Laura Wright – No Ring Required: Millionaire's Calculated Baby Bid (страница 11)

“This shop is a little too new money for my taste, and you know how I despise that.” She didn’t have to look at Ethan to get her point across. “Your father is out of harm’s way now, I hear.”

“Yes,” Mary said, surprised her grandmother would bring something like that up, much less care.

“Nasty business, that. But we were in no position to help, unfortunately.” After two air kisses to Mary’s cheeks and nothing whatever for Ethan, she left them.

“That woman couldn’t hate me more if I spit on her shoe,” Ethan muttered.

“Oh, yes she could, but I wouldn’t advise trying it.”

“You’d think I stole the company right out from under their noses.”

“Didn’t you?”

He gave her a haughty look. “Harrington Corp. was in trouble. Your grandfather was really slipping. Clients weren’t getting serviced the way they had in the past and many were threatening to walk. I didn’t steal anything. If anything I saved that damn company.”

“Pretty much the same as stealing it, to my grandparents.” Mary took her cell phone out of her pocket and showed it to him. “Now, you have my phone number, right?”

“Yes.”

“Couldn’t you have called me instead of tracking me down?”

“Why? Did I embarrass you?” he asked coldly.

“Don’t be so thick, Curtis. I’m in a baby shop. I had to dance fast with my grandmother about why I was here, then why you were here—”

“I danced fast on that one,” he interrupted.

She ignored him. “You know I want to keep this quiet. I thought we both did.”

“I never said I wanted to keep anything quiet—”

“Hello, there.” The saleswoman who had been watching Mary for the past thirty minutes in annoyance joined them, completely smiley-faced and enthusiastic at the sight of Ethan. “Daddy’s here.”

Ethan looked pleased with the comment and nodded. “He is.”

“Would you and your wife like some lemonade before you get started?”

Mary snorted derisively and said, “I’m not his—”

“Yes, we would,” Ethan said, cutting her off before following the saleswoman to a small refreshment area.

For the next twenty minutes Mary sat beside Ethan and watched as the saleswoman laid blankets and rugs, hats and booties, washtubs and soothing lullaby CDs at Ethan’s feet as though he were the sultan of Bruni.

Feeling close to exploding if she stayed in the shop one more minute, Mary leaned in and whispered to Ethan, “I have to get back to the office,” then grabbed her purse and headed for the door.

He caught up with her, placing his hand on her arm. “We need to talk.”

“About?” she asked, trying to ignore the heat of his fingers searing into her skin.

“The brunch.”

“Call my office and we’ll set something up for tomorrow—”

“No, I’m the client. You can come to my office.” His jaw hardened, letting her know there was no denying his command. “Today, four-thirty.”

As she struggled to maintain her calm exterior, Mary fought the desire that simmered beneath. “Fine. Four-thirty.”

“You look exhausted.”

Not exactly the first thing a woman wants to hear when the man she finds overwhelmingly attractive opens his office door.

“Thanks,” Mary uttered sarcastically.

Ethan grinned, gestured toward the chocolate brown leather couch. “Sit down.”

“I’m fine.”

“We’re not going to discuss the brunch while you stand. This could take a while.”

“How long are you estimating?”

“Why? Do you have a date or something?”

Standing on either side of the coffee table, like two gunslingers, they stared at each other.

“Not the best joke I’ve made this week.”

“No.”

“Come on, have a seat,” Ethan said, dropping onto the plush leather and grinning.

On a weary sigh, she plunked down on the couch. “Okay, I’m sitting, now let’s start with the menu. I think we should go for a southern theme. Olivia has this New Mexican menu—Wait, what are you doing?”

Before Mary could stop him, Ethan had taken off her shoes and placed her feet in his lap. “I’m helping you to relax.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“I’ll tell you why not. I’m here for business not for pl—” She came to screeching halt, which made Ethan’s eyes glitter even more wickedly.

“If this helps,” he began. “Rubbing your aching feet is business. echnically.”

“I can’t wait to hear this.”

“It’s my job, my duty—my business, if you will. Or so I’ve read.”

She looked surprised. “You’ve been reading books on…”

“Pregnancy? Yep.”

“Seriously?”

He nodded. “Pregnancy, baby care, labor, postpartum, breastfeeding—”

“Okay, that’s enough,” she said, relaxing back into the couch as Ethan’s strong hands worked the tired knots in her arches. “Five minutes max.”

He laughed. “I’ve learned many useful things.”

“Like?” she asked, trying to keep her eyes open and the soft, cozy sound out of her voice.

“Like nausea and strange cravings are very normal in the first trimester.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So are leg cramps and exhaustion.”

“Yep.”

“And an unusually high sex drive.”

Her eyes flew open and she sat up, swung her legs to the floor. It took her a moment to tamp down the tremors of need running through her. She felt the urge so strongly, all she wanted him to do was continue touching her. She wanted his mouth on hers, nudging her lips apart with his tongue…“All right,” she said breathlessly. “Southern food, maybe Southwest or Cajun. What about having an autumn-barn-dance theme for your brunch?”

“A heavy sex drive is nothing to be ashamed of, Mary.”

She tilted her chin up. “I’ve never been ashamed of it.”

What she was saying dawned on him almost immediately, and his eyes lit with mischief, his lips parted sensuously.