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The Boss's Baby Bargain
Karen Sandler
AN IRRESISTIBLE PROPOSALAllie Dickenson couldn't believe she was marrying her brooding boss, Lucas Taylor, the man she'd been fantasizing about for the past year. But when he proposed a temporary union in exchange for helping her with her ailing father, she couldn't say no….A FAMILY TO CALL HIS OWNLucas desperately wanted a child, and marrying his loyal secretary would get his foot in the adoption agency's door. Although the jaded millionaire swore no woman could melt his steely defenses, he found himself powerfully drawn to his beautiful bride–and their sizzling night of passion resulted in a baby on the way! Could Lucas finally overcome his tormented past…or did he risk losing the love he'd always longed for?
“Lucas, I’ve had a change of heart. I can’t marry you after all.”
“The facts haven’t changed, Allie. I still need a wife so that I can adopt a child, and you still need money.”
“I intend to explore other avenues for the loan.” What those would be she had no idea. “I’m sorry I can’t help you with your…situation, but marriage is out of the question.”
Resting his arms on his desk, he leaned toward her. “Why?”
Why? she asked herself. Why couldn’t she marry him? Last night at two a.m., her bedsheets tangled around her legs from her restlessness, she’d had the answers. Now it seemed none of them would hold up to his scrutiny.
“Because we hardly know one another.” She groped for the words. “Because marriage…” Because marriage is far too intimate a relationship. Because it would force a false closeness on us neither one wants.
Because you kissed me.
The Boss’s Baby Bargain
Karen Sandler
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
This one’s for the Barbaras: Barbara McMahon, my mentor and good friend; Barbara Stier, my stepmom and biggest fan; and Barbara Williams, my mom, who no doubt keeps them hopping up in heaven.
And special thanks to Jo Cain-Stiles for helping me understand Lucas.
KAREN SANDLER
first caught the writing bug at age nine when, as a horse-crazy fourth grader, she wrote a poem about a pony named Tony. Many years of hard work later, she sold her first book (and she got that pony—although his name is Ben). She enjoys writing novels, short stories and screenplays and recently produced her first short film. She lives in Northern California with her husband of twenty years and two teenage boys who are busy eating her out of house and home.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
Chapter One
Allie Dickenson paused at Lucas Taylor’s office door, gulping in a breath and smoothing her hair with nervous hands.
She knocked twice, waiting for his impatient, “Come in!” before slipping inside and shutting the door. He sat behind his desk, his dark head bent to his work, his complete focus on the papers in his hands. Breath held, spine straight, she moved to stand before him, her stomach a mass of knots.
“Lucas, I need to talk to you.”
He took another moment to finish scribbling a note, then looked up at her, his gray eyes narrowing. Behind him, the morning sun streaming through the window backlit his large frame, casting his face into shadow. “Talk to me? About what?”
She slid her hands into the side pockets of her full skirt, her fingers clenching into fists. “Something…somewhat…personal.”
He just stared, still as a tiger stalking prey. She wished he’d look away…back to the papers cluttering his desk, out the floor-to-ceiling window that formed the back wall of his office. But of course he didn’t, and Allie had no choice but to meet his hard gaze.
“Personal?” He raised one brow. “As in unrelated to your job?”
“Yes…” The word came out as a near whisper. She swallowed, took another long breath. “…and no.”
As he fixed his gaze on her, the deep well of wishful thinking inside her imagined something in his eyes, something that set her heart to beating faster. Then his mouth tightened with annoyance. “I’m busy, Allie. Can you get to the point?”
The knots in Allie’s stomach froze into a sickening weight. She forced herself to loosen her fingers, ordered her shoulders to relax. Forming the words in her mind, she imagined them marching off her tongue. I need to borrow twenty thousand dollars. But they wouldn’t quite come. “This is hard for me to say.”
He waited for her to continue, fingers drumming. Then he picked up a pen, stroked its length with his fingertips. Forbidden thoughts arose in her mind as she followed his unconscious gesture. The brief panoply of images that emerged before she could banish them reminded her of all the reasons asking Lucas for a loan was a bad idea, no matter how desperate she was.
“Is this about your last raise?” he prodded. “You don’t think I’m paying you enough?”
She shook her head. “No, no, it’s not that.”
If anything, he overpaid. Since she’d joined TaylorMade Foods two years ago, she’d worked hard and had taken on increasing responsibility. But her last employee review had overwhelmed her with its glowing accolades. And the amount of her raise left her gasping. Once the problems with her father had started, though, she was glad for every penny.
“I’m probably the best paid administrative assistant in Sacramento County.” She mustered a smile and his gaze sharpened on her in a way that sent heat curling inside her. In spite of herself, she looked away briefly, then back at him. “But I’ve had some problems recently.”
Her hands had scrunched back into fists and she pressed them against her thighs. Despite the fullness of her muted floral-print skirt, he detected the motion, his gaze flicking down to her hips, then dragging back up to her face. There was a message in his gray eyes, in the sharp line of his jaw, one that reached inside her, teased her to translate it— That he was her superior, that he was fourteen years older than her twenty-six years, shrank to insignificance in the face of that enticing lure.
A stunning thought flashed into her mind. Maybe these ridiculous feelings weren’t one-sided. Maybe Lucas felt the same way. Maybe—
When he spoke, it took her a moment to understand the quiet words. “Allie, are you in trouble?”
She flushed, all at once mortified and relieved. Thank God he couldn’t read her mind. “No,” she assured him. “It isn’t that at all. It’s just—”
His phone jangled on his desk, forwarded from her own phone when she hadn’t been there to answer it. She took a step toward his desk, reflexively reaching for the receiver.
Lucas put up a hand to stop her. “I’ll get it.” He punched the lighted button on the phone console and lifted the receiver. “Lucas Taylor.”
He listened a moment, then glanced up at her. “I’ll have to get back to you, John. Give me two minutes.” Hanging up the phone, he said to Allie, “Can we finish our conversation later?”
Even as she felt relief at the reprieve, she worried that waiting would only make the words harder to say. She nodded. “Let me know when you have time.”
“You know my schedule better than I do. When do I have time?”
She squelched her irritation at his abrupt tone. She thought she’d learned not to react to his arrogance. It must be her unease about their conversation that had her off-balance. “You have an hour after lunch.”
“Come back then.” His gaze lowered to his papers. When she didn’t turn immediately, he looked up again. “Anything else?”
She shook her head. “No, nothing.” She quickly turned on her heel and let herself out of his office, shutting the door behind her.
Crossing to her desk with two long strides, she sank into her chair. Her hands covering her face, she wondered which was the biggest mess—her father’s crisis or the impossible situation with her boss.
What had started as a dimly remembered erotic dream had quickly flowered into a series of daytime fantasies that she couldn’t seem to stop. She’d allowed herself the indulgence at first because the fantasies distracted her from her loneliness, never mind the inappropriateness of the central figure. But her daydreams had recently taken on a life of their own, until the sexual images had drifted into decidedly unwanted emotions. Feelings for a man she truly didn’t know.
She dropped her hands from her face and glanced back at the door to Lucas’s office. Considering the craziness of her feelings for him, she’d nearly talked herself out of asking him for the loan. But where else could she go? She didn’t have an asset to her name worth borrowing against. Her brother and sister were both struggling to support their own families. If they knew their father’s money was all gone, they would help her in a heartbeat. But they didn’t know, and she planned to keep it that way.
Agitated, she tugged open her bottom desk drawer and pulled out a plastic bag of bread scraps. She needed to get out of the office, needed a break from the emotions churning inside her. Some time outside would give her a chance to regain a bit of calm.
Setting her phone to ring through to Lucas’s office, she hurried to the elevators and escape.
Lucas stared down at his telephone, his finger hovering above the keypad. The urgency of his business with his attorney, John Evans, had faded into the background the moment Allie had appeared in his office. What had once been an obsession had been bumped to second place just by her presence. Hell, he had completely forgotten he’d asked John to call him this morning.
All because of Allie. Allie, who had become invaluable to him in the last two years. Allie, who had single-handedly brought order to his hectic schedule and the extensive travel his work demanded.
Allie, who in the last several months had intruded on nearly every waking thought, weaving her way into his every sensual fantasy.
He knew it wasn’t right. He knew he was one inadvertent touch away from sexual harassment. Yet sometimes it was all he could do to keep himself from reaching out to test the softness of her hair, the smoothness of her cheek.
Shoving back his chair, he rose to his feet and turned to gaze out the window. Five stories below, the campus of TaylorMade Foods stretched out before him. Despite the late-summer heat of the Sacramento Valley, the rolling hills between the buildings of TaylorMade’s headquarters glowed a verdant green. Trees dotted the landscape—valley oak and scrub pine. At the center of the three five-story structures, like the hub of a three-spoke wheel, a pond glimmered in the midmorning sunlight.
The king of all I survey, Lucas thought darkly.
As he watched, a solitary swan skimmed across the surface of the pond. It was all his—the pond, the swan and its mate hiding somewhere in the reeds, the buildings of wood and stone and glass, the TaylorMade corporation. He’d worked hard for all of it, yet the sight of all that neatly landscaped beauty filled him with an edgy dissatisfaction.
Feeling a heaviness inside him, he turned back to the phone and stabbed out his attorney’s number. When John answered, Lucas didn’t waste time with preliminaries. “Sorry. What did you find out?”
John had known him too long to be put off by his brusqueness. “The county adoption agency said no way. They won’t even look at your application.”
He’d expected as much, but still the news twisted his insides. He fixed his gaze on the swan below, watching its passage. He wished he had a tenth of the serenity of the graceful white bird. “What about private adoption agencies?”
His attorney let out a sigh before he answered. “It’ll be the same story there.”
As the swan’s mate emerged from the thick cluster of reeds at the pond’s edge, Lucas caught sight of someone striding across the lawn toward the water. Allie. “Are you telling me it’s impossible?”
“I told you at the outset this wouldn’t be easy. The agencies give top priority to married couples.”
As if she were right beside him instead of a hundred yards away on the lawn below, Lucas felt heat spreading in his loins. With an effort, he returned his attention to the conversation with his attorney. “I doubt many parents could give a child what I can.”
John hesitated, as if choosing his words carefully. “Materially, no.”
Lucas heard the unspoken message, the one the usually straightforward John had danced around since Lucas had first announced his intention to adopt. With his wealth, Lucas could give a child anything he or she might desire. As for what the child might need…
He watched Allie reach into the plastic bag she’d brought with her and toss something out onto the pond toward the swans. The grace of her every movement drew him, set off an ache inside. “What about that attorney friend of yours?”
“The teenage girl he represents already found placement for her baby with a young couple.”
The swans approached the grassy shore in tandem, gobbling up the treats as they swam. Allie reached precariously out over the water to drop more bread scraps for the birds, then straightened to empty the last of the bag. Lucas took too much damn pleasure in watching her movements, as lithe as the swans she fed.
He turned resolutely away from the window. “You said he came in contact with a number of unwed teenage mothers.”
“He does,” John said slowly. “Look, I know I’ve mentioned this before and you’ve dismissed it outright—”
“No,” Lucas said, knowing where John was leading.
He continued doggedly, “—but you really ought to consider a more conventional—”
“No.”
“Just because your marriage with Carol didn’t work out—”
“No. I won’t marry.”
There was a long silence as John seemed to digest his flat refusal. “Then forget about adopting. You’re forty years old—”
“Is it a matter of money?” He couldn’t help himself; he turned back to the window. But Allie had gone, no doubt back into the building. The swans drifted together across the pond. “If greasing the wheels would speed the process—”
“There aren’t any wheels to grease. Hell, you can’t buy a child.”
Self-recrimination settled inside him, sharp and bitter. This was exactly what he had feared. That despite good intentions, what was most crucial for a child was beyond his capacity to provide. “John, I’ve got to go. Get back to that attorney friend and get another referral.”
“If you’ll think about my suggestion.”
He wouldn’t, but no point in telling John that. “Call me later in the week.”
Slipping the phone back into its cradle, he tugged open the middle desk drawer to retrieve the bottle of antacids. He tossed three into his mouth and chewed the tart, chalky tablets with a grimace. He’d been downing far too many of the antacids, a point his doctor had made at his last checkup a couple months ago. His doctor had told him to relax, to slow down, as if that would cure what was eating away at him inside.
