The Boss and the Baby

by Leigh Michaels

  Bailey fell asleep in her car seat on the drive home, worn out by her antics at the beach and on the playground, and she hardly stirred when Luke lifted her, seat and all, from the Jaguar and strapped her into Molly’s car. Her overwhelming innocence tugged Molly’s heart. If only I could look into the future and see the best way to keep her from being hurt.

  Molly opened her car door, but she didn’t get in. “We only talked about Bailey,” she said, without looking at Luke. “What about...us?”

  “Do you mean, am I suggesting a real marriage or something that only appears to be?”

  “I guess that’s what I’m asking, yes.” She knew when he moved closer, for the back of her neck tingled.

  His voice was very low. “I think separate bedrooms would be a little hypocritical, don’t you, considering that we already have a daughter?”

  Molly tried in vain to swallow the lump in her throat.

  Luke’s hands came to rest on her shoulders, and he turned her to face him. “Perhaps we should try a little experiment.”

  There was no doubt what he had in mind. The husky note in his voice would have told her even if there’d been no other signals.

  Molly could hardly out-and-out refuse to let him kiss her when she’d brought up the subject herself. If she balked or didn’t cooperate, he’d only ask why she was afraid of the very answers she’d asked for.

  And in any case, she wanted to know.

  She looked at him and closed her eyes and told herself that this would be basically the same as all the other good-night kisses she’d taken part in over the last few years. She wasn’t so foolish—or so inexperienced—as to think that one kiss was exactly like another, but at the heart of the matter Luke’s technique probably wasn’t so very different than that of any of the men she’d dated.

  The fact that he’d given her the first real kisses of her life, and the fact that the circumstances surrounding those kisses had been extremely emotional, had no doubt colored her perceptions and made each caress seem better than it had really been. There probably wasn’t a man on earth who could live up to the memories she’d constructed from that long-ago night. It wasn’t fair of her even to compare...

  Her carefully crafted illusion lasted less than three seconds.

  Luke cupped her face in his hands, ran his thumb gently across her lower lip and bent his head. He tasted her slowly and thoughtfully, his mouth barely brushing hers. She shivered uncontrollably, and she wondered how such a gentle touch could cause such violent darts of pleasure throughout her body.

  He drew back slightly. “You don’t like that approach? Then perhaps—in the name of experimentation—we should try another.”

  She wanted to say, No, I like this one just fine. But her vocal cords were paralyzed. That had never happened before.

  Luke obviously took her silence for agreement, and his hands slid firmly over her shoulders and down her back, drawing her close until her body seemed to meld with his. Off balance, she could do nothing but cling to him while his kisses turned ravenous. He commanded her response, and when she obeyed, he demanded more and more. He took her breath, her strength, her willpower. . .but he gave, as well, until every nerve in her body was vibrating to his touch like the strings of a cello.

  When he let her go, Molly sagged against the driver’s door and tried not to gasp for air. She realized that Luke, too, was leaning against the car. Was he relying on it for support, she wondered, or simply striking a casual pose to show how unaffected he was?

  “I’d consider that a success,” he said. His voice was low and a little rough. “What about you, Molly?”

  She gave up the struggle to regain control of her knees and sank into her seat. “Good night, Luke.”

  He leaned across her and solicitously fastened her seat belt. It was the first time Molly had ever considered such a utilitarian action in the light of a seduction technique, for though he didn’t lay a finger on her body, his careful attention to the straps made her terribly aware that her breasts still tingled from his embrace and her stomach was simply gone.

  He started to withdraw from the car and paused just long enough to press another brief butterfly of a kiss on her lips.

  “Give it a chance,” he murmured, “and you might get to like that one, too. Drive carefully, Molly.”

  The ripples of pleasure were diminishing, like the waves left behind by a rock tossed into still water, and reality was once more intruding.

  She glanced in the driving mirror at Bailey, her face nestled into the cushioned car seat, sublimely unaware of a scene that would no doubt have fascinated her.

  Bailey, who was the only reason he’d kissed her.

  “I will,” she said tightly. “I have precious cargo.”

  Luke raised his eyebrows a fraction. “But of course you do.”

  And she told herself, as she turned onto London Road, that a wise woman wouldn’t forget that the entire episode had been only an investigation of whether they could stand each other well enough to form an alliance for Bailey.

  Megan’s maid opened the Bannisters’ massive front door and stepped aside for Molly to enter. “Mrs. Bannister is in her boudoir.”

  “Thanks. I can find my way.” Molly stopped halfway up the elegant staircase and looked over the huge atrium where a week from tomorrow her parents would celebrate their anniversary.

  The day she must give Luke his answer.

  But that was utter nonsense, of course. She’d lain awake half the night, and she’d concluded that she’d have to be completely mad to accept his proposal. Having made up her mind, there was no point in postponing. She’d tell him today and have it done with.

  She tapped on the boudoir door and followed Megan’s summons to the bedroom beyond.

  Megan was lying on an enormous four-poster bed, her back propped against a stack of peach satin pillows, wearing a negligee that was more lace than anything else and holding a paperback in her hand. Molly thought she looked terribly fragile. Even her hair, brushed but left loose around her shoulders, seemed to have lost its healthy sheen.

  “How was the trip yesterday?” Molly leaned over to kiss her sister’s cheek.

  “Dull, like most of Rand’s business things. And it was a very long day, which is why I’m still in bed. When you called this morning I started to get up, but I just couldn’t.”

  “You need to take care of yourself just now.” Molly sat at the foot of the bed.

  Megan’s face brightened. “Anyway, I sneaked away for a couple of hours yesterday to shop. I brought home a couple of dresses for the anniversary party.”

  “How many are you planning to wear?”

  Megan pulled her knees up and folded her arms around them. “Silly—they’re for you. Obviously you haven’t had time to shop. If you like what I chose—well, I missed your birthday last winter. And if you don’t, I’ll ship them back.” She shrugged. “So please don’t make a big deal of it. Looking for clothes for you was the most fun I had all day.”

  If Molly had ever felt guiltier, she couldn’t remember it. She had to reply to Megan’s generosity with a piece of news that might cut her sister to the heart.

  “Would you like some coffee or something?” Megan asked. “And you wanted to see the Waterford bowl, too.”

  “Can we do that later? And no coffee, thanks.” Molly braced herself. “I didn’t really come to see the bowl, anyway.”

  “Oh? This sounds promising.”

  Molly asked, as delicately as she could, “You haven’t talked to Luke lately?”

  “Not since that night in the hospital. Why?”

  “Nothing, really.” She’d procrastinated long enough. There was no easy way to say this, so she might as well stop hoping one would drop into her lap. “I wanted to tell you about a sort of family meeting I had with Mother and Dad the night before last. I called to see if you could come, but Rand said you’d gone to bed already to rest for the trip.” She couldn’t look at Megan, so her gaze wandered. She noted almost
absently that the other side of the big bed had obviously not been used last night. Had Rand thoughtfully left his wife alone so he wouldn’t disturb her rest? Or was this a regular thing?

  And Luke didn’t want separate rooms. Maybe she should tell him—with only a hint of sarcasm, of course—that all the best people had them.

  Megan’s fingers plucked at the hem of the peach satin sheet. “He must have forgotten to tell me you’d called.” She forced a smile. “So what was so weighty it needed a family meeting? And how does Luke come into it?”

  “Luke—” Molly bit her lip and looked at her hands, white-knuckled in her lap “—is Bailey’s father.”

  Megan couldn’t have looked more stunned if Molly had picked up the marble base of the bedside lamp and hit her over the head.

  Molly’s stomach tied itself into a half-dozen knots. “I’m sorry,” she said miserably. “I know he’s very important to you.” I just hoped he wasn’t quite this important . She fumbled, trying to think of anything that might lessen Megan’s shock. “Anyway, all this happened years ago, so it really doesn’t affect—”

  Except for the part about getting married, her conscience reminded her, and it looked as if that would affect Megan plenty. But since Molly wasn’t going to marry him, after all...

  “I thought maybe he’d have told you.” Molly’s voice trailed off.

  Megan shook her head as if to clear it. “No. He’s never even dropped a hint to me. That night at the hospital he even asked me about Bailey’s father.” Delicate color rose in her cheeks as she admitted, “I told him the little I knew and felt absolutely delinquent for talking about your secrets. When I get my hands on him—”

  Molly frowned. Megan didn’t sound quite as she would have expected for a woman whose world had been turned on its axis.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t brain me when I started talking about stepfathers,” Megan muttered. “I deserved it. Here I was feeling out whether you even knew you were falling for him without so much as a suspicion that you’d already... Well!”

  Molly’s head was swimming. “You don’t...mind?”

  “Mind what? That one of my best friends doesn’t tell me a teensy detail like the fact that he’s my niece’s father, or that my little sister didn’t trust me any more than that?”

  “Luke didn’t know. I told him at the hospital.”

  “Oh, in that case, no wonder he looked as if he’d been hit by a tree.”

  Or a treehouse, Molly thought. She was giddy. If Megan really didn’t feel romantic about Luke... The whole thing would have been so much more unpleasant if Megan’s heart was at stake, too.

  Megan was sitting up straight, and there was more sparkle in her eyes than Molly had seen there in weeks. “How did Mother take it? With fireworks, or was she thrilled to pieces that her granddaughter’s a Hudson? I wish I’d been there.”

  Molly shook her head. “Neither. It was weird, Meg. Almost scary. She looked at me and blinked twice and said something about how that might account for the graceful way Bailey moves, since Luke’s mother was a dancer. That was it.”

  “Now I really wish I’d been there,” Megan said. “So...what’s next? With you and Luke, I mean.”

  “Nothing’s next. The arrangements won’t be any different than the ordinary divorced couple makes, really.”

  Megan raised her delicately plucked eyebrows. “Whatever you say, dear. But you look pretty guilty to me.”

  Molly felt herself color. But she was not going to tell Megan about Luke’s proposal. What was the point in asking for trouble? Or leaving herself open to well-meant advice, which might be even worse?

  She’d decided to turn him down, anyway.

  Hadn’t she?

  Lucky was outside Oakwood that afternoon, sniffing through a flower bed, when Molly parked her car. Bailey bounced in her seat, so eager to join the dog that she made it hard to release her safety harness. But finally she was free to race off. Molly got her briefcase and the stack of books she was returning to Warren and called to the child. “Come on, Bailey, you know the rule. You can’t be outside without an adult, and Lucky doesn’t count.”

  “I’ll be good,” Bailey pleaded.

  “I’m just making sure you remember not to wander off again.”

  Bailey pouted for a few seconds until she concluded her mother wasn’t paying any attention, then obeyed. Three-year-olds were so delightfully transparent, Molly thought.

  The child bounded to the front door, knocked confidently and swept past the butler with a cheerful, “Good afternoon, Watkins!”

  Where had she picked up that one, Molly wondered.

  Watkins made the required daily inspection of Bailey’s yellowing bruise, then she hopped on one foot to the kitchen to greet the cook.

  Bailey was so obviously happy at Oakwood, Molly thought. For the first time she considered what would happen after her work was done. The book was moving along. Most of the work on the video couldn’t be done from Oakwood.

  When Molly no longer came to Oakwood every afternoon, there would be no reason for Bailey to do so. Of course, come autumn she’d be spending more time in preschool, anyway—but unless Luke made it a point to take her home with him, there might be whole weeks when she didn’t see her pals at Oakwood.

  She would miss them. Unless...

  Molly bit her lip. Unless I marry Luke, she thought, and all her uncertainty swirled once more.

  Could she live without love? There would unquestionably be passion. After last night, there could be no doubt of that. Would it be an adequate substitute? Could she be contented knowing Bailey was happy? Would that satisfaction be enough?

  And could she manage all of that...for a lifetime?

  Not a day went by without a fresh jolt for Molly, and an additional argument to add to the ongoing battle in her head.

  On Monday afternoon when she arrived at Oakwood, Mrs. Ekberg told her that Luke wanted her to choose a bedroom for Bailey and decide how it should be decorated. Molly nearly dropped her briefcase. Was he so certain of her answer he’d announced to the staff that there would be a wedding? Mrs. Ekberg was matter-of-fact.

  Then Molly realized that whether Bailey moved in or simply came for visits, she’d feel more comfortable if she had her own room. Molly couldn’t fault Luke for that. In fact, she had to give him grudging credit for asking her advice—since no one knew better than she what Bailey liked or needed.

  The next day was one of the rare ones when Warren felt up to visiting friends, and Luke invited Molly—and Bailey, of course—to stay and have dinner with him. As the three of them sat together in the dining room, Molly thought, He’s showing me what I’ll be missing if I turn him down.

  And she found herself thinking, as they spent the evening like a family, that perhaps she could marry him, after all.

  The following evening, when she was leaving very late, she ran into Luke on his way out of the house. She hadn’t seen him wearing a tux since Megan’s wedding, and to tell the truth she hadn’t really seen much of anything that day—so the impact was stronger than it would otherwise have been.

  Even Bailey was impressed by the tux. She stood absolutely still for an unusually long time while she looked at him, and then said, “You’re pretty, Daddy,” and he’d laughed and swept her up for a kiss.

  But it wasn’t only his faultless tailoring that made him look so good, Molly thought. There was something about his expression that spoke of exhilaration and eagerness. She couldn’t help but wonder where he was going, and with whom.

  The next day she found out, when Melinda the golden girl stopped by Oakwood. “I’m returning the bow tie he left at my house last night,” she told Watkins. “Do tell him what a memorable evening I had, won’t you?” Then she’d flashed a superior smile at Molly, who’d had the bad luck to walk through the hall just then, and departed.

  Molly, a bit depressed, remembered that while Luke had said he expected their marriage would be a real one, he hadn’t uttered a word ab
out limiting himself to his wife—and she concluded that if she had any sense she’d immediately tell him no.

  Shortly afterward he called her aside to tell her that his attorney had finished all the paperwork for the custody agreement, parental rights and child support—but it was up to Molly, of course, whether they signed the documents or tore them up. And—faced with the legal realities—she wavered once more.

  The day after that he asked Bailey if she’d like to stay at Oakwood overnight, and she eagerly agreed, excited at the adventure. Molly’s heart twisted at the thought of how easily Bailey was breaking away from her. She gritted her teeth, however, and told herself it was just as well, for this was what Bailey’s future would be—moving back and forth between households. Unless, of course...

  But when the time came for her mother to leave her, Barley burst into a storm of tears, and finally Luke took her out to Molly’s car. And then, to Molly’s dismay, she sobbed all the way home—because she didn’t have her daddy.

  Molly couldn’t blame the poor child for being confused when she herself hardly knew up from down. The trouble was, time was growing short. The anniversary party was tomorrow, and she still didn’t know what her answer would be.

  Molly hadn’t known her parents had so many friends, for the guest list—like so much of the party—had been Megan’s work. The nicest part about the horde, Molly thought, was that by the time she’d greeted each guest the evening would be at least half over. And with the sheer number of people—enough to make even the Bannisters’ enormous house seem crowded—avoiding Luke would probably be no trick at all.

  She crossed the atrium and ran into Megan in the dining room doorway. “I’m heartily ashamed of myself,” she said. “All the work you put into this party, and I haven’t helped at all.”

  Megan shrugged. “It’s what I do best—and heaven knows I have plenty of time.”

  “Well, tell me what I can do right now, and go sit down.”

  “Do I look that bad?”

  Yes, Molly wanted to say. Megan’s face looked pinched, her eyes were shadowed, and even the rich apricot of her dress couldn’t seem to reflect color to her cheeks. “You look a little tired,” she said tactfully.