Laura Wright – No Ring Required: Millionaire's Calculated Baby Bid (страница 14)
“You could stay upstairs in my bed. Because you want to…this time.”
She sighed, let her eyes fall closed for a moment. When she opened them again, he saw the same look in her eyes as he had upstairs. She wasn’t finished with him or what they’d started, but she also wasn’t about to agree to stay with him, either. She shook her head. “I’m sorry.” Then turned and left the room.
Her ancient Betty Boop bedside lamp clicked on and Mary uttered a tired, “Man…”
Her father’s face, bed-worn and confused, stared down at her. “What are you doing here, lass?”
“Sleeping.”
“Why?”
She glanced at her matching Betty Boop clock, both it and the lamp presents from her parents for her twelfth birthday. “Because it’s four in the morning.”
Hugh sat on the bed and dragged a hand through his rumpled hair. “Why are you here and not in your apartment?”
Right. Mary glanced around her old bedroom. Not a thing out of place since she’d found her own apartment at nineteen. Same red-checked curtains and white dresser. She smiled halfheartedly when she spotted her Xanadu album in the corner by the old turntable.
Her father cleared his throat, and Mary looked at him sheepishly. “All right, I ran away.”
“Did you indeed?” he said, his shaggy brows lifting.
“From a boy.” Actually from a man, a gorgeous, fever-inducing man, who wanted her in his bed almost as much as he wanted the nonexistent child in her belly. Mary shook her head. What a mess. She burrowed deeper under her old, white down comforter.
“You won’t be telling me why you’re running from this boy, will you lass?”
Her lips pressed tightly together, she shook her head like a stubborn toddler. How could she possibly? Her dad wouldn’t understand what she’d done—the lengths to which she’d gone to protect him. Or worse yet, he’d understand perfectly, feel incredibly guilty and fall deeper into the chasm of despair he was already stuck in.
“You just need a bit of the old family house, do you?” he asked finally, shooing a tiny insect away from the lamp.
She gave him a grateful smile. “If you don’t mind, Pop.”
“You know you’re always welcome here, lass.” He paused for a moment, his eyes concerned. “I just don’t want you to be running away from your problems too often. You’ll never have time to sit down and take a breath if you do.”
“I know.”
“I love you, lass.”
“I love you too, Pop.”
When her father left the room, Mary lay back against her pillow and stared out at the same moon she’d watched change from sliver to crescent to full so many times when she was a kid. What had started out as the only foreseeable way to keep her father out of jail, or from a trial at the very least, had become a nightmare that she wanted to wake up from. She and Ethan had a meeting next week, and no matter how difficult it would be, she was not going to run away from the truth. She was going to tell him everything.
The wind off the lake whipped her hair from side to side, as though trying to make up its mind which direction to go. It was Sunday morning, a day Mary usually reserved for the newspaper, coffee and as many Danishes as she could eat without exploding, but when Ivan Garrison had called and asked her to see his boat, she’d readily accepted. The fact was, she was dying for some impersonal work to take her mind off Ethan.
After seeing his eighty-four-foot yacht, and having a quick discussion about where he’d like everything set up for the gala, the captain had asked her to take a sail on the very boat that he would be racing that day. Mary had been on very few sailboats in her time, and had been a little afraid of seasickness, but after popping a couple of Dramamine, she’d hopped aboard and found life on the water rather magnificent.
After they’d rounded the lake twice, Ivan headed back to the marina. Over the wind and the lapping of the water, Mary called, “This is great! I think your guests will be very impressed, Captain.”
Ivan grinned at her. “Not just by the gala, I’m hoping.”
Confused, she said, “I’m sorry?”
“I’ve decided to take your advice and make this a charity event.”
Mary nodded. So, the captain did have a soul after all. Shocking, he wasn’t just a Lamborghini-driving playboy. She’d have to tell Olivia.
“So all the entry fees will go to charity?” she called as Ivan maneuvered around in the marina, approaching the dock at a very slow speed.
“My financial advisors have told me that this will be a great tax write-off.”
So he wasn’t exactly Mother Teresa, but at least he had agreed to do something worthwhile. Maybe she wouldn’t mention this to Olivia.
“Have you decided which charity appeals to you?” she asked him.
“Cancer’s pretty popular.”
“True.”
Ivan slowly entered the slip, then placed the transmission in neutral and let the wind blow the boat back. “But which one to choose?” he called, securing the boat’s front dock line first. “Children? Lung? Breast?”
Mary removed her life vest and placed it beside her on the bench. “Well, how about the Cancer Research Institute? They pretty much cover it all.”
“Perfect.” Staring onto the dock, Ivan squinted, then frowned. “Is he waiting for you or me?”
Mary glanced up, saw what Ivan was seeing and felt her pulse jump inside her veins. Standing there, arms crossed and looking murderous, was Ethan. “That would be for me.”
Ethan’s body tightened at the sight of Mary walking down the dock toward him. A white T-shirt, pink shorts and bare feet had never looked so dangerous on any woman. Visions swam in his mind, images of soft skin against his mouth and long legs wrapped around his waist, cute round buttocks cupped in his hands. This intense physical reaction was becoming way too famil iar, and he wondered if the only way he was going to get rid of it was to take her to bed again.
Ethan had known many women in his time, but his need for them had faded quickly. Why wasn’t it the same with Mary Kelley? Why had the desire to taste her, fill his nostrils with her scent, open her thighs and bury himself deep inside her only intensified over time? Was it the baby or something else, something more?
Her pale-blue eyes mocked him as she came to stand before him, a grin tugging at her mouth. “You are officially stalking me now, Curtis.”
“Well, one of us has to protect the baby,” he muttered grimly.
“What in the world are you talking about?”
He gestured to the water. “Out there on the open water, no life jacket, no nothing.”
“Open water?” she repeated, laughing. “Come on. This is a lake, calm as a sleeping kitten. There’s no danger here.”
Ethan eyed the man coming up behind her. “Isn’t there?”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Mary said as her sailboat buddy walked by with a smile and a wave. She waved back and called, “I’ll call you on Thursday,” then returned her attention to a very annoyed Ethan. “I was wearing a life jacket, and the captain—he’s just a client.”
“The captain,” Ethan drawled with derision. “Please don’t tell me that he makes you call him that?”
Mary regarded him incredulously. “Let’s not get into crazy demands from clients, shall we?”
“Fine,” he muttered darkly, following her down the dock and toward the parking lot.
As she dug the car keys from her purse, she asked, “Now, what’s brought you all the way out here?”
“Do you have a doctor?”
She stopped, turned to look at him. “Why? Do you have a medical emergency?”
Her joke was lost on him and he scowled. “Be serious for a second.”
“I have a doctor, Ethan.”
“For the pregnancy?”
Her gaze flickered to the ground then back up, and he wondered if that was too intimate a thing to ask her.
“Yes, I have a doctor,” she said finally. “A family-practice type thing. Why?”
He shook his head. “That’s not good enough. You need an Ob/Gyn.”
Exhaling heavily, she walked away from him toward the lot, but he was on her heels. “I’m serious, Mary.”
“I’m going to come to your house and take every one of those books away from you. Foot massage is one thing, buddy, but—” she fumbled in her purse again for her keys “—you’re getting way too knowledgeable on Girlfriends’ Guides and Mothering and You, and frankly, it’s making me feel a little weird.”
Ethan paused. He didn’t have those two books, but he made a mental note to get them. “Listen, I have a client whose wife is Deena Norrison.”
“Never heard of her.”
“She’s only one of the best Ob/Gyn’s in the country.”