They sat in silence until the Braves had trounced the Red Sox, an outcome that pleased them both, if for different reasons. Then Owen gave Kaylee the remote and told her to find something else to watch while he took the pizza and empty glass and beer bottle to the kitchen. He was half afraid that by the time he came back, she’d have picked a sappy romantic comedy, but when he walked into the living room again, she had found an old Indiana Jones movie instead. He settled in beside her, each of them in their corner of the sofa.
It was some fifteen minutes later that Kaylee moved to curl her legs up under her... and froze midway through the motion with a guilty look in his direction.
Owen felt his lips quirk. “I don’t mind if you put your feet on the furniture.” She didn’t even have shoes on, just a pair of fuzzy socks. It wasn’t like she’d hurt the leather.
She hesitated, but eventually she did it. She curled up as tight as an armadillo, though, with her knees almost all the way up to her chest, as if trying to take up as little space as possible.
“That doesn’t look comfortable,” Owen said.
“I’m fine.”
Sure. No argument from him. But... “There’s plenty of room.” At least three feet of open space between them: enough for a third person. “You don’t have to huddle in the corner.”
Kaylee sent him another look, this one a bit defiant. He smiled, taking care to look as nice and non-threatening as possible. After a moment she smiled back, reluctantly, and uncoiled. Some. Enough that at least he didn’t have to worry about her circulation being compromised.
As the movie progressed, he kept sneaking glances at her out of the corner of his eye. How could he not, when she was here again—four months after the first and only time he’d managed to talk her into pizza and a movie?
Her eyes got heavier and heavier as the movie continued, and her body more and more relaxed. By the time Indy was dodging the Nazis for the second time, she was asleep, with her eyes closed and her mouth open, and her feet in Owen’s lap. He left her there until the movie was over, and then he reached over to tick the remote and turn the television off. Kaylee muttered something when he scooped her up, but then she settled into his arms and let him carry her up the stairs and down the hallway to her new room.
He put her down gently in the middle of the watered silk comforter, and straightened. And contemplated her with his head tilted. Undress her—or not?
Would she be too warm if he didn’t? Or too cold if he left her in nothing but her underwear?
Would she think him a pervert when she woke up tomorrow morning, if he undressed her now?
She probably would. Safer just to leave her the way she was. If she got too warm, she’d wake up, and then she could undress herself.
He couldn’t resist smoothing a hand over her arm once, before he headed for the door. He was standing there, his head turned for a last look, when she spoke. “Owen?”
Shit. “Yeah?”
The light from the hallway reflected in her open eyes. “Thank you. For everything.”
It took him a second to find his voice, and when he did, it came out froggy. “My pleasure. Sleep well, Kaylee.” He stepped out and pulled the door shut behind him.
Chapter Nine
OWEN DROPPED HIS briefcase in the entry, hung his coat on the rack beside the door, and headed down the hallway past the dining room and into the kitchen. And stopped dead in his tracks. Kaylee was standing with her head in the freezer and her ass in the air, just as he’d imagined, and the personification of his dirty fantasy was everything he could have imagined and more. She wasn’t wearing the teeny-tiny Peckers shorts with the letters across the rear. No, it was even better. She was wearing nothing but an oversized dress shirt and her panties, and they were white cotton with strawberries all over them.
It was enough to make his mouth water.
She must have heard him come in, because she straightened and turned. The shirt covered those tasty panties when she stood straight, but he could see something else: not only was it a man’s dress shirt she was wearing, it was one of his.
“I’m sorry.” She must have realized that he realized, because she flushed. “I’m growing out of all my clothes, and I saw it hanging behind the door in the laundry room...”
“It’s fine. Looks better on you anyway.” His voice was rough, even though he managed a smile.
The shirt had been hanging behind the door in the laundry room because he didn’t care for it. Something about it didn’t fit right. Too tight across the shoulders, too loose across the chest. Or vice versa. He couldn’t remember and didn’t care. It fit her perfectly. Much better than it ever fit him.
What was it about seeing a woman in a man’s shirt that was an instant turn-on?
Was it the possibility that she might not be wearing anything underneath? Beyond those strawberry-covered panties he already knew about, that was. Or was it just a primitive male possessive thing? She was wearing his shirt, so she was his?
Her cheeks were bright pink now, under his scrutiny, but she didn’t leave. Probably because he was standing in the doorway, blocking the door. He should move.
“You’re growing out of your clothes?” he asked instead, his gaze straying to her midriff.
She nodded. And—God help him—pulled the shirt tight across her stomach.
That part of her was a lot bigger than it used to be. When she’d moved in a month ago, she hadn’t looked very pregnant. Now she did. Her stomach really was bigger than her breasts now, although not by much. And anyway, they looked bigger too. And they looked like she wasn’t wearing a bra, the nipples poking at the thin fabric.
“Wow.” He cleared his throat and resisted the temptation to wipe his forehead. “When did that happen?”
She shrugged and let go of the shirt. It dropped down to skim both breasts and stomach again, and Owen forced himself to breathe.
“You’ve been busy at work,” she said. “You haven’t been here much.”
True. He’d moved from human resources into payroll at the beginning of November, and there were new procedures to learn. He resisted the temptation to ask if she’d missed him. “Feel free to raid my closet anytime you want,” he told her instead, with a grin. “But you don’t have to. If you’re growing out of what you have, why aren’t you buying new clothes that fit?”
“No money,” Kaylee said.
Owen blinked. “Did the credit card get declined?” He’d added her to his card when she moved in, and she used it to buy little things like prenatal vitamins and ice cream when she had a craving. But the card had a sizable credit limit, and she couldn’t have blown through twenty-five thousand dollars in a month. Not on vitamins and Phish Food.
“Of course not. But I can’t expect you to pay for my maternity clothes.”
“Why not?” He was paying for everything else. And he could have sworn they’d had this conversation before. More than once. She’d given him the same argument when it came to her vitamins, her haircuts, and her hot chocolate. “You’re my wife.”
“Not really,” Kaylee said.
“What do you mean?” The marriage certificate had arrived in the mail, and everything was legal. She was listed on his bank accounts, his credit card, and his health insurance policy. He’d even contacted the social security administration to have her last name changed. Presumptuous, maybe, but he hadn’t been able to resist the opportunity to brand her with his own name.
Kaylee Taylor. Mrs. Owen N. Taylor. His.
She flushed, but persisted. “I’m more like your roommate.”
Sure. But... “That’s what we agreed on. Unless you’ve changed your mind?”
He held his breath.
“Of course not,” Kaylee said. “I appreciate everything you’re doing for me. I just feel guilty. You’re giving me so much, and I’m not giving you anything in return.”
He could think of a few things she could give him, if she felt so inclined. Although saying so would make him sound like a he
el. Especially after she’d expressed her gratitude.
“I just don’t want to take advantage of you any more than I have to.”
“You can take advantage of me as much as you want,” Owen said sincerely. “I mean...”
“I know what you mean.” Kaylee smiled and made his stomach swoop. “And I think I’ll have to.”
Really?
“Unless you want me to spend the next four months wearing nothing but your shirts, I think I’ll have to buy some new clothes of my own.”
Oh. That kind of advantage. Bummer.
Not that the idea of her spending the next four months wearing nothing but his shirts didn’t sound damned appealing.
Her voice dragged his thoughts out of the gutter. “Can I borrow the car to go to the mall?”
“I’ll take you.” Oops. A little Freudian slip there. “Just let me change first.”
“You don’t have to come,” Kaylee said.
“I’d love to come.” Another Freudian slip. But he’d also much rather spend the time with Kaylee than spend it alone, even if there was no other kind of coming involved. “Unless you don’t want me.” Gah. “If you don’t, then just say so.”
“No,” Kaylee said. “It isn’t that I don’t want you. I’d love for you to come.” Her cheeks turned pink.
Great. Owen resisted the urge to bang his forehead against the side of the fridge. Now she was doing it, too.
“I’ll go change.” He turned toward the hallway, away from those hot pink cheeks and hotter panties, before he fell into temptation and kissed her.
“Me too,” Kaylee said and followed. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he stood aside to let her go up first, and tortured himself the whole way upstairs by looking at those long smooth legs under the hem of the shirt—his shirt—and imagining that when they got to the top of the stairs, she’d turn into his room instead of her own.
Of course she didn’t. She just continued down the hallway on bare feet. “Five minutes,” she told him over her shoulder.
“Make it ten. I need a shower.”
“Sure,” Kaylee said and disappeared into her room. Owen closed the door to the bathroom behind him, turned the water to freezing, and stripped.
THE MALL LOOKED just the way it had last time Kaylee was there. Intimidating. Full of upscale stores, well-dressed people, and lots of stuff she couldn’t afford.
Except now she could. She had Owen’s credit card in her pocket and his assurance that she should buy anything she needed; she wouldn’t run out of money.
Norris Industries must pay him a whole lot better than she’d assumed at first. And they obviously liked him a lot. He’d only been with them six months, and they’d already promoted him from human resources to payroll.
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye as they walked.
When she’d first met him, she’d thought he was insecure. Now she couldn’t believe what an idiot she’d been. He wasn’t insecure at all. Shy, maybe. A little awkward around women, or maybe just around her, at first. But he had plenty of confidence. It just wasn’t cocky confidence. Owen didn’t have anything to prove. He didn’t drive a Mercedes—or carry a Mercedes keychain—although he could probably afford one. He didn’t feel the need to impress her—or anyone else—with his job or his money or his education. He just... was.
“I want to go in here for a second,” his voice cut through her thoughts. When she turned, she saw him gesturing to an electronics store just inside the mall entrance.
She changed direction. “Sure.”
He stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to come with me.”
Oh. She blinked, startled, and his voice gentled. “Just go ahead to the maternity store. I’ll catch up.”
“Are you sure?” Part of her felt unreasonably let down by the fact that he didn’t want her beside him. Or maybe that part just didn’t want to go forward alone, but wanted the support of being with someone who belonged here.
And then there was the part that wondered whether he was going to do something he didn’t want her to know about. Like, he planned to pick up tiny spy cams to install in her bedroom and the shower when they got home.
But no, if he’d wanted to spy on her when she slept and showered, he could have installed cameras along with the new furniture before she’d agreed to marry him. And anyway, if he wanted to see her naked, all he had to do was ask.
Part of her wished he would.
His voice derailed her thoughts again. “Go on, Kaylee.” He gave her a gentle push in the direction of the maternity store she could see in the distance. “This won’t take long. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“I’ll be happy to wait...?”
He shook his head. “That’s not necessary. Just go do what you need to do. I’ll catch up.”
Fine. If he didn’t want her company, she certainly wasn’t going to inflict herself on him. His loss. Tossing her neck, she stalked away.
OWEN REACHED THE maternity store just as Kaylee prepared to disappear into the fitting room with an armful of clothes. The pile wasn’t as big as he’d expected, if she truly was growing out of everything she owned. He counted a couple of shirts, a pair of jeans, and a blouse hanging over her arm.
“That’s it?”
She looked up, startled. “Oh. You’re here already?”
“I told you it wouldn’t take long.” He’d just wanted to stop by the electronics store to pick up a little gadget for her. One of the women at Norris Industries had a daughter-in-law who was pregnant, and she’d bought these little suction cup earbuds that connected to an iPhone and then stuck to the outside of the stomach and piped music for the baby. Kaylee was always playing music at home, and he’d thought she’d probably enjoy sharing that with the baby.
But he’d wait until dinner to give them to her. First, he planned to watch her model maternity clothes for him. It wasn’t as good as watching her model lingerie, but it was better than nothing. And it was real. A distinct improvement on the fantasy. “Don’t you need more than that? Or are you planning to do laundry every day?”
“I’m not doing much else,” Kaylee said.
“That doesn’t mean you want to spend your time washing clothes. Besides, you shouldn’t be carrying anything.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s laundry, Owen. I don’t think it’ll hurt me.”
Maybe not. But even so— “How about a couple of dresses? You’ll need something nice for the Norris Christmas Party next month.”
“What Christmas party?”
“It’s an annual thing.” He looked around, scanning the store for fancy dresses. “Gilbert Norris—the real Gilbert Norris—throws a big party for all his employees.”
“And I’m invited?”
“Of course you’re invited,” Owen said, turning his attention back to her. “You’re my wife.”
Kaylee nodded, teeth sunk in her bottom lip. “What kind of dress?”
“Pretty. I’ll see what I can find.”
“You?”
“Hey, I have good taste. You just get busy trying those on.” He nodded to the few garments hanging over her arm. “Come out and show me what they look like.”
She stared at him for a moment, as if she wasn’t sure whether he was joking or serious, before she nodded. She ducked into the dressing room and Owen wandered over to the wall, where fancy dress maternity stuff hung. When Kaylee came out of the dressing room in a pair of tight jeans and a colorful tunic a minute later, he handed her a Christmas red dress with sequins and a halter back.
She stared from it to him. “That’s expensive.”
Not compared to some of his mother’s fancy dresses.
“Humor me,” Owen said. “You look great in red. There was this red shirt you wore this summer, short and tight and with a back like this—” He trailed off as Kaylee stared at him. “Sorry.”
“You remember what I wore this summer?”
“Some of the things you wore.”
She kept staring and he shrugged. “Hey, it was a really great shirt. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who noticed. So will you try the dress or not?”
She took it without a word and headed back to the dressing room. “I like what you have on,” he threw after her. “Buy that.”
She lifted a hand in acknowledgement, but didn’t turn around.
The next time she came out, she was wearing the same jeans but a different shirt. It looked good too. So did the one after that. Owen decided to make sure she got at least three pairs of the same jeans, since she couldn’t wear the same pair all week. And a few more shirts in different colors, since she shouldn’t have to do laundry more than twice a week, at most.
“What about the dress?” he asked.
She rolled her eyes. “It’s coming.”
“Don’t you like it?”
“It’s beautiful. But I’m not sure it’ll look right with a big, fat stomach.”
“You don’t have a fat stomach. You’re pregnant. And besides, the dress is made for that. Especially for that. To make the stomach look good. You and the stomach.”
The woman manning the dressing rooms nodded. “You listen to him, darlin’.”
Kaylee rolled her eyes again, but made sure the older lady didn’t see it. “I’ll be right out.”
“Thank you.” Owen turned away from her to give the store clerk a smile. “And thank you, too.”
“My pleasure.” She smiled back. “Some of the girls, they don’t see how pretty they are. They just see that their stomachs aren’t flat anymore, and they think that makes them ugly. You just keep telling her how beautiful she looks, and she’ll start believing it.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He could certainly do that. Because it was true. In fact, when Kaylee came out of the dressing room in the red dress, with its open back and flouncy skirt and low neckline, it was all he could do not to wolf-whistle. “Wow.”
Kaylee blushed and smoothed the shimmery fabric over her stomach. “Is it all right?”
It was a lot more than all right. It made him want to do things to her a man wasn’t supposed to do to the woman he’d married just so she could get health benefits. But the sight of her in that bright red dress, with the satiny fabric cupping her breasts—bigger now than they used to be—and draping over her rounded stomach, and the knowledge that underneath, she might be wearing those innocent white cotton panties with the strawberries...
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