Authors: Kate Perry

Project Daddy (23 page)

BOOK: Project Daddy

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But I didn’t have long to fret. The phone rang.

Guess who.

“I want to talk to you, Kat. Now.”

I glanced at the bathroom door. The shower was still going. Not that Drake would mind. In fact, he’d probably push me out the door. “Um. Okay.”

“Meet me downstairs.”

He hung up before I could ask about Lydia and if she’d mind. Somehow I didn’t think she was the type of woman who liked to share.

He was waiting for me on a couch in the lobby. He stood up when he saw me come down the stairs, rubbing his hands on his jeans. “Hi.”

God, he looked good. Kind of wild. His hair was in its usual slightly unkempt look and he hadn’t shaved this morning.

I never knew I was into wild.

He frowned at me, and I realized I hadn’t said anything so I nodded. “Hi.”

He opened his mouth to say something but closed it abruptly, frowning harder as he looked me up and down.

What? I looked down. I was wearing the clothes he had bought me. And I was positive they went together—I had brought the black pants with all the pockets and a couple of the T-shirts.

I knew it—the T-shirt was too small. That had to be it. It bared half my midriff, after all.

I tugged on it. “I told you it was too small.”

He shook his head. “Let’s go for a walk on the beach.”

I shrugged. Then I nodded, thinking if he was going to yell at me it’d be better if we were out of hearing of other people. Like Lydia.

He took my arm and guided me out the side door, which I now knew led straight onto the beach.

Even though I’d lived in the Bay Area all my life, I’d never spent much time at the beach. Needless to say, I hadn’t been sure what to bring, not sure what the weather would be like, and I forgot my red coat in the room.

Luc, on the other hand, being a windsurfer, was decked out appropriately in a thick, off-white sweater and a windbreaker.

I looked longingly at it as I hugged myself to protect against a particularly brisk breeze.

He shook his head, took off his jacket, and draped it over my shoulders. “Where’s your coat?”

“I didn’t know I’d need it.” His jacket was still warm from his body and smelled familiar, just like him. It went a long way in settling my nerves.

“For someone so smart, sometimes you’re an idiot, you know.”

I glanced at him, pursing my lips. “Is that a loving ‘you’re an idiot’ or an angry one?”

He sighed. “What do you think, Kat?”

I just didn’t know anymore. “I think I blew it.”

He grunted and continued to lead me.

For a while I concentrated on the way my shoes sank into the sand and the sound of the waves lapping at the shore. I wondered how cold the water would be. Then I wondered if Luc and Lydia planned on taking a stroll down here tonight.

That was it. I had to ask. “How’s Lydia? Are you guys having a good time?”

Luc’s face closed up. “She’s fine.”

Hmm. Not exactly a fount of information. This was a switch—he usually wasn’t so closed mouthed about his relationships.

Maybe he really liked her.

Chilling thought. I pulled the jacket closer.

How could he like her when she was only out for his sperm? Was this one of those temporary sex things men were always after? Not that I knew a whole lot about men. Except that they produced one to two teaspoons of sperm during ejaculation (I was up on all the current sperm data).

I cleared my throat. “So how is Lydia’s project coming along?”

“She’s changed her mind.”

“What?” My spirits lifted.

“She wants us to have a relationship. To get married.”

I stumbled and would have fallen face first if Luc hadn’t steadied me. When I was on solid ground again, I stopped walking and faced him. “Are you going to?”

He stared down at me. “I don’t know, Kat.”

Gulp. “You sound like you’re considering it.”

“Why shouldn’t I consider it? She’s a beautiful, intelligent woman who wants me.”

I tried to think of a reason why he shouldn’t consider it, but he was right. Lydia was perfect (except for her bitchy streak).

I hoped my smile looked genuine and that I wouldn’t choke on what I was about to say. “Well, I’m happy for you.”

He just gazed at me, his hand under my elbow. It tightened, and then he dropped it, sliding it into his pocket. “Let’s head back.”

The walk back to the inn was painfully silent. I opened my mouth to make a comment a couple of times, but things had changed.

It wasn’t until that moment that I realized what I’d lost.

I wiped at the couple of tears that leaked from my eyes.

Luc frowned at me.

“It’s the wind,” I lied.

Chapter Fifteen

I slammed the door to the honeymoon suite and almost fainted with relief when I saw Drake was still there. “We have to do something. Quick.”

He turned around from the window with a frown. “Did you go out without a jacket?”

Hello. Didn’t he hear me? “We need to do something
now.”

He crossed the room and took my hands in his, his brow furrowing. “Your hands are ice. What were you trying to do, catch pneumonia?”

I tried to pull out of his grasp but, since he was stronger and had about seventy pounds on me, I got dragged toward our faux fireplace.

“Sit,” he ordered.

We didn’t have time for this. The situation was urgent.

He cocked an eyebrow.

Sitting now.

Drake perched on the end of the couch and folded his arms across his chest. “Now what’s this all about?”

“Lydia wants to keep Luc.”

Silence.

I waved my hand. “Don’t you see? This is serious! It’s more than just for sperm.”

He grunted.

God, did I have to spell everything out for people? I spoke slowly, enunciating each syllable. “Lydia wants to have a relationship with Luc.”

“Evidently.”

I scowled. No, it wasn’t so evident.

“But while you were out walking with your friend, I did reconnaissance.”

“You did?”

“Yes. Do you want to know what I found out?”

“Of course.” I pushed my glasses up and automatically reached for a pad to take notes. Since there wasn’t one handy, I settled for a cocktail napkin.

“I talked to Mrs. Lingham—”

“One
m
or two?” I asked as I scribbled the name down.

“One.”

Because he sounded confused, I glanced up and gave him a cue. “And Mrs. Lingham is ... ?”

“The innkeeper.” He glanced at my napkin before shaking his head and continuing (I know—sometimes my efficiency amazes even me). “She told me Lydia and your friend—”

“Luc,” I supplied as I scratched his name.

“Excuse me. Lydia and
Luc
are staying in separate rooms.”

I stopped taking notes to look up. “Separate rooms? It’s hard to get pregnant that way.”

Drake grinned. “Yes, it is. And Mrs. Lingham also told me where they are going out to dinner tonight.” He took my hand. “How do you feel about going out on a date with me?”

I gasped. “No.”

“Oh yes, my dear Katherine.”

“You aren’t thinking—”

“It’s not only what I’m thinking but what I’ve planned. Come now.” He pulled me to my feet. “We have some shopping to do.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Shopping?”

“You’re going to look smashing tonight. Luc will be gnawing off a leg to get to you.” He grabbed my jacket and nudged me toward the door.

I dug my feet in. “I can’t—”

“I’m paying for this. Consider yourself on my payroll for tonight.”

“Men are supposed to hate buying clothes,” I mumbled as we headed down to his waiting car. Why was it all the men in my life wanted to take me shopping?

“Ah, but we love seeing our women dressed up. Hence the pleasure.”

I couldn’t decide if shopping with Drake was more uncomfortable than shopping with Luc or not, but one thing was for sure: it was easier. We walked into a store (on Mrs. Lingham’s recommendation) and the shopkeeper swooped down and did Drake’s bidding. I wondered if it got tiring having people grovel at your feet all the time.

She had two viable options: a black dress and a red one. I thought the black was perfect. It hit below my knees and had long sleeves (it was colder than I expected here on the coast). But Drake wanted to see the red one on—one should check out all possibilities, he said.

So like a good soldier, I put it on.

No way.

I shook my head at the reflection in the dressing room. Too tight. It showed
everything
—from my butt to my nipples (I’d had to take my bra off because the cut of the dress didn’t allow for one). I blushed just thinking of Drake seeing me like this. And Luc ...

No way. I wasn’t even going to step outside in this one.

But I did poke my head out. “I think the black one was better.”

Drake looked up from the business magazine he was reading. “Let’s see it.”

I tugged at the fabric behind me. “It doesn’t fit.”

“Let me be the judge of that.”

“I really think the black—”

“Katherine.”

I winced and reluctantly stepped out, my eyes squeezed shut so I couldn’t see his reaction.

He whistled, loud and long.

I cracked one eye open to make sure it was him (I don’t know—a construction worker could have wandered in, and they’ll whistle at anything female that shows signs of life).

It
was
Drake. He stood in front of me, lips pursed, eyes wide like he was in shock.

Because the dress is so tight,
I thought, pulling at the neckline.

“You look—” He shook his head.

Shit. He was struck speechless by the horror. I whirled to go take it off.

He grabbed my hand before I could escape and tugged me close to him. “Katherine,” he said softly, “you look absolutely stunning.”

I frowned. “I do?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?” I looked down. It was awfully tight. And didn’t provide much coverage in the front. Or the back, for that matter. “I think I need a size bigger. Or a few sizes bigger.”

“No.” He took my hand and drew me toward the three-way mirror. “You look fabulous.”

Yikes. Seeing myself from all angles was the stuff of nightmares. Was my butt really that big?

“I’ll never understand why women are so quick to criticize their bodies.” He turned to the hovering shopkeeper. “We’ll take this. Do you have a wrap to go with it? Preferably something warm. And if you could direct us to a store where we can find shoes.”

While the woman jumped to fulfill his commands, I did something I shouldn’t have done—I peeked at the price tag.

Oh my God. I thought for sure I’d faint. I would have sat down but the dress was so tight I was afraid the seams would rip. And then we’d have to buy an incredibly expensive dress that I wouldn’t be able to wear.

“Drake.” He’d gone back to reading his magazine, so I tugged on his sleeve. “You really don’t need to do this—”

“Yes, I do, Katherine.” He rolled up the magazine and lowered his head, staring directly into my eyes. “We’ve been through this already. We agreed that this was the best course of action.”

That was before I knew he was going to buy me a dress that cost as much as a small foreign car. “Then I want to pay you back—”

“Nonsense. This is a business expense.” He grinned wolfishly. “I fully intend on writing it off.”

Oh. Well, that made all the difference in the world.

As it turned out, the woman who owned the store also carried shoes. In no time I was decked out in a cape (with a hood—I felt very gothic), shoes, and jewelry. Antique-looking rhinestone earrings and a matching choker. Thank God there wasn’t a Tiffany’s nearby—if there were, I had no doubt we’d be over there picking out diamonds to cover me in.

While Drake paid for the loot, I collapsed on a nearby chair. I needed a nap.

The woman handed Drake a large bag, which he promptly pawned off on me.

“Great,” I said, visualizing the bed back at the inn and how warm and cozy the down comforter would be when I was tucked in. I followed Drake like an obedient puppy eager for its treat.

He glanced at his watch. “Geri made an appointment for you next door.”

“Geri? Next door?” I looked up and groaned. “A beauty salon?”

Drake chuckled, grabbed my arm before I could escape. “I’ve never known a woman like you, Katherine. Most would love to be treated to all this.”

“All this?” I asked weakly as he drew me into the salon.

“A trim and style, manicure and pedicure, and other services.”

“Other services?”

“Waxing,” he replied.

Gulp. “Did you know in ancient Egypt, priests plucked every hair from their bodies? Even their eyelashes.”

“Interesting.” He smiled at the woman manning the front desk. “Geri called to make an appointment for Katherine Murphy.”

“Oh, yes.” The way she smiled at me chilled my heart.

I backed up a step. “Uh, Drake ... I don’t think—”

But before I could talk him out of the
other services
part, the women who worked in the shop quite efficiently whisked me off for my torture—er, treatments.

The waxing was the most painful ordeal I’d ever endured—from my eyebrows to my legs and a couple of places in between. By the time we were done, I felt like a plucked chicken.

But my hair looked amazing. They’d cut it to just past my shoulders and somehow straightened it so it fell in a shiny, soft cascade. I kept touching it, it felt so luxurious. I’d gladly go through the waxing again if it meant I could have hair like this too.

The second we got back to the inn, I ran up to our room, impatiently waiting for Drake to open the door so I could look in a mirror to make sure it was real and not a trick of the lighting in the salon.

It wasn’t. I looked damn good.

Drake laughed at the euphoric look on my face as I emerged from the bathroom. “I take it you’re pleased.”

Pleased didn’t even begin to describe what I was feeling. I was tempted to get down on my knees and pledge my everlasting devotion to him, but I settled on squeezing his hand. “I feel like Cinderella.”

He grinned and squeezed back. “Then it was worth it.”

It was. And as I got ready that evening for our pseudodate, instead of cursing every second of the primping (I’m more of a no-nonsense kind of girl—slap on some gloss and call myself ready) I reveled in it. I took my time and actually applied eyeliner and mascara (Drake had sent out his driver to stock up on make-up while I was being tormented by the aestheticians). I’d never spent that much time getting ready for anything—not even my first interview at AshComm.

Okay, I have to admit that partly it took so long because I don’t know the first thing about make-up. So I messed up the eyeliner and had to start fresh (and it was a bitch to wash off). I found myself wishing Rainbow were around. Despite appearances, she was much better at the girl thing than I was.

Anyway, I was finally ready—powdered, lotioned, and dressed—impatiently waiting for Drake in the living area of our room when stage fright hit me.

Maybe the dress wasn’t the right thing to wear. It
was
awfully revealing. It’d look cheap next to Lydia’s cool elegance.

What if Luc saw me and didn’t like it? Or worse—what if he was indifferent?

I groaned. I wouldn’t be able to bear it.

This wasn’t going to work.

Drake walked out, took one look at my face, and headed straight to the bar. He poured some of the dark amber liquor he’d been drinking the night before into a glass and pressed it to my lips. “Drink it. All of it.”

I obeyed him without thought. And choked as it burned a hole in my stomach lining.

He whacked my back as I wheezed. When I finally caught my breath, I sputtered, “What did you do that for?”

“To loosen you up. You were choking up on me.” He held my shoulder and stared into my eyes. “There’s no need to worry. You’re a beautiful, sexy woman, Katherine. If this doesn’t work, you’ll have other options. Besides, you have one thing going for you.”

“What’s that?” I asked, though I was pretty certain he meant my skill at ferreting out information. I was a maniac with facts.

“Your friend is in love with you.”

I snorted. I wanted to tell Drake doing drugs would seriously affect his brain functionality, but I just grabbed my cape and followed him out the door.

Whatever the vile stuff was that he forced me to drink, it worked. By the time we were on the road and heading off for our assignation, I was relaxed. Very relaxed.

I looked out the window and was struck with a brilliant idea. “Let’s go for a swim later.”

“The inn doesn’t have a pool.”

“No—in the ocean.”

He raised his brow. “Do you know what the temperature of the Pacific is?”

“Approximately fifty-six degrees.”

“Let’s wait and see how we feel,” he said.

I settled back in my seat, happy with the compromise.

BOOK: Project Daddy

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