Confessions of the World's Oldest Shotgun Bride (15 page)

“I think that’s a smart decision. This baby is your destiny. You got pregnant because no flimsy piece of latex could compete with what was meant to be. Your mind may have wanted to send Steve away, but your body wanted to belong to him forever.”

Kathryn snorted. “More likely I got pregnant because one of his condoms was defective.”

Amanda shrugged and smiled in a way that suggested she was privy to all the secrets of the universe. “Whatever you say. So, are you going to marry Steve?”

“Good question. The balance sheet is heavier on the pro side, but I’m not sure getting married is the right choice. Do I really want to make my boy toy my husband? How are we supposed to make it work? We don’t know each other—not really. We knew each other back in the old neighborhood, but we’re different people now.”

“It sounds to me like he knows you pretty well. He knew what buttons to push to make you do what he wants.”

Kathryn laughed. “He knows how to push
all
my buttons. That’s how I wound up in this condition.” She shook her head. “I believe he’s ready to be a father, but I’m not sure he’s ready to be a husband.”

“Why?”

“He still flirts with the girl at the front desk when he wants to get into my condo.”

Amanda rolled her eyes. “You can’t blame him for using his best God-given assets to get what he wants. If you don’t like how he’s getting into your place, give him a key.”

“You’re missing the point.”

“No, you are. You’re not giving him a chance. You’re looking for reasons the marriage won’t work instead of reasons it will.”

“Okay, how’s this for a reason? I’m scared to death he’ll wake up one day and feel trapped.”

“Stop selling yourself short. I saw how he looked at you on Friday, and that was before he knew you were pregnant. He wants you, not just the baby.”

“I wish I could believe that.”

“Why can’t you?”

Memories of Jeff blew a chill across her heart.

“Experience. I’ve never been able to hold onto a man. And you saw Steve. He looks like he belongs in a magazine ad for Jockey shorts. He could have women a lot younger and a lot more beautiful, so why would he want me?”

“Because you’re smart, you’re sexy, you’re loyal, and oh yeah, you’re insanely successful. He’d be lucky to have you.”

“I’m successful at work, but I’m a disaster at life. I should stick to what I’m good at.”

“Stop talking trash about my friend. You may think getting pregnant was the biggest screw-up of your life, but if you push Steve away, you’ll find out you were wrong.”

* * *

Sitting at her office computer the next evening, Kathryn yawned for the fourth time in five minutes and decided to give up trying to work for the day. She pounded out a final keystroke, saved her spreadsheet, and checked her Rolex. Good grief—it was only a few minutes after seven. Usually she was in the office until at least eight. Pregnancy was turning her into a wimp.

Ever since she’d peed on the stick and her world had turned upside down, Kathryn had beaten back the swirling mass of chaos in her brain. They didn’t call her the Ice Queen for nothing. But the swirling mass of chaos in her stomach was another story. The physical effects of being with child couldn’t be tamed by sheer willpower.

The name “morning sickness” was a lie. Total false advertising. Her nausea lasted the whole damned day. She’d barely eaten anything all week except saltines. They were boring and didn’t go well with the dreaded decaf, but at least they didn’t put her at risk of having to sprint to the ladies’ room. The proverbial cat would be out of the bag soon enough. Until that kitty started walking around and shedding on the furniture, she didn’t want to raise anyone’s suspicions.

Kathryn picked up her briefcase, carried it to the sofa, and plopped both it and herself down. Lord, she was tired. She’d been able to ignore it while she was engrossed in her work, but now the fatigue hit her full force.

She opened her briefcase and took out a couple of baby catalogs, courtesy of Amanda. She noted their thickness and shook her head. Who knew having a baby required buying so much... stuff? This little eight-pound person and its paraphernalia were going to overrun her nice, orderly little condo.

Especially if she added in its two hundred-something-pound father. A fresh set of roses on her desk served as a reminder that she couldn’t put Steve off much longer. They needed to discuss the future.

She kicked off her sling backs, rested her feet on the glass-topped coffee table, and leaned back with her eyes closed. To her surprise, she felt her hand rise to her midsection, though her stomach was still as flat as Nebraska. Weird. Some kind of instinct must be at work—that maternal instinct she’d thought she lacked.

“Trying to score brownie points by pretending to work late when you’re really napping?” Whitley’s oily voice cut into her thoughts.

Kathryn jerked upright, moving her hand from her stomach—apparently a split second too late, because Whitley was staring. Damn! With Janelle gone for the day, she should have closed her door, but in the past, she hadn’t had to worry about Whitley popping in after hours. The lazy weasel. She shot him her haughtiest look. “You’re projecting, Bruce.”

He walked to the couch and snatched the catalogs from her lap. A look of surprise crossed his face, closely followed by one of triumph. “Well, well, what have we here? You’re looking at baby furniture?”

It only took her a moment to recover. “I’m looking for a shower gift. Not that it’s any of your business.” The Ice Queen rose, towering over him from six inches below. “Kindly give me back my property and leave my office.”

He handed her the catalogs, moved to her trashcan, and lifted out an empty Starbucks cup. He pointed to a black mark on the side. “Decaf.”

Jesus, what was the deal with men deciding they had the right to paw through her trash? Kathryn tried to look nonchalant, though her stomach churned for reasons that had nothing to do with the baby. “You’ve caught me red-handed, Bruce. I’m guilty of bad taste in the third degree.”

A malicious grin spread across his face. “Let’s see, you’re buying baby furniture, patting your stomach, drinking decaf, and running to the can every five minutes. Plus you have that look. I have five children...”

“That you’ll admit to.”

“...so I know the signs. You’re pregnant.”

“And you’re a toad.”

He rubbed his hands together. “I knew something was up with you, but this is too good. Little Miss Tight Ass, caught with her pants down. And after you went running to the boss with tales about my private life. Well, payback’s a bitch.”

Her face burned with anger. “I never said a word about your sleazy little affair with your assistant.”

“Who’s the proud papa? Or don’t you know?”

Kathryn balled her fists and jammed them into her hips, but with an effort, kept her tone even. “You have exactly five seconds to get your sorry ass out of my office.”

He smirked. “I’ll go. Getting beaten senseless by a pregnant woman would be bad for my image.”

* * *

Steve heard angry voices as he stepped off the elevator, but when he got to Kathryn’s reception area, they’d stopped. He opened the door a crack to see if she was alone and it was safe to enter.

She was alone, but it wasn’t safe to enter—not even close. A stapler sailed through the air in his general direction. He stepped into the room, stopping next to the spot where the stapler had landed on the Oriental rug with a thud. “I’m happy to see you too,” he said in a dry tone.

Kathryn sat on the couch, wearing a tan suit with a dark brown sweater that matched her eyes and clung to her boobs, which unless his imagination was working overtime, were already larger. Despite his annoyance, he couldn’t help thinking she was beautiful when she was angry. Passion blazed in her eyes and her skin was flushed—almost the way she looked when she made love.

When she saw him, her eyes widened and her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God, Steve, I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting you and I didn’t notice you coming in. I needed to let off some steam.”

“You’ve put me through enough torture the last few days without attacking me with unguided missiles.” He picked up the stapler, walked to the couch, and took a seat next to Kathryn.

The anger drained from her face, leaving behind exhaustion. “Please don’t give me a hard time. I’ve had a rotten day.”

He glared at her. “Me too. I said I’d give you a little time, but it’s been more than three days. You’re shutting me out. I won’t take anymore of this crap.”

She sat up straighter. “You’re not pulling any punches today.”

“Why should I? I want us to be totally up front with each other.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Fair enough. You can relax. I’ve decided not to go to the clinic.”

He exhaled as relief thick enough to choke him settled in his chest. “Thank God.” He took her hand and laced their fingers together. “You’re doing the right thing. You won’t be sorry.”

Her mouth curled into a hesitant smile. “I hope you won’t be either. This will mean big changes in your lifestyle.”

He squeezed her hand. “Not as big as you think. I won’t claim I was a saint before we hooked up, but I wasn’t the player you think I was. I haven’t had that many short-term relationships.”

She looked skeptical. “We may have different definitions of many.”

“Honestly, casual sex bores me. I’ve always wanted a relationship like Mom and Dad’s.”

“Oh, please. Do you expect me to believe that’s what you were doing in the Hard Rock? Looking for true love?”

He thrust his chin forward. “Maybe. When I ran into you, I hadn’t been with a woman in nearly six months. Not since flight school.”

She looked away. “The past doesn’t matter. It’s the present that counts.”

“Exactly. I want to be there for you and our baby. I
will
be there, every step of the way.”

“If you want to be there, you’ll need these.” She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out two keys. “One for the downstairs door and one for the front door to my place.”

A wave of happiness surged through him. “You’re trusting me with the keys to the castle?”

She shrugged. “I trusted you in my body, so I might as well trust you in my home.”

“Great. When do we get married?”

She frowned. “Back off, flyboy. I said I’d have the baby. I didn’t say I’d marry you.”

“You know it’s the right thing to do. For the baby. What are you waiting for?”

She let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m still in shock, and I’m scared out of my wits. Which isn’t easy for me to admit.”

This was good. She was starting to open up to him. He leaned forward, wrapped both arms around her waist, and drew her against him. Resting his cheek on the top of her head, he said, “Baby, there’s nothing wrong with being afraid. A little fear is healthy.” He lifted one hand to her cheek. “What are you afraid of? Childbirth?”

She wrinkled her nose. “No. I haven’t thought about that yet. I’ve been trying not to. Giving birth won’t be any picnic, but at least it will be over in a matter of hours. What scares me is what comes after. This little person will be depending on me for everything, and I’m clueless about babies.”

“I’m sure you’re exaggerating.”

“Unfortunately, I’m not.” She held up one of the catalogs. “I don’t even know what half this junk is for. Although I was psyched to see they make car seats just for convertibles. I won’t have to give up the Corvette after all.”

“Car seats just for convertibles? That’s a new one on me too.”

“Yeah, look.” She opened the catalog and leafed through until she found the right page. “Here. ‘Convertible car seats.’”

He read to description and stifled a laugh. “Um, sweetheart? ‘Convertible car seat’ doesn’t mean a car seat for convertibles. It means the seat converts from facing backward to facing forward.”

“Really? What’s the point of that?”

“Apparently, you use it one way for a newborn, and the other way when the baby’s a little older.”

She lifted her hand to her forehead. “I feel so stupid. I’m totally unprepared to be anyone’s mother. What if I screw up?”

He stroked her hair. “Cut yourself some slack. Everyone starts out unprepared for a baby. The little suckers don’t come with instruction manuals.” He lowered his hand to her stomach. “This is new to me too, but we’ll figure things out as we go along, and you’ll be a great mother. You’re great at everything you do.” He cleared his throat. “But it will be easier if you don’t try to do it alone.”

She raised her hands in a gesture of surrender. “You’re right. Who am I kidding? There’s not a hell of a lot of point refusing to marry you when I’m having your kid.”

“No point at all, but I didn’t expect you to admit it so soon.”

She shrugged. “You can’t argue with a good balance sheet.”

“Come again?”

“Never mind.” She squared her shoulders and gave him a tentative smile. “Yes, Steve Tyler, I’ll marry you.”

He smiled back, a dazzling smile intended to paralyze her and make her forget everything but him. A smile filled with so much joy that she wouldn’t be able to doubt his sincerity. “Great! I can’t wait to tell Mom and Dad. When can you get time off? I’ll have Mom find out what paperwork we need to get married back home.”

She looked out the window. “Actually, I don’t want to get married back home.”

“You don’t? All right, it will be simpler to have the wedding here. Easier to take care of the planning.”

“I wasn’t thinking of doing it here either.”

He scrunched his eyebrows together. “What do you have in mind?”

“I have two words for you: Las Vegas.”

His smile disappeared. “You want to sneak off like we’re doing something sleazy?”

“I don’t want a big production. I just want to do it and get it over with. There will be enough gossip after the fact.”

“‘Get it over with?’ Oh, that’s really nice. So, what, we get hitched by an Elvis impersonator at a drive-through wedding chapel?”

She smirked, obviously ignoring his sarcasm. “Sure, if that’s what you want. Otherwise, a justice of the peace will do.”

“Come on, Katie. I’m close to my parents. We talk almost every day. It won’t feel right if they’re not at the ceremony.”