SLEEPING WITH THE BOSS

by Maureen Child

  "Yes, I went to your grandmother—and the place isn't that bad."

  "The decorator ought to be shot."

  "There was no decorator."

  "You did this?" She turned in a half circle, and he watched her, as she shook her head in disbelief. "It's like a hotel room—no wait. Hotel rooms have color." She looked at him again. "You're taking this little gray world of yours way too far."

  "I'm not here a lot."

  "Good thing. You'd stick your head in the oven."

  "It's electric."

  "Probably safer that way." She shook her head again and then got back on track. "Anyway, the point is, I'm not going to marry you just because you sicced Gran on me."

  "Damn it, Eileen," he said, stalking closer, unable to keep his distance, or his temper. "I don't want my child born a bastard."

  She flinched and pulled her head back to stare at him openmouthed. "That's an ugly word. And an outdated one."

  He barked a laugh that scraped his throat and tore at his heart. "It's so easy for someone like you."

  "What?"

  "Your grandmother raised you and Bridget. But your parents were married. They loved you guys. The only, reason you didn't grow up with them is because they died."

  Eileen blanched a little at the old yet still painful memory.

  "Your parents loved you two. They were married. Committed to each other and their children." Rick, on the other hand, knew just how cruel other children could be. "You don't know. That word's not so outdated," he muttered, his hands fisting in his pockets.

  Her voice dropped too, as she said, "Our child will be fine. Loved. It won't matter—"

  His gaze snapped to hers. "It'll matter to me," he ground out. "And trust me, it'll matter to him, when kids start calling him names."

  "They won't."

  "They will." Staring into her eyes, he swallowed a hard knot of bitterness choking his throat. "You don't know what that's like, Eileen. But I do. I remember. And I won't let a child of mine experience the same damn thing."

  "Rick—"

  "Being married to me wouldn't be so bad," he said, rushing to convince her. Hell, he was a rich man. He could give her whatever she wanted. "I could help you expand your flower shop…"

  "I don't need—"

  "You were talking about that wedding job you got earlier—" he said, warming to his theme now. If he couldn't get her to marry him for the child's sake, maybe she'd marry him if he could show her what he could do for her. Hell, Allison had married him for his money. Why not Eileen?

  But no. Eileen was nothing like Allison. She wouldn't care if he was broke or a gazillionaire. She was smart and funny and so damn independent she didn't need him at all. Money wouldn't convince her. But maybe he could talk her into marrying him just for the sake of their child. Of course, he knew she wouldn't stay with him. She'd never stay. Not forever. But before she left, they could be married and give their child a name. Protect it from the hurts other kids could, and would, deliver. "I could help there, too. Finance you and you could go into the wedding planner business. You'd be good at it."

  "Rick," she said on a sigh, "I like my business just the way it is."

  He kept talking though, pointing out all the ways that being married would be a good thing. Which wasn't easy, since he'd hardly had a stellar experience with it himself.

  Eileen listened, but more importantly, she heard him. He was talking so fast, she was pretty sure even he wasn't sure of everything he was saying. But she understood. It wasn't just the baby motivating him. It was more. She knew why he was so determined to marry her. Whether he knew it or not, he did care for her. Oh, he'd never admit it, but he did. It was there in his eyes. Along with the fear that she was slipping away from him.

  As had everyone else in his life.

  Except for the grandmother who'd raised him, no one he'd cared about had ever stayed.

  His parents.

  His ex-wife.

  Now he was sure she was leaving, too.

  So he was protecting himself and his child the only way he knew how. Her heart ached for him as understanding dawned and a million thoughts careened through her mind at once. Maybe Gran was right, she thought. Maybe she did love him. If she didn't, she could marry him with a clear conscience—make it a sort of business deal.

  But since she did care, she couldn't marry him? Okay, next stop … therapy. She was getting too confused. He wasn't offering her love, because he didn't believe in it. He wasn't offering to be with her always because he believed she wouldn't stay.

  So all she could do now, she told herself, was say yes. Because the only way she could convince him that she would stay was by marrying him and proving it to him. The only way he would allow himself to love her was if she could show him that it was safe.

  One of them had to take a chance.

  And it looked as if it was going to be her.

  "Okay," she said, cutting into his speech.

  "Okay?" He looked at her, suspicion in his eyes.

  Clearly this wasn't going to be easy. But with the decision made, Eileen suddenly knew it was exactly the right thing to do.

  "I'll marry you," she said. "On one condition."

  Wary, he asked, "What?"

  "That it's a real marriage. In every way."

  He pulled his hands from his pockets and reached for her. Dropping both hands onto her shoulders, he looked down into her eyes and nodded. "A real marriage. For as long as it lasts."

  "Well, there's that optimistic outlook again," she said as his arms came around her. Eileen laid her head on his chest, closed her eyes and hoped to hell she was doing the right thing.

  * * *

  The wedding itself was short and sweet. What it lacked in magic, it more than made up for in kitsch.

  Plastic ribbons dotted the "pews" and elevator music streamed from the overhead speakers. Happy couples were lined up in the lobby, waiting their turn at the "altar"—a silk-flower-bedecked wicker arch at the end of a narrow red-carpeted aisle. The minister was short and round, with wire-rimmed glasses and a long white beard. Actually, he could have passed for Santa, except for his Hawaiian shirt, faded jeans and sandals.

  Both grandmothers were there along with Bridie and her husband. They'd left all three kids with his mother so they could enjoy a long weekend alone in Las Vegas.

  Everything was as it should be. Until "Santa" asked, "Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

  Eileen experienced a moment of sheer, undiluted panic. Everything inside her was screaming for her to rethink this situation. It was only two weeks since Rick's hasty proposal and she was sure they were rushing blindly into something that had every possibility of ripping their bleeding hearts from their chests and stomping them into the ground.

  She swallowed hard and glanced over her shoulder at her family. Gran, calm and regal as always, looking confused in her dark blue suit with a flashing silver pin on the lapel. Bridie, her red hair shining in the overhead lights, clung to her husband's arm and made wild gestures with her eyes, as if telling Eileen to say something. Rick's grandmother, one long, silver braid laying across her right shoulder, chanted quietly.

  "Eileen…" Gran whispered the word loudly, as if trying to snap Eileen out of a trance.

  "Is everything all right?" Rick's grandmother's hushed stage whisper carried over the numbingly generic music.

  All right? Eileen thought. Probably not. She had the distinct feeling that this wedding was going to create more problems than it solved. So what was she doing here?

  Eileen looked at the minister, then shifted her gaze to Rick. Her stomach did a slow roller-coaster ride. One look from him turned her insides to jelly and stole her breath. His dark brown eyes met hers, and she saw a mixture of sorrow and acceptance glimmering in their depths. He expected her to back out. He was already prepared for her to change her mind and walk away. Heck, a part of him was waiting for her to leave him standing alone at the altar.

  And that, more th
an anything, convinced her that she was doing the right thing. "I do," she said.

  A flicker of surprise lit his eyes as he slipped a four-karat stone, deep set into a platinum band, onto her finger. Eileen blew out a long breath as she experienced the weight of that ring on her hand. Promises she'd never thought she'd make echoed over and over in her mind. She tried to figure out how a temporary job had slowly worked into a lifetime commitment—and she wondered if it had been meant to work out this way. Was she, all those years ago, when Rick Hawkins had been teasing her and cutting off Barbie's head, already destined to reach this day? Had she always been meant to find a future with Rick? Or was it all just a quirk of fate?

  She watched the play of light across the surface of the diamond while the minister droned on. And silently she promised the child within her to make this marriage work. To find a way to convince Rick Hawkins that she loved him.

  The world went suddenly still.

  It was as if time stopped.

  She did love him.

  It wasn't affection. It wasn't just caring.

  She was in love. For the first time in her life. With a man who was convinced she already had one foot out the door.

  * * *

  Chapter 10

  «^»

  Time started up again when the minister said, "You can kiss her now, son."

  Rick turned her face up to his and lowered his head until they were nose to nose. She held her breath and felt the soft brush of his on her cheeks. Unexpectedly, tears rose up behind her eyes and she blinked frantically to keep them at bay.

  While the music played and their families applauded, he whispered, in a voice low enough that only she could hear, "Thanks for this, Eyeball," just before he kissed her.

  The moment his lips touched hers, Eileen's heart quickened. Here was magic. Here was thunder and lightning and a rush of blood that made her head swim. Love swelled inside her and she reached up, wrapping her arms around his neck. The warm, solid strength of him pressed against her, felt good … right. She gave herself up to the kiss that seared her soul and stirred up longings for more. Eileen wanted his love. Not just his name. Not just his child.

  She wanted him to love her.

  To believe in the life they could build together.

  And she knew she was in for the fight of her life.

  Ignoring their audience and the cluster of couples waiting to be married, Rick took his time about kissing her. He parted her lips with his tongue and she melted into him, savoring the flash of fireworks in her bloodstream and the thundering pound of her heartbeat. Clinging to him, she gave him all that she had, pouring her heart and soul into the kiss—hoping he would feel it, sense it, and know that she wouldn't leave him. Ever.

  "Okay folks," the minister said gruffly. "I've got five more couples to marry before dinner, so let's move it along, huh?"

  Rick broke the kiss, lifting his head to stare down at her. And just for a minute, Eileen saw something in his eyes that made her feel better about this wedding.

  While she accepted congratulations and hugs from her grandmother and sister, she clung to the hope she'd read in his eyes and told herself that it was, at least, a start.

  * * *

  At night, Las Vegas sparkled like a black bowl full of precious gems. Ruby, emerald, sapphire and diamond lights lit the darkness until it was as bright as day, yet still disguised the city in a cloak of beauty.

  Tourists streamed up and down the sidewalks as traffic stalled on the strip. On one street, you could find the Eiffel Tower, downtown New York and a slice of Italy. You could visit the pyramids, Medieval Europe and the Caesars of Rome. All along the street, crowds of people moved in a hurry, clutching plastic buckets filled with quarters and nickels and what was left of their dreams. Would-be millionaires stepped off curbs into traffic, following the lure of the next casino.

  But the view from a penthouse suite was all lights and glory.

  Eileen turned away from the window and faced Rick as he closed the door behind the room service waiter. Now that they were alone, their families off and playing somewhere in Sin City, the silence was nearly deafening.

  "Hungry?" he asked, lifting the silver dome off one of the plates on the rolling tray.

  She hugged herself, rubbing her hands up and down her upper arms. "Not really."

  He set the dome back. "Me, neither." Instead, he grabbed a bottle from its silver ice-filled bucket and twisted the wires around its neck. "We'll have some of this instead."

  "I probably shouldn't have any." Too bad, she thought, because if there was ever a time when she really wanted a drink, it was now.

  "No problem," he said, tearing the wire cage off and tossing it onto the cart. "It's sparkling cider."

  Eileen laughed shortly. She shouldn't have been surprised. Of course Rick would remember that she shouldn't have wine—and being him, Mr. Organization, naturally he'd arrange for something appropriate. Warmth trickled through her. "Cider?"

  He shrugged. "How bad can it be?"

  "Guess we'll find out." While he took care of the bottle, she shifted her gaze to the room. It was huge. A one-bedroom suite with a gigantic living room, it perched on the thirtieth floor of the Sandalwood hotel. Twin sofas sat facing each other, with a wide, low table boasting an arrangement of fresh, fragrant roses in between. A gas fireplace, flames dancing on the faux hearth, was on one wall and a wide entertainment system on the other. A bank of floor-to-ceiling windows opened onto the night and even this high up, the lights from the city below stained the room with a soft glow, making lamplight unnecessary.

  Eileen shifted her gaze to the door on the far wall, through which lay the bedroom, where the king-size bed had already been turned down for them by the maid. Her stomach skittered as the image of Rick and her rolling across that wide mattress rose up in her mind. Silly really, but she was nervous. Rick had seen and explored every inch of her body already, so there was no reason for her to be a shy bride, but apparently logic had little to do with how she was feeling.

  The cork popped, bounced off the ceiling and landed on one of the couches and Eileen jumped, startled. Slapping one hand to her chest, she blew out a breath and told herself to get a grip. But in another minute or two, Rick was walking toward her, carrying two crystal flutes, filled with the sparkling cider. And just like that, her heart jumped again.

  Handing her one of the glasses, he touched his to hers with a quiet clink and said, "Here's to us."

  She stared up into his eyes and wished he'd meant that. Wished he'd believed that this was the beginning for them instead of the beginning of the end. She wished he could believe that they could build a family. That with love, anything was possible. But all she could hope for was that he'd learn. That she'd be able to convince him that a future was possible. That it was safe to love her.

  But Rome hadn't been built in a day, so she would take it slow and try not to lose patience. Though she had the distinct impression that Rick was going to be a lot tougher work than any old Romans had ever had to deal with.

  "Right. To us." She nodded and took a long drink, letting the fizzy cider slide down her throat. Her gaze locked on the simple gold band she'd placed on his finger and in the pit of her stomach, worry fizzed along with the cider.

  Rick watched the flashing change of emotions charging across the surface of her eyes. And not for the first time since she'd walked back into his life, he wondered what the hell she was thinking. Was she already regretting agreeing to this? Was she already mentally packing her bags?

  And why did it matter?

  They were married now. His child was protected. No one could ever call him a bastard. Even if Eileen walked out on him tonight, the marriage certificate would be a shield for his child.

  But damn it, he didn't want her to leave.

  Just the thought of Eileen walking out of his life was enough to open up a black hole of emptiness inside him. When Allison had left him, Rick had survived. She'd hurt him. Disappointed him. But she'd le
ft his heart intact.

  When Eileen left, she would take his heart with her.

  But for now, she was here and she was his wife. And tonight, was their wedding night.

  Taking her glass from her, he set them both aside on a nearby table. Then turning back to her, he cupped her cheek in his palm and asked, "Did I tell you how beautiful you looked today?"

  One corner of her mouth lifted. "I don't think so."

  "You do," he said, and let his gaze slide down and back up her body, appreciating her beauty now as much as he had when she'd first entered the chapel. The lemon-yellow dress she wore looked like sunshine. Bright and warm, the fabric fell into a full skirt that stopped just above her knees and swirled around her with every step. The neckline was wide, displaying her collarbones and the fine column of her throat to perfection. He'd taken one look at her and felt a flash of something red-hot surge through him. She tossed her head, sending that gorgeous hair of hers into a rippling arc around her head and he'd wanted to go out and find a dragon to slay for her.

  As she walked up that short aisle toward him, Rick had told himself to enjoy the sight of her, the picture she made. The anticipation and joy in her face, despite her obvious reservations. He told himself to carve this memory and any others they might make, deeply into his brain, so that they'd always be there, just a dream away.

  She smiled at their families as she moved to join him and, when she took her place beside him, an unexpectedly sharp, sweet sting of regret shot through him. Regret that this moment couldn't last.

  Already Rick knew that this marriage would end, so it was hard to hold on to any rays of hope, no matter how tempting. Hadn't he been crushed by misplaced hopes before? Hadn't he decided long ago to not be led down the path of impossible dreams?

  And yet, when he slipped his ring onto her finger, he realized sadly that he was closer than he'd ever been to real love.

  But it was too tenuous to hold on to and he could already feel it slipping through his fingers.

  She was going to leave.

  If not today, then soon. So he couldn't allow himself the luxury of loving her.