New and…Improved? & Andrew in Excess (11 page)

K
ENT WAS HUMMING
when he walked into the lab the next morning. He was also grinning like an idiot, just because he could see Becca's car in the parking lot.

Yeah, he was gone.
Far
gone.

And it felt damn good.

She'd slept with him all night, not that there'd been much sleeping involved. Which brought a dreamy smile to his lips, and he walked past Cookie with a wave, thinking he'd been a fool to put off combining this friendship with this new, wildly satisfying element.

“Hold it,” Cookie said, snapping her gum, narrowing her eyebrows.

He stopped at her desk. “Yes?”

“Are you…singing?”

“Nope. Humming.”

“You got lucky last night,” she guessed.

“Depends on what you call lucky,” he called,
moving down the hallway to the tune of her surprised laughter.

Though he didn't really need the jolt of caffeine—who would, after having made love with the most incredible woman all night—he grabbed a cup.

The only thing that could hurt his mood was if he dwelled on the fact that Becca hadn't told him she loved him. But he refused to agonize over that. Yet.

 

D
RAWING A DEEP BREATH
, Becca entered the lab. Memories of last night danced in her head, of Kent telling her with words, with kisses, with his incredible body, just how much she meant to him.

It had been magical, perfect. Well, nearly, because she had made one crucial mistake.

She'd neglected to tell him just how much he meant to her in return. It was something she intended to fix, today, right this minute if possible, despite the butterflies wreaking havoc in her belly.

Then Kent was standing at her work station, staring at her in that heated way he had, the one that told her he was remembering last night, and thinking of many nights yet to come, and those butterflies morphed into stomach-liner-eating dragons.

He watched her approach and a slight frown marred his brow.

She knew why. She'd dressed carefully for this morning. Jeans, backward baseball hat, glasses, the white lab coat with at least six pencils, the works.

The old Becca.

Kent wore a white lab coat, too, but his showed amazing shoulders, the chest that only hours before, she'd covered with kisses.

She stopped a few feet away, vividly aware of everyone's direct interest, as they pretended to work while unabashedly eavesdropping. “Good morning,” she said, her voice unintentionally husky.

“Thanks to you, it's a great morning.”

Around them, everyone shifted closer, trying to capture each and every word, while still pretending to work.

“Nice jeans,” he said. “What's the occasion?”

She shrugged nonchalantly while her heart raced. “Maybe I just wanted to make sure I had your attention.”

“Oh, but you most definitely have my attention,” he assured her, his own voice warm and thick. “You always have.”

Acutely aware of everyone's undivided attention—they'd given up even the pretense of being
busy—she lowered her voice to a whisper. “Are you sure?”

“You can doubt it? After what we shared, especially last night?”

Heat flooded her cheeks, but she'd started this, she would finish. “I was just wondering, you know, because before the makeover, you never looked at me in that way that makes…my knees buckle.”

“I make your knees weak?”

She nearly smiled, but there were those dragons working at her stomach. “Oh yeah, you make everything weak. But—”

“But it comes down to the makeover,” he finished for her. “And why we didn't go out before that. Right?” He sighed and shook his head. “The truth is, I had it in my head I couldn't have both your friendship and your love. And they were both so important because I'd never had both before.”

“Of course you can have both.”

“Can I?” he asked softly. “I wanted you before, Becca, you can believe it. But the most important part of our relationship had nothing to do with sex.”

Someone snickered. Kent dropped his arms to his side and glared at his staff, all of whom immediately ducked their heads and looked busy.

He turned back to Becca, who bit her lip.

“I liked the sex part,” she admitted in a whisper.

He let out an agreeing laugh. “Me, too.” Purposely, he removed her glasses, put his big warm hands on her arms and shook lightly. “And for someone who wanted the words, you've been awfully miserly with your own.”

Within her, courage and hope blossomed painfully. “I just didn't think I had a chance.”

“Take one now,” he suggested, dropping his hands from her to cross his arms over his chest.

Take a chance.
Her biggest adventure of all. Could she?

Biting her lip, she took that last step between them and blinked him into focus, not easy without her glasses. She touched him and could tell by the warmth and affection that filled his eyes that he truly felt all he'd told her.

He loved her, no matter what.

It was empowering. And awe inspiring.

To be loved for herself! Not for her brains, not for her looks, but for herself. To be loved by a man she loved back, with all her heart. It was the thrill of a lifetime. No, it was the adventure of a lifetime, and all she needed. “Okay.” She drew in a deep breath. “Here's me, taking a chance.”
She swallowed, licked her lips. “
I
know I'm the same woman on the inside, no matter what the outside looks like. I just wanted to know that you love me regardless of that outside.”

“Then know it.”

“Well, I think I would if…”

He looked at her, for the first time allowing his hope to show through. “If…?”

“If we were married.” She smiled, a bit wobbly, but then again, how often did she ask a man to be hers forever? “I was wondering if, considering all that you've said about us being soul mates and all, if you'd like to have me change my name to yours.”

He didn't move a muscle. “Are you asking me to be your husband?”

Why wasn't he jumping for joy? Saying yes? Kissing her? “Yes,” she whispered.

“Because you know, it really didn't sound quite like a marriage proposal.” His voice was solemn, not a trace of his thoughts showed on his face.

“What do you mean?”

“Well for one, I haven't heard you say you love me.”

Drawing in a shuddering breath, she lifted her head, tossed back her hair. “Okay, I'm trying too hard,” she muttered. “Give me a minute here.”

Gently he squeezed her hand, and desperately, she searched his gaze. She found what she was looking for in a small, barely there twinkle. “I'm sorry. I'm not very good at this.”

“Together, we're good.”

Her eyes stung. “Yes, I think you're right. I love you, Kent. I love you with all my heart.” She let out a slow, shaky breath.

He looked shaken, too, but shot her a devastating grin. “There, that wasn't so hard, was it?”

“No.” She smiled back. “There's more. You make me happy, you make me laugh. And you love me back.”

“No matter what you're wearing,” he clarified. “Say that part.”

Her eyes filled, her throat swelled. “No matter what I'm wearing. Will you—”

His fingers caressed her lips, holding the words in. His other hand slipped around her waist, drew her close. “Be mine, Becca. My best friend. My lover. My wife. Forever and always.”

A smile burst through her happy tears. “Forever and always.” She hugged him tight. “No matter what I'm wearing.”

“Speaking of which…” His hands slipped down the backs of her thighs and up beneath her coat to squeeze her bottom. “I was wondering
about these jeans… Think you can shrink them a couple of sizes?”

She laughed. “I could try.”

He kissed her. “Try hard.”

Her laughter filled the lab, but it was smothered quickly by another kiss.

At their audience's collective whoop of encouragement, Kent lifted his head. “Don't you people have work?”

Dennis popped up over the divider. So did Jed. Then Cookie. Others followed. They were all grinning.

Kent grinned, too, then bent Becca over his arm and kissed her to the music of catcalls and laughter.

 

Kat shrugged, lifting the hem of her lime-green, oversize T-shirt to just above her knees. “It's your bed. You choose.”

Andrew wondered if she always wore the hideous shirt to bed, or if, fearing he'd lose his head after seeing her naked earlier, she'd done it deliberately. “Go ahead and take the side closest to the bathroom.”

While Kat got Toto settled, Andrew stripped down to his briefs. Doubtless, Kat would have expected pajamas.

By the time she'd finished with the dog, he'd settled between the sheets. Her eyes widened when she turned and noticed his bare chest. She didn't know whether he was naked below the sheet or not. He grinned. Let her wonder.

Kat didn't stay disconcerted for long. “I checked my ovulation prediction kit and it seems now's a good time,” she said briskly.

Andrew's jaw dropped.

“So I guess we might as well just get the sex thing over with…”

 

Dear Reader,

I have long believed there are two keys to happiness: moderation and organization. Now, if I could at least manage just one!

Have you ever baked a pan of brownies and wondered whether you should either not touch them at all or just go ahead and eat the whole pan to get them out of the house? You know you have. If you answered no, then you, my dear, qualify as a person of moderation.

Kat Devereaux knows she's a woman of excess. And does it ever get her in all kinds of trouble! But Kat's biological clock is in express mode and she wants a baby. Marrying Andrew seems like the answer to her problem. If she can just master moderation…

So hunt down some chocolate, find a comfy spot and indulge in
Andrew in Excess.
And best of all—it's calorie free!

Enjoy,

Jennifer LaBrecque

P.S. I'd love to hear what you think about my first book. Write to me at P.O. Box 801068, Acworth, GA 30101.

 

To Robert, my husband, who tossed me the ball and pushed me to play the game.

To Anna Adams and Susan Goggins, who helped me move the ball downcourt. And to Brenda Chin, who caught it and slam-dunked it.

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Epilogue

“I'
VE LOST MY MIND
.”
Kat Devereaux slid onto the leather car seat and slammed the door. “Why'd I let you talk me into coming? I hate cocktail parties. No, that's too mild. Loathe. Despise.” She reached for the door handle even as her best friend hit the gas.

“Do you or don't you want to have a baby?” Bitsy Winthrop Sommers demanded.

“Yes, of course I do. Desperately. I feel my eggs aging as we speak. In fact, they may be scrambled already. But marrying a total stranger seems a bit excessive. Sort of like last year when you talked me into—”

“Let's not even go there. I didn't know about Rusty's side job as a circus freak. Anyway,
that
was last year.” Bitsy jammed her brakes at a traffic light. “
This
is perfect. Daddy insists his heir have a wife if he wants to make partner. And Andrew's wanted that partnership since he started kindergarten and got himself elected class president. What he doesn't want is a wife. You want a baby more than anything, but you know the school board isn't going to go for a teacher being a single pregnant woman. And after that jerk ex-husband of yours skipped out on you, you don't want another husband. So, the two of you set up temporary house, you both get what you want and everyone's happy.” Bitsy preened with self-satisfaction. The light turned and she shot the car forward. “I'm brilliant.”

Kat recognized herself as a woman of excess. She either ate the entire pan of brownies or she didn't touch
them. God knows she tried, but moderation was not her strong suit. Marrying Bitsy's older brother, Andrew, in order to have a baby smacked of potential excess—but she was running pretty darn low on choices.

“Isn't ‘Mr. One of Florida's Most Eligible Bachelors' dating someone? Plus, from what I've heard of him over the years, we're not exactly each other's type.”

“He is something of a stuffed shirt.” Bitsy agreed. “Very conservative. Actually, even though I love him to no end, he's sort of a stick-in-the-mud. But he's rich, successful, doesn't belch in public, so, of course, he's dating someone. Claudia van Dierling. She's horrid, and she wants to marry him. You can see the dollar signs dancing in her eyes every time she looks at him.”

“Well, I'm not interested in his money. With my teaching salary and the trust fund my grandparents set up, I live very comfortably. I can certainly support my own child.”

“Exactly, my dear independent friend. I'm glad you agree with me.”

“Whoa. I didn't agree with you—”

“And the fact that you're opposites—well, therein lies the beauty. You're in no danger of going overboard, are you, 'cause he's not your type—although I swear I don't know how you have a type considering you haven't had a serious relationship since Nick.”

“Relationships are tricky for someone with all-or-nothing tendencies. I gave Nick my all. When he left, it almost did me in.”

“Yeah, Nick wins the creep-of-the-decade award. But that's just it. With Andrew, you don't need a relationship. A simple agreement will do nicely.”

“One of those prenuptial things. He'd have to agree to give up the baby.”

Bitsy looked momentarily nonplussed. “I don't know. He's never wanted a wife, so I guess that means he never
wanted a kid. Although, he's really great with Juliana. I bet he'd make a great dad.”

It didn't matter how great he was with Bitsy's daughter, joint parenting was a no go. “Uh-uh. I won't have my child caught up in some kind of joint custody. I was nine when my parents divorced. From then on Jackson and I were shuffled back and forth between our parents, and our stepparents clearly wishing we'd just go away.”

“Get Jackson, that legal-eagle brother of yours, to draw up the agreement. Make that one of your terms.”

“It'd be
the
term.” Kat checked her appearance in the visor mirror. She'd been fighting the hair battle against her curls for years, but West Palm Beach humidity always won. It claimed victory again today. “Actually, just thinking about the social obligations that would come with being his wife make me queasy.”

“Huh?”

Bitsy pulled into one of the reserved spots flanking the Winthrop, Fullford, and Winthrop, Attorneys-at-Law building, and they stepped out of the car.

“You know what I mean, Bits. We both grew up in families chock-full of lawyers—our fathers and brothers—and I just hate the awful cocktail parties and all the schmoozing you have to do to get ahead. In fact, I can't believe I let you talk me into coming. I've managed to avoid these horrible events for six blessed years. Getting out of them was one of the high points of Nick leaving.”

“It's a great opportunity to check out Andrew without any pressure. Yes, the social stuff is a pain in the butt. Is it enough that you're willing to give up the idea of having a baby? Because, face it honey, you've exhausted every other possibility.”

Kat paused before the double doors of the building and recalled the options she'd considered since deciding to have a baby by herself—almost two years ago. Sperm bank—too many loose ends and she was afraid she'd
lose her job. Adoption—waiting lists and one close, emotionally wrenching call. A chance encounter—too risky medically and that pesky school board. Finding Mr. Right—not likely. Did she really want to hit thirty-five in a few years and find herself still in the same boat?

A temporary marriage with a great genetic contribution and no strings attached… Bitsy was right. Two years and counting and no closer to her own little crumb snatcher. Desperation lent her resolve. She could do this. They'd reach a nice civil agreement. A neat and tidy prenuptial—he'd give up rights to the baby and she wouldn't touch his money. She squared her shoulders and opened the door. “I guess this doesn't have to become one of my excessive disasters. I just bought a dozen behavior-modification tapes geared toward people with my all-or-nothing tendencies.”

“A dozen?” Bitsy sighed and hustled her into a waiting elevator.

“I obviously need them. I don't consider a dozen excess. It's insurance.”

Bitsy read her wavering stance. “Listen, you've only heard about Andrew through me. Go ahead and check him out today. You can present a plan to him later. This is the last week of school and you've got a nice break before summer school. The timing is right, girl! Everything's falling into place. Go with the flow.”

The elevator dinged open and they entered the hall.

“Well…”

“This will work out great. Trust me…” Bitsy opened a door to reveal a well-dressed milling crowd.

Kat's glance flitted about the room. “Where's Juliana?”

“Eddie took her for an ice-cream sundae. A little father-daughter time together. They should be here soon.”

Kat edged back toward the door. “I'll just wait out here for them.”

Bitsy hauled her back. “Nonsense. That's not why
you're here. There's the reason you're here—my brother. Your next husband. The father of your child.”

Kat followed the direction of Bitsy's finger. One look shattered her resolve. “You want me to marry him? The one right there? I don't think so.” She shook her head for added emphasis.

“Aw, come on, Kat. He can't help the way he looks. Anyway, looks aren't everything. He's really smart. He's got a great brain.” Bitsy wheedled.

“I don't suppose it's his fault he's drop-dead gorgeous….” Lust had her tingling in places that barely remembered how to tingle.

“Hey, you don't want to have an ugly baby, do you?”

“I just want to have a healthy baby.” Kat forced herself to think logically. Good genes were good genes. Would anyone in their right mind not want to seriously work on baby-making with the black-haired hunk? Steady. She needed to ground herself. “He does look stuffy and uptight. But I suppose that hair and those chiseled features softened by baby fat would be striking.”

“You bet your sweet patoot it would.”

Kat's attention shifted to the blond woman on his arm. “Claudine, I presume.”

Bitsy sniffed with a nasty look on her face. “Close enough. Claudia. The witch.”

Kat eyed the woman—tall, thin, polished, sophisticated. More than enough reasons to dislike her on general principle. But certainly not enough to think about yanking a marriage prospect out from under her. Confused, Kat wished for a sign. Could she really pursue Bitsy's crazy scheme or should she return to waiting for chance to drop Mr. Right into her life.

She watched as a young man sporting a red power tie approached Andrew. With an apologetic look at Claudia, Andrew followed the young man out another door.

Kat grabbed Bitsy's arm. “Come on. I want to meet her.”

Bitsy eyed her as they skirted the various groups. “Good idea.”

They were just about to make their way around a towering areca palm to the blonde beauty when they saw Juliana run up to Claudia. Juliana's reedy, childish contralto easily carried past the palm that hid them. “Hey, Ms. Vander. My dad and I just got here. Where's my Uncle Andrew?”

“It's van Dierling. Shoo, you pesky brat. He's busy.” Through the palm leaves, they could see a smile pasted on Claudia's face that was deceptively pleasant. Her tone was saccharine sweet.

“You're mean and I'm gonna tell.”

“If you were a smart little girl, you'd watch your mouth and your manners. I'm going to be your new aunt very soon.”

Bitsy made a strangling noise. “I told you she was a witch. Excuse me while I go defend my child.”

Juliana held a special place in Kat's heart. The poor darling could kiss any relationship with her uncle goodbye if he married Claudia. And he'd probably never even entertain a clue as to what was going on. Men could be so stupid.

She'd wanted a sign. By golly she had one.

She'd save Juliana and the Winthrop family from the evil Claudine.

She'd marry Andrew Winthrop.

And finally, at long last, she'd have her baby.