A Weekend Temptation (13 page)

“My husband?” Was Joel telling everyone they were married? Maybe. Joel had told her he was going to take care of her, to treat her like his wife, whether he had the legal piece of paper or not. Regardless, this was no time to tell Gwen that she wasn’t married. Besides she was too stunned to allow any words to come.

She gnawed her lower lip until she winced. Only Joel was arrogant enough not take no for an answer.

“Can you show me where the kitchen is, please? These bags are getting heavy.”

“Umm…Okay.” Ava’s mind tilted upside down as she led Gwen toward her kitchen. She didn’t know if she should tell Gwen to hit the road because she hadn’t given her permission for a pregnancy dietician or if she should let the seductive smells of seasoned, chef-prepared food lure her.

“Refresh my hormone-drugged memory. Why do I need a pregnancy dietician?” she asked, not quite able to stop her cutting tone.

After setting the bags on the counter, Gwen shoved a thick pamphlet her way. Like Ava was going to read a book at breakfast.

“I’m here to make sure you and the baby get the proper nutrition. With the right diet, you can avoid a number of nasty complications.” Gwen’s voice had no right to sound that calm and in control. She reminded Ava of Joel, and right now Joel was on her shit list.

“Complications? Because of food?”

“Low birth weight, high blood pressure, toxemia, miscarriage.”

“No.” For a second, Ava’s throat felt tight. She touched it, checking for a noose. There wasn’t one of course. Nothing was going to happen to her baby. Plenty of women gave birth to healthy babies without the use of a pregnancy dietician.

Joel couldn’t force her to keep Gwen, if Ava didn’t want her. It’s not like she and Joel were married. Ava was free, at any time, to tell the bony woman to leave.

But the food smelled wonderful, and allowing a chef to cook for her wasn’t going to force her into a marriage she didn’t want.

Joel just wants what’s best for the baby. Calm down.

Ava’s hunger won the argument. She sat at the breakfast bar while Gwen unloaded the groceries then prepared a plate and scooted it in front of her. Ava’s hand froze in front of her fork as she glanced down at something that should have resembled eggs, but instead resembled white mucous.

But it smelled okay, so she took at bite. Her tongue encircled it letting its taste register. She moved the food around her mouth. One side and then the other.
Chew. Keep chewing
. Finally she swallowed with a hard grunt. Nothing that smelled buttery and delicious should be that slimy. She focused on the seasoning but couldn’t get past the gooeyness enough to take a second bite.

“Are these eggs?” she asked Gwen, who watched her eat with hands folded on the countertop.

“Heavens no. I wouldn’t clog your body with cholesterol. Why would I do that to your poor arteries? These are soy.”

“Soy?” Ava grabbed the salt shaker from the center of the kitchen island. Three long hard shakes should help mask the mushy mess on her plate.

Ava lifted her fork taking a mini bite into her mouth. Not helping. She spit it all back on her plate. Manners had to be sacrificed when something tasted that foul.

“That wasn’t salt. You’ve been here for five minutes, and you’ve already replaced my seasonings?”

Gwen put a hand on her skeleton-thin hip. “You don’t want to risk high blood pressure or preeclampsia do you?”

Ava searched her mind for a response and came up empty. She rubbed her brow as she listened to Gwen order her to read the nutrition bible she’d been given.

A moment later the woman left her alone to
enjoy
her plate full of soy mush. Her fridge was now full of food that Ava knew she’d toss out.

“What about low birth weight because the poor mom can’t eat this crap, anybody worried about that?” she grumbled to herself, clutching her fork.

Ava managed to swallow another bite then decided enough was enough. She was going to pick up a breakfast burrito at the corner café then she would make a special journey to Stanfield International Corporation, to see the CEO Commander, to tell him what she thought of his butting into her life.

****

As Ava stepped from her condo’s glass revolving door, a uniformed man approached her. “Miss Carson, where can I drive you today?” He stood next to a black stretch limo that looked like it belonged in front of the Met on opening day. The vehicle was way too luxurious to be in front of her normal, but nice, condo building.

“I take the subway.” Ava stepped back.

“Oh no, Miss Carson. Not anymore. Mr. Stanfield ordered me to drive you wherever you need to go, even if it is a block up the street.”

“He what?” Her skin prickled at the back of her neck.

“You look shocked. Didn’t he tell you he ordered you a driver?”

No, he didn’t.
So like Joel to assume because she was growing his child, he could start making her decisions. Is this what he’d meant when he said he was going to be in her life, was this how he intended to “take care of her?”

Time to set that man straight. Ava didn’t want or need a man managing her life, not if that man didn’t love her.

She could take care of herself. If Joel wanted to suggest something, he should do just that, suggest it. All decisions in the future had better be a team effort, not an ordering behind her back. But making decisions and not consulting her was a violation of her boundaries. It had to be stopped.

Her jaw clenched as she glared at the shiny, black car with its open passenger door.

The child wasn’t even born yet, and Joel was already like this? What would he be like after the birth? She had to stop this now otherwise the baby would be subjected to some serious verbal brawling. She wanted their baby’s life to be peaceful and happy, nothing like her childhood had been.

Today Ava was going to take steps to make sure that happened. The mighty Joel Stanfield was no longer allowed to butt into her business without an invitation.

****

When Ava arrived at Stanfield International, employee conversations faded away, people rose to their feet, hugged her, told her jokes, and plied her with fake compliments. Everyone behaved this way. Not just old work friends. Before she could make her way to Joel’s private office, she’d been invited to countless lunches. It took her forever to free herself from her new entourage and make her way from the lobby, to the elevator, to the penthouse floor.

The steam behind her eyes started to cool because of the amazing reception she’d received. She only hoped she had enough fumes left to yell at Joel. Because he deserved her tongue lashing.

She tried to focus on Joel’s over-powering ways as she reached the desk of his new personal assistant Shar. “I need to see Joel. Now.” Ava sounded as royal and commanding as his majesty. Joel’s high handedness must be rubbing off.

“No. I’m sorry.” Shar shook her head, sending a strawberry curl into one green eye. “He’s in a meeting, Miss Carson. I’ll make you some coffee, if you’d care to wait.”

When she’d been training Shar, it had always been “Ava,” not “Miss Carson.” Huh. All of the sudden everyone called her “Miss Carson” and bowed and groveled before her, flinging lunch invitations her way like she was a rockstar.

Why?

What had Joel told everyone?

Did they think she was engaged to him? Or just having his baby? She couldn’t imagine him saying anything. He was as closed down as they came, wasn’t he?

Even though it didn’t seem in character, Joel had said something, otherwise why the over-the-top greeting? People couldn’t have missed her that much. Especially people she didn’t know.

“Why are you calling me, Miss Carson?”

“If you prefer, Ava, or, Mrs. Stanfield, I’ll call—”

“Mrs. Stanfield? Why would you call me that?” She tried not to growl.

“Because you’re engaged to Mr. Stanfield, every…everyone knows.”

There it was. The confirmation. She hadn’t received a record number of lunch invites because people missed her. How ugly. The invitations were about simple office politics. People wanted to get close to her because they thought if they did, they would buddy up to Joel. If they buddied up to him, he’d reward them with money, connections, and advancement. Typical. Yet so disappointing.

Little did they know she wasn’t important enough to do anything because he didn’t love her.

Ava growled again, and Shar flinched. The woman’s hands literally shook on her desk. Normally Ava would have apologized, but her temper was back, and it was blazing.

“You will show me which conference room Joel is ruling over. Now.” Ava hiked her chin.

“Y-yes, Miss. Right away.” Shar rushed down the hall with Ava burning into her heals.

When the door swung open to the executive conference room, all eyes found her. Joel, all six feet plus of him, had his broad back to her, facing the floor-to-ceiling windows, admiring his view of the Financial District’s best skyscrapers. She squinted into the sun. Its light held him, made him a shadow of stifling power.

When Shar shuffled away, Ava banged the door closed. Joel halted in mid sentence, glancing over his shoulder. He closed the blinds and made it easier to see him. Then he spun to face her. Did he have to be so tall? So covered in lean muscle? Did he have to be such a striking, beautiful man, with perfect chiseled features? Her breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t fair of God to give him flawless bronze skin and penetrating, dark eyes.

What was it about him, about his brand of maleness that liquefied her knees? She ached for his touch, for his lips to cover hers. She’d dated other attractive men, but Joel Stanfield was
it
. His male potency made women flock to him and lose track of their words and coordination and grace.

Did she really want to lose her irritated focus because he was gorgeous? Hell no. She wanted to stay angry, so she could win and not be overpowered by him.

But his gaze caught hold of hers and warmed for a long, hot second. Her heart raced, butterflies tumbled in her stomach, and her head swam. Then his expression iced back over, returning to status quo. Disappointment pierced into her. Because he’d done it again—with one brief hot look, he’d made her hope that he’d allow himself to feel, just to snatch it away.

“Ladies, Gentlemen, the meeting’s postponed until after lunch,” he boomed.

Without a single questioning word, his suited army of men and women shuffled out, offering timid smiles to her on their way. Not an invitation from this bunch, probably because they were afraid she’d punch them with one of the fists she had jabbing into her hips.

“How was the pregnancy chef this morning?” he asked before Ava could even raise her voice.

“Terrible, her food is like a cross between warm egg whites and slime.”

He frowned. “I should have asked for a sample menu.”

“You should have asked
me
first.” She puffed out a hot breath.

“You’re telling me you don’t want a private chef? I thought you hated to cook.”

“I do. I just…”

“Want me to ask you before I change your life?” He rubbed a hand over his chin stubble.

“Right. No more making decisions without consulting me first.”

“Got it. Everything we do, we do together like a married couple.”

“Yes. No!” She snapped. He was confusing her.

The devil actually had the nerve to grin. Unfortunately, for a second, that unexpected smile made her heart spin. She reminded herself she was pissed at him, and he used his smile against her.

“Which is it yes or no?” he asked.

“Why does everyone in this office think we are getting married?”

“Because you’re mine. You’re pregnant with my child, you are a permanent part of my life, and they needed to know that.”

“Why? So they could treat me different?”

“Is that what they’re doing? Treating you like royalty? Maybe they treat you like a queen because you deserve to be treated like one. Maybe you’ve always deserved to be treated like one.”

She snorted. “Buttering me up is not going to change a thing. First the chef, then the chauffer. What the hell is next?”

“We’ll get you a new chef tomorrow, or better yet I’ll have my chef start delivering meals. I already know you like her food. You never left a bite when Claire catered our business lunches.”

“Are you saying I eat a lot?”

“Now you’re trying to be mad.” His eyes challenged her.

Under his direct, laser-beam stare, she had to fight not to fidget, “Get rid of the driver.” She lifted her chin in defiance.

“Why? What could be wrong with the chauffer? The car too black?”

“I don’t want a chauffer. I take the subway.”

“Not anymore. You have a driver now. I’m not budging on this one.” The ice in his firm tone made her lean back on her heels. He didn’t give an inch.

She had a feeling she could argue this one all day, and the result would be the same. So now what? Keep fighting? Or surrender?

Was the driver that big of a deal? So she arrived in the back of a limo instead of taking the subway. How many women were so lucky? Was it worth fighting over? No, especially since the car would be a nice luxury.

As long as Joel didn’t hijack her life anymore. As long as his butting in stopped here.

“I’m going to make your life easier, safer, and you’re going to let me.” He took a step closer. His mouth lowered to hers. His eyes held that possessive look.

If she didn’t act fast, she was going to be lost in his kiss. The way she always was. She slapped a hand onto his chest to stop him and his tempting, male lips. But with her hand on his body, she noticed how hard he felt. She itched to rip his designer dress shirt from him and trace each and every well defined muscle. Over and over.

Angry. She was supposed to be angry. And she still had a fight to win.

“Okay. I’ll keep the driver, and I’ll let your chef deliver my meals. But no more surprises. From now on, you talk to me before you make any decisions affecting me, my body, or our baby.” She blew out a breath, releasing the last of her irritation.