SLEEPING WITH THE BOSS Read online

  The early morning game of racquetball wasn't going so well. He'd thought that a quick game would clear his head. That working up a sweat would somehow help him clear things in his mind. But it wasn't working. Hell, he wasn't even winning. Usually he was way ahead of Mike by now. Instead, he was six points behind and fading fast.

  Wiping his face with the towel, he slung it over his left shoulder and watched his friend approach. He and Mike had been college roommates. And that was the only thing they had in common. Rick studied the market and Mike built custom motorcycles for the idle rich. He was so damn good at it, he'd become rich himself—though far from idle. He still built the bikes himself, preferring to stay in the "pit" as he called it.

  "So what's goin' on?" Mike reached out for his bottle of water and unscrewed the cap.

  "Nothing."

  "Sure." Mike took a long drink, then capped the bottle again. "You never play this bad, man. Something's on your mind."

  Rick looked at his old friend for a long minute. "I asked Eileen Ryan to marry me."

  Mike was so damn impassive, Rick wasn't really sure his friend had heard him. Until he said, "Are you nuts?"

  "Entirely possible," Rick muttered.

  "Thought you swore off marriage after Allison left you bloody and broke."

  "I did."

  Mike snorted a laugh and slung his towel around his neck. "Proposing's a weird way to avoid marriage, man."

  "She's pregnant."

  Mike's blue eyes went wide as he scraped one hand across his jaw. "You sure it's yours?"

  That was the one worry that had never crossed his mind. Eileen was too honest and outspoken to lie about something like this.

  "Yeah, I'm sure."

  Mike nodded. "Is she keeping the baby?"

  "Don't know." Rick shifted his gaze toward the plate-glass wall that divided this racquetball court from the one beside it. The gym was crowded, with everyone trying to get in a workout before heading off to their jobs. But he wasn't paying attention to the people surrounding him. Instead, his mind was focused, as it had been all during the sleepless night, on Eileen. And his child.

  He'd never wanted to be a father, but now that the baby existed, he couldn't stand the idea of losing it. And if she decided to end this pregnancy, there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. His hands fisted helplessly at his sides.

  He didn't want a wife.

  But he damn sure wanted his child.

  * * *

  By the end of the week, Rick was holding on to his unraveling temper with a tight fist. Somehow or other, Eileen had managed to avoid him for the last few days. Oh, she showed up for work every morning, right on time. She was polite, efficient, and completely shut him out anytime he tried to talk to her about what was happening. About the baby. About them. Hell. About anything other than work.

  Rick had tried to give her space. He'd swallowed his impatience and buried his concerns. He looked into her soft green eyes and read no welcome there, so he didn't force the issue. He hadn't stopped by her place after work, even though it was killing him to stay away. He missed her, damn it. He'd driven down her street and paused long enough to look at her lamp-lit windows, but he hadn't stopped, not sure if he'd be welcome or not. And to be honest, he didn't think he'd be able to stand it if she opened the door and told him to leave.

  But he'd waited as long as he could. Today was the last day she'd be working for him. By Monday, he'd have some anonymous temp in the outer office and Eileen would be back in her flower shop—as far away from his world as if she were on Saturn.

  So it was now or never. Standing up from behind his desk, he crossed the room and stood in the open doorway leading to the outer office. Eileen had been here only two short weeks, but her presence had been made known. There were sweet-smelling flowers in a glass bowl on her desk, colorful throw pillows on the plain, dark blue couch and a small watercolor in a pale yellow frame hung near the file cabinets. With just a few minor changes, she'd lightened up his reception room—made it more welcoming for clients. Just as, simply by being her, she'd made changes in his life.

  He used to be content to spend his evenings alone, mapping out the next day's work. He'd focused all of his energies on the business that had been his whole life. Now, when he wasn't with Eileen, he was thinking about her. He couldn't sleep at night because her image kept him awake. His bed felt empty and the quiet was deafening. He'd never considered having a family—now he was worried about a baby that wasn't even the size of a pencil eraser.

  His gaze locked on Eileen as she sat with her back to him, the phone held to her left ear. Morning sunlight drifted through the tinted windows and lay over her like a gentle haze. She almost seemed dreamlike. But Rick knew, only too well, just how real she was.

  "Okay, Paula," she was saying. "I'll be back at the shop on Monday."

  Monday, he thought, realizing that was just a few days away. When she wasn't here, in the office every day, how would he get her to talk to him? How would he prevent her from slipping out of his life and taking his child with her?

  "That's great!" Eileen's voice hit a high note. "The Baker wedding? That's terrific."

  Joy filled her voice, and when she laughed it was like music. Rick leaned against the doorjamb and folded his arms over his chest, just enjoying the sound of it. When she was gone, the emptiness she'd leave behind would be impossible to fill. Damn it, she hadn't even left him yet and he already missed her.

  Eileen half turned in her chair to reach for a pad and a pen. That's when she spotted him. "Um, Paula? I'll call you back later, okay?" She smiled into the phone, shifting her gaze from his. "Yeah, I'll do that. Okay. Bye."

  He waited until she hung up. "Paula?"

  "She's the manager of my flower shop."

  Rick didn't give a good damn who Paula was, but at least Eileen was talking to him. "Problem?"

  "No," she said, and turned away, rummaging through her desk aimlessly. Finally she grabbed another of the chocolates Margo had left behind and quickly unwrapped it. Popping it into her mouth, she bit down hard and said, "Actually, it's good news. We landed a big wedding."

  "Congratulations."

  "Thanks." Her fingers twisted the scrap of silver foil candy wrapper.

  She wouldn't even look at him and the tether on Rick's temper strained to the breaking point. "I'm the boss here," he said. "You can't ignore me."

  She glanced at him, then away again. "I'm not ignoring you, I'm overlooking you. There's a difference."

  "Funny, feels the same."

  "Yeah, I guess it would."

  He came away from the doorway, walked up behind her and gave her chair a spin hard enough to turn her around.

  "Talk to me," he said.

  She nodded and stood up to face him. She was close, really close. Trapped between the chair and his body. Typical Eileen, she didn't try to run, just stood her ground. She reached up, and for a split second he thought she was going to touch his face and his heart stopped. But all she did was tuck her hair behind her ears, displaying her simple silver hoop earrings. They winked at him in the sunlight. "You're crowding me," she said, then reached out and casually pushed against his chest until he stepped back out of her way. "I appreciate you not pushing me this week, Rick."

  "It wasn't easy."

  "I can see that," she said, and lifted one hand to briefly touch his cheek. "You look like you're ready to implode."

  He blew out a breath, pushed his suit jacket back and shoved his hands into his pants pockets. "Close."

  "Well, don't. Everything's fine. Or—" she thought about it for a moment "—will be fine. I'm keeping the baby."

  Rick's heart started beating again. Now that he knew that, the rest would fall into place. It would be all right. "So you'll marry me."

  * * *

  Chapter 9

  «^»

  Eileen blinked at him. In the past few days, she'd thought about little else but the baby inside her and the panicked proposal he'd made. She was pos
itive it had been nothing more than a knee-jerk reaction to a situation neither of them had been prepared for. In those first few hours, she'd actually considered what it might have been like if he'd meant that proposal. If he'd really loved her. If they'd met, and fallen in love and then slept together and then got married and then got pregnant.

  Briefly she'd entertained the image of she and Rick and baby made three, all living happily ever after in her tiny cottage in Laguna. But reality had reared its ugly head in time to splinter that vision and remind her that a temporary affair wasn't exactly the best basis for a marriage even if Rick had meant the proposal.

  And of course he hadn't. It was a knee-jerk reaction. Which said a lot, she guessed, about his character. But she didn't want to be the good deed he was forcing himself to do.

  "You have to stop saying that," she said.

  "I want to help."

  "Helping is doing the dishes, not proposing."

  "I don't do dishes."

  Eileen smiled. "Cute, but I'm still not marrying you."

  Frustration rippled across his features and was gone again in the next instant as he tried a different approach. "What about the baby? Are you…"

  She dropped one hand to her flat belly in a protective gesture that he noted with one raised eyebrow. "I'm going to raise it myself."

  "I'm glad." Then his features tightened and his eyes narrowed. "But it's my child, too."

  "Yes, but right now, it's more mine than yours."

  "And I have no say in anything."

  "I didn't say that, exactly."

  "I won't be shut out, Eileen."

  Eileen bent down to open the bottom desk drawer and pull her purse from its depths. Flipping back the leather flap, she dug into the big, dark brown bag and rummaged around for her keys. While she searched, she talked. "We both went into this saying no strings. Remember? And either one of us could end it whenever we were ready?"

  "That was then," Rick said tightly. "This is now. It's not just us anymore. There's a baby involved. And strings don't come any bigger than that."

  Her fingers curled around her car keys as she pulled them slowly from her bag. Lifting her gaze to his, she fought down a pang of something she really didn't want to look at too closely. But how could she not? Once again, she wasn't wanted for herself. Rick didn't want to marry her because he was crazy in love. Not even because he couldn't live without her in his bed. Nope. He only wanted her because she was carrying his child. Admitting that to herself stung, but better that she face the truth, which was that nobody needed that kind of marriage.

  "True. But a baby isn't enough of a reason to get married."

  A harsh laugh shot from his throat, but no humor shone in his eyes as he scraped one hand through his hair. As if he couldn't stand still, he stalked off a pace or two, then spun around and came right back. "Funny. That's what my parents thought, too."

  Eileen winced at the echo of old pain coloring his voice. His eyes were filled with shadows that tore at her even as she sensed the emotional distance he was keeping between them. He didn't want her pity, but she couldn't help the tide of sympathy that rose up inside her. "Rick…"

  "They didn't bother to get married. They didn't bother to raise me, either." His jaw tightened and as he continued speaking, Eileen could almost feel him pulling away from her. "They handed me off to my grandmother and went their separate ways."

  "Rick, I'm sorry."

  His gaze snapped to meet hers. "I don't need your pity, thanks. What I want is to be my child's father."

  Eileen reached out and laid one hand on his forearm, somehow wanting to reassure the boy he'd once been—along with the man standing in front of her. "You will be. You just won't be married to its mother."

  * * *

  A few hours later, curled up on her couch, Eileen tried again, as she had for the past few days, to come to grips with what had happened. In the course of a couple of short weeks, she'd reconnected with Rick, found the lover of her dreams and wound up pregnant. That had to be some sort of record.

  Dipping her spoon into the monster-sized chocolate sundae she'd made for herself, she scooped up the whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles and savored the rich, smooth taste. Wouldn't you know, she thought, that she'd set this kind of record? "You couldn't just jump rope for a hundred and eighty-seven days straight?" she muttered.

  She stabbed her spoon into the ice cream and remembered the look on Rick's face when she'd walked out of the office, leaving him alone. She'd chanced one last look at his face—saw the loneliness and resignation in his eyes, and had almost gone rushing back to him. Almost.

  But she'd remembered the one important point.

  He didn't want her for her.

  He wanted her for the baby within her.

  Disappointment welled up like a wave surging toward shore. Maybe if he'd proposed differently. Maybe if he'd told her that what they had was more than physical. Maybe if he'd—

  A knock on the door had her jumping and twisting in her seat to stare at it. Rick? Her stomach skittered nervously and she was torn between pleasure and impatience that he'd show up at the house to plead his case again. She didn't want to keep saying no, but she couldn't very well say yes to a man who didn't actually want her, could she? More brisk knocking sounded out and Eileen told herself she'd just ignore it. After all, just because someone dropped by didn't mean she had to pay attention.

  "Eileen Honora Ryan!" Her grandmother's voice rang out loud and clear. "You open this door right this minute."

  Scrambling, Eileen set the sundae on the coffee table and raced around the edge of the couch. Grabbing the doorknob, she turned it and yanked the door open, narrowly missing being rapped on the nose by Maggie Ryan's knuckles. "Gran? What's wrong?"

  The older woman's face was flushed, cheeks pink, eyes flashing. She pushed into the house, shooting Eileen a look that she hadn't seen since junior high when she'd toilet-papered her history teacher's house. "Gran?" Her gaze followed the older woman as she stomped into the living room, turned around and glared.

  "What do you mean you won't marry Rick Hawkins?"

  Eileen closed the door, barely managing to keep from slamming it. Big mouth. And a dirty fighter. Going behind her back to her grandmother was cheating and he knew it.

  "He told you."

  Her grandmother sniffed, put both hands on her hips and tapped the toe of one shoe against the braided rug. "He did the honorable thing. He came to your family, explained the situation and told me he wants to marry you."

  "Because of the baby."

  "Precisely."

  "No way." Eileen swallowed hard, but she wouldn't give in on this. "I'm not going to marry a man who doesn't want me. All he's concerned about is the baby. This isn't about me at all." She reached up and tightened the rubber band around her ponytail. Then she shifted a quick look at her grandmother before looking away. "It's Robert all over again, Gran. Robert wanted me so I could support him and Rick wants the baby."

  Gran's eyes softened. "Ah … I think I understand."

  "What?" Eileen kept a wary eye on her grandmother. An abrupt change of heart like that could only mean she'd thought of a better plan of attack. It paid to keep on your toes around Maggie Ryan.

  "Well, if you didn't love him, you'd marry him." Her grandmother shrugged slightly. "He's a rich, handsome, kind man, with whom you obviously share an … affection. So, if your heart weren't involved, you'd accept his proposal, because you'd risk nothing." She smiled and folded her hands at her waist. "But caring for him, you risk pain. So you must actually love Rick—or at least be falling in love with him."

  She swayed a little, as if she'd taken a direct hit. Love? No one had said anything about love.

  "That's ridiculous." Eileen walked around the couch, plopped down and reached for her sundae again. Love? She liked him. A lot, actually. He made her laugh. He was fun to talk to. He was smart. And kind. And—enough, she ordered herself. She wasn't in love with a man who didn't love her back. Sh
e wouldn't do that. Not again. Taking a huge bite of her sundae, she winced as an ice cream headache instantly throbbed between her eyes. Great. Now even her snack was ruined. She set the ice cream back on the table and squinted at her grandmother as she rubbed her forehead.

  "I'm not in love with him and I'm not going to marry him just because you and he think it's a swell idea."

  "I raised you better than this, Eileen." Simple words, spoken in a soft, disappointed voice. "Your baby deserves better."

  "My baby will have me, and you, and Bridie." Her sister Bridget would be delighted to be able to love a baby she didn't have to deliver herself.

  "And a father? What about the baby's father?"

  The father? When Eileen caught up to him, the baby's father was going to pay for spilling his guts to Gran.

  * * *

  Rick knew before he even answered the door that it would be Eileen. When he'd gone to see Maggie after work, he'd realized that he was setting himself up for a hell of a fight with Eileen. But even being prepared, he was taken aback by the dangerous glint in her eyes as she glared at him before stomping past him into the living room. She stood in the middle of the lamplit room, the night beyond the windows black and empty.

  As empty as he'd felt since the moment she'd walked out of the office. Out of his world.

  "That was low, Hawkins," Eileen said as she whirled around, strawberry ponytail flying to smack her across the eyes. "Going to Gran was really low."

  "Yeah, I know." He closed the door and walked into the room, hands stuffed into his pants pockets so he wouldn't be tempted to reach out and grab her. "Desperate times…"

  "You fight dirty," she snapped, interrupting him. "I'll have to remember that."

  "You left me no choice." He'd have used whatever weapons he had at his disposal to convince her. He couldn't let this go. Couldn't walk away and pretend everything was fine.

  "But going to Gran? I wouldn't have thought you'd—" she said, letting her gaze sweep the sterile room. He looked at it through her eyes and watched her note the plain, unadorned furniture. The barren walls, lack of anything even remotely homey. "This place is awful."