“Yeah. It’s great.” He had to clear his throat before he could continue, and the clerk smirked. “I’ll be the envy of every man there. You’re gorgeous.”
The clerk nodded, but Owen wasn’t sure whether the approval was of Kaylee in the dress or his own stammering. When Kaylee ducked back into the dressing room, the middle-aged, motherly store clerk gave him a smile and a wink, so maybe it was the latter.
He ended up spending quite a lot of money in the maternity store, over Kaylee’s objections that she didn’t need three pairs of jeans and that she could do laundry more than twice a week. But she needed a winter coat—the one she had didn’t meet in the middle anymore—and he wasn’t about to have his wife walking around cold. Not while he was employed and could afford better.
He was laden with bags when they left the store, while Kaylee was grumbling about him spending too much on her and not letting her do her share of anything. She wasn’t ill, she was just pregnant, and it wasn’t like she was unable to carry a couple of shopping bags without going into labor five months early. He was walking backwards, bags in both hands, grinning at her, when her face changed. A second later he realized why, when he walked right into someone coming the other way.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” He turned around, and dropped his own bags to help the young lady he’d run into gather hers, since he’d knocked them out of her hands when he bumped into her.
“Thank you.” She gave him a perfunctory smile, and then stopped, her eyes widening. “Owen? Owen Taylor?”
It took a few seconds before he could drag her name from the recesses of his mind. “Laurel, right? Mrs. Simmons’s daughter? Hi.”
“Hi.” She smiled, a little come-hitherish. “I didn’t expect to run into you.” She brushed the tips of her fingers across the back on his hand when he gave her the bags back.
“Sorry about that. I didn’t see you.”
“I know,” Laurel said, still smiling determinedly. “You were walking backwards.”
Right. Because he’d been looking at Kaylee. He swung around. She was still standing there, a few feet away, watching Laurel. And watching him. The look in her eyes was wary.
He took a step closer to her and faced Laurel. “This is Kaylee. Kaylee, this is Laurel Simmons.”
“Nice to meet you,” Kaylee said, but without sounding like she meant it.
Laurel didn’t say anything, at least not at first. Her eyes traveled from Kaylee’s face down her body to the stomach Kaylee could no longer hide, and back up again. “Likewise,” she said, but she didn’t sound like she meant it, either.
They stood in silence a moment.
“I guess we should go,” Owen said. “Kaylee needs dinner. Right?”
He glanced at her. She nodded.
“Of course.” Laurel was back to being gracious. “It was nice to meet you, Kaylee. Owen, I’m sure I’ll see you next time you come home.”
“Sure.” Although he had no idea why she’d think so. He hadn’t seen her the last time he’d been home. Or the time before that. Or the time before that, either.
She smiled and walked off, her long cashmere coat swirling elegantly around her calves. Owen gathered up the bags and turned to Kaylee. “Let’s go. What kind of food do you want?”
“I’m not hungry,” Kaylee said.
“You’re always hungry.”
She shrugged, her lower lip thrust out.
“Well, I’m hungry. You can eat or not, as you please.” And she would. Once she was sitting down with the menu in front of her, she’d order something. He headed toward the nearest chain restaurant, without waiting to see if she’d follow.
After a few steps, she came up on the side of him. “Who was that?”
“Just a girl I know. Her mother is a friend of my mother.”
“She’s pretty,” Kaylee said.
“Sure.” In that glossy, elegant, not quite human way wealthy women had. Like a great, big doll, and not the kind you played with. The kind you put on a pedestal and worshipped.
“Was she your girlfriend?”
“No.” Laurel had never appealed to him that way. She appealed less now that he’d met Kaylee. He knew exactly what he wanted, and it wasn’t Laurel.
“I bet your mother wanted her to be, didn’t she?” Kaylee said. “You said she was nagging you to get a girlfriend. Did she want you to date Laurel?”
She might have mentioned once or twice that Laurel was back from university and what a pretty girl she’d turned out to be. But his mother wasn’t stupid. She didn’t hit him over the head with anything, since she’d learned a long time ago that that was a surefire way to make him do the opposite.
Although this time he’d done the opposite anyway, by marrying Kaylee.
“I bought something for you,” he said, in an attempt to change the subject.
“I know.” She glanced at the bags full of clothes he was carrying.
“This is something else. Something from the electronics store.”
She tilted her head. “What?”
“I’ll show you when we’re sitting down. After you’ve ordered something to eat.”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. Owen smiled.
Chapter Ten
KAYLEE SWUNG HER legs over the edge of the bed and got to her feet. It took her a second to get her balance. Her center of gravity was changing along with the size of her stomach, and sometimes she was concerned about tipping over.
On the upside, she didn’t have to worry about morning sickness anymore. It was almost like magic: week fourteen had rolled around, and suddenly her nausea was gone. Poof. Like it had never even been there. She still slept more than usual—a quick glance at the clock told her that it was eight thirty: yikes!—but other than that, she felt great.
Or at least she would, once she made it to the toilet. Tiny as the baby was, it must be sitting squarely on her bladder, because she had to pee all the time.
She pulled the door open and stepped out into the hallway, unconcerned with covering the oversized T-shirt she’d taken to sleeping in now that all her skimpy nightgowns were too small. She could have bought something else yesterday, she supposed, but there was something weird about buying nightgowns and underwear with Owen’s money when he’d never get to enjoy them.
She should have slept with him four months ago, or five months ago or whenever she’d realized he liked her. So what if he wasn’t Gil Norris? What if he worked for Norris Industries instead of being in line to inherit the company? He was kind and generous and unselfish, and he took care of her even when there was nothing in it for him. Being with him was almost like having a family again. A real family. She was stupid not to have realized that that was a lot more important than the slim chance that she’d end up snagging a rich heir. Especially when the rich heir didn’t even exist, except in his lies and her imagination.
Anyway, if it was eight thirty, Owen was long gone, so there was no point in putting anything over the T-shirt.
Or so she thought, until the door to the bathroom opened, when she was halfway down the hall, too far from her own bedroom to be able to duck back inside.
All she could do was stop and stare as Owen came out.
And then the sight of him knocked any thought of walking away clear out of her head.
He must have just come out of the shower, because he was naked except for a towel wrapped around his waist. A small towel. His hair was wet and looked darker than when it was dry—usually a light brown with blond streaks through the front from the sun, now it just looked dark brown—and he wasn’t entirely dry. A couple of water droplets still clung to his skin, and Kaylee focused on one as it trailed down his back. It was a very nice back, smooth and muscular and lightly tanned. The inclination to touch was almost irresistible, and she might even have made some sort of move to do just that before she caught herself. No, no. Bad Kaylee. He isn’t yours to touch.
And that’s when he must have realized he wasn’t alone, because he turned to look a
t her.
For a second, nobody spoke. Kaylee blushed like a teenager caught staring at the high school heartthrob she had a crush on, as her mouth went dry and her knees went weak, and as Owen’s blue eyes turned darker.
They were usually hidden behind glasses, so she couldn’t see them very well. Now she could, and they were beautiful. Deep blue, like the ocean, surrounded by long, curving lashes.
And the rest of him wasn’t bad either. He hid a respectable physique under the boring business suits.
Hell, forget respectable. He was drop dead gorgeous. All hard muscle and tanned skin and sex appeal.
When she didn’t say anything, he smiled. “Good morning.”
His voice was warm and a little husky, like he’d just rolled out of bed, too.
“Hi.” Kaylee’s voice came out on a croak, and she had to clear her throat. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here,” Owen said.
“I thought you’d gone to work.”
“I thought you were sleeping.”
“I woke up,” Kaylee said. She shifted from one foot to the other. “I need to... um...” She glanced at the bathroom door.
“Sure. It’s all yours. I’ll go get dressed.”
He didn’t wait for her answer, just headed down the hall, his bare feet silent on the carpet, and the towel around his waist dropping a bit with every step. Kaylee moved toward the bathroom, but she didn’t go inside. Instead, she crossed her legs and did her best to hang on. The view was too nice for her to want to miss any of it. Especially if that towel happened to come off before Owen disappeared into his own room.
It didn’t, but just before he went in, he glanced over his shoulder and saw her still standing there. And instead of ducking inside, he lingered for a moment outside the door. To tease her?
Probably. His question— “Have you seen enough?”—was polite enough, but the light in his eyes was nothing short of devilish.
Kaylee managed a nod, even though part of her insisted that no, she hadn’t seen near enough. Not while that towel was still wrapped around his hips.
“You ever wanna see more,” Owen said, “you know where to find me.”
He winked and disappeared into his own room without waiting for her response. Kaylee resisted the temptation to fan herself, but just barely.
OWEN WAS SCROLLING through rows of numbers on the computer when the desk phone rang. They weren’t adding up right, and he couldn’t quite figure out how—yet—but best as he could tell, something was off. He picked up the phone and put it to his ear with his eyes still on the screen. “Taylor. Payroll.”
“Owen Taylor,” a female voice on the other end said, and Owen’s heart immediately sank all the way down to the soles of his Clarks. The numbers on the screen and the possible case of minor embezzlement he’d discovered took a back seat to the phone call.
Although it could have been worse. She could have used his middle name. Now she was merely curious and mildly annoyed, while when the middle name came out, she was steaming mad.
He forced himself to sound calm. “Mom. Something wrong?”
“I don’t know,” Ginny Taylor said. “What is this I hear about you and a pregnant girl?”
Shit. “Laurel told you?”
“Leticia Simmons did.”
Laurel had probably told her mother about him the day after he’d seen her, and it had taken Mrs. Simmons a couple of days to innocently slip the news into a conversation with his mother. And now here she was, wanting to know what was going on.
Dumbass. You should have told her up front.
But if he’d told her up front, she’d have talked him out of it. Or found some way to foul it up. Besides, he was almost twenty-eight. He could do what he wanted. He didn’t need his mother’s permission to run his life the way he saw fit.
“Her name is Kaylee.”
“I see,” Ginny said. “And how do you know her?”
“She lived next door to me for a while.” And she still did. Just on the other side of a different wall now. Nothing much had changed, except that now they shared a bathroom and a fridge. And a last name.
“Is it your baby she’s carrying?”
“No,” Owen said.
“Oh.” Ginny sounded relieved.
“But she’s my wife.”
There was a pause. “What?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I have time,” Ginny said. Ominously.
Of course. “She was my next door neighbor. We were friends.” If he could call a few words exchanged in the parking lot and a shared pizza and a movie a friendship. More accurately, she’d lived next door and he’d wanted to get in her pants.
But his mother didn’t need to hear that. “This guy seduced her. Told her he was Gilbert Norris.”
“What?”
“Yup. Gil Norris, heir to Norris Industries.”
“You’re joking.”
He wished he were. “I’m looking into it. I’m not making much headway, though. No reason to think this guy had anything to do with Norris, other than that he lied about being one. Although I just found something that looks like money gone missing.”
“Really?”
“I’m not sure yet. I was just looking at it when you called. But that’s not what we’re talking about. Kaylee had no way of knowing there is no Gilbert Norris Junior. So she slept with the guy.”
“And got pregnant. Of course she did.”
“It wasn’t like that,” Owen said. “She told me she didn’t do it on purpose.”
“And you believed her?”
“She was fired from her job,” Owen said. “She couldn’t afford to keep her car or her apartment. And she had no health care. I don’t think she planned that.”
“She could have planned it, if she’d counted on the heir to Norris Industries to support her.”
Sure. But— “By then she knew that Gil Junior didn’t exist. If she’d wanted to get rid of the baby, she had time.”
“Yes,” Ginny said sweetly, “but why would she, when she’d found you instead?”
She hadn’t found him yet. Not then.
“She’s alone,” Owen said. “No family. Not much in the way of friends. Just me and a couple of girls she worked with.”
“So of course you had to rush in and sweep her off her feet. Save the day. Be the hero.” His mother’s voice was resigned.
Owen shrugged. Nothing much he could say to that, really.
His mother changed the subject. “Who did you go to for the prenup?”
Oops. He knew he’d forgotten something.
Or not forgotten, exactly. The thought had crossed his mind. But if he’d made Kaylee sign a prenup, she might have wondered why, and besides, she might have thought he didn’t trust her. And he hadn’t wanted to upset her.
Come to that, he hadn’t wanted to upset Ginny either. And she would have been upset. Just as she was now, when she realized what his silence signified.
“You married her without a prenuptial agreement? A pregnant girl who’s carrying someone else’s baby? Owen...!”
“I don’t think it’ll be a problem. She doesn’t seem that interested in spending my money. She’s always telling me I’m buying her too much stuff.” Although she had enjoyed the baby bud sound system. And now that they were hers, she seemed to like the new clothes, too.
“I want to meet her,” Ginny said. “Drive up next weekend. Bring her.”
No way. His mother would scare the crap out of Kaylee, and probably tell her things Owen didn’t want her to know, at least not yet. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“You can’t keep her from us forever.”
Of course not. He didn’t plan to. He’d keep her from them for as long as he could, though. “Come down for the Norris Christmas Party next month. You can meet her then.” In a less threatening atmosphere. And on semi-neutral ground. Casually.
“You’re bringing her?”
“Of course,” Owen said. “S
he’s my wife.”
Ginny sighed. “I guess I can wait until then.”
Good. Because she’d have to. He wasn’t bringing Kaylee to her.
“You know, Owen...”
“Yes, mom?”
“You didn’t have to marry her. You’ve always been a soft touch—I still remember those horrible opossum babies you brought home in fourth grade—”
“Their mother got hit by a car. What was I going to do? Leave them to get run over?”
“—but you could have paid to set her up with some sort of medical care and a stipend. In a home for pregnant girls, or something.”
“I wanted to marry her,” Owen said. “I feel... responsible.”
“I see.” Unless he was mistaken, there was a smile in his mother’s voice now. “I think I’m looking forward to meeting this girl.”
Uh-oh. “Listen, Mom. She doesn’t know anything. She thinks I’m just a nice guy doing her a favor.”
“I’m sure you are,” his mother said. “Refresh my memory, Owen. When is the Norris Christmas Party this year?”
He thought about lying, but ended up telling her the truth. It wasn’t like she wouldn’t find out anyway, and in plenty of time for the party. “Just... when you meet her, keep in mind that I like this girl.”
“Of course, Owen,” Ginny said. “I won’t say I word. I swear.”
Right. But he managed to keep the snort to himself until after he’d hung up the phone.
KAYLEE GLANCED AT Owen across the pub table in the dining room. Since he had his head bent and didn’t notice, she kept her eyes on him, enjoying not just the fact that he seemed to like the pasta she’d cooked for him, but just plain enjoying looking at him, too.
Ever since he’d come out of the bathroom in nothing but that little terrycloth rectangle the other week, she’d had a hard time keeping her eyes off him. Every time they were together, she found herself sneaking little peeks at him, and remembering what he’d looked like almost naked, with his glasses off and his eyes hot and dark.
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