The Lawyer's Pregnancy Takeover (Destiny's Child Book 2)

by Zee Monodee

  ***

  “Claire!” Olivia exclaimed when they entered the baby layette and pregnancy wear paradise.

  A short blonde woman smiled in reply and came over to hug Olivia.

  “Jane, this is Claire Mansfield. She is Phillip’s girlfriend. You know Phillip, don’t you? Mike’s best friend?”

  No, she didn’t, but she covered it up. “I’m afraid we haven’t met yet. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Claire.”

  “Same here.” The woman’s tone was bubbly. “So you’re the one who hooked Michael.”

  Jane blushed.

  “Can you believe Jane hasn’t even started on the layette?” Olivia had her hands on her hips.

  Claire laughed. “She’s barely showing, Livvie. She has all the time.”

  Jane then realized Claire was pregnant, too.

  “How far along are you?”

  She had no idea how the question escaped her, or that she had even contemplated asking. Her mouth had suddenly run off. She blushed even harder.

  Claire laughed. “Don’t worry. It’s like that among us fat cows. We know of nothing better to talk about than pregnancy woes and baby shopping.”

  Jane laughed, too, appreciating the woman’s frank manner that eliminated any notion of awkwardness in their encounter.

  “I’m four months gone now.” Claire turned to the side, propping her belly out. “And I’m showing big-time.”

  The three women browsed the aisles in cheerful companionship. At one point, Jane found herself alone with Claire.

  The young woman stopped and grabbed her hand. “There is no better way to snag a man, darling.”

  Wait, what? Had she heard that right?

  “I beg your pardon?” she asked, frowning.

  “Don’t look so stunned, luv. How else would we get our blokes to stay with us if not through a child?”

  She hitched in a breath. So she had heard right the first time, and horror flooded her. “You mean, you planned your pregnancy for this?”

  “’Course I did,” Claire replied, shrugging a shoulder in a nonchalant way. “You didn’t?”

  “No.”

  Claire shrugged again. “But then again, you landed on Michael. I landed on Phillip.”

  Olivia joined them, then, and Jane had no further opportunity to talk to Claire. To think of springing a premeditated pregnancy on a man so he wouldn’t leave sounded ruthless, even cruel.

  The older woman grabbed Jane’s hand. “Oh, Jane, darling, have you ever seen anything sweeter?”

  Jane looked at the tiny pair of white booties in Olivia’s hand. She smiled and shook her head.

  The smile remained with her throughout the baby-shopping spree. However, by the time she and Olivia exited the shop, one thought was right there as neon lights flashing in her head.

  Why don’t I have a mum like that?

  ***

  Michael gathered Jane had spent a good day. She was laughing when she came home, and his mother was with her. Their arms were laden with bags.

  They dumped the contents in the lounge.

  “Want to see what we bought?”

  Jane’s eyes sparkled with an emotion he’d never seen before. Mischief, he’d say. Women loved to shop, didn’t they? But like most men, his eyes glazed over at the mere mention of shopping, and Jane seemed intent on showing him everything they had bought. Come to think of it, had they snapped up the whole shop?

  Warning bells rang in his head.

  “Maybe later.” He grinned sheepishly.

  “Oh.”

  A crestfallen look appeared on her face, and he wanted to kick himself for the dank cloud he’d brought down on her bubbly demeanour.

  After Olivia left, he went into the living room where she was collecting her bags.

  “Show me.”

  She didn’t look up. “It’ll bore you to death.”

  He went to stand in front of her, pushing a thick, dark lock of her hair behind her ear to better see her face.

  “Maybe I want to be bored to death.”

  Her eyes grew wide, and a smile started to tug at the corners of her lips.

  “Go ahead.” He nodded at the mounds of stuff. “Bore me.”

  They sat down on the floor with the bags between them.

  One by one, she opened the parcels. They were terribly tiny items of clothing, and half of them, he didn’t even know were for what purpose.

  He shook his head at the sight of a pair of booties that couldn’t be longer than his little finger.

  “Someone can actually wear that?” Awe and disbelief rang heavy in his voice.

  Jane laughed, and he realized he liked the sound.

  “You should’ve seen the stuff at that shop. I’ve seen doll’s clothes that were bigger than some pieces of clothing there.”

  She reached for the last, unopened bag.

  “And this is ...” She pulled out a large, tissue-wrapped parcel. The paper crumpled under her hand, giving him a glimpse of a soft-looking fabric of a vibrant blue colour. “What you’ll see me in for the gala.”

  She then stuffed the parcel back in its bag. A blush crept up her cheeks, and she stood.

  He stood, too, afraid she’d feel dizzy from her sudden movement.

  She’d bought a dress for the gala. Remembering the rich colour, he closed his eyes and could picture the tone against her creamy, golden skin. Opening them again, he reached out to clasp her wrist just as she was turning to leave the room.

  She dragged those huge, dark eyes to him, and his jaw tensed. She shouldn’t look at him like that. Like her soul were in those depths. Like he’d see all the turmoil inside her if he plunged into them.

  Like encountering a burning need and want that lingered beneath the surface and threatened to blaze upon him, too, if she continued to gaze at him like that.

  Slowly, he released her hand, but didn’t sever the eye contact.

  When the bag slipped out of her hand, they both snapped out of the fog around them and came back to reality.

  As she fled from the room, Michael stood rooted to his spot.

  He wanted to see her in that dress.

  He wanted to take her to the gala with him.

  He wanted her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Jane?”

  “Hmm?” She tore herself from a report and looked up into the frowning face of her boss.

  “Have you received the invitation card for the children’s hospital gala? Marisa just called me to inquire why I haven’t sent the RSVP yet.”

  Uh-oh.

  “I haven’t noticed any invite.” She paused, swallowing to gulp down her guilt. “Maybe it’s still in the mail room. Sometimes, they forget to bring stuff up.”

  Umberto nodded. “Do check that, please.”

  He turned on his heel and went to his office, closing the door behind him. That’s when she let out the breath she’d been holding.

  Goodness. What would she do? Only a week left until the gala, and to think that Marisa Verholden, the society diva who was the godmother of the children’s hospital, had gone to the length of calling Umberto personally … No, she couldn’t think of it.

  She reached for her mobile and tapped the screen for a number she now had on speed dial.

  Michael picked up.

  “We have a problem. He just asked me for the invitation card. I can’t stall any longer.”

  “I thought you had to come up with something.” His voice echoed his weariness.

  Easy for him to say. He’d dumped that load on her and simply had to wait in the side lines while she tried to break his parents up again. For all she knew, there could simply be friendship between Umberto and Olivia, but tell that to Michael and he’d bite her head off.

  “What do I do?” She huffed

  “Hold on.”

  She heard him talk to Rory, and then he came back on the line again.

  “Your mother hasn’t said anything to you?” she continued.

  He snorted. “How would I
know, when you’re her new best friend? She never calls me, and when I do talk to her, all she does is tell me about you and the baby.”

  She wanted to laugh at the hint of dejection in his tone, but one word sobered her. Baby. Olivia thought the baby was Michael’s, so the unborn child was already the first wonder of the world.

  Conning everyone hadn’t been her intent, but wasn’t she doing precisely that? And to Michael, too? He knew the truth, but circumstances had pushed him into the position he was in today. Prior to the tabloid debacle, he could’ve backed out at any moment. She wasn’t sure this was a hundred and fifty percent his personal choice. That described her defining criteria where a happy future father was concerned.

  “Jane? You’re still there?”

  “Yes.” She pulled her thoughts back to the matter at hand. “Tell me what I have to do, Michael.”

  He remained silent for a long time, so much she wondered if he had put the phone down. But he hadn’t, because she could still hear his deep, sharp breathing across the line.

  “Michael?”

  “I’m here.” His voice was odd, strangled.

  Was he sick? Coming down with a cold, maybe? The weather had just started to change, winter easing into spring.

  “We need my mother to already have a date when he gets the chance to ask her.”

  No need to ask who ‘he’ was. Would Michael ever pronounce Umberto’s name or even call him “father”?

  “Someone needs to ask her out today, then.” Who, though? An image appeared in her head, the surprise taking her over once more. “Did your mother ever tell you Charles was her escort for her debutante’s ball?”

  “Charles?”

  “Yes, Charles. My stepfather.”

  “Is he single?”

  “Last I heard of, yes.”

  “That’s it. Charles can ask her to accompany him.”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “You said yourself they know each other, and he’s been invited to the gala, too, probably. Call him, and if he’s free, tell him to ask my mother out.”

  Goodness. What had she gotten herself into? Wasn’t her life enough of a fishbowl already?

  “Jane?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Do it. Please. For me.”

  His voice softened with every syllable, and she was hanging onto his last word with her breath caught.

  Why, and how, could he do this to her?

  “Okay,” she agreed with a resigned sigh.

  After cutting the call, she dialled Charles’s number. “Are you attending the charity gala this Saturday?”

  “Princess, good manners imply you greet the person you’re calling before rushing in with questions.”

  Mockery tinged his voice, and she brushed his words aside.

  “Good morning, Charles. How are you, dah-ling? It’s a beautiful day outside, isn’t it, dear?” She spoke in her best, cultured, posh voice.

  He laughed. “You almost sound like your mother.”

  Her blood chilled. “God forbid.”

  “My sentiment exactly, Princess.”

  “So, are you going to the charity gala?”

  “I have received an invitation, but I haven’t given it much thought. Why?”

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Can you do me a favour? Someone I know needs a date.”

  He whistled softly. “Say that again?”

  She grimaced and spoke through gritted teeth. “You heard me right the first time.”

  “And who are we talking about?”

  “Olivia Rinaldi. Or Whitmore, as you happen to recall her.”

  “Livvie has no date? One week from the gala?”

  A headache was starting to build behind her forehead. “It’s complicated, okay? Can you do it?”

  “Michael is her son, isn’t he?”

  “Yes ...”

  “I have a feeling you’re not telling me everything, but I said I’d help you. I’ll call you to let you know what she says.”

  She cut the call and waited. Five minutes later, Charles rang.

  “She agreed.”

  Jane let out a sigh of relief. “Thanks. I owe you one.”

  “I won’t let you forget.” The line clicked closed.

  She rolled her eyes, then opened the third drawer of her desk and retrieved the cream-colored envelope. Standing up, she went into her boss’s office and handed him the invitation.

  “It got misplaced.” She turned and exited the room as quickly as she could.

  A few minutes later, she huddled in her seat when a very angry Umberto stormed out of his office and summoned the lift all while spewing a barrage of foul-sounding Italian words.

  He was gone in a flash, and she gulped. An important meeting was scheduled in less than an hour, and if he wasn’t back, it would spell disaster.

  Her phone rang, and she answered with her eyes still on the closed metal doors.

  “So, what happened?”

  “Charles asked her out. She said yes. I gave Umberto the card, and he left the office in a blind fury just a moment ago.” She paused. “Michael, I think he’s on to something. I’ve never seen him so angry. What do I do now?”

  *

  Come here and take off your clothes while looking at me with desire swirling in your big brown eyes.

  Michael shook his head to clear the picture that had just formed in his mind.

  Stop asking me that bloody question, Jane!

  He could barely look at her any longer. He wanted nothing else but to pull her to him and mould her body to his length, to see how she would fit against him. He wanted to run his lips along the line of her jaw while he pushed his fingers into her thick hair. He wanted to take her mouth with his and claim her kisses. He wanted; God, he wanted ...

  To make love to her.

  Never before had he burned for a woman so much, and he had no idea why he craved Jane with such damning intensity. Could it be that living in close proximity with someone made hormones run rampant? He felt like a teenager with his first crush around her.

  She was changing. She walked with a slower pace. More graceful. More sinful, with her curving hips swaying as she adapted her gait. Her facial features were softer, too, as if the weight she was putting on was making her blossom into a fully realized woman.

  Pregnancy agreed with Jane.

  “Michael?”

  That soft moan again from her. He could almost imagine she’d say his name like that in the throes of passion.

  He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. What had they been talking about? Right, his mother and the gala. “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because I’ll make it all right.”

  She remained silent for a long time. “Okay.”

  “I’ll see you at home.”

  His voice had nearly caught on the last word, but he’d managed to keep himself in check.

  She acquiesced and cut the call.

  Michael sat, eyes wide open now, pondering upon his last reply a long time.

  Though home to him had always been the Hampstead house, he’d never before wanted to rush back there in the evening. The dwelling was empty, and he stayed there simply because he needed a place to live.

  But things were different with Jane in the picture. True, they barely spent time together. He kept to the study most of the time, and they tried as much as possible to not cross paths. He knew on his part that it was because his testosterone level shot the minute he even thought of her in the same premises. Around the house, Jane wasn’t a fussy dresser. She wore loose T-shirts to sleep, and in the mornings, often unbeknownst to her, he would catch sight of the damning garment riding up the back of her bare thighs when she rummaged in the fridge.

  He closed his eyes and winced.

  He had to do something, or he’d run himself crazy with wanting her. He had a feeling any advances he might make wouldn’t be rebuffed. Too much tension bet
ween them when they were otherwise on properly civil terms to signify anything else.

  Yet, how did one go about initiating sex with a pregnant woman? Was it even safe for Jane?

  He needed answers. He couldn’t continue living that way.

  Pride, go to Hell.

  He forced his eyes open, then picked up the phone and dialled a number.

  “Hello, Gayle.” He gulped. “Is this a bad time?”

  “No. You caught me between patients. Is anything the matter?”

  “Not exactly.” He took a deep breath. “There’s something I need to ask you.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Can Jane—” he paused, “—safely sleep with someone right now?”

  She chuckled. “I assume that ‘someone’ is you.”

  He grimaced.

  “Yes. She perfectly can. Just be gentle and careful.”

  He let out a breath. “Good. And Gayle—”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t tell her you’re planning to seduce her.”

  He was a bit ruffled by the unconcealed note of laughter in her voice.

  “Michael, this is what I usually tell everyone. Take your precautions. In this case, we know that’s not needed, but make sure you’re safe. You know what I mean?”

  He gave a small nod even if he knew she couldn’t see him. “I had a full medical a few months ago. There hasn’t been anyone since then.”

  “Good. I know you’ll take proper care of her.”

  “I aim to.”

  ***

  Saturday and the evening of the charity gala came in the blink of an eye. Michael had pondered the doctor’s words all through the week, and every time he’d looked at Jane, he’d told himself he needed to haul his courage with both hands and just kiss her. Whatever happened afterward didn’t really matter. Only the first step did.

  A very difficult first step, though.

  By the time he stood at the foot of the stairs waiting for her to come down on Saturday, he was beginning to think he should just grab her and kiss her. He was tired of behaving like a grown man when he felt like a sex-crazed teenager.

  And Jane with her huge eyes and the soft look in them. She’d damn him before long if things kept up in this platonic manner.