Hazardous Husband

by Christine Scott

  Lily had a weakness for romance. She’d made him watch Casablanca at least ten times in the past three years. Her favorite book was Gone With The Wind. A niggling of doubt sought and found a foothold in his upbeat mood. He tried not to be discouraged by the fact that the heroines in both had met with unhappy endings.

  Eric sighed. Lily was the most stubborn romantic he knew. She sold romance in the guise of wedding cakes every single day. She’d accused him of being unromantic. He would prove her wrong. Romance would be his most powerful weapon.

  A flashing red light in the rearview mirror caught his eye. He groaned, his uplifted spirits plummeting. He eased up on the accelerator and pulled his car over to the side of the road. Since he’d asked Lily to marry him, bad luck seemed to be dogging him. If he were a superstitious man, he would take all of this as an omen. He watched the police officer’s approach in his mirror.

  Good thing he wasn’t a superstitious man.

  Chapter Six

  “Mrs. Spencer, you and your ex-husband were given joint custody of Bridget,” Eric explained to the woman on the other end of the phone line. “You’ll be going against a court order if you refuse him his visitation rights.”

  Mrs. Hunter entered his office carrying a long white florist’s box. Eric motioned for her to bring it to his desk.

  “She isn’t eating.”

  He whisked the tag off the box. In a bold slash, Lily’s name had been deleted from the tag. In its place she’d written, “Return to sender.”

  Eric sighed. “And she wakes up at night howling?”

  Some of his cases were more unusual than others. Spencer v. Spencer had to be one of his most memorable. Bridget, a toy poodle, had been like a child to the Spencers. When they’d divorced, both Mr. and Mrs. Spencer had insisted on full custody of the dog. The judge had decided in favor of joint custody, a ruling his client did not like.

  “Mrs. Spencer, I’m not an expert, but I do admit it sounds as though Bridget is troubled. Why don’t you make an appointment with her veterinarian so that we can rule out any physical reason for her behavior? Once that’s been taken care of, we’ll go from there.”

  He said his goodbyes and hung up the phone.

  “Still trying to nail her ex on cruelty charges?” Mrs. Hunter asked, not bothering to hide an amused smile.

  Eric nodded. “You’ve got to hand it to her—she is persistent.”

  “Persistent?” Mrs. Hunter scoffed. “Try stubborn. The woman doesn’t know when to quit.” She tapped a finger on the box of flowers. “Speaking of knowing when to quit...”

  Eric scowled.

  “How many boxes of flowers have you and Lily exchanged this week—two?”

  “Three,” he said, deciding it best not to mention the candy or the returned cards. He stood, picked up the flowers and handed them to his secretary. “Here, they’re all yours.”

  “Thanks, boss. But I do hope you bought something other than roses this time. My office is beginning to smell like a funeral home.”

  Eric didn’t smile. He found nothing amusing about the situation. His plan to win Lily’s forgiveness had fallen flat on its romantic nose.

  Mrs. Hunter eyed him curiously. “Why don’t you try a more direct approach? Like talking to her?”

  He dug his hands into his pants pockets. “She’s not taking my calls. I’ve gone to the bakery, but she isn’t in. When I go to her house, her car’s parked out front, but she won’t answer the door.”

  “I may be butting in where I don’t belong but I can’t help myself. I have to know. What in the world did you do to that girl to make her so mad?”

  Eric hesitated, embarrassed to admit to his secretary the real reason for Lily’s temper. He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “I offered to marry her.”

  Mrs. Hunter dropped herself into the chair opposite his desk, a stunned expression on her face. “I don’t believe it. You asked Lily to marry you?”

  “Not exactly asked. It was more like...an arrangement.”

  She quirked an eyebrow. “What sort of an arrangement?”

  “A business arrangement.”

  “Oh, Eric,” Mrs. Hunter said disgustedly. “No wonder she’s mad at you.”

  He put his hands up in mock surrender. “I already know I made a mistake. But how can I apologize if she won’t take my calls?”

  “Well, it’s obvious something as lame as flowers isn’t going to work,” she said, giving the box a pat. She narrowed a gaze at him. “You still want to marry her?”

  He hedged a direct answer. “I asked, didn’t I?”

  At the moment, having Lily return his calls seemed more urgent. His unease at the thought of losing her friendship had grown to panic. Life without her left him feeling hollow inside. He missed his best friend. He missed Lily.

  “I never thought I’d see the day. Well, you can’t ask a woman to marry you—the right way—if she won’t talk to you. Lily’s as stubborn as you are. Worse, in fact.”

  “Thanks a lot,” he said, shooting her an indignant look.

  “What we have to do is not give her a choice.” Thoughtfully she rubbed her cheek. “A woman loves it when a man makes a fool of himself over her.”

  Eric grimaced, recalling his unplanned swim in the restaurant’s pool. As far as he was concerned, he’d made a big enough fool of himself already.

  Mrs. Hunter snapped her fingers, smiling with manic glee. “I’ve got the perfect idea.”

  Eric’s chest tightened. He recognized the look on his secretary’s face. It meant trouble with a capital T. Whatever the idea was, he already hated it.

  * * *

  “Lily, someone’s out front asking for you.”

  Lily glanced up at Ann, who was standing in the doorway of her office. She tossed her pen on the desk and slammed the scheduling book closed with a thud. “If it’s Eric, I’m not here.”

  Ann smiled. “It isn’t Eric.”

  “Who is it?”

  “I think you’d better come see for yourself,” she said, her answer as mysterious as the expression on her face.

  “Ann, I hate surprises. Tell me what’s going on,” she moaned.

  “Come on, Lily. Where’s your spirit of adventure?” Ann took her arm and pulled her through the deserted kitchen.

  “Where is everyone?” she asked, her stomach churning with trepidation.

  “Out front,” Ann said, pushing her through the doorway leading to the showroom.

  Lily skidded to a stop when she saw what awaited her.

  A mariachi band, complete with Spanish guitars and brass horns, was assembled in the center of her showroom. Her staff had formed a semicircle around the group, looking anxious for the show to begin.

  The leader of the band, wearing a heavily decorated jacket and a large sombrero and carrying a guitar, approached her. “Mrs. Gerard?” he asked, a smile twitching beneath his thick, dark mustache.

  She nodded, too shocked to speak.

  “We are a mariachi band, roaming minstrels of love. Mr. Mitchell has asked us to play for you a ballad about a young man whose heart is broken. In this song the young man asks for his lover’s forgiveness.”

  She felt the eyes of her staff watching her. A blush crept slowly across her face.

  The leader motioned for his band to start. Music, loud, beautiful music, meant for an open courtyard or a ballroom-size room, filled the bakery. The windows shook. The display cabinets danced. The small showroom vibrated with the pulsing beat.

  Her staff smiled, enjoying themselves immensely.

  Lily wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole. Embarrassment flooded her entire body. This time Eric had gone too far.

  Soon the song ended. Lily hurried to the cash register and drew out a handful of money. “Thank you so much,” she said, trying to pay the leader. “The song was beautiful.”

  With a sweep of his hand, he waved the bribe away. “Our next song is about star-crossed lovers.”

  The music began again.r />
  Lily leaned an elbow on the counter and slumped against a display cabinet. This was her own fault, she told herself, glancing around the showroom at her staff. She’d involved them in her battle to avoid Eric. She’d asked them to lie whenever he called, telling him she wasn’t in. They saw her returning his flowers, unopened. It was only fitting that they witness her humiliation now.

  The song ended. Once again she offered the leader her money.

  He smiled. “You don’t understand, Mrs. Gerard. Mr. Mitchell is the only one who can ask us to stop.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “We’ve been instructed to play for you until we are told by Mr. Mitchell to stop.”

  Lily glanced out the bakery windows, expecting to see Eric standing in the courtyard. A few curious passersby had their noses pressed to the window as they watched the show with interest, but there was no sign of Eric.

  She raised her hands palms upward in a helpless gesture. “But how...?”

  He nodded toward the phone resting on the counter. “A phone call will do.”

  He strode back to the band. The music started...again.

  Lily closed her eyes and began to count. She got to three before her head began to throb along with the beat of the music. Muttering an unladylike expletive, Lily stomped over to the phone and punched in Eric’s number.

  His secretary answered on the second ring. Lily swore she heard Mrs. Hunter chuckling before she transferred her call to Eric.

  “Lily, what a surprise.”

  She could barely hear him over the blare of the music.

  “Call off your band, Eric.”

  “What did you say, Lily? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

  “Your band, Eric,” she shouted. “Call them off.”

  The staff turned curious gazes toward her. She ducked her head in embarrassment.

  “Not until you agree to talk to me.”

  “I am talking to you.”

  “Uh-uh, face-to-face.”

  She sighed. “All right. I’ll talk to you.”

  “When?”

  “Tonight, after work.”

  “Where?”

  She chewed on her lower lip, recalling his kiss with alarming clarity. Somewhere neutral and, preferably, public would be best for their meeting. “A restaurant?”

  “Nope, we tried that already. Remember? When you dumped me in the pool.”

  Her body went rigid. “I did not—”

  “My place, seven o’clock.”

  Countless women had lost their wits and virtue at Eric’s home in Paradise Valley. That was the last place she wanted to meet him. “No. My house, seven-thirty.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Now, about the band,” she said, her voice pleading.

  “Let me talk to Mr. Ramirez.”

  Lily could almost hear the triumphant smile in Eric’s voice. She handed the phone to the leader. She ground her teeth, fighting her rising irritation as she watched Mr. Ramirez nod obsequiously.

  Ramirez smiled broadly when he hung up the phone. With a snap of his fingers, the band stopped. He waved away the money Lily handed him. “Mr. Mitchell has already taken care of payment for our services.”

  She forced a smile. “Then thank you for your beautiful music, Mr. Ramirez.”

  “No thanks are necessary. I am pleased to have been instrumental in patching up a lovers’ spat between you and Mr. Mitchell.”

  Aware of her staff watching her, a captive audience in this show of shows, Lily didn’t bother to argue. She pressed her fingertips to her forehead and shook her head in defeat. Mr. Ramirez and his band left. Lily strode back to her office, slamming the door behind her.

  Thanks to Eric and her own petulant behavior, her staff thought she and Eric were lovers. Once her pregnancy was known, their assumptions would be confirmed. How could she have let things get so out of hand? How was she going to live through the next eight months?

  She collapsed into her office chair. The next eight months? She had more pressing matters to worry about. She had tonight with Eric to live through.

  * * *

  “What? No flowers?”

  Eric grinned. “Sorry, three dozen roses in one week is my limit.”

  Despite her nervous misgivings, Lily couldn’t help but smile. “Roses, eh? I wondered what they were.”

  “You could have opened them and found out for yourself.”

  She raised her chin. “I wasn’t that interested.’

  “So I noticed.” He raised a brow, looking curious. “Why didn’t you return the chocolates?”

  She shrugged. “A moment of weakness. I was hungry. The mariachi band was a nice touch, though. Very you, Eric. Loud and hard to ignore.”

  His smile deepened. “It worked, didn’t it?”

  They lapsed into an awkward silence, standing in the doorway of her house, assessing each other with wary gazes. Eric’s dark hair and tanned skin contrasted with his white polo shirt, reminding her of chocolate icing against white cake.

  Her mouth watered.

  He wore a pair of faded jeans, which molded to the muscles of his legs. And he had on Docksiders without socks. Eric looked handsome, sexy...delicious.

  “May I come in? Or do we have to talk on your doorstep?” His voice carried a hint of its usual humor.

  Lily felt her body relax. She stepped back, motioning for him to enter. “Come in.”

  The air stirred as he passed. The scent of his citrus-and-spice aftershave filled her nostrils. Her stomach growled with renewed hunger. Tonight everything about Eric reminded her of food.

  “Where would you like to talk?” she asked, keeping her tone casual. “Outside? By the pool?”

  “No thanks. I’d like to stay as far away from water as possible.”

  Lily bit back a smile. “Then why don’t we have a seat in the living room?”

  “Fine by me,” Eric said, moving from the foyer into the living room.

  She followed him. Eric took a seat on the blue-and-white striped sofa, his large frame dwarfing the delicate lines of the furniture. He left plenty of room for her to sit next to him, but Lily avoided the temptation and chose the matching blue club chair on the opposite side of the room.

  Eric draped an arm across the back of the sofa and studied her with a wordless intensity. Lily crossed her legs and tugged at the hem of her white shorts, wishing she’d worn pants, which would have shown a little less skin.

  “Are you ever going to stop being mad at me, Lily?”

  His question took her by surprise. She stared at him, not sure how to answer.

  “I want to make things right between us. I miss my best friend.” His brown-eyed gaze looked sincere. “I’ve missed you, Lily.”

  She felt her resistance ebb. She’d missed him, too. She missed the unexpected, but welcome, phone calls they made to each other. The casual conversations they shared over dinner. His caring embrace when the day seemed dim and she needed a hug to cheer her up. She missed them all. But she didn’t know how they could ever get back what had been lost between them.

  “I miss you, too, Eric. But things can never be the same between us.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  She dropped her gaze to her fisted hands. “Our friendship changed when you asked me to marry you.”

  “No.”

  The single word reverberated in the room. She raised her eyes. Their gazed locked and held.

  “Our friendship changed when you asked me to father your child.”

  Her back stiffened. “I only wanted your sperm, Eric. Not a marriage proposal.”

  A vein at his temple pulsed rapidly, the only sign Eric was irritated. “That’s right, Lily. My sperm. No one else’s, but mine.”

  “What are you saying? That I’ve been carrying around some hidden attraction toward you all these years?” She scowled. “Look, Eric, if this has something to do with that kiss—”

  “That kiss...was nice, but unexpected. It has nothing to do with the point I’
m making. You asked me to be a sperm donor because you needed my help. Whether you want to admit it or not, you’re afraid of going through this pregnancy alone.”

  Lily opened her mouth to protest.

  Eric didn’t give her the chance. He continued, “You knew I wouldn’t let you fend for yourself, because we’re friends. I asked you to marry me to take that friendship one step further.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “As I see it, the fact that we enjoyed kissing each other is merely icing on the cake.”

  Did he have to mention food?

  Lily jumped to her feet and moved to the fireplace. She stared at the empty hearth, trying to steady her shaking limbs.

  Icing on the cake. Being considered a reward for good behavior didn’t sit well. But Eric was right about one thing: the thought of going through nine months of pregnancy alone had scared her. Knowing he’d be there to allay her fears had made her decision to have a baby that much easier.

  She sighed. Eric’s refusal to take the blame for the breach in their friendship surprised her. She’d expected him to dance around their argument, coaxing her out of her anger with his wit and humor. She hadn’t expected him to be so blunt, so honest.

  She felt the heavy measure of his gaze. Slowly she turned to face him. He remained quiet, forcing her to be the first to speak.

  “I’ll agree,” she said finally. “We’re both to blame for things getting out of hand. But that doesn’t change the way we feel. We can’t go back to being friends just because we want it to happen.”

  “You’re right. We’ll have to work at it.”

  With all her heart, she wanted to believe him. She needed to believe him. But a stubborn thread of disbelief wound its way through her mind.

  “I don’t know.” She shook her head. “So much has happened.”

  “It’ll never work if you’re too afraid to try.”

  She straightened her shoulders. “I’m not afraid.”

  “Of course you’re not.” He chuckled. “And you haven’t been looking at me as though I were the big bad wolf about to gobble you up, either.”

  “I have not,” she said indignantly.

  “Oh?” He raised a brow. “Then why are you standing all the way across the room? I have to shout to make myself heard.”

  “You’re being ridiculous.”