SLEEPING WITH THE BOSS Page 8

  As if he heard her thoughts, he tore his sweater off and threw it aside. The glow from the lamp defined his broad chest and Eileen's insides shivered. As he stripped off his jeans, her breath came fast and hard and her body went warm and damp and ready.

  He came to her then, kneeling on the bed beside her, lifting her from the mattress slightly to yank her tank top up and over her head. Then he bent to her breasts, taking first one nipple, then the other into his mouth, teasing, tasting, taking them both to the beginning of another wild, fast ride.

  Eileen gasped and fought for breath. She ran her fingers through his hair, then skimmed her hands down to stroke his shoulders, his back. He lifted his head, looked into her eyes and admitted, "I missed you, damn it. Even though we worked together all day, I missed you."

  "Yeah," she said, and slid one hand around to cup his face in her palm. "I know. I feel the same way."

  "Which means…"

  "Heck if I know," Eileen said and sucked in a gulp of air when he dropped one hand to the waistband of her shorts. She held that breath while he undid the button, pulled down the zipper, then drew the shorts and her panties down her legs. She kicked free of them, then said, "I just know I want you. Really bad."

  His lips curved into a smile that shook her to her toes. "Back atcha, Eyeball."

  She laughed as he shifted to cover her body with his. She opened for him, welcoming him as he pushed himself within her. Still smiling, she rocked her hips against his and gave herself up to the wonder he created inside her. She looked up into his eyes and found more than desire written there. She also saw warmth, humor and tenderness.

  Sensations spiraled through her and as her peak hovered close, she realized that she and Rick had crossed a border at some point. They'd moved beyond simple passion and hunger to a realm where things could get a lot more complicated.

  There was something more here than desire.

  How much more, she didn't know.

  Then his body pushed her higher, faster and she forgot to think. All she focused on was the moment. This time with him, when it was just the two of them in the soft light, bodies claiming each other, breath mingling in the quiet.

  When the first dazzling sparks shot through her bloodstream, she held on to him tightly, digging her short nails into his shoulders. Her voice broke on his name and a moment later, he stiffened against her, finding his own release and following her into the haze of completion. Eileen wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly as together they fell.

  * * *

  Two days later, they were together again in her room, as they had been every moment when they weren't at work. Something was happening between them, but neither of them was willing to admit it, much less talk about it. Instead, they wrapped themselves in the staggering sensations that surrounded them. Losing themselves in the magic. Finding more than they'd bargained for. More than they wanted to claim.

  Rick worried that they were getting in too deep, but he couldn't seem to stay away from her. In a rational corner of his mind, a small voice warned him to start distancing himself. To start pulling away, retreating from Eileen and the dangers she represented.

  But he couldn't do it.

  Not yet.

  He would, though. He had to. Because no matter what, he wouldn't be drawn into a situation where a woman had the power to crush him again. But there was time. There was still time to enjoy what he'd found before having to give it up.

  For now, though, he moved inside her again, rocking his body into hers, driving her and himself to the very edge. Then with one last thrust, Rick felt her body flex around his, watched her eyes widen and heard her whisper his name as the tremors took her—and only then did he allow himself to find the completion he needed so desperately.

  Minutes later, he rolled to one side of her, groaned and said, "Damn it."

  Eileen gasped, struggling for air as she fought to get her heartbeat back under control. She turned her head to look at him, a satisfied smile on her face. "Rick, what could possibly be wrong?"

  His expression tightened as his narrowed gaze locked with hers. "The condom broke."

  Her eyes went wide and, even in the dim light, he saw her skin blanch. "Uh-oh."

  "That about covers it." Dread pooled in the pit of his stomach, but there was still a chance. "Tell me you're on the pill."

  "You want me to lie at a time like this?"

  "Damn."

  "Hey," she said, reaching for the quilt to cover herself, "until you, I hadn't been with anyone in a couple of years." She drew the quilt up over both of them. "I wasn't going to be taking pills when there was no need for them."

  "Okay, then." Pushing one hand through his hair, he gritted his teeth and asked, "Let's figure this out. When was your last period?"

  Eileen shifted her gaze to the ceiling and tried to focus. Hard to actually think when your body was still churning. But she tried. Thinking back, she counted, mentally tripping over her body's calendar. Then she recounted. And did it one more time. Oh, God.

  She hesitated, then realized that there was no easy way to say it. "It was, uh, due three days ago."

  "Uh-oh."

  * * *

  Chapter 8

  «^»

  "How long does it take, anyway?"

  Eileen shot Rick a dangerous look. "Three minutes, okay?" She'd already told him that several times, but, apparently, it wasn't getting through. But then, she could sort of understand that. She, too, was feeling a wild mixture of panic and fear and expectation and even, if she was completely honest and why the hell not, since only she would know … excitement.

  She was about to find out if she was going to be a mother, for Pete's sake. A mother. Her. She'd given up on that particular lime dream when she'd found Robert doing the horizontal cha-cha with the bimbo of the week. Eileen loved being an aunt to Bridie's kids, and she'd long told herself that that was enough. That she didn't need to actually give birth to feel complete. But she obviously hadn't believed herself because here she stood, hoping she was pregnant and terrified to admit it.

  She pulled in a long, deep breath, let it out slowly, then repeated, "Three minutes."

  "Longest three minutes of my life," Rick muttered, and paced the confines of the short hallway outside the bathroom.

  "Well, contrary to public opinion," she said as she watched him turn and pace in the other direction, "snapping people's heads off does not make time fly."

  He stopped and looked at her over his shoulder. "Sorry. It's just…"

  "Yeah, I know." Eileen leaned one shoulder against the doorjamb and somehow resisted peeking in the bathroom door at the pregnancy test wand laying on the counter. She'd know soon enough. And when she knew … that would be the time for panic. And decision making. And maybe, for scraping Rick up off the floor.

  No, she thought, as she watched him shoving both hands through his hair with enough force to yank every hair out of his head, that wasn't totally fair. He could've split, told her it was her problem to deal with and just disappeared. But he hadn't. Instead, right after discovering the broken condom, he'd gotten dressed, driven to the drugstore and bought a pregnancy test kit. Now he was waiting out the results with her.

  Of course, she knew darn well what answer he was hoping for. She could all but see him issuing fervent prayers to the gods of fortune.

  "Just because one broke doesn't mean the others were faulty," he said, and she was pretty sure he was talking to himself more than her.

  But she answered him anyway. "Condoms aren't a hundred percent effective anyway."

  "Thanks for that."

  She shrugged and folded her arms across her chest. "I'm just saying—"

  "That maybe a stop-and-shop gas station wasn't the best place to buy protection?" he finished for her.

  Eileen smiled. Her stomach was in knots, her hands were shaking, hence the folded arms thing, after all, why should she advertise her own case of nerves? "The point is, there's no use in rehashing now. Or saying what i
f. The deed is most definitely done."

  "I know," he said, and turning around, leaned back against the wall, his gaze fixed on the bathroom doorway.

  When the timer went off, both of them jumped. He took a step, then stopped, letting her go into the room before him. Eileen hit the stop button on the timer first, since the incessant ringing was drilling a hole through her head. She picked up the wand carefully, as if it might explode if handled roughly. Glancing back at him as he came up behind her, she said, "We look together?"

  He nodded. "Together."

  Staring down at the tiny window where the results were displayed, she saw the tiny pink plus sign. Her stomach fisted. She heard his quick intake of breath. Her fingers tightened on the plastic. "Since it's pink, do you suppose that means it's a girl?"

  * * *

  If he could have figured out how to do it effectively, Rick would've kicked his own ass. Stupid, he thought. Stupid and careless and now … caught.

  From his chair at the two-person table, he watched Eileen move around the small homey kitchen. She'd already made a pot of coffee and now she busily brought cups and a plateful of homemade chocolate chip cookies to the table. She hadn't said a word in fifteen minutes and the silence was beginning to stretch a little thin. Although, Rick thought, he really couldn't blame her for not speaking. Hell, he couldn't think of anything to say, either. An apology didn't seem right, but congratulations was clearly out of the question, too.

  When she finally sat down opposite him, she poured a cup of coffee for each of them, picked up a cookie and proceeded to nervously turn it into crumbs.

  Rick reached across the table and covered her hands with his. "We have to talk about this."

  Her gaze lifted to his and he tried to read the emotions darting across the meadow-green surface of her eyes. But they shifted and changed so quickly it was impossible to nail one down.

  "Look Rick," she said after a long minute, "I know you're trying to help, but honestly, I don't want to talk about it right now."

  "But we have some decisions to make." Hell, they had a ton of decisions to make.

  She smiled, shook her head and leaned back in the chair. "I'm not deciding anything tonight."

  "Eileen, this is serious."

  "Really?" She took a bite of her cookie, chewed it and swallowed. "You mean being pregnant isn't a joke? It's not all fun and games? Wow. I'll alert the media."

  "Funny."

  "Didn't mean to be." She ate the rest of her cookie and reached for another one.

  "Is chocolate really the answer?"

  "Chocolate can solve just about anything."

  "Not this."

  "I said, just about. Besides, it's worth a try."

  He pushed his chair back and the legs scraped against the worn linoleum with a screech. Standing up, he came around the table, reached down and grabbed her hands, then pulled her to her feet.

  Her eyes looked bruised, worried and that ate at him. If she hadn't come to help him out—to do him a favor, they never would have connected again and she wouldn't be standing here pregnant.

  With his child.

  That last sentence bounced around the inside of his heart and cracked the edges of it just a little. A child. He'd never expected to be a father. Well, certainly not after his wife had left him. When he first got married, he'd convinced himself that he was in love. That he and Allison would build a family together. But then in a few short months, he'd discovered that Allison had had her eye on his bank account, not their future.

  When she left, his dreams had died. And out of the ashes, he'd built a new company and a new life for himself. If that life was a little lonelier than he'd once imagined he would be, at least it was a fair trade-off. He'd never have to watch another woman walk out of his life.

  Now, suddenly, the rules had changed on him again. Now there was a tiny life inside Eileen that existed because of him. Whether or not they'd wanted this to happen, it had. And he wouldn't brush it aside. Wouldn't walk away. He'd be damned if he'd abandon his own child as his parents had done to him.

  And since walking away wasn't an option, there was only one thing left.

  "Eileen," he said, staring down into the eyes that had haunted him since first seeing her walk into his office more than a week ago, "marry me."

  She blinked, shook her head and blinked again. "What?"

  "You heard me."

  "I know what I think I heard, but pregnancy must affect your hearing." She tried to pull away from him, but he held her tight. "You're just reacting—you're not thinking rationally."

  He laughed shortly and let her go. "You? Teaching me about rational?"

  "Somebody has to." Eileen reached up and scooped her hair back from her face. She felt trapped. Standing with her back to the wall, the fridge on one side of her, the table on the other and Rick blocking the way out, she suddenly couldn't catch her breath. Pent-up emotions charged through her body, closing her throat and sheening her eyes with tears she didn't want to cry.

  She needed time to herself to figure this out. To deal with everything that was crowding her mind and her heart. She was pregnant. She had a baby inside her. Living. Growing. Oh, my.

  "Marry you?" she repeated, and pushed him out of her way so she could walk past him, "God, Rick. I'm about ten minutes pregnant and you want to plan a wedding?"

  "It's the right thing to do."

  "Sure," she said over her shoulder as she stalked into the living room, "if you're living in a movie from the fifties."

  He was right behind her. And suddenly, her living room seemed a lot smaller than usual.

  Grabbing her forearm, he turned her around to face him. "Eileen, that's my baby you're carrying."

  "Rick, it's too soon to talk about this." She needed quiet. She needed to think. To feel. To plan. Good God. She, Eileen Ryan, needed a plan? The woman who hadn't planned anything in years? If she wasn't so scared, she might have laughed at the idea.

  "Fine," he said, and let her go, taking a step backward as if to keep himself from reaching for her again. "It's too soon. But—" he waited for her to meet his gaze before continuing "—I have to know you'll talk to me before you decide anything."

  His features were taut, strained, and Eileen knew he was feeling the same turmoil racing through her, so she smiled as she reached up to cup his face in her palm. "I promise. Just … give me a little time, okay?"

  * * *

  A few hours later, Eileen let herself into Larkspur, shutting the front door quietly behind her. Instantly she was enveloped in the commingled perfume of flowers. The scents of chrysanthemums, roses, sweet peas and dozens of others filled the small shop.

  Strings of tiny white lights outlined the two large windows that fronted Pacific Coast Highway

  and threw shadows around the small showroom. Galvanized buckets of water crouched in the center of the room, holding the flowers that didn't need refrigeration to retain their freshness. Across the room were the glass refrigerator cases, where the roses, orchids and other more fragile flowers stood waiting their chance to be admired.

  She hit the overhead light switch and a bank of fluorescent lights flickered to life, dropping shadows around the room. Eileen walked into the back room where the florist supplies were kept. Glass vases in varied shapes and sizes and colors were stacked on a series of shelves. Nearby, there was florists tape and shears and green foam and everything else required to build the fantasy flower arrangements Larkspur was known for.

  Everything was neat as a pin. The floor was freshly swept and the cuttings from the day had been carried out to the trash can behind the shop.

  Ripping on the radio, Eileen listened to a slow, sad song about love and loss. Then she shrugged out of her sweatshirt and reached for one of the vases. Working with the flowers always relaxed her, gave her a chance to think. To let her mind wander while her hands were busy.

  And boy, did she need to think.

  * * *

  Rick's apartment was dark. Empty. He sto
od with his back to the room, staring out a bank of windows at the ocean below. Off shore, oil derrick islands were lit up like a tropical paradise and a few boats bobbed in the harbor, their running lights twinkling on the dark surface of the water.

  The quiet was starting to get to him. But he was used to being alone and he couldn't remember it bothering him much before this past week and a half.

  Now, whenever he was in this place, all he could think about was leaving it. Going to work, where he'd see Eileen—or better yet, going to her house, where he could be with her. Being there, in her house, he felt … alive. There was warmth there. And laughter. There were long hours cuddled together on her couch watching old movies. There was music, drifting from her neighbor's backyard and the sound of kids playing hoops down the street.

  Here … he turned from the windows and raked his gaze across the narrow, sparsely furnished room. After his divorce, he'd moved into this apartment, thinking it was a temporary thing. Then the days and weeks and months had slipped past and he'd stopped thinking about moving. Stopped living—beyond his work. Until Eileen.

  Fear chewed at his insides, though he didn't want to admit it even to himself. When she left, as he knew she would, she'd not only be taking the warmth he'd only just discovered—she'd be taking his child.

  He couldn't allow that.

  Taking a sip of his twelve-year-old Scotch, he felt the fiery liquid spill heat throughout his body and knew it wouldn't last. The chill gripping him since leaving Eileen was bone deep.

  And it was only going to get worse.

  * * *

  The ball whizzed past his opponent's ear and Rick winced as the man ducked. "Sorry."

  "Man, who're you trying to kill?" Mike Taylor asked. "Me? Or just a poor innocent ball?"

  "Neither," Rick said, and stalked to the sidelines where he'd dropped his towel and a quart-sized bottle of water.