He’d looked for his wife everywhere he could think of. He’d even called hospitals and homeless shelters. This morning, he’d had the brilliant idea to contact her obstetrician, to check on her next appointment. Once he knew when it was, he could simply show up at the doctor’s office at the appointment time, and be able to talk to her that way. He’d spent most of the morning on hold, only to be told that Kaylee’s next appointment wasn’t for another two weeks.
And now it was getting close to lunchtime again, and he was having visions of chicken wings. It was almost so bad that he could smell them.
He was about to reach for his jacket and head out when the desk phone rang. Instead of picking up the jacket, he picked up the hand set instead. “Taylor.”
He knew it wouldn’t be Kaylee, Kaylee wouldn’t call him, but even so, he was disappointed when he heard the voice of Allison, from the reception desk in the lobby.
“Mr. Taylor? Your lunch delivery is here.”
“My lunch?”
“Delivery,” Allison said.
“I didn’t call for delivery.”
There was a beat. “That’s strange,” Allison said, “because she said you did.”
“She?”
“Pretty girl in a Peckers uniform. With a bag of chicken wings she said you’d want.”
Great. They’d gotten him addicted, and now they’d be showing up with a delivery every day, whether he wanted it or not. He’d be paying for—and eating—buffalo wings until he grew feathers and began clucking.
But maybe it was Alana. Maybe she’d heard from Kaylee.
“Brunette?”
“Blonde,” Allison said.
Melody, then. Sweet, guileless Melody. Whatever Melody knew, he’d know a minute after he started talking to her.
Heart thudding, he told Allison, “I’ll be right there.”
“Don’t bother,” she retorted. “She’s on her way up.”
No sooner had the words crossed his ear, than there was a knock on the door.
“Come in!”
He added, to Allison, “That must be her now. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Mr. Taylor.”
He was pretty sure there was a snicker in her voice when she added, “Enjoy,” but by then he was past worrying about it. The door had opened, and nothing else mattered but the vision—the rather strange vision—standing in the doorway.
Not Melody.
It was Kaylee, with a bag of chicken wings in one hand—this time he really could smell them, and they smelled delicious—and two bottles in the other: one beer and one lemonade.
She was dressed in her Peckers uniform, with her little white tennis shoes and her little white socks, her little white shorts and her cropped yellow top. The chicken eyes made it look like her boobs were staring at him, but where the shirt used to nip in, to skim a trim torso and leave a tantalizing strip of soft skin between the bottom of the top and the top of the shorts, now the rest of the yellow shirt rode high above her round belly, while the white shorts curved underneath.
Never mind the chicken eyes: six months of pregnancy was staring him in the face.
She looked ridiculous—and gorgeous—and he wasn’t sure whether to laugh his head off or just go over there and kiss her.
While he thought about it, she opened her mouth. “This would have worked better before I got pregnant.” Her eyes were worried as she watched him do nothing.
Owen forced his addled brain to catch up. “I don’t know about that. The stomach makes quite a statement.”
What was she worried about? Did she imagine he didn’t want her? Didn’t she realize he’d been going out of his mind ever since she walked out of his apartment?
“I’m sorry,” Kaylee said. “It’s all my fault.”
“Of course it isn’t your fault.”
She nodded. “I should have known better. I should have seen, when I first met you, that you were the one I was supposed to be with.”
Because he was Gil Norris’s grandson, and rich?
“How could you?” Owen asked reasonably. “You didn’t know me.”
“I know that.” A tear overflowed and rolled down her cheek, and she walked across the room to put the bottles and bag of chicken on the desk before reaching up to brush it away. “But I should have given you a chance. Instead of looking at you and deciding that since you drove a Toyota instead of a Mercedes, and you lived in the Panorama townhouses instead of on top of the mountain, you weren’t worth my time.”
Yup. Because you’re Gil Norris’s grandson and rich.
“And then I fell for that slimy line of bullshit that guy fed me instead, when he was just trying to get in my pants.”
“I have a theory about that,” Owen said, but she waved it away. Perhaps just as well. Suggesting that Matthew Vogel had only bedded her as a way to get back at Owen, probably wouldn’t make her feel any better.
“You know, I didn’t even like him that much. He was crude. Slimy. And bad in bed. But I put up with it because he said he was Gil Norris, and because I hoped if he liked me enough, he’d want to keep me around.”
Owen opened his mouth, but she ignored him. “I know that sounds horrible, but you don’t know what it’s like to be poor, Owen. When you can’t afford anything but hand-me-downs and thrift-store clothes, and when you’re not sure whether there’s any food at home or enough money to buy any. When I moved out on my own and got a job, I swore I’d never live like that again. But then I got pregnant and lost my job, and all I could see was that my baby would grow up the way I had.”
There were tears running down both her cheeks now, but she made no move to wipe them away.
“I really didn’t plan to get pregnant. I didn’t fudge because I thought he was Gil Norris and if I got pregnant, he’d have to marry me. And I had no idea who you were. You were just a nice guy who lived next door and offered to help me. I didn’t know you were rich, and I wasn’t after your money. I’m not a gold-digger.”
God. Those things he’d called her in anger, when he’d thought she was leaving him for Vogel, must have hurt her deeply.
“I’m so sorry.” He pushed the chair back with a squeal, and Kaylee winced. When he came around the desk, he could see her brace herself.
He stopped in front of her and reached out to touch... not her hip, nor her breast, but her stomach, firm and warm against his palm. The baby was awake and moving around.
He looked up and met Kaylee’s eyes. “God, I missed you.” His voice was rough, and if he hadn’t been a guy, he would have admitted to being happier right then than he’d ever been in his life.
Her eyes filled with tears. “I missed you, too. I’m sorry...”
“It’s OK. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.” He wrapped his arms around her and spoke into her hair. “And I’m sorry, too. I should have told you who I was from the beginning. But I wanted you to like me for me. Not because I’m Gil Norris’s grandson.”
“I do like you for you. And I don’t care whether you’re rich or not.”
Standing on her toes, she pressed her belly into his stomach and managed to reach his lips with her own. The kiss was flavored with tears and something that tasted like mint. Maybe she’d been sucking on Tums again. If she’d been eating buffalo wings, she probably had.
“Good,” Owen said when he came up for air. “Because I’m not.”
She sniffed. “You’re not rich?”
“Not now. When my grandfather dies, I’ll be rich. But now I’m just a salaried accountant. Working my way up through the departments so I’ll be ready to take over the penthouse office next year when he retires. I’m not poor, but I’m not rich either.”
“I don’t care,” Kaylee said. “I love you.” She murmured the words against his lips before kissing him again. “I love you, Owen. I’m sorry I left. I just didn’t think you’d understand. I’m sorry.”
“I understand,” Owen said, clutching her. “I know all about the bastard.”
“You do?” She raised wet eyes to his.
“He and I had a long talk a couple days ago. We understand each other.”
“He wanted money,” Kaylee said, her bottom lip quivering. “He wanted me to divorce you and take half of everything you own. Why didn’t you make me sign a prenup, Owen? You didn’t know anything about me.”
“I knew I wanted you.”
“I want you, too, but that doesn’t mean you have to be stupid.”
“I wasn’t stupid.” He kissed her. “I got what I wanted, didn’t I?”
“You did.” She rested her head against his shoulder for a moment or two before she continued. “He saw us together at Peckers that night we were there. Matthew Vogel.”
“So that’s why you got us out of there so fast.” He pulled her over to the desk chair and sat down in it, and pulled her down on his lap.
She wound her arms around his neck. “I hoped he wouldn’t notice, but he saw me. Saw us. He showed up at home the next day.”
A small part of him warmed at the sound of her calling the townhouse “home,” but he didn’t want to derail the story by telling her so.
“He told me if I divorced you, we’d have enough money to get a nice start of our own.”
“But you told him no.” He nuzzled her shoulder, just below the yellow tank strap.
“Of course I did. And then he said that that would be fine, he’d just stick around and get to know his kid, because surely some of the money would trickle down to him too. And I couldn’t stand the thought of him having any part of my baby—our baby...” She glanced at him shyly under her lashes.
“Our baby,” Owen said. And the thought of it being his baby, his and Kaylee’s, choked him up enough that it was hard to get the few syllables out. He tightened his arms around her.
“—so I asked him how much it would take to make him go away. We settled on twenty-five thousand, because that was all I could get my hands on quickly. But I knew he’d be back. I knew as long as I’m married to you, he’d be back to ask for more. I didn’t want that. And I also didn’t want the baby to know him. He’s not the baby’s father. You are.”
“Thank you.”
“So I thought if I left, that would solve the problem. He wouldn’t be a part of the baby’s life, and he wouldn’t be able to take any more of your money.” Her eyes filled with tears. “But I couldn’t stay away. And now we’ll have to deal with him.”
“I’ve already dealt with him,” Owen said. “You won’t ever see him again. And he won’t be asking for any money.”
She sniffed. “How did you manage that?”
He shifted on the chair. Having her on his lap was making him hungry, and not for the chicken wings currently oozing sauce all over his desk. She was wearing those tiny shorts he’d imagined peeling off all summer long, and those chicken eyes were staring at him knowingly, and he had to concentrate to remember what they’d been talking about. “Remember that guy I was telling my grandfather about at the Christmas party?”
“Your friend Damian?” She moved again. It was almost as if she knew what was going on with him.
Who was he kidding? Of course she knew. She was sitting on the evidence, and it wasn’t something she’d miss.
“The guy who pretended to be my friend Damian,” Owen said.
“Oh.” Her eyes opened wide as realization dawned. “That was him?”
Owen nodded. “I have enough evidence to keep him in jail until our son goes away to college. But just in case he’d get out on good behavior, I offered him a deal instead.”
“What kind of deal?”
“I don’t have him arrested,” Owen said, “and he stays far away from my family. If he ever comes within shouting distance of either of us again, including the baby, the only money he’ll ever see for the rest of his miserable life is what he’ll get from making license plates.”
There was a beat of silence. Then— “My hero,” Kaylee murmured. She shifted on his lap to press her stomach—and breasts—against him, and her lips against his. The softness between her thighs nudged the hardness between his.
When he came up for air, he asked her, “Hungry?”
“For you?” She grinned. “Always.”
Good. The chicken wings would keep. He’d rather have Kaylee. He got to his feet and pulled her up with him. “Ever do it on a desk?”
“No,” Kaylee said, glancing at it, “but it looks like a sturdy desk.”
“It’s a great desk.” He hooked his fingers in those teeny tiny white shorts. “Just let me get these off you first...”
She grinned. “The heir to Norris Industries makes love on his desk?”
“The heir to Norris Industries makes love wherever he wants,” Owen said, looking up at her from where he was kneeling at her feet. “But only with his own wife. Don’t leave me again, Kaylee. Please.”
She slipped her fingers into his hair. “I won’t. I promise.” And then she grinned. “Being married to you has too many benefits.”
“Damn straight,” Owen said, and proceeded to remind her of every one of them.
# # #
About the Author
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Jenna Bennett (Jennie Bentley) writes the Do It Yourself home renovation mysteries for Berkley Prime Crime and the Savannah Martin real estate mysteries for her own gratification. She also writes a variety of romance for a change of pace.
For more information about her doings and undoings, please visit her website, www.jennabennett.com
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Table of Contents
Copyright
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
About the Author
Table of Contents
Friends With Benefits Page 18