The days turned into weeks. Watching Laurel blossom with self-confidence as she planned the party touched something deep inside Brett. Now that the day of the event had arrived, he couldn’t wait to celebrate all she’d accomplished.
Brett stood in the doorway of her bedroom. “I have something…”
The words died on his lips. All he could do was stare.
She wore a dress shirt of his. Water from her damp hair wet the fabric. The shirt wasn’t completely buttoned, either, so he forced his gaze elsewhere.
Wrong move.
Nothing covered her long legs. Her skin appeared soft and smooth and begged to be touched.
He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. The door was open.”
“It’s okay. I just showered, and I’m getting ready for the party.” Her pink tongue darted out to moisten her lips. “Can you believe it’s tonight?”
“No.” He forced the word from his dry throat. Imagining what Laurel wore, or wasn’t wearing, under his shirt short-circuited his brain.
“Did you need something?” she asked.
Oh, yes. He needed something, all right.
He needed…her.
Brett sighed.
Not now. Especially not tonight.
He’d been patient, afraid he might push too hard, afraid he might blow whatever chance he had with her. This was her time. A means to an end for both. But now, when she was so close to success, when she looked so sexy, when he smelled the scent of her soap, her shampoo, her…
Get control, Matthews.
Brett struggled to stop the pounding of his heart, the racing of his pulse, the boiling of his blood.
Remember why you’re here.
He moved to retrieve the long white box tied with a yellow satin ribbon he’d stashed outside the door and then gave it to her. “This is for you.”
She took the present. “You didn’t have to—”
“I wanted to.” Eager to see her reaction, he motioned to the box. “Aren’t you going to open it?”
“If you’re going to twist my arm.” Laurel set the box on the bed, untied the ribbon, and raised the lid. “I wonder what it could be.” She pulled back the tissue paper, and a small gasp escaped her lips. “Oh, Brett.” Her smile was more than worth the price of the dress. Her fingers ran over the shimmering fabric. “It’s beautiful.”
“I thought the color would be good on you.” Okay, that wasn’t the entire truth. He’d been heading to the office after lunch when the midnight-blue dress in the window of an upscale maternity boutique had grabbed his attention. Long-sleeved with a scooped neck, the dress didn’t have any elaborate detail or stitching, but it appeared to have been made for Laurel. Brett had purchased the gown on the spot. “I know you want to buy your own clothes, but tonight’s a special occasion. You’ve worked so hard. You’ve earned this.”
She lifted the dress by the shoulders. “I did earn it, didn’t I?”
“You did.” He grinned, happy she hadn’t declined his gift. “You pulled together the party and the house, and you still managed to get work done at the office.”
She blushed. “You’d better be careful, or I’ll ask for a raise.”
“I’d better be careful, or I’ll give you one.”
Laurel’s eyes glistened. “Thank you so much.”
Her gratitude tightened his throat. It took so little to make her happy. He couldn’t wait until they were married, until he could give her so much more than one dress. “You’re welcome.”
Her gaze traveled from him to the dress. “We’d better get ready, or we’ll be welcoming our guests dressed like this.”
Brett nodded, but he could think of worse things at the moment. Much worse.
♥ ♥ ♥
Laurel practically floated down the stairs, feeling like a princess—a pregnant one, but a princess nonetheless. She’d rented—buying a gown was out of her budget—a dress that would have been suitable for the party. But this, well, this one was perfect.
Dressed in a black tuxedo, Brett greeted her at the bottom of the stairs. Gold specks she’d never noticed before danced in his brown eyes. “You’re stunning.”
Laurel’s breath caught in her throat. So handsome. So male. So Brett. “You, too.”
“Let me see the dress.”
She twirled. As she spun, the skirt flared. “What do you think?”
“You’re more beautiful than the house.”
“As long as I don’t look as big as the house,” she joked.
Brett laughed. “You have a long way to go for that.”
She peeked into the living room to make sure everything was ready. Fresh, vibrant flower arrangements filled the air with a light floral scent. Nothing was out of place. Even the decorative throw pillows had been fluffed.
“Anything else you need to do?” he asked as they moved into the dining room.
She checked her earrings. The pearl studs were the only real jewelry she had left—a gift from her grandmother—and she didn’t want to lose them.
“I think that’s…” Her gaze ran the length of him. “No, wait. I need to straighten your bow tie and cummerbund.”
As she stepped toward him, he removed his jacket. “Everything is wonderful. I feel as if I’m in a dream and not in my own house.”
“Me, too.” Especially standing so close to him, her hands on his waist. A tilt of her face and she could brush her lips across his.
Her heart thudded against her rib cage.
Moments like this kept happening, but Brett hadn’t touched her, hadn’t kissed her, since that afternoon of the amniocentesis. Not giving into the physical attraction was for the best. But she couldn’t deny how another part—her heart, perhaps—wanted one more kiss, one more taste of him.
That desire…temptation…had nothing to do with logic or sensibility. No happily ever after was waiting for them, but that didn’t stop her from wanting a future with him.
Now more than ever.
His charming, toe-curling smile sent flutters erupting in her stomach.
She smiled back.
Her fingers, however, wouldn’t do as her brain commanded. Somehow, she adjusted his cummerbund without making a complete fool of herself. Now to fix his tie.
“Better now?” he asked.
He was so close to her. Only her pregnant belly kept them from getting any closer. “Almost.”
She ignored the warmth emanating from him. Ignored the beating of his heart when her arm touched his chest. Ignored his soap-and-water scent that threatened to drive her wild.
Holding her breath, Laurel finally straightened his bow tie. “All finished.”
“I’m not.”
Brett’s lips touched hers. Everything she’d been holding in, pretending not to feel, rushed to the surface. An eruption of emotion and feelings that couldn’t be contained a second longer. She’d tried to tell herself she didn’t want him, that he hadn’t mattered to her, that he was only the father of her child. But she did, and he had, and he was so much more than that.
He deepened the kiss, and she followed his lead, willing to go wherever he wanted to take her. There was no yesterday, no tomorrow. Only now. As she leaned into him, he pulled her as close as her tummy allowed. Heat pooled deep within her, making her want what she couldn’t have.
Don’t think about that.
She savored the feel and taste of him.
Brett drew the kiss to an end. “For luck.”
For keeps.
Her senses heightened. Every nerve ending tingled.
Laurel struggled to regain her breath, her control. Her pulse rate slowed; her heart stopped pounding. If only she could control the situation as well…
The doorbell rang.
Brett’s grin widened. “Perfect timing.”
That was a matter of opinion. An odd mix of emotions ran through her. Disappointment, relief, confusion, and regret.
He shrugged on his jacket before extending his arm. “Ready to welcome guests to our not-so-humble abode?”
♥ ♥ ♥
Two hours later, Brett spoke to guests, letting them know how much MGI valued them. The party was going great, but he’d lost track of Laurel. She had to be here, but where?
“Great party, Brett.” Ryland Guyer, aka Ry, the face and future CEO of Guyer Gear, patted him on the shoulder. They hadn’t seen each other since the tacky wedding and reception in Reno but had spoken over the phone. “Thanks for the invite. My father sends his regrets, but he’s looking forward to seeing you at the next board meeting.”
“Give him my regards.” Brett noticed Ry favoring his right side. The bronze medal winner at Sochi had injured himself during a World Cup race, and he’d missed competing at the Winter Games in PyeongChang. “Will you be there?”
“Probably.” Laughing, he rubbed the back of his neck. “Spending lots of time in Portland these days.”
That sounded like the last place Ry wanted to be, but Brett understood. The guy was used to skiing and training year-round, not being stuck at home. “When will you be back on skis?”
“A few more months.” His eyes brightened. “I can’t wait, but I’m trying to stay busy doing PT, hanging out at Guyer Gear, and watching my investments grow thanks to you.”
Brett bowed. Ry and his dad both had personal accounts with him. “We aim to please at MGI.”
“Keep it up. Don’t want to have to work forever.” Ry winked. “Congrats to you and Laurel.”
“Thanks, but you know?”
“I might be a jock, but I can count months.” Ry joked. “The two of you made a striking couple at the reception, but who would have thought one of Henry’s birthday adventures would lead to the two of you having a baby?”
Not Brett. “Life works in mysterious ways.”
“Just like Henry,” Ry said. “See you around.”
As Ry walked away, people stared at him. Not surprising given the guy was a world-class athlete and model.
Brett worked his way through the house searching for Marvin Crenshaw, one of their biggest investors. The elderly man had made his money in timber and real estate. He owned a ranch and a winery in the Willamette Valley and a resort in Bend. He was also a royal pain in the neck, but his account balance more than made up for his salty attitude.
Brett caught sight of the tall, lean man wearing his trademark Stetson. Standing at Mr. Crenshaw’s side was a grinning Laurel.
Brett’s heart rate sped up. He thought he’d imagined her looking like a goddess earlier, but he hadn’t. His breath came in gasps.
She glowed, her skin radiant. Her updo accentuated her graceful, ballerina-like neck. Her only jewelry was a pair of pearl stud earrings. She didn’t need anything else. And the dress…
The scooped neckline accentuated her chest. The flare of the skirt didn’t hide her pregnant stomach but complemented the belly bump. The definition of elegant. She was so close to being his that he could taste it. Just as he could still taste her sweet kiss.
Laurel said something to Mr. Crenshaw. The man’s weather-beaten rough face crinkled into a smile, and he laughed. A real laugh. Brett had worked with the guy for five years, and he’d never seen the old geezer smile.
Growl, yes. Grimace? That, too. Laugh, never.
Crotchety Mr. Crenshaw could make the unflappable Alex Niles nervous, yet Laurel appeared completely at ease and in her element speaking with the wealthy investor.
She was an asset, but her people skills were going to waste behind a desk at MGI. Once they were married…
Brett walked over to the pair. “Good evening, Mr. Crenshaw.”
“Matthews. Nice party. And those bookcases in the library. Might have to get me a few of them.” Mr. Crenshaw turned his attention back to Laurel. “Don’t forget what I told you, young lady.”
“I won’t, Marv.”
Marv? Brett’s jaw dropped. No one at MGI dared call Mr. Crenshaw by his first name, Marvin, let alone Marv.
She touched the older man’s arm. “Be sure to let me know how BK is doing.”
As appreciation filled Mr. Crenshaw’s gaze, he nodded. “Speaking of which, I’d better get home. BK doesn’t like me to stay out too late.” Mr. Crenshaw nodded to Brett before kissing Laurel’s cheek. “Stay off your feet. You don’t want those pretty ankles of yours to swell.”
“I’ll be careful,” Laurel said with genuine affection. “Don’t forget to call me.”
“I won’t. Good night.” The grizzly old man tipped his hat before heading to the front door.
Brett stared in disbelief. That couldn’t be the same Mr. Crenshaw who kept threatening to close his account. The Marvin Crenshaw who wanted his phone calls answered immediately, didn’t like being put on hold, and demanded outrageous returns on his investments.
“He’s such a nice man,” Laurel said with an almost-wistful tone.
“Nice?” Saying that was like eating sand.
She nodded. “Did you know he has a cat named Big Kitty? Tomorrow Big Kitty, or BK as Marv calls him, is having surgery. Marv’s worried. You should send him flowers.”
“The cat?”
She sighed. “No, Marv.”
Brett rubbed the back of his neck. “Why would I do that?”
“For the same reason you had this party. To show your premium clients how much they mean to MGI.”
Brett rubbed his chin this time. “You think this would make a difference to Marvin Crenshaw?”
“An enormous difference.” The sincere tone of her voice told Brett she was serious. “That cat means everything to him. If you’ve had issues with Marv in the past, that’s because he’s a lonely old man wanting some attention. Make him feel special. Valued.”
Brett tilted his head. He had to be missing something. “Over a cat?”
“A cat who’s the sole heir to a billion-dollar estate.”
Point made. “I’ll have flowers sent.”
She gave him a pointed look. “If you think you’ll forget, I’ll do it.”
At that moment, he would have done whatever she asked. What was happening to him? “I’ll send them. Myself.”
She beamed. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you.” For so many things that had nothing to do with MGI and its clients.
The partygoers faded into the background. All Brett could see—all he wanted to see—was Laurel. His breathing hitched. He inhaled deeply, but that only brought the scent of her signature perfume closer. She hadn’t worn the fragrance since the day she’d arrived in Portland. Funny how he remembered that. But details about her became etched in his brain.
Brett wanted to steal a kiss. Who was he kidding? He wanted so much more than that. “You’re really something.”
Rising on her toes, she whispered, “So are you.”
♥ ♥ ♥
The evening was passing quickly. Based on the smiles, guests seemed to be enjoying themselves. For the first time since starting at MGI, Laurel felt as if she’d contributed something worthwhile to the bottom line. A part of her felt like Cinderella at the ball minus the glass slippers and flat stomach.
People kept complimenting her. Not only on the party, but also the house. Two guests asked if they could speak with her about decorating. But she didn’t let their praise go to her head. Not when she had to explain she worked at MGI and would pass their business cards on to Renee, the interior designer who’d assisted Laurel. Still, being asked thrilled her. Maybe once she had her own place, money in savings, and trustworthy childcare, she could do interior design jobs on the side.
Across the solarium, Brett’s gaze met hers. The music from the string quartet quieted. The conversations of the partygoers dropped. The scent of the delicious food prepared by a world-class caterer vanished.
The only thing that mattered was…him.
For a moment, she could revel in the thought of them together. Forever.
A daydream?
Yes.
But thanks to the child growing inside Laurel, her and Brett’s futures were entwined. The only problem? She wanted more. She wanted him to be a part of her life, too. She wanted it all—marriage, a husband, a family. Tonight had shown her what she’d known in her heart. The appealing images of the two of them in the future holding hands, sitting on the couch together, and kissing goodnight played in her mind.
Except…
Her shoulders dropped.
A happy ending wasn’t going to happen.
Laurel had been engaged once for the wrong reasons and then married Brett as part of a joke for Henry’s birthday bash. Treating marriage so flippantly was wrong. She couldn’t do that again.
Following in the footsteps of her mother and grandmother wasn’t happening. She wouldn’t settle for anything less than the best for her and Junior. That was why she had to remind herself she could only marry for the right reason—love.
True love.
If such a thing existed…
Touching her belly, Laurel walked away, needing to put distance between them by losing herself among the guests.
“Aren’t you radiant tonight?” Henry Davenport, wearing a tuxedo sans bow tie, touched her shoulder.
“Henry.” She greeted him with a hug and a kiss. “When did you arrive?”
“A little while ago.” Handsome with sandy-brown hair and hazel eyes, Henry oozed charm and charisma. Some called him a lazy trust-fund baby since he’d never worked a day in his life, but he donated money to causes close to his heart and never hesitated to pay the bill when out with friends. “I prefer to arrive fashionably late.”
“I thought you were spending a few months in Europe?”
“It kept raining, so I decided if I had to be wet and see dreary gray skies all day, why not be at home?” He took a step back. “Let me look at you.”
His blatant appraisal made her blush. She bit her lip.
“I see you have a bun in the oven. Congratulations. When’s the timer going off?”
Leave it to Henry not to mince words. “December twenty-third.”
“That won’t do,” Henry announced as if he had the final say in her pregnancy. “You must have this baby on Christmas Day to keep the holiday birthday tradition alive.”
He spoke as if having this baby on December twenty-fifth were as simple as making dinner reservations. To a billionaire like Henry, maybe he assumed it was. She nearly laughed. “Babies have their own sense of timing, so don’t get your hopes up.”
“What would this world be without high hopes?” Henry furrowed his brow. “Halloween is the next holiday coming up. What would you and Brett think about a masquerade wedding? The possibilities are endless.”
“I bet they are.” She wanted to change the subject as subtly as she could. “Tell me about your trip.”
“No wedding?”
“No.” She saw the concern in his eyes. “It’s okay.”
“But he’s the father.”
It wasn’t a question. Still, she nodded.
Henry took a sip of his champagne. “I hear you’re working at MGI?”
She nodded again, thankful Henry had let the subject of a wedding drop.
“And you actually like to…work?” He said “work” as if it were a foul word.
To someone in Henry’s position, it was. She’d felt the same way not too long ago. “Yes.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I…it’s okay,” she added.
“It’s Henry you’re talking to.” He gave her an encouraging smile. “Tell me the truth.”
“I’m sure working will get better once I’ve been there longer.” She tried to sound diplomatic, not whiny, but office work wasn’t her forte. Or wasn’t yet. “I had fun putting together this party. And I loved decorating Brett’s house.”
“You did all this?” Henry glanced around. “Forget the job and MGI. Become an interior designer instead.”
“Decorate houses? Full time?”
He nodded. “You obviously have the talent. You turned this shell of a house into a home.”
Doubts assailed her. “I don’t have any formal training. I have no money or savings to start my own business.”
Henry brushed aside her concerns as if he were shooing away a gnat. “You have innate style and taste—two things that can’t be taught.”
Hope flared until reality set in. “I’m going to have a baby. Who’s going to hire me when I’m getting bigger and waddling more each day?”
“Me,” he said without any hesitation. “That mausoleum of mine reminds me too much of my parents. God rest their souls. I want something that shouts ‘Henry.’”
“I couldn’t.” As soon as she spoke, she realized that wasn’t true. A part of her wanted to jump at the opportunity. To take a chance and do something she loved. She remembered the business cards she’d collected earlier.
“You could. And should. You did an incredible job with this house. Of course, mine is bigger and more outdated. You’d have your work cut out, but I promise to compensate you highly.”
Renee wanted to talk to her about joining her staff, but Laurel hadn’t wanted to discuss a job offer. She felt obligated to stay at MGI. Brett had done so much for her. She owed him her loyalty, didn’t she?
“You don’t have to give me an answer now, but think about it,” Henry continued. “You need a way to support yourself and the little one. You also deserve to be happy.”
“I will.”
“You will what?” Brett stepped in between her and Henry.
“Think about using Henry as a first name if the baby is a boy,” Henry said before Laurel could answer. “Davenport would make an excellent middle name for either gender.”
Laurel laughed, thankful for Henry’s quick thinking and humor. “Thought this out, have you?”
Henry nodded slowly as if to emphasize the point. “It’s only fitting for my godchild to be named after me.”
“Godchild?” she and Brett asked at the same time.
“Who else would you ask to be the godfather? I’m assuming this seedling was planted on my birthday. If it weren’t for me, you two would have never…you know.” Nudging Brett with his elbow, Henry winked. “I should be rewarded for my highly refined matchmaking skills.”
“What about the dice?” Brett asked.
Henry raised his chin, his expression more like a ten-year-old’s than an adult’s. “They were my dice.”
♥ ♥ ♥
After escorting the remaining guests to their cars, Brett headed back into the house. Compliments from guests and employees swirled in his head. His smile wasn’t going away anytime soon.
The party wasn’t only a victory for MGI, but also a personal victory for Brett Matthews, outsider extraordinaire. His personal clientele ran the gamut from retirees to a gold medalist skier. Tonight Brett had impressed even those old money Portlanders, the ones who’d made fun of him and his mom when he was growing up.
Such a sweet feeling.
When he added in Laurel’s dedication to her work, he didn’t think the night could get any better.
She’d succeeded with the house and tonight’s events, proving how much she could accomplish on her own. Now nothing was stopping her from marrying him.
He’d taught her the skills she needed to learn.
Now it was time for him to get what he wanted.
His footsteps sounded on the hardwood floor.
In the kitchen, Laurel was talking to the catering crew who were on their way out. As soon as she finished, she leaned against the counter and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
Her face was pale, but she had no dark circles under her eyes. If anything, she appeared unruffled with that strand of hair now back in place.
That didn’t mean she wasn’t exhausted from being on her feet for hours. “Ready to call it a night?”
“Almost.” She stretched her shoulders. “There are a few things—”
“Come on, Miss Hostess-with-the-mostest.” Taking her hand, he led her to the sofa. “Those things can wait.”
“But I need to—”
“The housekeeper will take care of it tomorrow.”
“I don’t believe what I’m hearing.” Laurel touched his forehead. “You don’t have a temperature. Why are you acting so strange?”
“What do you mean?”
“You organize your books alphabetically and place the food that will expire first on the top shelf of the refrigerator. No way could someone like you leave a mess overnight.”
Her shocked expression made him laugh. “Believe what you want, but you’re sitting down and putting your feet up.”
He removed her shoes and then and placed her feet on his lap. Slowly, he rubbed them. Each toe, the arch, the ball. As he did, Laurel sank deeper and deeper into the sofa.
Her lids heavy, she wiggled her toes. “You’re the master of foot rubs.”
Brett moved to the top of her foot and around her ankle. He enjoyed the feel of her soft skin beneath his fingers. “You’ve earned the five-star special. The evening went off without a hitch.”
“Not quite.” Her voice held a tinge of regret. “The string quartet arrived late, and the fruit could have been fresher.”
He wanted her to be happy, not be concerned about what hadn’t been perfect. “No one noticed those things.”
She stiffened. “If I did, someone else did.”
“The evening was a complete success.” He ran his hand up and down her smooth calves until she relaxed. “Anything you aren’t satisfied with, you can do differently next time.”
Her mouth formed a perfect O. “Next time?”
Once they were married, he wanted to entertain more. “I was thinking Christmas might be the perfect time for a party.”
“Sounds like fun, except I’ll either be out to here”—she placed her hand a foot in front of her stomach—“or have a baby to care for.”
Junior. Brett couldn’t forget the delivery date in the not-so-distant future. “We’ll have the party at the beginning of December.”
Laurel hesitated. “I suppose.”
“You don’t sound as if you want to do it.”
She stared at the blank television screen. “It’s…a little strange.”
“What?”
“This. Us,” she said. “At MGI, everyone knew we were married, but it’s only recently they’ve realized we’re having a baby together.”
“Employees were asking questions. I wasn’t going to lie.”
“I know that, but they treat us normally. Well, as normal as possible, given the situation. But tonight, the investors assumed we’re a couple and treated us as one.”
“Does that bother you?”
“Bother isn’t the word I’d used, but it’s getting harder for me not to think the same thing.”
Yes. Brett fought the urge to pump his fist.
“I mean, we spend all of our time together,” she continued. “And we have kissed. Sometimes it feels like we’re…”
“A couple?”
She nodded.
He had to go slow. S-L-O-W. This was the chance he’d been waiting for. Laurel had finally opened the door, but he needed to proceed carefully. “Is that so bad?”
“Yes, no, I don’t know.” She sighed. “When I’m around you, no. But then, when I’m alone…”
“You don’t ever have to be alone again.”
She raised her chin, defiance flaring in her gaze.
“I know you want to be on your own.” He backtracked. “But you have to realize by now I’m the last person who’d try to take away your independence. Thanks to my mom, I’ve seen what women can do by themselves. You’ve shown me what you can accomplish on your own.”
He wanted to know what she was thinking, but all he saw in her eyes were pools of blue any man would gladly drown in.
She bit her lip. “How far do you see this—us—going?”
All the way. Until death do us part. Forever.
Brett swallowed. “As far as we both want to take it. Junior deserves a family. A mother and father who are married and live together.”
She took a breath. “What about parents who love each other?”
Love? That wasn’t part of the deal.
He felt her gaze on him. Saying those three little words would be so easy, but he couldn’t lie, not even to get what he wanted. They had come too far for that. But maybe not far enough for Laurel.
He forced a smile. “I care about you.”
“I…care about you, too.” Lines formed on her forehead and around her mouth. “But I don’t know if that’s enough.”
Brett wasn’t about to give up. Not when he was so close to getting what he wanted. He could picture their lives together. The two of them bringing home their baby. Playing together in the backyard, eating dinner together while catching up on everyone’s day, watching movies after dinner, and just being a family.
“Isn’t caring for each other better than nothing?” he asked.
“I…” She looked away.
“Would you rather I lie and tell you what you want to hear?” he asked.
Her gaze snapped to his. “No.”
“I didn’t think so.” He laced his fingers with hers. “I might not love you, Laurel Worthington, but I care for you deeply. More than I thought possible. Isn’t that enough for you to give us a try?”