad, but it could have given my mom and me a chance to get closer, to have a better relationship, if only she would have used that opportunity. Instead… Well, instead she distanced herself from me and the rest of the world by taking to her bed.”

  Lucy caught sight of the clock on Rand’s night table. She hadn’t realized it had gotten so late.

  “And speaking of taking to bed, I should get out of here so you can rest.”

  “I’m resting,” he pointed out. “In fact, I’m enjoying myself.”

  “Still, I should get home.” She gathered up the remnants of their dinner to take to the kitchen and dispose of there.

  As she did she started to think about returning to the bedroom to rub that ointment into Rand’s back and that was all it took to make her mouth go dry. To make her pulse pick up speed and her palms itch with anticipation.

  Apparently waiting for a later hour had not allowed her any more stamina.

  But what else could she do?

  She could hope he’d forgotten about it and leave without reminding him. But that was irresponsible and cowardly and she would end up feeling guilty.

  Which meant she was just going to have to meet the challenge. The challenge of actually touching Rand Colton and not giving in to what it would do to her. Not giving in to what it would arouse in her.

  Steeling herself, she returned to Rand’s room.

  He’d moved to the edge of the bed, his feet flat on the floor, and it occurred to her that he didn’t like her seeing him move without his usual agility or being witness to his flinching in pain so he did it when she wasn’t around to watch. She liked that he didn’t seem to want to wallow in the sympathy or the kind of attention that would garner.

  “The ointment is on the bureau,” he said then, moving only his chin in the direction of the dresser nearest the door, obviously not having forgotten about it.

  Lucy retrieved it and crossed to him. “Stay where you are. I’ll kneel on the bed behind you so you don’t have to get up.”

  “You’re the boss,” he said with a note of levity in his tone.

  Lucy gingerly maneuvered herself onto the mattress, getting into position with infinite care so as not to jostle him any more than necessary.

  “If you untie your robe, I’ll do the rest,” she said, hoping it didn’t sound as suggestive to him as it had to her.

  But it must have because she heard a barely audible chuckle rumble from his throat before he complied.

  When he had, Lucy eased the robe off the way she had his shirt earlier.

  Just mind your business, she told herself sternly, opening the ointment tube and squeezing a little onto her hand.

  “This might be cold,” she warned, hating that her voice sounded so breathy, so intimate.

  “The bad disk is slightly below my shoulder blades,” he informed her.

  Oh and what shoulder blades they were!

  Lucy tried not to notice as she rubbed her hands together to disperse the ointment and then pressed them to his back.

  Satin over steel. She’d been right about that. Warm, smooth satin over honed steel.

  “Tell me if I hurt you,” she said, fighting to keep her perspective, to focus on the medicinal aspects and nothing more.

  “Don’t worry about it. You have a soft touch,” he assured her, sitting there straight and strong.

  He gave no evidence of pain. In fact it was Lucy who felt mushy-kneed and light-headed and at a disadvantage because the warmth of his flesh seemed to seep through her palms and infuse her with exactly the feelings she’d been worried this would cause.

  She was much too aware of every inch of that broad back, of every rise of muscle and sinew, of every ridge of tendon and bone. So aware that it was almost difficult for her to breathe. So aware that her heart was beating as hard as a jungle drum. So aware that her blood was a rushing river in her ears. So aware that her nipples were standing at attention and making themselves all too known.

  She went on rubbing Rand’s back even after any signs of the ointment had disappeared into his skin, drinking in the wide expanse with her hands until she realized she was long since finished doing anything therapeutic and had begun to merely indulge herself.

  “Okay,” she said after swallowing her own rapidly rising instincts to go on, to explore biceps that bulged massively in his arms, to allow her hands to glide over his shoulders to his pectorals, to even test the waistband of those sweatpants he wore…

  “That should do it,” she added somewhat belatedly, willfully yanking herself out of her wandering thoughts and desires.

  “Thanks,” Rand said.

  Was she mistaken or did his voice sound deeper? Maybe it was from the pain of sitting up.

  Lucy eased herself off the bed and went around to his night table, taking stock of his supplies when what she was really doing was working to regain some control. “You have all your pills and water to take them with. The phone is within reach if you need help. Can I get you anything else before I go?”

  He didn’t answer her right away. But she could feel his eyes on her as surely as if they would make a mark.

  “No, I’ll be fine,” he said finally, in a voice that was unmistakably raspier.

  Then all at once his hand was on her arm, as if to stop her from leaving.

  “Thanks for all this, Lucy. For everything,” he said.

  “You’re welcome,” she answered, unable to keep from looking at his face any longer.

  And when she did she got lost in eyes that reflected his intelligence, his strength, his power and something more. Something that maybe she’d inspired…

  Then that hand at her arm rose to the back of her neck and he pulled her gently but purposefully toward him, in command despite his debilitation, bringing her mouth to his.

  It seemed odd that he could be the one kissing her under the circumstances but that was how it was. And tonight’s kiss was no mere peck, nor was there a question that it might have been nothing but an expression of appreciation or gratitude. Tonight’s kiss was much, much more. It was a real kiss. A kiss between a man and a woman. A kiss he deepened with lips that parted and urged hers to part, too. A kiss so adept, so tender, so just plain sexy, that it nearly curled her toes. A kiss that went on long enough for her to savor it, to come close to losing herself in it before it ended.

  And when it did Rand looked deeply into her eyes and said, “I think you’re a remarkable woman.”

  “I’d better go,” she told him in the midst of a struggle to regroup, to remember why she shouldn’t be doing this when every ounce of her cried out to just do it again. And again. And again. To do even more…

  Rand nodded but went right on holding her eyes with his, fingering the tendrils of hair that had come loose at her nape.

  Then he s
lid his hand to her shoulder and down her arm in a slow caress that left her stomach aflutter, squeezing her hand when he reached it and only then letting her go.

  “Frank is in the lobby,” he said with a note in his voice that made her think he was reluctant to lose her but resigned to it.

  “What time do you want me tomorrow?”

  Unfortunate choice of words. She only realized it after she’d spoken them and when Rand smiled that wicked smile of his again.

  “Don’t make me an offer I can’t refuse,” he said. Then he let her off the hook. “How about nine? I don’t know what kind of shape I’ll be in or how long it will take me in the morning to get my act together. Go ahead and take my keys so you can let yourself in when you get here in case I can’t get to the door.”

  “Nine,” Lucy repeated. “I’ll be here.”

  “Tell Max hey for me and that I’m sorry to have kept his mom away tonight.”

  “I will. I hope you can sleep.”

  “Me, too.”

  Lucy stayed a moment longer, even though they really had dragged out their goodbye as much as they could, all the while telling herself to get out of there while she was still able to, before she leaned over and kissed him and restarted something she shouldn’t.

  Then, as if Rand knew how tempted she was and wanted to save her from herself, he said, “Go on. Maybe you can still get home in time to read your son a bedtime story.”

  Lucy just nodded, finally succeeding at breaking that magnetic eye contact of his so she could leave.

  But as she grabbed her coat, purse and Rand’s keys from the living room and rode the elevator down to the lobby she couldn’t help recalling the feel of his back beneath her hands, reliving that kiss…that glorious kiss and all it had brought to life inside her.

  And she knew as the elevator doors opened again on the ground floor that it was a good thing Rand’s health had made anything else off-limits. If it hadn’t, she was afraid to think where things might have gone from there.

  Because she honestly didn’t know if she’d have had the ability to stick to her convictions and resist.

  Six

  Lucy had told Rand’s driver not to bother picking her up the next morning. Since Rand’s apartment was only two miles from her own home, it was easier for her to drive herself. Besides, it gave her the chance to take Max to day care.

  She was pleased to see that what Sadie had told her was true—her son had already made friends. The moment Max got out of the car two other little boys ran up to greet him and off they went as Lucy followed them into the building.

  “I’ll pick you up a little after five,” she called to him but her only acknowledgment was a brief glance over his shoulder and a wave before Max disappeared into the day care’s gym while Lucy signed him in and left.

  The doorman at Rand’s building seemed to recognize her and to be expecting her when she arrived there a few minutes before nine. He had the door open when she reached it and greeted her with a hearty “Good morning.”

  And then she got on the elevator and succumbed to the jitters she’d been fighting.

  Try as she might, in the last thirteen hours since leaving Rand’s apartment, she had not been able to justify that kiss they’d shared. The peck of the night before that had been so inconsequential that it had allowed her to convince herself to some degree that it had merely been a buss of gratitude. But last night…

  Last night’s kiss was a real kiss.

  And she wasn’t too sure how to act after it.

  It shouldn’t have happened—that she knew. She shouldn’t have let it happen. And she certainly shouldn’t have been reliving it again and again in her mind ever since, like a teenager savoring a dream come true.

  It wasn’t a dream come true, Lucy told herself. She didn’t have dreams about suave, sophisticated men sweeping her off her feet. She was a realist. Her dreams were about raising a good, productive son who would accomplish great things in his life. About having a wide circle of genuine friends whom she could count on. About traveling a little with Max or Sadie or her friends.

  And as for romance? Yes, she had dreams of romance. Later. After Max was on his own. She had dreams of finding a mature, intelligent, responsible, prudent man who had sown all his wild oats and was in the market for companionship. She had dreams of a calm, sensible romance that would be two people coming together through mutual interests and values, both of them at the same place in life, wanting the same things, living the same kind of lifestyle. Settled. Secure. Low-risk romance. That was what she envisioned for herself.

  Nowhere in even her dream was she a harried single mother rushing headlong into the arms of a man like Rand Colton who had women to spare and no room in his life for a ready-made family.

  Yet there she’d been last night, kissing him.

  And now she didn’t know what to do about it.

  Should she tell him it had been a mistake? That she didn’t want it to ever happen again? That if it did it would mean the end of their work relationship and she would never see him again?

  Or was that too dramatic? Would he look at her as if she were out of her mind and say it was not the big deal she was making it, that she should just forget about it?

  Except that it felt like a big deal. A very big deal that had left her feeling branded by the man. That had left her weak-kneed and wobbly and wanting more.

  Wanting more…

  Now that was a big deal.

  On the other hand, she thought as the elevator reached the eighth floor, Rand had been under the influence of a lot of medication. That might have contributed to his kissing her in the first place. He might not have been in his right mind, not in command of his senses. He might not have meant a single thing by it, nor even remember it this morning.

  She liked that possibility the best. If he didn’t remember the kiss, she wouldn’t be the one bringing it to mind.

  And as payment for taking the easy way out she vowed that a kiss would never happen again. No matter how much she wanted it.

  After all, she wanted lots of things she didn’t indulge in. Like banana splits for breakfast or brownies for midnight snacks or five-hundred-dollar shoes.

  Or like men who could mess up the order she’d finally gotten her life into, distance her from her son and hurt them both.

  So no, she would not indulge in any more kisses with Rand Colton, and that was all there was to it.

  She just hoped as she put the key in the lock that the entire night before was nothing but a blur to him.

  As Lucy went in she called, “It’s me.”

  She half expected there to be no answer or to hear a weak hello from the bedroom. But instead Rand’s deep voice called back a strong, “I’m in the kitchen.”

  Lucy took off her coat and set her purse with it on the art-deco wrought-iron hall tree in the corner of the entryway. Then she smoothed the red turtleneck sweater she had on over her black slacks.

  She hadn’t known exactly how to dress but had assumed that a workday spent in Rand’s apartment didn’t call for the business suits she wore to the office, so she’d opted for casual attire.

  But when she reached the kitchen to join Rand she felt overdressed as he stood there in pajama bottoms and his bathrobe left open down the front.

  Lucy’s mouth went dry at that first glimpse of him, standing at the sink filling the coffeepot with water. Drier still when he finished and turned to face her.

  He did it carefully, pivoting his whole body while keeping his torso and head ramrod straight, but it gave her a glimpse of what was beneath the bathrobe. A glimpse of a stomach that was a flat six-pack rising to a massively muscled chest spattered lightly with hair and shoulders so broad they were like a grand explosion of Old Faithful.

  And it didn’t help matters that his profoundly handsome face was shadowed in ruggedly masculine beard or that his dark hair was mussed as if from a night of lovemaking.

  No secretary should be presented with such a sight and be
expected to perform.

  At least not to perform secretarial tasks.

  Lucy knew instantly that keeping her vow was going to be the hardest thing she did all day because what she really wanted was to cross the space that separated them, slide her arms inside the flaps of his robe and start up where they’d left off the previous evening.

  It took some doing not to succumb to that impulse, to hold her ground and say, “Good morning.”

  “Morning.”

  He gave her the once-over and there seemed to be approval—maybe even appreciation—in his expression as he did. Until he reached her upswept hair and then the slight smile on his provocative lips twitched just enough to make her think he didn’t like the do.

  She didn’t know why that would be the case. It was the way she’d worn her hair every day since going to work for him, but even the faintest hint of displeasure from him made her want to reach up and unfasten the clip that held the spray of curls at her crown and shake her hair free.

  But she steadfastly resisted that urge, too.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked.

  “I’ve been better. The pills make me too foggy so I’m only taking half the dose, just enough to blur the edges of the pain to get me by.”

  He didn’t seem to want to discuss it further because then he launched into work-mode. “I’ve dictated some letters into the tape recorder that will need to be typed but I’d like for you to work up the anonymous note to my family about Emily so we can get that out. I thought if you wrote it there really wouldn’t be any indication that it came from me. If you would, you can do that while I shower and then go on to the letters while I write the summation I have to get done. That’ll also need to be proofread and typed. I doubt if we’ll finish before noon but I thought we might devote the afternoon to the Internet search into my mother’s background. I don’t want Emily calling to check with me and not have something to tell her. Plus I’d like for you to be on the clock for that. I don’t expect it to be a freebie. We can put off the rest of today’s work until tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” Lucy agreed, grasping onto thoughts of work to help distract herself.