Expecting the Boss's Baby

“I don’t know how much more of your support I can stand,” Michael muttered, and shook hands with the minister.

In a room behind the foyer of the chapel, Betty Adams adjusted Kate’s veil for the sixth time. “Mom,” Kate said, fighting her own nerves, “the veil is fine.”

Betty dabbed at her nose with her tissue. “Oh, you’re just so beautiful. I’ve been planning this day since you were born.”

Not exactly this way, Kate thought, but smiled instead. “You’ve done a terrific job in such a short time. Thank you, Mom.”

Betty, dressed in a filmy aqua mother-of-the-bride dress, waved the praise aside. “It was nothing, but there is something else I must tell you.”

Kate felt the knot in her stomach tighten. She hoped her mother couldn’t tell that Michael didn’t love her.

Her mother patted her hand. “Now I know you’re all grown up, but I’ve been married to your father a very long time. Katie, when it comes to marriage, giving anything less than one hundred and ten percent just won’t do. If you want to have a happy marriage, you can’t hold back. You have to give it your all. Remember that because I want you to be happy.” Betty sniffed, then her eyes gleamed. “And if Michael Hawkins ever hurts you or mistreats you, he will have to answer to me.”

Kate glanced down at her five-foot mother and felt a combination of amusement and tenderness. She smiled. “I’m sure he’d rather face down a lion.”

“Darn straight.”

A knock sounded at the door and Donna peeked inside. “Show time,” she said.

Kate felt a riot of butterflies in her stomach. Betty gave her a hug, then quickly scooted away.

“You can still back out,” Donna told her.

“I’m not going to back out. I’m getting married.”

“I know that’s what’s on the schedule, but I just want to remind you that you can still change things. Nothing’s irrevocable right now.”

Kate slid her hand over her abdomen. “That’s not quite true.”

“Point taken, but I still think Paris is a terrific alternative.”

“Donna,” Kate said as she moved toward the door.

“What?”

“Shut up and hold my bouquet.” Kate watched her father walk toward her and she felt a jolt of terror. She lifted her lips in what she hoped was a smile. “Hi Daddy.”

“Hi darlin’. Here’s your big moment,” he said in a choked-up voice, and Kate felt like a fraud. She thought of her parents’ loving marriage. In comparison, this was a sham. Her stomach turned. She was doing this for Cupcake, she reminded herself, and slid her hand through the crook of her father’s arm.

As she walked through the entryway of the chapel, she immediately saw Michael. He looked sure, but distant, she thought and felt another tremor of nerves. What if this didn’t work? What if she ended up loving him and he never loved her? Kate’s heart wrenched. “Number ten,” she said to herself. “Cookies,” she said, remembering the generosity of the boy Michael had once been.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” her father whispered.

Kate nodded. Cookies.

She finally reached Michael’s side and her father placed her hand in Michael’s. After that, the ceremony turned surreal. The minister spoke briefly, she and Michael repeated their vows, and suddenly the minister announced, “I now pronounce you man and wife.”

Michael kissed her long enough for her to feel the impact of him, then said in a tone intended for her ears only, “It’s almost over.”

Hugs and best wishes from family and friends followed at the reception. Kate felt like a windup doll that was running down. Michael must have sensed when her composure began to fray. Under the guise of an eager groom, he whisked her away from the reception to their hotel suite.

As soon as he shut the door, she began to tremble from the events of the day. Embarrassed, she sank down on a chair before her knees gave out. She alternated between the overwhelming urge to cry and numbness.

Michael silently looked at her, disappeared into the bathroom for a second and she heard the jets of a shower. Michael returned and headed straight for her. “You look whiter than that dress,” he said, kneeling down to tug off her shoes. “Stand,” he instructed.

“What are you—?”

“Just do what I say,” he said, and, as soon as she stood, he unzipped the back of her dress.

Shock raced through her. “What—”

In one sweeping movement, he pushed down the dress and slip, then tugged down her stockings. Her face flaming from her sudden partial nudity, she stuttered. “I—I—”

Before she knew it, he’d unsnapped her bra and lifted her off the floor. He carried her to the double shower and gently nudged her inside.

Kate stood in front of the water too stunned to move. Seconds passed and Michael, naked, joined her. Sliding his hands over her shoulders, he pushed her under the spray.

She shook her head. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

“You were locking up,” he told her.

“I hate the pretending,” she said, slowly taking in the strength and warmth of his body. Something real and warm on a day that had felt unreal and cold. Rivulets of water turned his muscular arms shiny and plastered the spray of chest hair downward. Her gaze traveled to his abdomen and further—to his hard thighs and potent masculinity. He was now her husband.

“No more pretending.” He dipped his head to her chest and slid his tongue over the top of her breast.

Kate shuddered and lifted her hands, needing to hold on to his shoulders. He looked down at her, water droplets clinging to his dark eyelashes. “Let’s seal the deal,” he said, his sensual tone at odds with the businesslike words. He took her mouth in an endless claiming kiss as the water showered down on them.

Her ni**les glanced his chest and she was all too aware of the swollen bulge against her abdomen. Kate’s temperature suddenly shot up. She needed the end of pretending. She wanted to feel.

He continued to eat at her mouth while his fingers traveled with abandon over her slippery skin. He touched her shoulders, then her br**sts. He plucked at her tender ni**les and skimmed his hands down to her abdomen, rubbing as if her pregnancy was already showing. Then he moved his hands lower between her thighs, caressing and pleasuring her with his fingers.

A flush of heat stole over her body at the sensations he created. He made her want so much, ache so powerfully. She kissed him with the same urgency he created inside her. Her hands grew restless and she savored the sensation of the wet skin of his chest and abdomen, and lower.

He gave a rough growl of approval that rippled throughout her nerve endings. “I want you in every way,” he said and moved his mouth down her body. As if he’d been denied too long, he consumed her. He took her breast in his mouth, suckled her hardened nipple, and she sensed he couldn’t get enough. He treated her other breast to the same carnal pleasure, then skimmed his tongue down her abdomen.

Kate held her breath in suspended anticipation as she felt his seductive tongue trace a path of liquid fire over her skin. Dropping to a knee, he rubbed his cheek against her tummy and thigh, and took her intimately with his mouth. He stroked her sensitive, swollen femininity with his wicked tongue, taking her over the edge until her knees began to buckle.

Michael caught her before she fell, slowly rising up her body at the same time that he moved his hands up her legs to her waist. His eyes dark with primitive need, he pressed her back against the cool tile of the shower wall. “Hang on,” he said and urged her legs around his waist.

His gaze holding her and claiming her with the same insistence as his body, he eased her down on his hardness with a slow, sure thrust.

Everything about him, his body, his gaze, said you are mine. “Oh, Kate,” he muttered. “You feel so good.”

Sucking in a deep breath, he pumped inside her, erotically massaging her femininity with each stroke. Kate felt the rush of her cl**ax like a landslide roaring through her. She stiffened, clenching around him.

He swore and through the haze of her own peak, she watched his pleasure roll through him. Still holding her tightly, he dipped his head against her shoulder and glanced her bare skin with a kiss.

“Does it feel more real now?” he whispered.

Kate curled her arms around him, inhaling his essence. “Yes.”

Two hours later, Kate awakened to the sight of Michael sleeping beside her. She knew it was an unusual sight, because he found the need for sleep a nuisance more than anything else.

Her husband, she thought, and felt her heart race. Waking up to Michael Hawkins was like waking up to a powerful, wild animal in her bed. The dark fringe of eyelashes softened a picture of chiseled angles on his face and a hard, muscular body built for endurance.

Kate wondered what he dreamed. She tentatively lifted her hand toward him to touch his hair.

His eyes flashed open and his hand snaked out to catch her wrist. Her breath caught and she stared into his tiger’s eyes.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Watching you while you sleep,” she said and smiled. “It’s so rare.”

“You weren’t just watching,” he pointed out, drawing her closer.

“I thought about touching your hair,” she said. “Next time I’ll stick to thinking so I don’t wake you up.”

He shook his head slowly, his gaze fastened on hers. “You’re invited to touch,” he said, lifting her hand to his hair.

Her heart turned a flip at the simple gesture. “I also wondered what you dream.”

“Nothing,” he said. “I don’t spend much time sleeping, so I don’t dream much.”

“Maybe,” she said skeptically. Kate had a tough time believing a man who was such a visionary didn’t have dreams. “But you have secrets, and I plan to learn those.”

His gaze turned remote. “Nothing interesting. You don’t need to trouble yourself with my secrets,” he said, then lowered his head. “Besides, this is the night of our marriage. I’ve got plans for you.”