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But first, she had to get through her wedding night.
Jason had a backlog of work waiting on his laptop propped by his seat on the plane. Normally flights made for the perfect time to play catch-up, and the pilot had just given them the all clear to use electronics.
Tonight he had no interest in what waited on that hard drive.
He shifted in the large leather chair, the aircraft droning softly through the dark, and studied his new bride reclined in a seat, talking on the plane’s phone. She’d just finished telling her father about their elopement, making him swear not to tell Jacqueline that he’d been called first.
And although this wasn’t a traditional wedding night by any measure, that didn’t stop him from aching to share a good old-fashioned honeymoon suite with Lauren.
The single-engine plane offered enough room to move around and a small galley kitchen, but no sleeping quarters other than the chairs that reclined all the way back.
His wife—he paused at the surprise jolt to his pulse at just the word—dialed again and pressed the phone to her ear. She tucked her legs up to the side, adjusting the folds of her teal-colored dress.
“Hey, Mom,” Lauren said, fine lines of stress and exhaustion fanning from the corners of her eyes. “Sorry to bother you so late, but I’ve got some really important news.” Her gaze flicked over to him briefly, brushing him like the tips of a flame crackling over his body. “Remember Jason Reagert… Right… you met him at my place last week. Well, he’s actually more than a friend. We just got married in Vegas….”
Jason thumbed the simple gold band on his finger. The wedding chapel had supplied it at the last minute, and he figured the ring would only help cement their case. He hadn’t expected to notice its weight quite so much.
Lauren continued, nodding. “Yeah, Mom, I know you would have liked a heads-up so you could attend. But, uh, prepare yourself for more amazing news. Time was kinda tight for us. We’re expecting a baby—”
A shriek sounded from the phone, followed by a long string of indistinguishable babbling. Lauren looked over at him briefly with a light wince before continuing. “I’m due in a little less than five months from now—No, I don’t know the baby’s gender yet—Uh, honeymoon? We have work… ” She stopped, interrupted for what must have been the tenth time.
“Mom, that’s really—” Sighing, she squinted her eyes closed while the voice on the other end rambled louder and louder.
Jason took the phone from her hand. Lauren gasped, but he wasn’t backing down. “Jacqueline? This is your new son-in-law, Jason, and I’m about to assert my marital rights. We’ll be turning off this phone until at least noon tomorrow.”
“But wait—” Jacqueline interrupted.
Jason interrupted right back. “Good night, Jacqueline.”
He turned off the phone.
“Wow,” Lauren said. “Just flat-out wow. I don’t know how to thank you for making that easier for me.”
He wanted to… Hell, he didn’t know what he could do to shield her from this sort of fall-out. “Are you all right?”
She smiled shakily. “At least that’s done now.”
“But are you all right?” he pressed.
“Of course.” She straightened, the effort of gathering her control so obvious and laborious he wanted to pull her to him.
Protect her.
But she radiated stand-back vibes.
Calling her parents really had her freaked out, beyond just tense family relations like he had. “What’s really going on here?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.” She toyed with her purse, avoiding his eyes.
“You’re obviously stressed over that phone call.” He stroked her chin, tipping her face toward his. “I realize your mother is, uh, wired rather tight, but I think I’m missing something.”
“I might as well tell you. You’ll find out, anyway, over the years since she’s the grandmother of your baby.” She gripped the armrests in white-knuckled fists. “My mom was diagnosed as bipolar at twenty-two.”
Damn. Not at all what he’d been expecting. “I’m really sorry. All this time we’ve known each other and you’ve never mentioned it.”
But then, he’d been equally dodgy about his own past, which probably accounted for why he’d never probed too deeply about hers.
She rolled her head along the rest to face him full on, her expression wry. “It’s not the sort of thing to come up in the workplace or during after-hour drinks—‘Hey, my mom’s manic-depressive.’”
What if he’d taken the time to talk to her more over the past year, to really listen, beyond discussing work and exchanging lighthearted banter? Could they have reached a point earlier where she would have shared this with him? He had no way of knowing, since apparently it took a forced marriage to coerce her into opening up.
He hadn’t dug more deeply before, but he’d be damned if he’d make the same mistake again. “You said she was diagnosed at twenty-two?”
“She’s been in and out of a doctor’s treatment for a long while.” Only going when her husband pushed or her daughter pleaded. “There were some good times when I was kid. But the past couple of years, she’s decided she doesn’t want to take any more of it—therapy or meds.” Lauren straightened the drape of her dress again and again, restoring order. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not whining. Growing up with those sorts of mood swings was difficult, sure, but I like to think I’m a stronger person for it.”
He respected the way she tried to put a positive spin on things, but he suspected Lauren had done that so often no one noticed when she needed help. “Still, it must have been beyond tough for you as a kid, never knowing what to expect.”
She plucked at a stray thread on the hem of her dress, nibbling Her bottom lip. “I used to worry I would be like her. Since she never seems to accept she has a problem, what if I’m just oblivious? I’ve even visited doctors—shrinks—to have myself evaluated.”
“And what did they say?”
She hesitated, folding her hands in her lap and studying him intently, then smiling. “You don’t look like you’re ready to run for the door.”
“Given we’re in an airplane, that would be damn reckless.”
Thank God, she laughed. The sound stroked over him, arousing him as much as her soft hands. Hell, everything about her seemed to turn him inside out lately. But he wouldn’t let that distract him. Her vulnerable eyes said she needed something from him now, and he was determined not to come up short.
“Lauren—” he measured his words as carefully as he had in any million-dollar presentation “—I’ve worked with you for over a year and I haven’t seen anything to lead me to believe you have similar issues. I may not have any kind of psych degree, but I do know enough about you to be sure if there was ever a problem, you would do everything possible to take care of it.”
Her throat moved in a long swallow as she blinked back tears. “I appreciate that. I like to believe that about myself. But when people learn about her illness, I feel like they look at me differently, as if my feelings are discounted because I’m just—”
“Hey—” he reached for her hand, unable to resist touching “—I take you seriously.” And he did, personally and professionally. He trusted his judgment and for a year he’d seen the depth of her stability. If anything, he wondered how to break through her calm stoicism.
“Thank you.” Linking their fingers, she squeezed his hand, her engagement ring and wedding band glinting in the low lighting overhead. “So far the doctors have all said they see no signs of bipolar disease in me. It usually crops up in your teens and twenties. I know there are no guarantees, but you won’t hear me complain about turning thirty.”
“That must have been a relief to hear.”
“More than you can imagine.” She curved her hand over her stomach. “Although now I’m worrying all over again. What if I’ve passed along the gene to our child?”
How did he feel about it? He’d barely processed he had a kid on the way. His thoughts had been focused on securing the baby’s future, luring Lauren to California, steering clear of a career crash for both of them.
There were so many aspects of his child’s life to worry about. And there were some things he absolutely couldn’t control. His energies were best spent focused on dealing with what he could control.
“You’re aware. I’m aware. We’ll watch and provide whatever help our kid needs if the occasion arises.” He squeezed her hand, enjoying the way her pulse leaped under his thumb. Or was that his heartbeat kicking up a notch at the feel of her silky-soft skin? “Hell, I’ve got a family history full of diabetics and a sister with dyslexia. There are few families with perfect medical histories.”
A tear trickled down her cheek. “God, you can be so wonderfully logical and sweet both at the same time.”
“Sweet? That’s a new one for me.”
“Hey, I’m serious here.” She slid her fingers free and cupped his face in her hands. “Somehow you knew just the right thing to say and I could tell you meant every word.”
“Just this morning you told me I’m the consummate ad man, good at making the sale even if I have to lie.” He wasn’t sure why he would try to wave a damn red flag in front of her when she was finally seeing something worthwhile in him. Since when was he into self-sabotage?
And then it hit him. Lauren was too important to him to be anything but completely honest. Could it be that he wanted more than just this wedding night from her?
He forced his focus back on her words, tough to do when it felt like the deck was rolling under his feet even though he knew the plane was flying steady on.
Her hands caressed his face lightly. “Maybe I’m starting to trust my instincts more and my instincts are telling me you’re a good man.”
She pressed her lips to his.
Her fingers slid back into his hair and he angled his head sideways for a better, fuller fit. The soft give of her mouth against him stirred a barely banked fire. He’d wanted her—hell, dreamed about being with her—since that night in her office. As much as he’d tried to tell himself he was merely immersed in the mayhem of starting a new, high-powered job, no one caught his eye or attention the way she had.
The way she still did.
Lauren leaned into him, her amazing curves pressing close. He burned to get his hands on her again. Skin to skin, touching and traversing every dip and valley, watching her skin flush from wanting him.
Damn it, his hands were shaking.
She smiled against his mouth a second before she eased away. The kiss wasn’t an invitation into her bed, but it was a step in the right direction.
“Good night, Jason,” she whispered, her hands gliding off him as she settled into her seat again. Her lashes fluttered closed and that fast she was asleep.
He, on the other hand, was wide-awake on their wedding night. Jason adjusted his pants, not that it helped ease the pinch of erection straining at his fly. Not much he could do about that now. He’d been so focused on working that wedding band onto her finger and getting her into bed, he hadn’t realized the tougher part was still ahead of him.
Keeping the ring in place.
Seven
How would she just pick up her old life in a couple of weeks?
Lauren sagged onto the edge of the bed, alone on her wedding night. What was left of it, anyway. By the time the chartered flight had landed and Jason drove them back to the house, the sun was already fighting to break over the horizon, oranges and yellows painting a hazy glow in the distance. She would have liked to watch the dawn with him, but he was already showering before he left for the office—some unmissable meeting, he said, but he vowed to come home early. She’d assured him she had business calls and work on her computer.
Strange wedding day. Strange honeymoon. Yet neither of them could afford to take time off. They were both struggling to launch careers. It was silly to want something more.
Too restless to go back to sleep just yet, she kicked off her shoes and wandered back into the upstairs hall. She didn’t dare go near where Jason showered. She wasn’t sure she could resist the temptation to slide under the spray with him in his luxuriously remodeled bathroom. Everything she’d seen in the house thus far was top-of-the-line, from the kitchen to the three bathrooms, to the master suite with a sitting area. She hadn’t checked out the other bedrooms, but suspected they were just as sleek.
She creaked open the room to the door next to the master suite. Empty. Just hardwood floors, intricate crown molding and a few packing boxes. The view would make it a lovely guest room.
The next room—equally as empty—had a domed ceiling that called to her fingers to create a little Sistine Chapel with angels for a nursery. Swallowing hard, she closed the door behind her.
One bedroom left. She opened the door and found he actually had furniture here. Not much. Just a cherry table with an elaborate computer, printer and fax machine set up. A tangle of wires led to a power bar on the floor.
A nautical scene scrolled across the screen. Jason had talked about being near recreation, but the only personal items she saw in his house were business suits and work materials. As much as she understood the satisfaction work could bring, a part of her itched to fill his house—his world—with more. Furniture. Plants.
Lazy mornings watching a sunrise.
Sunbeams eased thicker and stronger through the sheers in the window. She needed sleep, for the baby if not herself. She pivoted on her heel—
And stopped short when a frame on the wall snagged her attention. It couldn’t be. She stepped back into the room, closer until she saw clearly. Her stomach tightened. Framed on the wall across from the desk…
… the pen-and-ink drawing of a sailboat for a cologne campaign, a drawing created by her.
Her hand shaking, she traced the edges of the image and thought back to how he’d left her office without any argument, hadn’t called in four months. Yes, she’d told him to leave, she’d pushed him away.
But could he have been thinking about her just as often as she’d dreamed of him?
Later that day in the MC boardroom, Jason wasn’t any closer to figuring out how to keep Lauren in San Francisco. He seesawed his pen on the large oval acrylic table, turning the red leather chair ever so slightly from side to side.
Fellow ad exec Gavin Spencer eyed his rocking pen and raised an eyebrow.
Jason stilled. Damn. He felt like a kid hyped up on a pack of Pixy Stix, all because he wanted to be home with his new wife.
Instead, he was stuck at a mandatory meeting at work. Located in the center of the sixth floor, the boardroom was a huge space, with all four walls made of clear glass that turned opaque with the touch of a button. One wall was currently lit up as a huge screen for the computer-generated presentation of the day.
Brock clicked away the final image on his PowerPoint presentation before turning to the table again. “That’s all for now.” He turned to his assistant, Elle Linton. “You’ll forward the specs from my presentation to everyone?”
She nodded efficiently, her brown hair clasped back smoothly and unpretentiously. “Will do, Mr. Maddox.”
Brock tapped the button, transforming the opaque walls back into clear windows. “Jason?”
He forced his attention front and hoped like hell the CEO wasn’t about to ask what the last slide was about. “Yes?”
“Let me be the first to officially congratulate you on your wedding. On behalf of everyone here at Maddox Communications, we wish you and Lauren a long and happy life together.” Brock started a round of applause.
As the cheers and clapping subsided, Flynn stood. “Everyone here at Madd Comm is looking forward to getting to know your new bride better at the company dinner party.”
“Absolutely, we’ll be there.” The dinner gathering would be more formal than their get-togethers at Rosa Lounge. Wives were expected to attend. Rumor had it that Flynn’s estranged wife had chaffed under all the pressure that came from the hours demanded by MC to stay ahead of Golden Gate Promotions.
Jason cricked his neck from side to side, not sure how anyone managed to balance it all, especially in today’s competitive market where there were plenty of hungry dogs ready to take his portion. Success had an added edge for him now that he had a wife and baby depending on him.
Gavin clapped him on the shoulder. “What the hell are you doing here leaving that pretty new bride of yours alone?”
“Don’t be eyeing my accounts while I’m away,” Jason answered, only half joking.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Gavin said, his own competitiveness shining through. But that edge would keep MC on top, which was good for both of them.
Jason rolled his large leather chair back, his feet itching to hit the road. He couldn’t afford to take his eye off the ball at work, but an afternoon away the day after his wedding seemed more than reasonable. In fact, it would look strange otherwise. And he did need to make inroads with Lauren to keep her and the baby in San Francisco. “I’m knocking off early today. Lauren and I are planning our honeymoon for later. She understands I have the Prentice account to contend with right now. In fact, she’s looking forward to meeting Walter Prentice at the big bash.”
Brock studied him through narrowed eyes, assessing. “Perhaps we’ll have a chance to get to know your bride in a more informal setting, maybe for an after-work drink at Rosa Lounge sometime this week.”
“I’ll speak with Lauren and let you know.”
Brock nodded shortly. “Sounds like you have a real keeper there, sharp business lady, to boot.”
“Thank you. Lauren’s a special lady. I’m happy she’s willing to follow me out here to California, especially given she has a company of her own back East.” There. He’d laid the groundwork for her returning to NewYork as he’d promised her he would do, but damned if he would give her up that easily.
Her?
It was about their baby, right? About being a full-time father to his kid in a way his father had never been for him and his sister. Hell, time to stop lying to himself. He wanted Lauren here. He wanted her in his bed and in his life. She fit. They’d already proved they got along well as friends and at work.
They definitely were in synch sexually.
California was the right place for her to stay. He could ease the stress for her at work and in her family. They could have it all here in San Francisco. He just had to convince Lauren.
Now that he thought about it, she knew as well as he did that they had chemistry. He’d put all his effort into seducing her when he should work on convincing her on a practical level, showing her the ways their lives could fit together. He needed to think less about returning to his wife’s bed and more about persuading her they could make a real family here together in San Francisco.
So for now, he would keep his hands to himself while he romanced his wife.
Lauren tugged her bathrobe tie tighter as her foot hit the last step leading into the hall. Supper with Jason had left her edgy, the carry-in Latin cuisine amazing, their legs brushing against each other at the kitchen island frustrating. She’d hoped a shower would help ease the tension, but no luck. She’d spent the whole time under the spray imagining inviting him to sit on the seat opposite her.
Then joining him to straddle his lap, instead.
A trickle of water slipped from her hair down the V of the robe, between her breasts, heavy and achy with desire. She stared through the carved archway into the living room. A fire crackled in the fireplace. Jason knelt in front, jabbing at the logs with a poker. Jeans pulled taut across his lean hips, the muscles in his thighs rippling against the faded denim and calling to her fingers to explore his strength up close and personal. The blaze in the hearth and between her legs both beckoned. She walked closer, the wood floor chilly beneath her bare feet.
His back still to her, Jason stood. He reached into a cardboard packing box and pulled out a thick striped comforter. With a snap of his wrists, he whipped the spread out and let it rest on the floor in front of the crackling fire.
“Did you finally give up on the chair and opt for the floor?”
He smiled back over his shoulder. “You seemed pretty awake at supper, so I thought you might want to hang out and talk.”
“Talk. You want to talk?”
“Sure. Why not?”
Thinking of her sailboat drawing he’d kept framed in his home office gave her the courage to step into the romantic setup he’d prepared. On the corner rested the same black lacquer tray he’d used to bring her breakfast. A couple of cooking utensils—grill tools?—rested on the edge. This time, the wineglasses contained…
“Grape juice. I thought it was only fair you enjoy grapes in some form, since you have to bypass California’s amazing wines for a few more months.”
Tucking her robe around her knees, she sank onto the comforter. “How was work? Was everyone grilling you for details about the Vegas nuptials?”
“Some natural curiosity. Lots of congratulations.” He glanced over his shoulder quickly, then went back to work on the fire. “Everyone wants to get to know you better, of course. There’s a dinner party this weekend for the big Prentice account.”
“Of course I’ll be there. That’s why we did this whole marriage thing, right?”
He jabbed the fire, his pause overlong. “The office also goes to a local hangout for drinks every now and again. We don’t have to go this week if it’s too much for you. You’re working all day, as well.”
“Drinks are fine—well, water with lime—but I don’t have a problem spending time with the people from MC.” Except for Celia. That could be damn awkward now that she thought about it. Suddenly she didn’t want to talk about work anymore. “You have a way of making the no-furniture thing work… well, other than your furnished office upstairs.” She glanced out the corner of her eye, watching for any telling reaction from him.
“I brought a few things from New York with me.” He nodded toward the packing boxes. “Linens. Kitchen supplies. My clothes and some books.”
“And your computer desk?” And the sailboat she’d drawn.
“Sure.” He pressed a hand to the plush comforter. “This was my bedspread back in New York.”
“For freezing winters, but not milder San Francisco temperatures, so it’s stayed in the box so far.” How strange to lead an unpack-as-you-go kind of existence.
“Exactly. Not so cold here.”
“But chilly enough for a fire tonight.” She angled forward to inhale the rich woodsy scent of an authentic fire. No gas logs here.
“And warm enough for gardens.” He rolled up his shirtsleeves as the temperature in the room rose. “I was wondering if you would take a look at the flower beds and offer some suggestions.”
A full-out plan already grew through her mind like vines clinging to a trellis, much like the one she could envision in his backyard leading to a hot tub. But this wasn’t her house. She wouldn’t be staying, and right now she wasn’t sure she could take having more things to regret leaving behind when she returned to NewYork. “Wouldn’t you rather hire a landscaper?”
“I would rather have my highly talented graphicartist wife draw up a plan and put the landscaper to work. But only if you have the time, of course.” He dipped his head into her line of sight. “I mean it. I’m not BSing you here.”
She would probably regret this later, but… “Okay then, I’ll take a look and sketch some ideas.” She stared at her wedding rings. “It’ll be fun thinking of things the baby will enjoy when we come to visit.”
“Great,” he said, smiling—another thing she would miss seeing when she left. “And speaking of the baby, I brought late-night snacks to go with the grape juice, if you’re hungry.” He reached behind the packing box and lifted a small grocery sack.
“I’m always hungry at the end of the day now.” The baby fluttered inside her as if already anticipating whatever he had inside that bag.