Chapter Eight
Her hormones were definitely on the fritz.
Since yesterday, when Griffin had kissed her, Loretta’s mind had been traveling down erotic paths at the least little encouragement. Even the rainfall that had started during the night hadn’t managed to douse her fevered imagination.
She remembered in exquisite detail how he had held her, gently caressing her, the warmth of his lips on hers. She’d never before been kissed like that, so totally possessed by a man, so totally giving of herself. Wanting to hold nothing back. The rest of the world had ceased to exist. Only she and Griffin remained, cocooned in a sensual universe of his making.
Shaking the rain off her umbrella, she stepped into the headquarters of Compuworks, Griffin’s uncle Matt’s company. Maybe on the way home she’d stop by a health food store. Surely they’d have something to calm her wayward thoughts—the urges that had kept her tossing and turning all night. The dull ache in her back reminded her just how little sleep she’d managed.
Umbrella in hand, she approached the pretty, young receptionist at the front desk. “I’d like to see Mr. Matt Jones. Would you please tell him Griffin Jones’s butler is here and it’s quite urgent I speak with him.”
As the young woman reached for the phone, she gave Loretta a puzzled frown. Minutes later she was still looking confused when she buzzed Loretta through the security door to the executive offices.
Unlike his nephew, Mathew Jones wasn’t a particularly handsome man. Tall and slender, he was almost angular, his features too sharp to be described as good-looking. But his blue eyes were kind, his smile welcoming, as he led Loretta to an upholstered chair in the corner of his modest office. Immediately she felt right at home, almost as if she was visiting family.
 
Only a few miles away, Ralph entered Griffin’s office without knocking. “Jonesy, we’ve got ourselves two problems.”
Griffin rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He hadn’t slept well last night. Too much food at the picnic, he told himself. Or too many kisses. “Great. I thought we had a whole lot more than two problems.” Not the least of which were his confused feelings about Loretta—a pregnant virgin.
“Yeah, but these are just the two immediate ones.”
He leaned back in his chair, the springs creaking. “So give me the bad news.”
“The train that was carrying about a million bucks worth of our computers and peripherals from the factory in Baja went off the track. Apparently the rain had softened the railroad bed just enough that it gave way.”
“How long will it take them to repair the track?”
“Long enough that if we wait we won’t have enough time to get the computers into the warehouse and then distributed to our stores before the ad hits the paper this weekend.”
“Swell.” He shoved back from his desk and stood, plowing his fingers through his hair. Outside, the rain was no more than a light drizzle but enough to derail a train and maybe keep a few customers away. In a tight market with only days left until Christmas, this was not the kind of problem he needed. “What do you propose we do?”
Ralph sat down in the chair in front of the desk, stretching his legs out and crossing his ankles. “I’m not sure. Our trucks are already on the road making deliveries. I guess we’ll have to rent tracks, get a moving company or somebody to pick up the merchandise. Maybe send out the warehouse people with them. It’s gonna cost us, and that’s assuming the computers aren’t busted.”
Another expense he didn’t need. Damn it all! His father had died believing Griffin would make a success of Compuware, make it grow. He didn’t want to betray his father’s trust; he didn’t want to fail. “I guess we don’t have much of a choice.”
“I’ll see what kind of deal I can work—”
A knock on the door interrupted Ralph.
“Hello.” Loretta stuck her head in the office, smiling. “Your secretary isn’t at her desk. Are you busy?”
Griffin straightened, surprised to see Loretta at his door, particularly in her butler uniform. He’d left the house before she got up that morning, not sure he wanted to face her over the breakfast table after their kiss in the park. “A little. We just heard a train went off the track with a load of our computers onboard.”
Her expression turned troubled. “Oh, I heard about that on the news, but I didn’t know your company had anything on the train. What are you going to do?” She glanced from Griffin to Ralph, who’d stood when she entered the office. Griffin made brief introductions.
“We’re going to rent trucks to pick up the computers,” Ralph told her.
“You don’t have to do that,” she said.
Griffin frowned. “We need the merchandise in the stores and can’t wait—”
“I mean you don’t have to rent them. Roberto has a half-dozen rentals at his garage. It’s part of his business. He’ll loan them to you.”
A bad feeling knotted Griffin’s stomach. “That’s okay. We’ve already decided to use a regular moving company.”
“Don’t be silly.” She crossed the room and picked up the phone on Griffin’s desk. “Why should you spend your good money when Roberto would be happy to help you out?”
“The last time he helped me, it cost me a fortune to have my car repainted—forget the tune-up he botched.”
She punched in Roberto’s phone number. “Oh, that was simply a misunderstanding. Somebody was pulling his leg when they told him your car was green, and of course he can’t—Hi, Roberto, it’s Loretta. I need a favor for Griffin...”
In mute astonishment, Griffin listened as Loretta arranged for trucks and drivers—all of them cousins, it sounded like—to drop whatever they were doing and head for San Diego to the train wreck, pick up the computers and return the merchandise to Compuware’s warehouse in L.A. She was like a general maneuvering her troops. Given his history with Roberto, Griffin wasn’t sure if he’d be considered an ally or an enemy.
“There, we’re all set,” she said, hanging up the phone. She beamed Griffin a smile.
“How much is all of this going to cost me?” Griffin asked, suspicious of the whole deal. Loretta’s brother wasn’t exactly the most reliable auto mechanic in the world. Hard to believe his U-Hauls would be in very good shape.
“Nothing. Well, you could pay Roberto for his gas, if you’d like but he’s doing this as a favor to me. You know, we’re family.”
That didn’t make a whole lot of sense to Griffin since he wasn’t part of the Santana clan. Besides, in his experience, families didn’t work that way.
But the arrangements Loretta had made sounded solid. If he could trust Roberto.
“Ralph, why don’t you take a couple of our guys and get over to Roberto’s. If everything looks okay—”
“It’s all arranged,” Loretta insisted. “Roberto is happy to help you out He says to tell you, with a little more practice you’ll be a great soccer player—for an old guy.” She giggled.
Eyeing Griffin curiously, Ralph said, “I’ll take care of it, boss.”
At least Griffin could trust Brainerd’s judgment. If the trucks weren’t up to snuff or the cousins were incompetent, Ralph would tell ’em no deal.
“I’ll let you two get back to work,” Loretta said. “I just wanted to make sure you’d be home for dinner on Thursday night.” Expectantly she looked at Griffin.
“I guess. Why?”
“Oh, I’m planning something special,” she said with a shrug. “I wanted to be sure that’d be a good night for you. That you didn’t have a date or anything like that.”
“I’ll be home.” For the past couple of weeks, he’d either been on the road or at home with Loretta during the evening hours. Now that he thought of it, his social life had pretty well dried up. Oddly he hadn’t missed it. He supposed he’d been too busy with business problems to give it much thought. And going to family picnics. But he had to hope she hadn’t come up with a new recipe for tofu and broccoli.
“I’ll see you later, then.” With a jaunty wave of her hand, Loretta left.
Ralph started to follow her.
“Wait a minute, Brainerd. You said earlier we had two problems. What’s number two?”
Ralph stopped by the door, then came back inside, closing it behind him. “I don’t think you’re going to like this, boss.”
He hadn’t liked the first problem. How much worse could it be than having merchandise stranded on a train track? “Tell me, anyway.”
“I was driving down Venice Boulevard this morning on the way to work. I went right past Compuworks’s headquarters.”
Griffin waited for a second shoe to drop. “And?” “I saw your butler going inside.”
“Into Compuworks?”
“You got it.”
He didn’t like the sound of this. “How did you know it was Loretta?”
“Come on, Jonesy. How many pregnant women do you know who drive a beat-up Datsun like the one you drove to the office a couple of weeks ago and walk around in a black maternity tux? And now that I’ve met her...”
Griffin sat down heavily in his chair. Why would Loretta visit Uncle Matt’s company? Particularly when she knew there’d been a breach between the two firms for years? It didn’t make any sense....
Shoving his hands in his pockets, Ralph rattled some coins together. “Compuworks’s prices matched up dollar for dollar with ours on the last ad. I hate to suggest it, but would Loretta have access to that kind of information at your place?”
She would. Griffin often worked at home, and his computer there was linked to the office. Loretta, it turned out, knew more about computers than she had initially let on. But if she were trying to undermine his company—if she was spying for Uncle Matt—why had she been so helpful when she discovered his employees weren’t providing adequate customer service?
It didn’t make sense. And he didn’t like the thought that Loretta was anything but what she had professed to be—a pregnant woman who needed a job.
“I’ll look into it, Brainy. You see if you can get that shipment of computers up here in one piece.”
 
Loretta had the whole-grain spaghetti casserole heating in the oven when the phone rang.
“Good evening, Jones residence. This is the butler speaking.” Cocking her shoulder, she held the phone to her ear while she wiped her hands on a tea towel.
“Is that you, Miss Santana?”
“Oh, hi, Rodgers.” She’d recognize his refined British accent anywhere. “How’s your mother?”
“Getting on a bit better these days, according to the doctor.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
He paused a moment on the other end of the line. “I must say, I’m a bit surprised you’re still in Mr. Jones’s employ.”
“Oh, we’ve been getting on splendidly. And I’ll have you know, I haven’t once had to use my typing skills.”
“No, miss, I imagine not.”
“So, are you planning to come back soon?”
“I should think I’ll be able to return in about a week, a day or two before Christmas, I imagine. If you’d pass that information on to young Mr. Jones, I’d be most grateful.”
“Sure.” She did a few quick calculations. If she was able to keep working for another full week, she’d be eligible for insurance coverage—just. “There’s no rush for you to hurry home. Stay and enjoy the holidays with your mother. I’ve got everything under control here.”
“Actually, miss, Mum has had an amazing recovery and I’m finding her a bit of a nag. As well, the damp weather here is no longer to my taste. Bad joints, you know.”
“Well, gosh, Rodgers, it’s raining here, too. Bucketfuls. Maybe you ought to stop off somewhere warm and dry on your way back. I’ve heard the Caribbean is a great place to spend Christmas.”
“No doubt the rain will cease before I return.”
She smiled weakly. “No doubt. And I’m sure Mr. Jones will be happy to have you back whenever you decide to return.” And Loretta didn’t imagine she’d be within her rights to bar the door to Rodgers just so she could work an extra day or two to earn her insurance coverage.
After Rodgers bid her a good-evening and hung up, Loretta held the phone in her hand, thinking. Whatever was she going to do if Rodgers came back too soon? She couldn’t afford a hospital without insurance and didn’t want to take charity from her family.
For that matter, she didn’t know what she’d do after the baby was born.
Her cousin Brenna had offered her a place and had even been willing to give Loretta the boys’ room while they slept on a glass-enclosed porch. But Loretta had insisted she and the baby should take the porch rather than disrupt the household so much, and in lieu of paying rent, she volunteered to serve as a live-in nanny for Brian and Cody.
The truth was she would much rather have her own apartment. But without a job, that wasn’t possible.
Cradling the phone, she leaned her forehead against the cupboard. Her eyes burned with tears she refused to shed. Everyone knew women got emotional when they were pregnant. No reason for her to be any different.
Her throat convulsed as she swallowed a sob. How much nicer it would be if she and her baby had a real room to share—something like Rodgers’s room would be a true luxury, warm and cozy. She could curtain off a tiny corner for the baby. That would be all they’d need.
But she had dreamed of more.
She’d stood at the doorway of one of the upstairs bedrooms in Griffin’s house imagining it as a nursery. She saw the room decorated with cute wallpaper, a musical teddy bear mobile hanging above a white crib with matching sheets. In the matching dresser the drawers were filled with dainty sleepers and in the closet there were frilly dresses Mari would love to wear.
But only in the most secret part of her heart had she dreamed that while her baby slept securely in that upstairs room, that she—Loretta—would be sleeping in the adjacent room. In Griffin’s arms.
No, she didn’t dare admit that dream, not even to herself. Because shattered dreams could break a woman’s heart.
 
It was well past dinnertime when Griffin finally got home. In addition to waiting for word from Brainerd and leaving late from the office, there’d been a couple of fender benders on the rain-slicked canyon road that slowed traffic to a stop. He’d heard on the radio that northern California was getting drenched with this early season storm. In L.A. it only took a few drops of rain to cause havoc on the streets. He hated to think what would happen if it rained here as hard as it was coming down up north. More than once since he’d owned the house, the Topanga Canyon creek had overflowed its banks, creating all kinds of problems in the neighborhood, including landslides that cut them off from the highway for days at a time.
He entered the house through the garage door and followed the sound of the TV playing.
In the family room, Loretta was sitting on the floor propped up by a bunch of pillows, panting, and watching the Lamaze tape. She was wearing shorts, and her sleeveless top stretched tightly over her belly. His gut clenched. She’d be having her baby anyday now. What if something went wrong? God help him, what if she died the way his mother had?
Dammit! Why wasn’t she with her family where they’d be responsible for her, not Griffin?
She looked up from her practice session, her cheeks flushed. “Hi. Did you get things straightened out at the train wreck?”
“Our merchandise is all in the warehouse where it belongs. Roberto and his crew did a good job.” Much to Griffin’s surprise.
“I told you it’d be okay.” She grinned at him. “Your dinner’s keeping warm in the oven.”
“I’ll get it in a minute.” He’d meant to confront her about being at his uncle Matt’s but he didn’t want to do anything that would upset her, nothing that could bring on premature labor. “I thought you were going to get one of your relatives to help you with that Lamaze business.”
“Oh, they’ll know what to do when the time comes.” She shifted her position on the floor, looking uncomfortable, and wiped sweat from her brow. “It’s me that has a problem. I’ve got the breathing down pretty well but I can’t seem to do the relaxing part right.”
“What do you mean?”
“On the tape, her husband...the coach... rubs her back and does all these really nice things to relax her. Alone, I can’t...” Her chin quivered. She forced a smile, her eyes glistening. “Guess that comes from not having a husband.”
Ah, hell...
Tossing his jacket on a chair, he knelt beside her. No matter his intentions, he kept being drawn into playing a role he didn’t want Being responsible for her. Pretending to be her husband. Even being involved with her family. But dammit, she needed help and he was here. How could he turn his back on her? How could he, even for a minute, think she was a spy for Uncle Matt’s company?
“Show me what needs to be done,” he said.
“You don’t have to—”
“Somebody does, and I don’t exactly see anybody else stepping forward. Think of me as your substitute coach.” But not as her husband. He’d been a playboy most of his life. That was safe, a role he knew how to play. Just like his father had, after Griffin’s mother died. He’d always had a beautiful woman on his arm, but none who Griffin had thought worthy of replacing his mother.
Using the remote, she rolled the tape back to the beginning. He helped her to her feet and she sat on the chair where she could see the TV while he pulled up the footstool in front of her. In a cheerful voice, the narrator provided relaxation instructions.
“All right, coaches, we want our mommies to be all relaxed, from the top of their heads clear down to their toes.”
Sitting so close to Loretta, where he could look into the depths of her velvety eyes, Griffin didn’t feel in the least relaxed.
Following the instructions, his knees placed on either side of hers, he slid his fingers into her hair, the strands like a skein of black silk. He massaged her scalp. The sweet floral scent of her wafted around him.
She licked her lips, and he felt the motion right where her knees touched his thighs.
“Rodgers called today. His mother seems to be improving.”
“That’s good.” Griffin circled her temples with the pads of his thumbs.
“He’ll probably come home in a week or so.” He kneaded the tension from the back of her neck and stroked her shoulders. Her skin was as soft as a baby’s, fragrant with lilacs and womanhood. “That means he’ll be here before the baby comes.”
“Yes, the timing’s perfect.”
“Where will you go?”
Swallowing hard, her eyelids fluttered closed. “My cousin Brenna says I can come stay with them. I’ll help take care of her boys.”
He rotated her shoulders, loose and relaxed. A crucial part of his anatomy was anything but slack. “Those two kids who spent the night here?”
“Yes.” She breathed out the word.
The narrator urged him to use steady, slow movements. Firm hands. Long, easy strokes. Slow hands, like making love.
“You’re going to have your hands full with the baby pretty soon. You don’t need a rambunctious pair of hellions on your hands, too.”
“They’re good boys.”
If Loretta could read his thoughts, she’d know he wasn’t thinking like a boy at all. Definitely a fullgrown man. And his thoughts were inappropriate as hell.
She opened her eyes. “The baby’s moving. I think she wants to say hello.” Taking his hand, she placed it on her belly. The baby moved.
“She’s getting stronger,” he said, his eyes on Loretta.
“I already love her so much. I can hardly wait to hold her.”
But who would be holding Loretta, he wondered. Who would be there when she needed a good cry because someone had hurt her feelings? It wasn’t fair she had to carry so many burdens alone.
He gritted his teeth. Not my problem.
Holding his hand to her belly, Loretta felt the connection between him, her baby and herself, only layers of fabric and flesh separating them. It took only the tiniest stretch of her imagination to think of this man with his flashing, silver-blue eyes as her husband, the father of her child. To pretend for an instant that he loved her and she loved him.
A lock of his tobacco-brown hair had slipped down. If they were lovers, she’d have the right to smooth it back from his forehead. To lean forward and place a kiss on his lips. To tell him about her fears.
But they were not lovers; he wasn’t her husband.
However much she might like it to be so, that could never happen. A millionaire playboy and her? The thought was laughable, though in truth she felt more like crying.
“Griffin?” She whispered his name, hoarse and thick in her throat.
The baby moved again, restless.
“Yeah?”
“The tape... It ended.”
He blinked. Slowly he lifted his hand and slid back away from her.
Outside, the rain dripped from the eaves, a rhythmic plinking of drops on the redwood decking beyond the French doors. In the distance a siren wailed and was answered by the closer call of a coyote.
Loretta shivered. Never had she felt so alone, or so afraid, not since her mother abandoned her in that dark, dreary motel.