Caught Between a Rock and a Hunka Man (Caught Between Romance Book 3)

by Sheila Seabrook

  More babysitting. No wonder she didn’t have a personal life of her own. “Bill, can I have a private word with you?”

  Silent and sulky, he headed her way. “Now what?”

  She laser focused her attention on the man in front of her. “I noticed you’ve been hanging around Trudy lately.”

  Something came over his face, an expression that was as foreign to her as the last year of of their marriage.

  “You know Trudy,” he replied in that silky smooth salesman tone he always used whenever he wanted to dig his way out of trouble. “The girl is always asking questions to clarify things for her accounting course. I don’t know why she bothers. It’s not like she’s ever going to pass.”

  “You really are an asshole, aren’t you?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Trudy is young and impressionable and I don’t want to see her taken advantage of.”

  “No one’s taking advantage of her,” he reassured her and she wanted to believe him, but he’d checked out on her and their marriage and the life they’d planned. With an careless shrug, he hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Can I go now? There’s a chess game with my name written all over it.”

  Marla gave him a stiff nod. As he rejoined Trudy, she watched the two of them kibitzing like a couple of teenage siblings.

  Okay, so maybe it was all on the up and up like he’d said. Maybe Trudy was just using him to get through her homework and further her career ambitions.

  Pushing those worries aside, she turned her attention toward the man at the helm.

  If she knew one thing about Reed, it was that he was as stubborn as his dad and had the sticking power of her dad.

  She’d never convince him to return to the life he hated without a whole lot of arm-twisting and guilt.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Behind her, Marla heard the soft swish of a slipper, then the inevitable bitch-hag routine. Then Mary brushed past her, headed toward the helm and her son.

  There was no doubt in her mind that this thing between Mary and Betty was all her mom’s fault. Hands on hips, she turned to the other woman who’d settled on one of the loungers, and fixed her with a stern look. “You two used to be best friends. What did you do to make Mary hate you?”

  Gaze focused on the e-reader in her hands, Betty replied, “I’ll answer that if you tell me what your meeting was all about.”

  “Never mind,” she muttered and she plunked down on the lounger next to her mom.

  If her mom ever found out she was in a race for the partnership with Bill, she would pick sides…and Marla couldn’t guarantee that the woman who’d given birth to her wouldn’t end up in the enemy’s camp.

  She turned her attention toward the helm again and watched Reed chat with his mom.

  After the suitcase fiasco, and the embarrassing display of naughty toys and underwear, she wanted to give him a wide berth. Being embarrassed once a day was plenty enough for her.

  A heavy sigh sounded beside her, and she turned to see her mom’s elongated expression. “What is it, Mom?”

  The older woman’s voice overflowed with sadness. “I’m lonely. You work all day and all night too. You can’t even relax and take a holiday without your computer.”

  I’m lonely too, she wanted to say in response to the plaintive tone in her mother’s voice, but she couldn’t bring herself to admit the horrible truth. She wasn’t just lonely. Six months after her divorce, she was still reeling from the fact that the man she’d chosen to spend her life with—the man she’d trusted to stick by her side—had walked out on their marriage without an emotional blip in his own life.

  Before she could reply, her mom leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Your grandma’s suitcases reminded me of my honeymoon and how I got pregnant with you, so I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands.”

  Every mom-alert Marla had—of which she had many—fired to attention. “What matters?”

  “Why, that boy would make a mighty fine sperm donor. I’m not getting any younger, dear. It’s time you gave me some grandchildren.”

  Marla’s head snapped around to the man with the bullet proof abs and the heart-stopping grin so fast, she felt a knot form in the spot between her shoulder and neck. “When did we go from husband for the night to sperm donor?”

  “When you moved in with me six months ago, then didn’t move out.”

  Reed might be one hunka-hot-man, but he hadn’t changed an iota since he’d run away from the Readner & Son Accounting Firm. He was a man who would never settle down to one place and one woman.

  Marla was not going down with that ship. From here on out, it was all business, all of the time.

  Partnership or sayonara.

  “Forget it, Mom.” She pushed to her feet and headed for her boss where she crouched down at Paul’s side, and kept her voice barely above a whisper. “Sir, I’ll buy the business from you. I’ll line up the finances, do whatever else you want me to do, but please, sell me the business. Don’t do this stupid competition. Don’t give the partnership to Bill.”

  He set aside his laptop, put down the drink in his hand, and looked at her with pity in his gaze. “If your dad hadn’t been so irresponsible and left you, your mother, and the firm in my hands, you would have eventually inherited half the business. But he didn’t.” He took a deep breath. “I paid your mother out fair and square, and I’m offering you a deal that won’t leave you financially strapped. All you have to do is convince Reed to give up his wasteful life and take over his responsibilities at the firm.”

  “How am I supposed to do that?”

  “You’re smarter than Bill. I’m sure you’ll think of something.” He picked up the laptop and turned his attention back to the screen. “Now go manipulate my son into his responsibility.”

  Marla pushed to her feet, and with one last plea on her lips, decided against it. She snapped her mouth shut and turned toward the helm.

  What were her options?

  Maybe she could tell Reed about the competition and convince him to play along until Paul gave her the partnership. Then once the older man was out of the picture, Reed would be free to leave everything in her capable hands.

  But what if Paul didn’t retire right away? What if it was all a bluff to convince Reed to return? What if Paul gave her the partnership, and when Reed didn’t stick around, took it away? That would be worse than never getting it at all.

  She squared her shoulders and stumbled toward the helm like a drunken sailor, her stomach performing flip flops like a dolphin jumping through hoops, her thoughts a jumble of plans she quickly examined and discarded. She could hope all she wanted, but unless she came up with a brilliant plan, she was screwed.

  Because Bill was no slouch in the scheming department.

  Sadly, Reed had buttoned his shirt and covered up the view of ripped muscles and hard abs. Or maybe it was a good thing because his body was a distraction she didn’t need.

  Marla reached them as Mary said, “All I want is for you and your father to reconcile.”

  Marla stopped and backed up a step. “I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to interrupt.”

  Mary’s blue-on-blue eyes fixed on her while her long sculptured nails dug into the back of the captain’s chair. “What is that woman doing here?”

  Marla tilted her head. “Don’t you think it’s time to put aside whatever happened between the two of you?”

  “If your mother had kept her greedy little hands to herself in the first place—”

  A scrape of a shoe on the deck made the older woman press her lips together, and Marla sighed and turned, knowing full well who stood behind her.

  Betty curled up a lip. “Hag.”

  “Mom—”

  Mary cut her off and hissed, “Quit calling me hag.”

  Marla caught Reed’s eye.

  He raised his brows and shrugged, obviously smart enough to stay out of whatever the two women were arguing about. She should probably do the same thing, and perhaps by keeping her silence, she
might finally learn what happened. She slipped onto the empty seat next to him and sat back to watch the exchange.

  Betty smirked. “Paul’s still looking good.”

  Mary leaned forward into the other woman’s personal space. “I swear, Betty Blackhorne, if you so much as look at my husband again, I’m coming after you with a butcher knife.”

  Again? Marla met Reed’s gaze and mouthed, What’s going on?

  He shrugged as Betty’s wicked laughter filled the air. “Still can’t hold on to him, eh?”

  Mary turned to Marla. “I’d like you a lot better if your mom wasn’t such a bitch.”

  “Hag,” Betty tossed into the mix.

  With a huff, Mary pushed past her rival and muttered, “A bitch in constant heat.”

  Before Betty could follow her, Marla grabbed her mom by the elbow and held on. “Can’t you just be nice for a few days?”

  “I’m being as nice as she deserves.” Betty shook off her hand and turned to Reed. “I’ll bet Christmas dinner is pretty uncomfortable at your house. Why don’t you join Marla and me for the holidays this year?”

  He smiled, a heart-stopping grin that did funny things to her stomach. “Thank you, Mrs. Blackhorne. It’s a tempting offer, but I don’t think my mom would forgive me if I went to your place instead of hers.”

  She patted him on the arm. “Well, the invitation stays open. When you’ve had enough of your parents, you just pop by my place, no matter what time it is. You do remember where I live, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  As she turned to leave, she stopped to pinch Marla’s cheeks and whisper, “By the end of this trip, you’ll be thanking me.”

  As the older woman headed toward the back of the boat, Marla swallowed back a scream of pure frustration.

  By the end of this trip, she’d probably be thanking her all right…for getting her fired.

  “I should have left her at home,” she muttered. At that very moment, the waves seemed to pick up and toss the tiny boat about in the hugeness of the ocean, and her stomach pitched with a sickening jolt.

  Reed assessed her condition. “You look a little green.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him. “I’m channeling my inner Kermit the Frog.”

  He gave her one of those intimate smiles that made her stomach quiver in a decidedly more pleasant fashion. “It takes a few days to get your sea legs, although some people never adjust.”

  “Great.” She closed her eyes, turned her face up to the sun, and let the warmth of the rays seep through her body. “We should talk about our moms.”

  “Must we?” There was pain in his voice, and when she opened her eyes and turned her head to look at him, his gaze was somber and slumberous and sexy. He reached into his pocket and pulled out something red to dangle in front of her face. “I’d rather discuss this.”

  Okay, so maybe this thing between them—whatever it was—wasn’t totally one-sided. And maybe he hadn’t been avoiding her any more than she’d been avoiding him. As Marla focused on the valentine red crotchless thong, she resisted the urge to squiggle against the seat.

  It seemed that every time she was in the vicinity of this man, he made her aware of herself as a woman. The urge to lick him from top to bottom returned, then—just because she knew it would be delicious—have him reciprocate in kind.

  There was just one thing she couldn’t understand. Why wasn’t she immune to him like she’d been immune to every other guy in the universe since her divorce?

  “That’s my mother’s, remember? I’m the granny-girdle wearing daughter.” She tried to grab the thong, but he held it out of reach. Sitting back, she regarded him. “Are you planning to wear that little thing to bed? It won’t fit, you know.”

  “No, but I find it very interesting that your mom packed this in your suitcase.”

  “You wouldn’t if you knew my mom. She’s changed since you—” Ran away. She clamped her lips together and vowed to keep her mouth shut on that topic for the next three days. Because if Bill convinced Reed to return to the firm first—thereby becoming partner—he’d fire her butt down the road.

  She bit her lip, conscious of Reed’s gaze dropping to her mouth before it returned to her face. Then she decided to put everything out into the open so he wouldn’t be caught off guard, and maybe she wouldn’t be embarrassed every time her mom opened her mouth. “My mom means well, but she doesn’t know where to draw the line.”

  “I like your mom.”

  “Then we should exchange moms,” she suggested, which brought forth a burst of laughter from the man beside her, which did more funny things to her stomach…and lower. This time she couldn’t stop the urge to squiggle against the chair. Her face heated. “You really don’t know what my mom’s capable of.”

  “Enlighten me.”

  She cast a glance toward Bill and Trudy who were focused on the chessboard between them, at Mary who had leaned against the railing to watch them, at Paul who was still fixated on spreadsheets, and at Betty, who had once again settled down on a lounger with the e-reader in her hands.

  And she realized that she had Reed totally to herself, and that Mary’s plea to her only son was the solution she needed.

  Dragging her gaze back his way, she smiled. “My mom has decided to play matchmaker. For the next three days, we can either fight her or pretend to go along with her attempts.”

  The interested light in Reed’s eyes suggested her entire plan might be easier to pull off than she thought.

  Her mom’s manipulations might force her and Reed together long enough for her to figure out a way to reconcile father and son, which would put her well on the road to the partnership.

  She just needed to keep the part about the sperm donor a secret, or Reed would be running right into Bill’s arms.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Trudy reached for one of the chess pieces just as Bill’s aunt pushed away from the railing and came to stand beside her.

  “That’s right, girl. Beat the pants off him now because the bliss won’t last forever.”

  Trudy froze as Mrs. Readner stomped away and disappeared into the galley.

  Bill was an exceptional chess player. He’d taken lessons in junior high, been master of his chess class in high school, then college. It would be impossible to beat him.

  Wouldn’t it? “What did she mean by that?”

  “Nothing. She gets crazy sometimes.” Bill waved at the board between them. “Are you going to make a move or what?”

  At the sound of Bill’s impatient tone, Trudy turned back, but instead of studying the chess board, she stared at the man before her and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Do you think Ms. Blackhorne knows about us?”

  “No way, babe,” he replied without even looking at her, his hand cupping his chin, his focus on the board unwavering. “Do you need some help deciding on your move?”

  “No.” She nudged one of the pieces into one of Bill’s, snatched the black bridge or rock or whatever it was supposed to represent off the board, and set it aside with the rest of the black pieces she’d collected. Then while Bill contemplated his next move, she glanced toward her boss who was focused on his laptop. He’d always been so kind to her, even offering to pay for her accounting classes despite the fact that she could tell he thought it was just a whim on her part and a waste of money on his part. “Do you think Mr. Readner is serious about retiring?”

  “Sure. Aunt Mary has been after him for years to slow down and turn over the reins to someone younger. I guess he’s finally ready.” He glanced up at her, his expression thoughtful. “Are you worried about your job? You don’t need to be. Stick with me and I’ll make sure you move up the ladder.”

  Move up the ladder.

  Trudy cleared the frown from her face before he could see her dissatisfaction.

  She didn’t want to just move up the ladder.

  She wanted to be treated like an equal…and win the ten thousand dollars for the breast reduction.

>   The breast reduction would solve all of her problems, she was sure of it. She’d have more confidence, gain more respect, and people would look to her for her brains instead of her boobs. “Shouldn’t we be working on our strategy?”

  “No worries, babe. Leave it all up to me.”

  With a sigh, she returned her attention to the chess board in time to see Bill make his move. She quickly considered her choices and the consequences of taking another of Bill’s pieces, then decided, what the heck. He seemed to be in a good mood, and he hadn’t yet complained about her stealing his pieces off the board.

  She reached out and snagged the one that looked like a horse’s head.

  “Trumped you again,” she grinned and held the piece in front of his face. “Nah-nah-nah-nah-nah.”

  His complexion turned red. The color began in his cheeks and spread out like a heat rash. It wasn’t a particularly attractive look on him.

  It wasn’t a particularly good mood on him either. She stiffened her backbone, perfectly aware that always giving into him wasn’t healthy for their relationship.

  Sometimes a girl had to beat the pants off her guy just to prove he wasn’t totally in control.

  He gritted his teeth. “It’s not trump in this game.”

  “Well, whatever it is, I’ve got it.” Just for good measure, she waved the piece under his nose again, then set it down with the other black pieces and admired her collection. Surprisingly, the black pieces on her side of the table now outnumbered the white pieces on Bill’s side. “If I’d known chess was this easy, I’d have insisted we play months ago.”

  “It’s not easy,” he mumbled without taking his gaze from the board.

  She smirked. “And yet, I’m winning.”

  He muttered, “Beginner’s luck.”

  Knowing she was in for a wait while he carefully contemplated his next move, she set her elbow on her knee, rested her chin on her hand, and stared down the galley stairs. “I wonder what upset Mrs. Readner? Maybe I should go talk to her.”