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“I’m feeling pretty old lately, but Ms. Fitzpatrick really does me in. Ariana would be great.”
A tiny smile tipped the sides of his mouth. “And I’m Grant. Somehow you don’t look like a Fitzpatrick. Irish, isn’t it?”
The expression on his face said her tan skin and mahogany hair sharply contrasted with the image of an Irish woman.
“My dad is Irish. Mom is Cuban.”
“Ah. That explains it. I’d wondered.”
Ariana batted her eyes in surprise. Grant Lawson, aka Mr. Perfect, had wondered about her? She was seven and a half months pregnant with twins and a man like Grant had wondered about her? The teeny compliment lifted her spirits immeasurably.
“So tell me about this ex-fiancе.” Grant resumed his relaxed posture, leaning on the desk. Ariana suspected he struck the stance as a means to disarm people and gain their confidence. His pose worked. Some of the tension eased from her shoulders, relieved to finally share her problems—and the truth—with someone in the company.
For weeks, ever since she’d waited three hours at the courthouse only to discover Benjy not only wasn’t going to marry her, but he had moved in with a woman he’d been seeing for weeks, Ariana had propagated the myth that they were awaiting the twins’ birth before tying the knot. Wintersoft had been good to her, giving her a chance in the competitive field of Public Relations, and the software company didn’t deserve a tarnished image because of her.
“Benjy ran off the day we were supposed to be married.”
“Benjy?” He cocked an eyebrow. “Is that your dog?”
She could tell he was kidding. “I wish. Then I could have taken him to the pound.”
“Or had him put to sleep?”
Ariana laughed, surprised that the coolly aloof Grant Lawson had a sense of humor. She appreciated his efforts at levity. Anything to ease the awful strain she’d been under. “Unfortunately, Benjy is the father of my twins. The very absent, unconcerned father of my twins.”
“He is a dog.”
“More like a lap poodle. I only wished I’d recognized his penchant for expecting women to take care of him. And when I say women, I mean multiple women.”
An instant change came over her new attorney. The cool pose stiffened. His top lip thinned to a narrow line. When he spoke, his voice was harsh. “He cheated on you?”
“I suppose I should have suspected it by the way he avoided making definite wedding plans, but I was clueless until he didn’t show up at the courthouse. Even then, I worried he’d been in an accident.” She gave a rueful laugh. “Stupid, huh?”
“You had a right to expect fidelity from the father of your children. Trust is an important part of a relationship.”
The news of Benjy’s betrayal had been a knife in the back. She’d tried so hard to help him when he came out of rehab, but as soon as she was too pregnant to be his pretty little toy anymore, he found other playmates. And she’d been too naive to recognize the symptoms. Admitting such a thing aloud, even to a lawyer, was humiliating.
“And what about you?” Grant pinned her with a courtroom gaze that would have quelled any witness. “Were you unfaithful?”
“Never.” Ariana blushed at the blunt question. Though Benjy was not the first in a long line of bad relationships, he had been her first and only lover. She’d been so certain her love was all he needed to overcome his problems that she’d given herself to him completely.
Ariana’s self-confidence suffered to know she’d been used, that Benjy had only wanted someone to take care of him while he got back on his feet. He’d never wanted to marry her. In fact, he’d been furious about the pregnancy and had even urged her to end it. But after a terrible fight, Benjy had done an about-face, asking her to marry him at some vague, future date.
Grant rocked away from the desk and stalked around to his chair. “I’ll take your case.”
Ariana batted her eyes in surprise.
Just like that? He’d take her case.
He yanked a legal pad from beneath a neat stack on his desk. “Mr. Poodle will do his part to look after your children. You have my word on that.”
Grant furiously scribbled notes on the pad, letting his mind drift over the bits of information Ariana had shared. He did plenty of pro bono cases, especially for company employees, and he enjoyed doing them. Those were the cases that made him feel like a true champion of the law, serving those in need. But he hadn’t taken Ariana’s case out of altruism, not totally anyway. If there was one thing he knew about it was ugly domestic cases in which one partner cheated the other and then tried to skip out scot-free. No one should have to live through that kind of pain.
He raised his eyes to the woman who knew exactly how that felt and was struck again by her smooth skin. Though every previous conversation had been business related, he’d noticed Ariana before. She was lovely. Almond-shaped eyes that defied him to name the color. And dark brown hair that floated around her shoulders with a rich, natural shine. Always warm and friendly even to the biggest jerks in the building, she had a dark beauty that would fascinate any man who still had a heart in his chest. Which left him out since a great gaping hole occupied the area in his rib cage where a heart once resided.
He tried not to look at her stomach—a near impossible task. He’d never seen anyone quite so pregnant. Behind the brave thrust of her chin and the steady gaze, he saw the tear-stained cheeks and detected the vulnerable quiver of her full lower lip. All his protective urges leaped to the fore. Urges he hadn’t acknowledged for a long time. And though they disturbed him no little bit, he’d be hanged if this fiancе of hers got away without taking equal responsibility for those children.
“Do you know this Benjy character’s current address?”
“I know where he works.” She gave him the address. “But don’t expect him to be cooperative.”
The idea angered him. What kind of worthless scum refused to acknowledge his own offspring? Children didn’t deserve to be pawns in domestic litigation. If he’d been fortunate enough to have a child…
He put the brakes on that thought immediately. Just as he’d closed the door on love, he’d promised not to dwell on what could never be.
He pushed a pad toward Ariana. “Will you write that address down? Along with the correct spelling of Mr. Walburn’s name?”
The element of surprise was always important in these cases, so he needed to make certain he had every last detail, right down to the correct spellings. He was nothing if not thorough.
Ariana gripped the chair arms and rocked several times, her off-center body not cooperating. When he started to offer his assistance, she held up one hand to stop him, and shook her head. “I can do this.”
She rocked again and then again. On the next try she stood. Hiding a smile, Grant exhaled, unaware he’d been holding his breath. Her stubbornness appealed to him.
He watched her move toward the desk, a light green dress billowing softly around her legs. Except for the enormous midsection, Ariana Fitzpatrick was actually very small and graceful. Tiny hands, slim shoulders, fine-boned, heart-shaped face with the kindest eyes he’d ever seen. An odd twist wrenched his gut. Sympathy pains surely, though he wasn’t prone to such feelings. A man couldn’t find a woman appealing when she was pregnant with someone else’s baby. Could he?
Absolutely not.
Taking the pen, Ariana leaned over the paper. Her hair spilled forward, inches from his nose. He inhaled—purely a function of normal biology—and filled his lungs with the faint scent of flowers. Gardenias, he thought.
Nature forced another breath. Ah, lovely. So clean and fresh. He studied her profile, admiring the graceful angle of her neck, waiting for the moment she lifted her head so that he could study her delicate face more closely. Purely for professional reasons, of course. An attorney gained a lot of information from a client’s eyes.
As she straightened, her naturally dark complexion paled, and she grabbed for the edge of the desk.
“Whoa,” she whispered and weaved sideways, knocking his nameplate to the beige carpet.
Grant was out of his chair and around the desk faster than a guilty criminal could say appeal. He slipped an arm around her middle and had the novel experience of feeling a stomach move beneath his fingertips.
Instead of the aversion he’d expected, his own stomach quivered in awed response. He shook off the sensation. Sentimentality had no place in attorney-client relations.
“Are you all right?” His voice sounded gruff.
“Fine.” She panted a few times, then took a deep breath. “A little dizzy. That’s all.”
He backed her to the chair and very gingerly eased her down, then remained standing in front of her, studying the pale line around her mouth. “Has this happened before?”
A little pink tongue flicked out over dry lips. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back. “Occasionally.”
Along one wall he kept a small refrigerator stocked with drinks—one of his perks as head attorney. Keeping one eye on Ariana, he went to it and retrieved a bottle of water. Uncapping the container, he held the drink to her lips. Her eyes fluttered open.
“Thanks.” Her voice was a whisper. She took the water and sipped.
“Are you eating properly?”
She hedged. “Today was a bad day.”
Placing a hand on each chair arm, he bent low and peered into her eyes. “What did you eat?”
She sat up straighter. “I’m fine now.”
“I don’t think so. You’re still pale. Are you getting prenatal care? Taking vitamins? Sleeping enough?”
Her slender shoulders stiffened. She shrank back from him and in a soft voice said, “Am I on trial here?”
“I beg your pardon.” He relented, leaning back slightly, though remaining close enough to notice the lines of fatigue around her eyes and mouth. What if she fainted and slithered out of the chair? He glanced at his watch. Time to go home anyway. “I’ll escort you to your car whenever you’re ready to leave.”
She shook her head slightly. “I rode the T.”
Of course she had. What was he thinking? Most everyone in Boston used public transportation, even him, though lately he’d taken to driving his car because of the erratic work hours. Fortunately, another of his perks was an underground parking space.
He had a car and she didn’t. And she was unwell.
One glance at this Rolex and Grant made a quick decision, his usual kind. “That settles it.”
“Settles what?”
“I’m driving you home.”
“Grant, you’re very thoughtful.” Ariana recapped the water and placed the bottle on his desk. “But I’m fine now—really—and perfectly capable of seeing myself home.”
“This has nothing to do with kindness and everything to do with common sense. You’re exhausted, hungry, and you nearly fainted. You have no business on public transportation. What if you pass out? As a gentlemen I would be remiss not to see you safely home.” He offered his hands, palms up. “Let’s go.”
She drew back, stubborn chin lifting. “I need a lawyer, not a keeper.”
He waited, offer still open. Couldn’t she understand that he knew best? “You’d risk your babies out of stubbornness?”
Ariana fisted both small hands on her thighs. She was getting her Irish up, an attitude he found intriguing. “That was a dirty trick.”
He allowed a tiny smile and shrugged. “I’m an attorney. What did you expect?”
Ariana’s full mouth pursed as she thought over the offer. “Well…I am a little weak in the knees. And the T will be standing room only.”
“Air-conditioned car. No jostling bodies.” He loved negotiations.
Finally she poked a finger at him—a small, stub-nailed finger. “Not that I normally need anyone to take care of me, but okay, you win—this time.”
Suppressing a laugh, Grant helped her out of the chair. Didn’t she understand? He always won.
Chapter Two
With considerable pleasure, Emily Winters watched Ariana and her new attorney exit the building together. She felt like that legendary Samaritan performing the good deed for the day. Grant, with his take-charge attitude and legal genius, would look after sweet Ariana. If anyone could squeeze support out of that deadbeat fiancе, Grant could.
With a contented smile she headed for Carmella’s office. As vice president of Global Sales, Emily had plenty to do, but if Carmella wanted to see her, something important concerning their “secret project” must have developed.
“Have you read this?” Carmella asked as soon as Emily entered her office. Displaying the cover of a romance novel, she then pressed the book to her bosom. “This story is so romantic. Just like Matt and Sarah.”
“Everything did work out for the best with those two, didn’t it?” Regardless of Emily’s discomfort with the whole idea of matchmaking, once the brainy accountant noticed his sweet, innocent secretary there was no stopping the inevitable.
“Ah, if only the others were so easy.” Carmella lay aside the book and tilted her head, salt and pepper hair catching the gleam of light. “So, is Grant Lawson to be the next lucky bachelor?”
“Grant? Oh, you mean with Ariana?” Emily shook her head. “The idea never crossed my mind. When I heard Ariana crying in the bathroom and discovered the reason why, my heart broke for her.”
“So, this is not part of our plan to see another of your father’s bachelor employees joined in happy matrimony?”
Emily sighed. Ever since Carmella had come to her with the distressing news that her father wanted her to marry yet another of the firm’s bachelors, she’d been forced into the uncomfortable roll of matchmaker. If she didn’t find wives for Wintersoft’s eligible men, her father would publicly embarrass himself and everyone else by prodding the bachelors in her direction. He’d done that once already, and the resulting marriage and divorce had left Emily willing to do most anything, right down to prying into other people’s affairs, to avoid suffering that humiliation again. She knew her father well and once he got an idea in his head, he was like a dog on a bone. Anything she might say to try to change his mind was wasted breath, so she had no choice but to resort to playing the reluctant matchmaker.
“No, Carmella, I’m not setting Ariana and Grant up with each other. Ariana really needs Grant’s help.”
“And you really need Grant to find a wife.”
“Other than me.”
“Exactly.”
Carmella patted her hand. “Your father loves you very much, Emily. He only wants your happiness.”
“And ten or twelve grandchildren.”
Carmella laughed. “Would one or two be so bad?”
“Someday maybe, but not now. Until he realizes that I can run this company as good as any man, my career is my primary focus. I know my father loves me, and I adore him, too, but he has a blind spot where I’m concerned. As long as one male employee remains unattached, he’s a candidate for my hand in marriage.” Her father would see to that. “And on that note, how is the research going on the remaining bachelors?”
“Nothing at all on Jack Devon.” Two lines formed between Carmella’s eyebrows as she studied the computer screen. “He’s a rather mysterious creature.”
“What about the very British and ultrahandsome Brett Hamilton? Maybe we should research him next.”
“Whatever we do, we’d better hurry. How much longer can you keep your father believing that story about your new beau?”
Emily gnawed her lip, truly worried. If her father found out that her latest boyfriend was actually her dear and completely gay friend, Stephen, he’d be back in action, pressing his unmarried employees to pursue her. And she planned to make sure that never happened again.
Ariana followed Grant through the cool, dim belly of the building into the parking garage, her sensible flats echoing against the concrete. With legs twice as long as hers, Grant slowed his gait to accommodate her much slower pace. Given the cargo she carried, the gesture warmed her, though she imagined Grant Lawson always did the proper thing in any situation.
“Here we are.” He raised a key ring and pointed. Security system disengaged and locks snicked open on a gleaming bronze Lexus.
Ariana tried not to gape. She should have expected him to drive a fancy car, but she’d never ridden in one before. Neither her blue-collar roots, nor her current salary included such luxuries.
Grant proceeded her, opened the door, and gently settled her into the seat before pressing the door closed with a quiet click. Even if Benjy had remembered to open the door, he would have slammed her skirt in it. Or maybe her hand. And then groused about how women wanted to be liberated, but still expected a man to wait on them hand and foot. Yeah, right. As if Benjy had ever brought her so much as a glass of water.
Her brain caught on the thought. Grant, only a workplace acquaintance, had instinctively brought her a drink of water and offered her a ride home. He’d shown her more kindness and courtesy in the last half hour than Benjy had in over a year of dating. What an idiot she’d been.
