The Great Baby Caper (16 page)

Courtney almost smiled at his
hyperbole and fussiness. “Mark, the tub is at least six feet away.”

“That doesn’t matter. Just the
thought of you having it running so close to water makes me cringe.”

“Mark, for heaven’s sake.” By now
Courtney was so rattled, her voice quivered. “Can we please have the lecture on
home safety later? As you can see, I’m hardly clothed.”

He stared at her again, hard.
“You’re wet. And shivering. I’ll help.”

And before Courtney could even
protest, Mark pulled the towel off her body and began rubbing her down. “Mark!”
she shrieked.

As he worked his burning gaze was
riveted to her naked flesh. Then his hand stopped and he swallowed hard.
Abruptly he dropped the towel and pulled her close. “Hell, I’ll warm you.”

In the next instant his mouth was
taking hers, his tongue plunging deep. An inarticulate moan escaped Courtney.
Suddenly all the tension building between them over the past week exploded in a
moment of searing hunger. Time slipped away and it was like that steamy night
in New Orleans again. Ravenously she kissed him back and clung to him.

His lips moved hungrily down her
throat. “Darling, when I heard that crash, I was so scared. I thought you had
taken a bad fall, hurt yourself, and the baby. You need someone to take care of
you, woman.”

Though sinking fast, she managed
to protest, “The heck I do.”

“The heck you don’t.”

“Mark, you’re my husband, not my
nanny,” she scolded, though teasingly.

“Then I’ll be your husband—
now
.”

Courtney realized she’d walked
straight into that one, but didn’t care. Mark hauled her up into his arms and
carried her into the bedroom. As he laid her down on the bed, his lips slid
down her throat to her breast, his tongue lapping greedily. She writhed, her
hips coming up off the bed. He slipped his hands beneath her, boldly kneading
her bare bottom, and she shuddered in ecstasy.

“Delicious,” he murmured at her
breast. “I’ll lick all the moisture off you.”

“Mark,” she managed weakly. “Don’t
you think—”

“Don’t think at all. Not tonight.”

In the next moment his mouth
latched onto her tender nipple and she gasped helplessly, knowing she was lost
to him. She tangled her fingers in his hair. “Mark, I’m very sensitive there.”

“Because you’re having my child,”
he murmured huskily, gently running his lips over the swollen peak. “Is that
better?”

It was heaven! “Oh, yes.”

His fingers slid boldly down her
belly, dipping low, then one of them pushed inside her. “Are you tender here,
too? Can you feel my baby growing?”

“I can feel you,” she managed,
kissing him recklessly. “I want you. All of you.”

She got her wish as he rolled on
top of her. She grabbed for his zipper, slid it open, slipped her fingers
inside his briefs and touched him. He was so hard, ripe to fill her.

He paused to look down at her a
moment, his eyes brimming with love and passion. Then she got her wish as he
pushed fully inside her. She whimpered in pleasure and clutched his body
tightly to her own. Oh, how had she ever fought this? He was sheer heaven, and
the feeling of joining herself with him was beyond rapture.

“Warm now?” he murmured.

“Oh, yes.” And then, to each
powerful stroke, she repeated, “Yes, yes, yes . . .”

Plunging into his wife’s delicious
body, Mark couldn’t believe that Courtney was his again. She lay completely
open to his thrusts, taking them, meeting them, and her soft arms and legs were
tangled about his body. Her mouth was heaven on his, and the soft, inarticulate
sounds of her surrender propelled him onward as he lost himself in her tight,
hot depths.

“You’re mine, now,” he uttered
hoarsely. “My wife. Say it, Courtney.”

There were tears in her beautiful
eyes as she whispered back, “Your wife.”

Mark knew she would have said it
again, and again, but his mouth was claiming hers once more . . .

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At Bootle’s Baby Bower’s corporate
headquarters in west Denver, Courtney sat at her desk staring at a sea of
paperwork. She couldn’t believe how backed up things had gotten during her
absence from the company. Although Courtney had assumed that Wally Gilchrist
had been appointed new CEO after she’d quit, in truth, M. Billingham Bootle had
reneged on his promises made in New Orleans, semi-retiring without ever
appointing a successor.

Until her return. It amazed
Courtney to realize that the old guy had held the position open during her
absence. The reins of power had been officially transferred in the board room
early this morning. Courtney half shuddered as she recalled her chill
reception, particularly from her former competitors, Gilchrist, Gideon, and
Getz. None had come forward to shake her hand. She could fault Al Gideon and
Gil Getz as sore losers, but Wally Gilchrist was entitled to be miffed, since
he really should have won by default in New Orleans.

She had a lot of fence-mending to
do as a direct result of M. Billingham’s machinations. With the company
rudderless for over two months, Gideon, Gilchrist, and Getz had fallen into
infighting that had further snarled operations. The company would be going
public within the year, but the legal framework and paperwork were sadly behind
schedule, with deadlines swiftly approaching on some critical SEC filings.
Inventory for the upcoming Christmas season was sadly lacking. Planned store
openings in Colorado Springs and Pueblo might have to be postponed. It would
take her months just to get the operations back up to speed.

All at the worst possible time in
her personal life. She was a partner in a marriage supposedly “in name only”
that her husband already found more than convenient. In about six months she
would deliver Mark’s child.

She remembered her moments of
weakness on Mackinac, how she had succumbed to Mark and his lovemaking. The
atmosphere between them had been tense since then, although on the airplane
ride home, she’d made a point of insisting he not tell anyone—especially his
grandfather—about the baby without first consulting her.

Then when they’d arrived at her
apartment last night, he’d followed her into her bedroom and boldly set his
suitcase down next to hers at the foot of her bed.

That’s when Courtney had made her
stand. “Mark, please, put your bag in the guest bedroom.”

He had appeared incredulous.
“You’re banning me from your bedroom after what happened between us last
night?”

“I think we rushed things a bit,”
she managed.

“Rushed things? Does memory fail
me, or did you rip at my clothing?”

She had fought a smile. “You’re
not exactly making your case, Mark.”

“What? That you made love with
your husband last night?” Drawing closer, he’d asked poignantly, “Don’t you
want to make love with me, Courtney?”

That question had made her feel
miserably put on the spot.

“Tell me the truth now. You owe me
that much.”

Bravely she had faced him. “Yes, I
want to make love with you. I think what happened last night is certainly
evidence of that, and I take responsibility for my part in it.” Seeing him
advance toward her, she’d held up a hand. “But I just don’t think it’s fair to
lead you on when I’m not sure we’ll make it.”

“Lead me on?” He gave an
incredulous laugh. “We’re married and expecting a child, Courtney. Don’t you
think that puts us way beyond the ‘leading on’ stage?”

“Okay, bad choice of words on my
part,” Courtney had conceded. “But Mark, I married you for our child’s sake, to
give him or her a name. I never made any promises that we’d stay together
always—not with all the challenges we face.”

He was silent, clearly brooding.

“Mark, if we keep this up and
eventually we do split up, both of us are going to be more deeply hurt. I have
to be more certain than that. On Mackinac we got the cart before the horse again.
We gave in to our emotions before our minds and hearts were ready to follow,
just like we did in New Orleans.”

His next words had been vehement.
“Courtney, I don’t care what you say. You may think you’re not ready, but I am.
I’m with you one hundred percent, and have been from the day we met.”

His expression had been so
sincere, and guilt had lanced Courtney. “I’m sorry, but I’m not there yet. And
while you may think you’re there, I still have my doubts.”

“And what about our child? What is
he or she supposed to do while you decide if you want its father in your life?”

“Mark, our child isn’t due for six
months. For now . . .” She’d nodded toward his suitcase. “I’m not ready for
this.”

He’d picked it up, his eyes
gleaming bitterly. “I’m surprised you aren’t suggesting separate quarters.”

Difficult though it was, she said
quietly, “It might be better, under the circumstances.”

“Then you have your wish.”

With a slam of the door, he’d been
gone, and she hadn’t heard from him since. Now the memory made her wince. She
hadn’t intended to offend him that way—but she’d known if she did not
vigorously assert her own rights, she’d end up in his arms again. When he
touched her, her logic turned into mush. She had to keep a clear head in this
in order to gauge her own heart, her own mind, in order to decide what was best
for all three of them. Coming back and facing the mess at work had more than
demonstrated to her that it would be difficult for her to give her husband
everything he needed and wanted, and still pursue her own career goals. The
child would need her foremost attention, as well. Already she felt pulled in so
many directions at once.

A rap at her door interrupted her
thoughts. Praying it wasn’t her husband, she called crossly, “Come in!”

M. Billingham Bootle himself
stepped through the doorway. Dressed in his perpetual gray, pinstripe suit and
red bow tie, he grinned at her broadly. “Well, hello, dear Courtney. I’d have
thought you’d still be on a high from netting your promotion this morning.
Instead you’re sounding a bit peevish . . . especially for a blushing bride.”

Face flaming in proof of the
alleged “blush,” Courtney stood. “What do you want, sir?”

He whistled. “Such tartness. I’d
have expected a bit more gratitude. You may be the new CEO, but this is still
my company.”

She waved a hand at the
accumulated paperwork on her desk. “One would never know it from the way you’ve
allowed things to slide around here.”

“Only because you ran off and
neglected your duties.”

She advanced on him angrily. “I
ran off? You mean I refused to be blackmailed?”

“Call it what you will, though it
seems you grew amenable in the end.”

“Unlike you, I didn’t have much of
a choice.”

He made a clucking sound. “On the
contrary, Courtney, you had all kinds of choices. You chose to run initially.
And I saw no reason to postpone my scheduled tour of the Orient just because of
your little hissy fit in New Orleans.”

“My hissy fit? What about your
ultimatum?”

The old rascal grinned. “You
accepted my terms readily enough in the end. Are you sorry you’re now at the
helm?”

“No, but that’s hardly the point.”

“It’s precisely the point, my
dear. The company needed you and you bailed out. Now you have a mess to clean
up. For as you can see, none of your competitors, neither Gilchrist, Gideon,
nor Getz, was equal to the task before you.”

Realizing arguing with him was
futile, Courtney went back to her desk. “Fine. Will you kindly leave so I may
work?”

He laughed. “Temper, temper. We’ll
hope you’ll show more patience with my grandson.”

Courtney was silent.

“Actually, I’m pleased to see
signs of hope there,” M. Billingham went on. “My grandson informed me only this
morning that the honeymoon was entirely satisfactory.”

“He—said what?” Courtney
stammered.

“I think you heard me the first time.”

“Those were his exact words?”

“Indeed.”

“Where is he?”

He raised an eyebrow in amazement.
“Courtney, my dear, you mean to tell me you don’t even know where your own
husband is?”

She fiddled with papers on her
desk. “Not at this precise moment.”

“I assumed he would be at your
townhouse, though when he’s in the States, he does sometimes conduct his own
business at the BBB corporate penthouse in the Richardson Building. Your
assistant would have the keys.”

Courtney marched to the door and
opened it. “Thanks. Now if you’ll excuse me . . .”

Grinning, M. Billingham stepped
out. A moment later, Courtney grabbed her purse and followed.

***

“‘Entirely satisfactory’?”
Courtney demanded, striding inside the corporate penthouse.

Sitting behind his desk with its
dramatic backdrop of the Denver skyline and the Rocky Mountains, Mark removed
his reading glasses and watched his irate wife come storming into the room,
looking every bit the hard-charging executive in her navy linen suit. When the
doorman had rung him up to let him know Courtney was in the lift, Mark had
known something was seriously amiss, for Courtney was too busy to desert her
post this early in the day. Now the heat of anger on his wife’s lovely face
confirmed his worst suspicions.

Nonetheless, he got to his feet
with a grin and hastened to her side. “Good morning, darling,” he murmured,
reaching for her.

She flinched. “Don’t you dare try
to touch me after what you did.”

“And what was that?”

“Telling your grandfather that our
honeymoon was ‘entirely satisfactory.’”

“What should I have said? That it
was entirely disappointing?”

“It was none of his business.”

“Courtney, he’s my grandfather.”

“And I’m your wife.”

That statement, unintentional
though it clearly was, brought a proud grin to Mark’s face and a telling blush
to Courtney’s.

He grew closer, until he could
smell the sweetness of her perfume and hear her rather rushed breathing. “I’m
pleased to hear you acknowledge that, at last.”

She crossed her arms over her
bosom. “What I mean is, what happened on our honeymoon should be between you
and me. It’s private.”

Unable to resist, he pulled her
into his arms. “Yes, I agree. It’s
very
private—and my fondest hope is
to keep it that way.”

She squirmed. “Mark, don’t twist
things around. You shouldn’t have been talking to your grandfather about
our—our love life.”

“Love life,” he repeated, savoring
the words. “You know, I’d like a bit more of that.”

“Quit dodging the subject,” she
scolded, the quiver in her voice revealing how rattled she was. “You know what
I mean.”

“Ah, yes,” he mused cynically.
“That my grandfather doesn’t have a right to know his grandson is happy?”

That question pulled a response
from her, and he was touched to see a certain vulnerability, mingled with
uncertainty, spring into her eyes. “Are you happy, Mark? I mean, I know I
haven’t made things easy for you.”

That bit of humility delighted
him. “Yes, darling, you’ve been quite a handful. Were you not carrying my
child, I should likely have you over my knee.”

“Mark!” Casting him a chiding
glance, she pressed, “Just answer me, please.”

He leaned over and pressed his
mouth to her warm cheek, feeling gratified when he heard her breathing quicken
again. “I’ll amend what I said. I was ecstatic with you on Mackinac Island—but
miserable without you last night.”

She glanced away, biting her lip.
Could he hope she’d been lonely, too? At least for now she wasn’t fighting to
get away from him, and that was definitely progress.

“Courtney, let me come home,” he
pleaded. “Or, you move in here. Grandfather says there are no guests scheduled
to stay in the penthouse over the next few weeks. We’ll have daily maid
service, plus a world-class view of the face of the Rockies. What could be
easier, or more fun?”

Though a grudging smile pulled at
her mouth, she sadly replied, “Mark, it’s still too soon.”

Mark decided to opt for whatever
he could get. “See me after work tonight? Take in dinner, perhaps a movie?”

“I don’t know. Things really got
stacked up during my absence.”

He pointed at the desk, where his
laptop and briefcase were open, papers scattered about. “Things have gotten
pretty snarled up for me, as well. Indeed, I really need to fly back to London straightaway to attend to some important matters—but I’m willing to make time for
us.”

She was clearly wavering, from the
long moment she hesitated. “Look, I really need to get back to work, but I’ll
call you later.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

He leaned over and just managed to
brush her warm lips with his own before she slipped away. He watched her leave
with a sigh, almost wincing at the sight of her shapely backside retreating.
That last night on Mackinac, things had been so beautiful between them. Now
she’d moved away from him again, both physically and emotionally. His
grandfather doubtless hadn’t helped matters by taunting her.

Why couldn’t she trust him and
believe he really cared? Why did she continue to suspect ulterior motives on
his part? Why was she so determined to withhold her own heart? Somehow he had
to convince her that they belonged together. Somehow he had to earn her trust
and love.