Laurel couldn’t figure out what was wrong with Brett. Since leaving his house, he hadn’t spoken, except when he’d stopped at a café and ordered breakfast to go. She’d told him she preferred stopping at a grocery store because that would be cheaper than a restaurant, but he mumbled there wasn’t time and paid for her breakfast before she could protest.
Maybe he wasn’t a morning person. She hadn’t stuck around long enough in Reno to see him wake up because her mother had needed Laurel home as soon as possible. To be honest, leaving a note while he slept had been for the best. She’d been afraid the magic they’d shared during the night would disappear come morning. She’d wanted the memory of their time together to remain untarnished, something to hold close to her heart when she returned to the real world in Chicago.
No matter. She wouldn’t let Brett’s strange mood or grumpiness interfere with her first day at work. She wanted to make a good impression and show she was competent.
As Laurel stepped from the elevator, she noticed a crowd gathered at the receptionist’s desk. Even at this early hour, MGI bustled with activity. She couldn’t imagine who the people were—investors or employees—but Brett led her past the lobby and through the double doors to the private offices and cubicle area.
Computers beeped and dinged. Telephones rang. People hurried from one desk to another. A contagious energy filled the air.
Smiling, Laurel could almost taste the money being added to investors’ portfolios. At MGI, she could have a career and earn enough to provide for her baby and herself.
Her excitement mounting, she followed Brett down the hall. No one seemed to notice her. No covert glances, snide comments, or tactless jokes. For once, she was grateful to be a nobody about to make a fresh start.
“I’ll give you over to Danielle,” Brett said, without glancing Laurel’s way. “I have a full schedule today, but if you need something, she knows how to reach me.”
“I’ll be fine.” Laurel couldn’t wait to get started. The early hours would be something she had to get used to, but she was a working girl now and a soon-to-be mommy. Sacrifices had to be made.
Brett entered an alcove to the right of his office. “Danielle?”
His assistant popped her head over the cubicle wall and frowned. Gone was the bubbly high school cheerleader persona from yesterday. In its place was a disapproving suspicion.
“Morning, boss,” Danielle said, her face downtrodden.
“Good morning to you.” Brett grinned, appearing more pleased to see his assistant than he had Laurel earlier.
Jealousy licked at her. A stupid reaction. She had no claim on him. Yet, her skin heated. She wanted to know exactly what kind of relationship Danielle and Brett had outside the office.
“You remember Laurel,” he added.
Danielle nodded, without enthusiasm.
He gazed right past Laurel, as if she were invisible. “I’ll leave you in Danielle’s capable hands.”
“Okay.” Except Laurel’s voice sounded anything but. The tension emanating from her new boss evaporated any confidence she had. She fought to keep a smile on her face.
Think about the baby. “Have a nice day, Brett.”
“You, too.” He went into his office and then closed the door.
Waiting for Danielle to say something, Laurel adjusted her shirt. She didn’t have a baby bump yet, only a small paunch, and she hoped people would think she was chubby, not pregnant. If possible, she wanted to pick the time to make her pregnancy public knowledge.
Her boss, however, did nothing but stare. That left saying something up to her.
“It doesn’t look as if it’s going to rain today,” Laurel said, feeling like an idiot at her stupid comment.
Danielle shrugged, but the frustration in her gaze was unmistakable. The woman was less than thrilled with her new assistant.
No problem.
Laurel could handle this. Henry Davenport had told her she could charm the pants off anyone. She’d done so with Brett in Reno. Now she had to charm Danielle. Laurel would give her boss a reason to smile. Surely by the end of the day, she could achieve the small feat.
She straightened her shoulders. “I’m excited to work for you.”
Danielle blew out a puff of air. Not the most auspicious beginning… “I guess we’d better get started. Have a seat.”
Laurel sat, clasped her hands, and attentively regarded her new boss.
Smile. Whatever you do, keep smiling.
Danielle handed her a stack of papers. “Fill out these forms, then read the pamphlets about employee benefits and rights. Let me know if you have any questions once you’re done.”
Laurel grasped a two-inch-thick stack of papers and pamphlets. “I have a few questions now, if that’s okay.”
“What?”
Laurel ignored Danielle’s curtness. Maybe the woman was having a bad morning—not enough sleep, a fight with her significant other, that time of the month… “What will my job be?”
“You’re my assistant.” She spoke as if Laurel should know this. “You’ll help with my daily responsibilities. Answer phones, file, data entry. When another employee is out of the office, you’ll fill in for them.”
Sounded good to Laurel, and not too difficult, either. She’d be gaining useful office experience. “I was also wondering about my salary? Brett said you would be the one—”
“Two thousand seven hundred.”
A week? That was more than Laurel expected. She knew MGI was doing well, but she did a quick calculation. Wow. She would be making six figures nearly a year earlier than she’d expected. She would be able to afford a nice two-bedroom apartment or condo. Stylish maternity clothes. A car.
Laurel kept herself from reaching across the desk and hugging her new boss. She rubbed her tummy instead. Things were going to work out the way she’d thought they would.
Danielle glanced at a piece of paper. “Two thousand seven hundred a month plus benefits.”
A month? Laurel’s yearly salary would only be… Her jaw nearly dropped, but she managed to catch herself. Forget the nice apartment. Forget everything. The pay was more than minimum wage, but…
“Is something wrong?” Danielle asked.
“Everything’s…fine.” Laurel forced the words from her lump-filled throat.
“You’ll be on a ninety-day probation period. Brett expects his workers to give their jobs their all, but he’s generous with raises. There are six-month reviews with annual salary increases. Occasionally, we’ll be awarded a merit bonus for a project well done. For the past five years, we’ve also received year-end bonuses averaging ten percent of our yearly salaries. But that isn’t guaranteed since it’s based on company profits.” Danielle gave a half smile. “Any other questions?”
How will I pay rent? Buy food and diapers? Cover the expense of day care? Overwhelmed didn’t begin to describe how Laurel felt. She smiled weakly. “Not right now. Thanks.”
“I’ll show you to the employee lounge where you can read the materials.”
Mustering her strength, Laurel stood tall. Living on that salary wouldn’t be easy, but she didn’t have a choice. “Lead the way.”
♥ ♥ ♥
Out of sight, out of mind. Brett wished the old adage were true. Forget the amount of work he needed to do. His thoughts kept drifting to Laurel. He wanted to see how her day was going, ask how she was feeling, see her. He’d never expected to be so attracted to her again, but he was.
And he hated that, given what she was putting him through.
He made a conscious effort not to check up on her, but it wasn’t easy.
Brett glanced at his watch. Almost four-thirty. He usually worked until six or so, but he had to consider Laurel and the baby.
Time to call it quits.
He headed for his assistant’s cubicle.
Sitting at her desk, Danielle typed on her keyboard, oblivious to everything but the rapid movement of her fingers. Laurel was nowhere in sight.
The collar of Brett’s shirt tightened. “Where is she?”
Danielle glanced up. “In the lounge.”
Of course, where else would she be? He leaned against the desk. “How did it go?”
Danielle stared at her screen. “Okay.”
She wasn’t meeting his eyes. Not a good sign. “Care to elaborate?”
She shrugged.
“What happened?” he asked.
“It’s been…terrible.”
Terrible was good. He grinned. “That’s great.”
“Maybe for you.” His normally happy and carefree assistant frowned. “I don’t care about the bonus you promised me last night. I can’t do this.”
“Do what?”
Danielle sighed. “Be the boss from hell.”
“Why not?”
Her eyes clouded. “I’m not used to being mean and making people cry.”
Brett stiffened. “Laurel cried?”
“Almost.” Danielle’s eyes glistened, and he thought she might burst into tears as well. “When she learned her salary… I didn’t know what to say. It’s obvious she doesn’t need the money. She’s wearing a Hermès scarf, for goodness sake, and everything about her screams wealthy. What’s she doing here? Slumming?”
Brett laughed.
Danielle’s frown deepened. “This isn’t funny. She might be your ex-wife, but she isn’t mine. The only thing she needs is a hug, not a job.”
“Exactly.” Brett couldn’t stop the grin. “Your responsibility is to make her see that. What did she do today?”
“Read the employee information and filled out forms. Sorted and opened the afternoon mail.”
“Too easy.”
Danielle sighed. “She doesn’t have a clue how to do anything.”
“Teach her.” Brett needed Danielle’s help to pull this off. “We don’t want her to do anything strenuous but assign her the messy, dirty jobs. The ones everyone puts off doing.”
“No.”
“Yes,” he countered. “Put her in charge of the coffeepot, loading and unloading the dishwasher, and cleaning the refrigerator in the employee lounge.”
Danielle grimaced. “I never knew you had such a mean streak.”
“I’m doing Laurel a favor. A little work will do her good.” And show her that he was the solution to her problems. “I give her a week—two tops—before she quits.”
Then she’ll be begging me to marry her. No doubt about it.
“And if you’re wrong?” Danielle asked in a wary tone.
“When was the last time I was wrong?”
“When you said online trading would stop appealing to average investors.”
“We all make mistakes, but that one led me to write a book.” Sales to DIY investors catapulted the hardcover to the top of the bestseller lists. “But I’m not wrong about Laurel Worthington.”
“I hope not.” Danielle didn’t sound convinced.
“Trust me.”
As his assistant studied him, her gaze narrowed. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Not yet, but I will be soon.” Brett’s grin became gleeful. His plan wouldn’t fail. “Very soon.”
♥ ♥ ♥
How could today get any worse? Laurel sat at a table in the employee lounge, trying not to fall asleep. She thought she’d reached rock bottom when a drunk stumbled onto the bus during a stopover in Spokane, Washington and sat next to her. But even then, she could turn away from the stench and close her eyes. She couldn’t grab a catnap at MGI.
Laurel never thought she would prefer a three-day bus ride to work. But thanks to her aching feet and a tiredness she couldn’t shake, she wanted to go to sleep and not wake up for a month.
What she wouldn’t give for clothes that fit and a pair of comfortable, low-heeled Italian pumps. A shopping spree. A day at a spa complete with a facial, massage, and haircut. Too bad she’d never be able to afford those things again.
Brett’s marriage offer was tempting. Maybe he was right. Maybe she wasn’t cut out for working. Maybe she wasn’t any different from her mother and paternal grandmother—trophy wives extraordinaire.
Marrying him, however, meant giving up control over her life to a man who didn’t love her. It meant forgoing her vow to be self-sufficient and a better person than she’d been before. Was she willing to do that in exchange for the fancy-free life of pampering and shopping?
Tempting, yes.
She was so exhausted a part of her wanted to propose to Brett on the drive home.
But she…couldn’t.
With a child on the way, her priorities had shifted. She refused to follow in her mother’s footsteps.
“How’s it going?” Brett asked from behind her.
Laurel blinked open her heavy eyelids.
“Great.” She couldn’t muster up the right amount of enthusiasm but managed a smile. “Did you have a good day?”
“It was busy, but I’m ready to go home.” He touched the back of her chair. “How about you?”
Quitting time at last. She wanted to shout for joy. Instead, she shrugged. “I can finish up tomorrow.”
“We can see a few apartments before we go out to dinner.”
The only thing Laurel wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep. “Could we wait until Saturday?”
“Sure.” Funny, but he almost sounded disappointed. “What do you want for dinner?”
“Taco salad.”
“I know a Mexican restaurant. I’ll make reservations—”
“I’d rather have the homemade kind, if that’s okay.”
“Uh, sure.” His brows drew together. “Can you explain the difference between a homemade taco salad and a restaurant one?”
“It’s not that different.” Thinking about the ingredients made Laurel hungry. “Same tortilla chips, ground beef, cheese, lettuce, and tomatoes. But the homemade kind tastes better. You can smother the ingredients with Thousand Island dressing. Yummy.”
“Salad dressing?”
“The low-fat kind, of course.”
“Of course.” A strange expression formed on his face.
“Is that a problem?” she asked.
“No,” he said quickly. “We’ll stop by a grocery store on the way home.”
Laurel rose from the chair slowly. Her joints hurt. Muscles ached. Why had she thought an office job would be easy? She rubbed her lower back.
With an anxious gleam in his eyes, he picked up her purse. “Are you okay?”
A little stiff. Nothing stretching out on a comfy bed and sleeping for twelve hours couldn’t fix. “I must have sat too long.”
“First days are the hardest.” The tenderness in his voice surprised her. “Tomorrow will be better.”
The day couldn’t be much worse. Laurel stifled a yawn. “I’m counting on it.”
♥ ♥ ♥
Later that evening, Brett closed the door to the dishwasher. Laurel lay on the couch with her eyes closed. He couldn’t tell whether she was asleep or not, but he was worried about her.
His plan was working—he’d thought she might quit tonight—but maybe he’d gone too far. He’d wanted to show Laurel how difficult working would be, not exhaust her. During dinner, she’d nearly fallen face-first into her plate. Twice.
To make matters worse, she’d barely eaten any of the taco salad she’d wanted.
“Can I get you anything?” he asked.
“No, thanks.” Her voice was so soft, too soft.
A shiver ran along Brett’s spine. He’d handled billions of dollars for clients and oversaw his firm and employees, but dealing with a pregnant woman, the mother of his unborn child…
He didn’t know what to do, but he felt responsible. Responsible for Laurel’s condition, her tiredness, the baby. Overwhelmed described how he felt right now.
“Do you want something else to eat?” he asked.
She opened her eyes, dark circles under them. “Dinner was great.”
Maybe he should carry her upstairs to bed. “You didn’t eat much.”
“I ate plenty.”
Brett didn’t think so. He sat on the end of the couch. “Tired?”
Her nod was barely perceivable. “At least I’m not sick like I was.”
He placed her feet on his lap so he’d have more room. “Morning sickness?”
She nodded again, not even flinching at his touch, which worried him more.
“I know why some families have only one child,” she murmured.
“That bad, huh?” He kept his tone lighthearted, not wanting to think about how awful those early weeks of pregnancy must have been for Laurel when she was losing family home and selling her condo at the same time.
“Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.” Laurel wiggled her toes.
He took that as a sign to rub her feet. The last time he’d touched her, they had been lying in bed, her bare back against his chest. She’d shimmied her shoulders then to tell him she’d wanted a massage.
“I thought I was going to die,” she admitted to his surprise. “Taking care of a baby has to be easier. That must be the reason pregnancy lasts so long. To prepare you for parenthood.”
Brett had no idea what caring for an infant entailed. A few weeks ago, when he was doing a book signing at Cassandra’s Attic—an independent bookstore in San Francisco—he’d asked Cara, their book concierge, to find him the top-rated baby books. The ones he’d read so far made parenting a newborn sound challenging and tiring, but people did it every day. Raising a child couldn’t be that difficult.
As he rubbed the top of Laurel’s left foot, she closed her eyes. “Thank you. First lesson learned after working a full day. I won’t wear heels tomorrow.”
“Good call.” The vulnerability on her face tugged at Brett’s heart. He wanted to make things better for her—protect her.
She blinked open her eyes. “I hope you didn’t mind cooking dinner tonight.”
“I didn’t,” he said honestly.
“Good, because there’s just something about home cooking, don’t you agree?”
He ate out or ordered takeout due to the hours he worked. But as long as Laurel was around, he’d get used to cooking or hire a personal chef. Anything to keep the baby healthy and growing. “I do.”
“You know your way around the kitchen.” Her voice was soft, but he didn’t have to strain to hear her. “How did you learn to cook so well?”
“My mother.” Laurel’s compliment pleased him. Knowing his cooking hadn’t kept her from eating made him feel better. He massaged her toes. “She had me sit in the kitchen while she made dinner so she could supervise my homework. I would do anything to get out of doing my assignments, so I’d separate egg whites or chop vegetables for her. Pretty soon, she had me helping her prepare meals. I…we enjoyed cooking together.”
“Really? My parents never asked about my homework, and we had a cook who wouldn’t let me near the kitchen.”
Laurel’s resigned tone made her privileged life and parents sound cold. Not anything like Henry Davenport’s. His life had been full of warmth and love from parents who doted on their only child.
“That’s too bad.” Brett loved cooking with his mom, even though most of the meals they’d prepared were for the Davenports. “Do you cook?”
“I wouldn’t call myself a chef, but I’m learning as I go. I couldn’t cook at the beginning of my pregnancy.” She grimaced. “The smells were overpowering, but then I reached a point where I only wanted to eat things made with ground beef. Taco salad. Spaghetti with meat sauce. Stuffed green peppers. Amazing how many meals you can figure out when you don’t want to starve.”
Brett rubbed her other foot. He didn’t understand the cravings associated with pregnancy. Despite the books he’d read, most of what Laurel was going through remained a mystery, but he wanted to understand. “How did you feel when you first found out you were pregnant?”
“I was terrified.”
Brett respected her honest answer. He wished she’d been as truthful with him about her family’s financial situation when they’d been in Reno. Whether that would have changed their honeymoon night, he didn’t know, but he probably wouldn’t have thought of her as a potential date or girlfriend.
“Once the shock wore off, the excitement set in. I was still scared but happy, too. So incredibly happy.” Her tired eyes lit up. “Knowing a life is growing inside you, a life you made… It’s a miracle.”
Her enthusiasm brought a smile to his face.
“What did your parents say?” he asked.
“My father had left us by then. And my mother”—Laurel exhaled sharply—“she told me having a baby so young would ruin my figure. As if that was my biggest concern. She tried as best as she could to be supportive, but she’d lost everything. The last thing she wanted was to be a grandmother. Being a mother was never her strong suit, either.”
Laurel. Alone in the world. Poor little not-so-rich girl.
Brett couldn’t believe he felt sorry for her.
Neither said anything. The silence should have been uncomfortable. Driven a wedge further between them. But it wasn’t, and it didn’t.
That surprised him. And worried him, too. Sitting like this felt so…natural.
As he rubbed her ankles, she released a sigh. He kept his hands on her. “Feel good?”
“If I were a kitten, I’d be purring.”
He massaged her arches before moving up her leg. His hands glided over her silky-smooth skin. “If you massage a certain area of the foot, you can induce labor.”
“Was that in one of your books?”
“Yes, it said—”
“Please don’t talk about giving birth.” Sounding half-asleep, she closed her eyes. “What you’re doing feels wonderful. I want to enjoy this.”
Pressing his lips together, he continued the massage. Working out the kinks in her slender calves. Rubbing her tired feet. Rewarding her for a long day at the office.
Laurel released a soft moan. “I forgot how good you were at this.”
His throat tightened. He couldn’t answer. Not when he was remembering the way she had trailed whisper-light kisses from his forehead to his chin. Her hands had rubbed and explored.
Different time. Different situation. Yet…
She’d made him feel so wonderful in Reno. Her innocence, eagerness, and curiosity had turned him on.
“I was wondering,” she said slowly.
Brett’s pulse picked up speed. His physical reaction was insane considering the circumstances, but he couldn’t help himself. His hands moved up her calf once again. “What?”
Raising her head, she opened her eyes. “Is it true you need to pay the first and last month’s rent when you lease an apartment?”
His hands froze. “Huh?”
“I need to know how much money I’ll need to rent a place.”
A bucket of ice water might as well have been dumped over him.
No problem. He lifted his hands from her skin. There would be time for more touching once they were married. He wouldn’t be able to settle for a marriage in name only. Not with a woman like Laurel Worthington.
“Some landlords require first and last month, as well as a security deposit,” he explained. “What did you do in Chicago?”
“After I graduated from college, I picked the condo I wanted, then my father took care of the rest. From the time I was little, he told me I had better things to do than waste my time and pretty head worrying about money.” She frowned. “He handled my finances—bills, insurance, you name it. He even picked out my future husband. I dutifully became engaged to a man I didn’t love because I was told to. If one good thing came from losing everything, it was that we broke up.”
Henry Davenport had mentioned her engagement being called off before the April Fools’ bash in Reno, but Brett hadn’t asked for more details. He wanted to know now. Badly.
“Big mistake, giving my father control of everything,” she added before Brett could ask any questions. “But I can’t blame him completely. I was stupid and naïve. I did whatever he said, and I trusted him.”
“You didn’t know better.” She was taking too much of the blame in Brett’s opinion. “You were young. Still are.”
“Thanks, but I’m not a kid anymore. I should have been more involved, but I never gave a second thought to what he did. I never asked to see any statements, any receipts, anything. And to think I wasn’t the only one.”
“Your mother?” Brett asked.
Laurel nodded. “Several of my father’s friends, too.”
Brett’s jaw dropped. “Why would they trust your father with their money?”
“He dreams big and schemes even bigger—sweet-talked others into believing his hype, too. My father got lucky with a few investments, but he didn’t know when to stop. He didn’t understand the definition of risk. I guess I didn’t, either.”
Speaking of which, Brett had reviewed her employment paperwork. Her ultraconservative asset allocation for her retirement plan had raised a red flag. “Is that why you selected bond funds for your 401k?”
She nodded. “They have the lowest risk factor besides money markets.”
“That means a lower return.” Having this conversation with her would be meaningless in the long run, but he couldn’t help himself. Investing was in his blood; it was his life. He couldn’t let her waste one day of potential gain. “You’re only twenty-four.”
“I turned twenty-five on July fourth.”
He hadn’t known her birthday, but he remembered how Henry had invited others who had holiday birthdays like him. Brett’s was on Valentine’s Day, but she most likely didn’t know that. Yet they were having a baby together. “Either way, you’re young and investing for the long term. You can afford to ride out market swings.”
“I know you wrote a book for people like me, but I’m finished taking chances. I’m tired of uncertainties. I want only guarantees from now on.”
“If only life were that simple…” Age-wise, only seven years separated them, yet he felt much older than her. “But…”
The word died on his lips. Showing Laurel she wasn’t cut out for the working world so she would marry him wasn’t much different from what her father had done to her. A lump of guilt lodged in Brett’s throat.
But what was he supposed to do?
Marriage was the best solution—the most practical solution—for everyone involved. Nothing else would give their child the family and stability he or she deserved.
Laurel stared at the fireplace, her gaze unfocused. “Sometimes I wish…”
Her wistful tone made him lean toward her. “What?”
“That I could do it all over again. Change the past.”
He’d been there himself. More times than he liked to remember. “We all do.”
“Even you?”
“Yes.” Brett couldn’t understand why he was opening up to her. He never talked about himself, not even to Henry, his nemesis and oldest friend. Brett shouldn’t be saying anything to Laurel, either. “But we can’t change what’s happened.”
“The past is the past.” As she gazed up at him, she patted her belly. “Besides, I can’t forget what’s most important now.”
He lowered his gaze to her stomach. “Neither can I.”