The Baby Deal Page 10

  The pleased-with-himself smile Mike cast Andrew just prior to opening the big stainless steel refrigerator set off another wave of that same feeling Andrew had had only moments earlier.

  Apparently it was reflected more in his expression than it had been in his voice, because when Mike turned around with the orange juice container and faced Andrew across the marble island counter, Mike finally took notice. “What? Do you know her or something?”

  “No, I've never met Melanie before,” Andrew said.

  “So how come you look like that?”

  “How do I look?” Andrew asked.

  “Like you don't approve or something,” Mike said, pouring two glasses of juice and sliding one to Andrew.

  “A lot's happened with me since I got back from Tahiti,” Andrew muttered darkly. “I guess I'm seeing things differently.”

  “A lot's happened, huh? Is that why I haven't seen you for more than five minutes? I wondered. Usually we've had our catch-up night out by now.” Then, as if it had just registered with him, Mike added, “And what're you doing out of bed so early? Wearing a suit. Don't tell me there's been another death in the family.”

  “No, nobody else died,” Andrew said. “But there's been plenty going on since my dad died.”

  Mike used his juice glass to point to the opulent living room just beyond the kitchen. “Let's take it in there, huh? I didn't get any sleep and I'm beat.”

  Andrew watched his friend walk to the other room and plop down on one of the leather and chrome chairs without a care in the world. And he envied him.

  Maybe he envied him the night he'd just spent with Melanie, too. A night like so many Andrew had had himself—a night of fun and flirting and the excitement of being with someone he'd never been with before….

  Andrew took his own glass and joined Mike, sitting slightly slumped in the center of the cosmopolitan sofa that matched the chair.

  Totally at ease, Mike put his bare feet on the glass coffee table and crossed them at the ankle. “So what's the story? Even if nobody else died, you look about as happy as if you were going to a funeral.”

  “Things are a mess,” Andrew said, glancing from the big-screen TV in front of him to the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over a park and made the apartment prime property.

  It was strange, but seeing Mike with that woman had added an element to Andrew's feelings that he hadn't anticipated. No, he wasn't thrilled with the idea of a nine-to-five job selling advertising for Hanson Media Group, but seeing Delia again, spending a little time with her, had begun to make that portion of what he'd come home to slightly okay—only slightly—but slightly more palatable.

  Now, though, seeing Mike, knowing Mike would go on the way they both always had, while Andrew might end up actually married with a kid, made that seem daunting again.

  Could he really turn his back on this lifestyle? Tie himself to one woman? Raise a kid? Never have another night like the one Mike had just had?

  “Geez, man, what's going on? This looks bad,” Mike said with alarm when Andrew still hadn't explained anything.

  Andrew glanced back at his friend and for the first time since he'd been home and everything had been dumped on him, he spelled it all out to someone.

  By the time he'd finished, Mike didn't seem at all relaxed anymore. He'd taken his feet off the coffee table, placed them flat on the floor and was sitting hunched over, as if the full weight of Andrew's problems was bearing down on him, too.

  “So now you're working and you're supposed to marry this woman? Just like that? Overnight?” Mike asked.

  “That's what I've been told,” Andrew confirmed.

  “And your brother and your uncle are all over you to make you do both whether you like it or not?”

  “No job equals no money, no apartment, no nothing. And if I don't get Delia to marry me… Hell, I don't even know what I'll be up against if I don't get that to happen. I thought Jack was going to pop a vein when he heard she was pregnant. He seems to think the whole future of Hanson Media Group is riding on my getting married and doing the right thing. For once—as he put it.”

  “But is that what you want to do?” Mike ventured.

  “Get married? No, it isn't what I want to do,” Andrew said, feeling a twinge of guilt over the fact that that was true, and that he was presenting the exact opposite impression to Delia. Delia, who he honestly did like. Whose company he enjoyed. Who he was still so attracted to that he'd imagined taking her into that upstairs bedroom of hers when she'd given him the tour of her house last night and seeing what it might be like to make love to her on a bed rather than on a beach….

  But marriage? That was a whole different ballpark.

  “Can't you reason with Jack?” Mike asked. “He can't think it's a good idea for you to be forced to marry somebody you don't even know.”

  “There's no reasoning with him. Or even with David at this point. They're doing everything they can to save the company and that's all they can think about. They need manpower, so I have to work. And they need the morality problems to go away, which they believe won't happen if I don't marry the woman I got pregnant.”

  “Man…” Mike breathed, shaking his head. “I'll bet you would never have had that one-nighter if you'd had any idea this could be the end result. I know I wouldn't have.”

  For no reason Andrew understood, he felt defensive of Delia.

  “It isn't as if Delia isn't great,” he said suddenly. “She is. She's gorgeous and fun to be with and smart. She owns her own business, she's ambitious, successful. She's… Well, she's someone you could settle down with—”

  “Just not now, with a shotgun at your back.”

  “And it isn't even Delia holding the shotgun, it's my brother,” Andrew agreed wryly.

  “But it's still a shotgun,” Mike said. “What about her? Does she want the whole marriage thing even if she isn't the one insisting on it?”

  “No, not at all,” Andrew said, only telling his friend about the age difference then, and Delia's reluctance to have anything to do with him, let alone marry him. “To tell you the truth, it freaked her out when I told her how old I am, and I think it would have been fine with her if she never saw me again. She had plans for having the baby and raising it alone and was okay sticking to those plans. But I've been pushing and she's let me come around, she's been nice about everything. There's no pressure from her, but she hasn't slammed the door in my face, either. Like I said, she's great,” he concluded.

  “So you do like her,” Mike said.

  “Sure. I like her—”

  “But like isn't the same as being so crazy in love with her that you're jumping at the chance to shuck everything else and stick with her forever.”

  “I don't know,” Andrew said because he didn't want to admit his friend might be right. And because he felt even more guilt over that fact.

  “So what're you going to do?” Mike asked.

  Andrew shrugged. “I'm doing everything I can to convince Delia to marry me and I'm going to go on doing that.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  “Because your brother says you have to?”

  “And because I can't be the last straw that broke Hanson Media Group's back. And because…” Andrew shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, hating the sense of being helpless against the tides of fate that came over him. “And because out there in the world there's going to be a kid I made. A kid I'm responsible for. A kid I can't just act like I didn't have anything to do with,” he said, voicing something that he'd realized after hearing Delia tell him about her own father and those of Marta and Kyle. After picturing himself turning his back on his own flesh and blood the way they all had and coming to the conclusion that that wasn't the person he wanted to be.

  “Are you telling me to rent a tux?” Mike said, half joking, half honestly asking.

  “No,” Andrew said. “At least not yet. And if it comes to that, you can just wear one of min
e.”

  If it comes to that…

  The words echoed in Andrew's mind as he sat there morosely staring at the dark television again.

  Would it really come to that? he wondered.

  And if it did, could he handle it?

  Could he handle putting his bachelor days—and ways—behind him?

  Kissing Delia the night before had been good, he reminded himself. Better, even, than he remembered kissing her in Tahiti had been.

  But kissing was one thing. Putting his bachelor days—and ways—behind him was something else entirely.

  And he wasn't confident that he could….

  “I don't know. It's all a mess,” he said in conclusion then, standing to put a complete end to the conversation. “And now I'd better get to work.”

  “Oh! You scared me!” Delia said in fright when she opened her front door to leave for work and discovered Andrew standing on her porch.

  “Adrenaline—better than caffeine for starting your day,” he countered. “I was just going to ring the bell.”

  “What are you doing here?” Delia asked, still in the throes of that adrenaline he'd sent rushing through her. Adrenaline mixed with a dash of pleasure at seeing him again, no matter what the reason and in spite of the fact that she'd been with him until late the night before.

  “I want today and tonight,” Andrew announced in answer to her question about what he was doing there.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I want today and tonight,” he repeated. “I was headed into the office and I just decided that I want us both to ditch work and spend today and tonight in a speed courtship—”

  “Courtship?” She parroted the word that seemed outdated. “As in horses and buggies? You've come acourtin'?” she teased him, unable to keep from smiling at how silly that sounded.

  “No horses or buggies, but that's about it, yeah,” he confirmed. “I've come a-courtin'. First date, second date, third date, maybe even the fourth—all rolled into one. Today and tonight.”

  “You've lost it,” Delia decreed.

  “I have not,” he said, pretending affront. “The way I look at it, we don't have much time. Three months have already gone by. After three more days you still won't marry me,” he said as if that were unfathomable, “so I want to speed things up.”

  “With a speed courtship?”

  “Now you're getting it,” he said as if she were finally seeing the light.

  “And you think that will accomplish what?”

  “At best? You'll fall victim to my spell and say you'll marry me.”

  “Really, you've lost it,” Delia said again.

  “You promised to spend time with me,” he reminded.

  “I spent all last evening with you. But today is a workday. For us both. Or aren't you aware that it's bad form not to show up for your fourth day on the job?”

  “Today you're more important than the job,” he said. “Come on. Run away with me just for today.”

  “And tonight.”

  “And tonight—dating needs a night on the town.”

  “And at worst?” she asked. But when the question put a confused frown on his brow she clarified. “You have some misguided notion that at best I will fall victim to your spell so I'll marry you. And at worst?”

  He leaned forward and confided, “We'll get to know each other some more—which you said you would do—and we'll both get a day off work.” He straightened up again. “So what do you say?”

  The entire exchange had taken place with Delia's old wooden screen door between them and she went on staring at him through it. But even filtered, his appeal didn't diminish. Because there he stood, tall and broad-shouldered, his sun-streaked hair in perfectly artful disarray, his sharp jaw freshly shaven and the rest of his remarkably handsome face looking rested and ready for mischief. Plus he was dressed in a pair of charcoal-colored slacks, a summer weight heather-gray cashmere sweater and a black peacoat that really did make him look too good to resist.

  And the longer she studied him, the lower her resistance got.

  “I don't know,” she hedged when she knew full well that she shouldn't write off work for the entire day and spend it with the man she was beginning to worry was getting under her skin even if she were trying to prevent it.

  “Come on,” he repeated. “You're the boss, you can do whatever you want. Just call Marta and tell her to take over for the day. I'll make it worth your while,” he added temptingly.

  So-oo temptingly…

  Temptingly enough to make her think out loud. “I suppose I don't have anything on deck that Marta can't do or that can't wait.”

  “Then you don't have any excuse.”

  But what she did have, she was afraid, was the same weak spot that she'd had for him in Tahiti. A weak spot she told herself she should be toughening up, not succumbing to.

  On the other hand, she never took a day off work. Most weeks, she worked Saturdays, too. And sometimes Sundays. Taking an impromptu day to do nothing but play was just too unlike her not to have it's own allure. Especially when it meant playing with Andrew, who had made her last day in Tahiti more fun than any of the ones that had come before it. Taking a day off to spend with him made it seem like a minivacation.

  “I shouldn't,” she said, but without much strength.

  “Doing what you shouldn't is what makes it all the better,” Andrew assured with that touch of devil may-care that put a special flair in his own brand of charisma.

  “I'm dressed for work,” she said as if the skirt and sensible shoes she was wearing were steep impediments.

  “So change,” he said, solving the problem that simply.

  But if she did that Delia knew she'd be changing a whole lot more than her clothes. She'd be changing from die-hard workaholic Delia to…

  Well, to someone with a little adventure in her soul.

  Or at least to someone who just might, for once, do something out of the ordinary. And that felt exhilarating.

  It made her feel a little like she'd felt that night in Tahiti.

  That night that had gotten her into trouble.

  But she was already pregnant, there wasn't a whole lot more trouble she could get into. And she deserved a day off now and then. A day of rest and relaxation. Wasn't Marta telling her that all the time?

  Or am I just rationalizing so it doesn't seem like I'm doing this to be with Andrew? she asked herself.

  But she didn't want to look too closely at that possibility and ruin the excitement she was feeling over playing hooky for a day, so before she could think more about it, she said, “Okay. Today and tonight. But this isn't a courtship kind of thing,” she qualified to make herself feel better. “It's a 'getting to know each other' thing.”

  Andrew grinned. “Whatever you say. Just pack up some fancy clothes for tonight—the restaurant I'm taking you to isn't far from my place so we can go there and dress for that. Now can I come inside while you call Marta and change for today or do I have to go rent a horse and buggy?”

  “This is not a courtship thing,” she reiterated more forcefully, pushing her screen door open to let him in.

  But his “Uh-huh,” let her know he was only humoring her.

  Chapter Nine

  Andrew took Delia to breakfast at a small waffle shop not far from her house and then they went to the art museum.

  Lunch was panini sandwiches at an Italian deli, followed by shopping in some small boutiques before going to the dress rehearsal of a play in which two of Andrew's friends had parts.

  After the play they went with the cast for coffee and gelato at a nearby bistro, where Delia learned that Andrew's friends were more interesting than the characters they were performing.

  Then Andrew brought Delia back to his apartment to change from casual clothes to less casual. There she got to briefly meet his roommate, who was on his way out as they were arriving, and to see the spectacular view from the ultra-chic digs that Hanson Media Group had provided and paid a designer t
o decorate.

  All in all it was a whirlwind day that didn't end when dusk fell. Instead Delia was led to the opulent guest room to shed her slacks and shirt, and slip into the red lace dress she'd brought with her.

  The dress was completely form-fitting over a flesh-colored liner that made it look as if more of her was showing through it than actually was. It also had a stand collar, long sleeves and a hem that barely made it to midthigh. She'd only worn it once before and knew she wouldn't be able to wear it much longer, but for now she could still get it zipped up the side without any difficulty.

  Nude-toned hose and a pair of three-inch strappy sandals finished the outfit before she brushed out her hair and twisted it into a French knot at the back of her head. Then she reapplied blush, mascara and lipstick, and added a caramel-hued eyeshadow as a finishing touch for the evening that she warned herself she shouldn't be looking so forward to.

  But warning or no warning, after a day of Andrew's unfailingly upbeat, charming company, she just couldn't help it.

  He was waiting for her in the living room when she left the guest bedroom. He'd gone from his daytime clothes to a deep brown suit that matched the color of his eyes. A suit so fluid it had to have been handsewn to his own personal measurements. The pale tan shirt and tie beneath it matched in elegant perfection, making him a sensational sight to behold standing in the midst of his impeccable apartment that bore absolutely no resemblance to the fraternity house she'd imagined when he'd told her he had a roommate.

  And it struck Delia that culture, breeding and sophistication provided more of an air of maturity than her mother's younger men had ever possessed. She thought that that explained why not only had she not realized in Tahiti that Andrew was so much younger, but also why it had been easy for her to forget their age difference throughout the day, too.

  Still, it wasn't something she wanted to forget, she warned herself even as his dark eyes seemed to devour her.

  “You look fantastic,” he said with enough appreciation in his tone and in his expression to make her believe it.

  Delia humbly inclined her head. “Thank you. You're not too shabby yourself,” she countered.