Waking Up with the Boss (9 page)

“Yeah, well, we'll see.” Garrett chugged his drink, then set the bottle down with a thud. After a moment of silence, he asked, “So what's going on with you?”

Well, shit. Now Jake had to spill his guts, too. Only, he couldn't admit that he'd slept with Carol. He'd promised to keep their affair on the down-low once they got home, and that included not blabbing to his foster brothers about it.

“I'm just worried about Carol,” he said.

Garrett's expression softened. “Your assistant? How so?”

“She's been sick this week.”

A frown appeared on Garrett's face. “How sick?”

“I don't know. She just seems run-down, I guess.”

“Then give her some time to recover.”

“Maybe I should stop by her place to check on her.”

“Sure, you could do that. But you should probably call first.”

“Or text,” Jake said, recalling the texts that had led to their first night together. “I just want to know that she's going to be okay.”

“You're really reliant on her, aren't you?”

“She's good at her job.” Hot and sexy in bed, too, he thought. And warm and sweet. Everything he wasn't supposed to be thinking about. But he couldn't seem to let those images go, no matter how hard he tried. “I'll text her after I finish my beer.”

“I'm getting another one.” Garrett lifted his empty bottle and signaled the waitress.

Jake wasn't having another drink. He wanted to keep a clear head for when he saw Carol.

* * *

Jake rang Carol's doorbell and shifted the bag in his hand. In his text, he'd offered to bring her some soup. It was as good an excuse as any to con his way over here. Besides, he knew how much she loved the matzo ball soup from a nearby deli.

She answered the door, looking even more exhausted than the last time he'd seen her at work. Dang, he thought. He'd hoped that her condition would be improving, not worsening.

After she invited him inside, he held up the soup. “Do you want this now?”

“Maybe a little. Thank you.” Carol took the bag and went into the kitchen. Jake waited at the entrance of the kitchen, watching her move about. She opened the container and poured some of the broth into a mug, then spooned a matzo ball into it. “There's a lot here. Do you want a cup, too?”

“No, thanks.” Jake studied her more closely. She was wearing sweatpants and a blousy shirt, and her typically tidy hair was pulled up into a rooster-style ponytail, the ends poking out at feathery angles. In a more relaxed situation, the chaotic style would have amused him. But he was in no mood to smile.

She motioned to the living room, and he followed her to the sofa, where he sat beside her.

She tasted the soup. “It's really good. Thank you again.”

“You're welcome.” He paused before he continued, giving her time to eat a bit more of the soup. Then he asked, “Have you seen a doctor yet?”

She shook her head. “I wanted to wait until...”

Jake frowned. “Until what?”

“I was ready.”

That made absolutely no sense to him. “You've been sick for almost a week.”

“I'll make an appointment if I need to.”

“I think you need to now.”

She put her mug on the coffee table. “Let me handle my own business, Jake.”

“I'm just worried is all.”

“I'll be fine.”

She didn't look fine. Not in the least. He'd never seen her in such a fragile state before.

“I started on the quilt I promised to make for you,” she said, changing the subject. “But it's slow going.”

“You've been sewing?”

“No. But I cut the squares from the different fabrics. Or most of them. I still need to order a few more.” She glanced toward a basket in the corner of the room where the fabrics were. “You can look at what's there so far, if you want.”

He went ahead and checked it out, curious to see what patterns she'd chosen. But that didn't mean he was going to let her get away with ignoring her health issues. He intended to work their conversation back to that. But first, he retrieved the basket and brought it over to the sofa.

He looked through the squares. There were a variety of fabrics, most of them containing the beach themes he'd suggested, with depictions of mermaids, sandcastles and islands on them. She'd even tossed in some printed with blue crabs. There was also a multicolored print that had the same jewel tones as the bracelet he'd given her. She'd included a shiny starfish pattern for the earrings, too. He noticed a geometric Native American print as well, that he assumed was meant to represent him and his heritage. He kept looking and uncovered a stack of squares with grasshoppers on them.

“For Eskeilay,” she said. Then softly added, “The mother of the earth-womb.”

“You did a beautiful job with what you chose.” He wished that he could touch her, hold her, make her feel better, but he figured the last thing she wanted was for him to take her in his arms.

“I plan to include something for Uncta, too. A fire print of some sort, something with a golden hue. That's one of the fabrics I still have to order.”

“I appreciate your attention to detail.” To the memories they'd created, even if neither of them had spoken of that weekend since.

“I don't know when I'll finish it.”

To him, it sounded as if she had mixed feelings about whether to complete it at all. She'd probably only brought it up as a diversion to keep him from bugging her about going to the doctor.

Jake put the basket aside, refusing to let her off the hook. He asked, “Are you ill because of me?”

She had a worried expression. “What?”

He clarified his question. “Is being around me too stressful?”

She twisted her hands on her lap. “Sort of, I guess. Not wanting to face you is part of the reason I've been calling in sick.”

“You're facing me now. You agreed to let me come over.”

“I knew I couldn't avoid you forever. And it is a little easier seeing you here than at the office. But I still don't want to talk about it. Not until I see a doctor, and I already told you, I'm not ready to do that.”

He pushed the issue, determined to get answers. “Please, Carol, just tell me what's going on.”

“It's too soon to tell you.”

“Too soon for what?” He noticed that she was still wringing her hands. “I'm not leaving here until you level with me.”

Her breath rushed out. “Okay, but it's going to freak you out.” She looked directly at him, her voice quavering. “I'm scared, Jake. Scared to death that I might be pregnant.”

Nine

C
arol waited for Jake to respond. But he just sat there staring at her. Was he struggling to grasp what she'd just told him? Or was he simply too stunned to move? To blink? To talk?

After what seemed like forever, he said, “That's impossible.”

“In what way?” she asked, prodding him to explain what he was thinking and feeling.

“We used protection.” He spoke robotically, like a computer stating a fact. Or someone who refused to believe what he was hearing.

“Condoms sometimes fail.” She'd checked the failure rates and the numbers were staggering. “Mostly from them breaking or slipping off.”

“But that didn't happen to us.”

“No, but I might have damaged the first one. With as much as I fumbled with it, I could have poked a tiny hole in it. Or the failure could have come from the last one we used. Remember how the edges of the packet were bent from the way it had been stuck in your suitcase? The condom itself could have been compromised without us even knowing it.”

Jake stood and stepped away from the sofa, pressing his back against the fireplace mantel. He was beginning to look like a caged animal. Carol knew exactly how he felt.

“Then I guess it is possible,” he said.

“Yes, it is.” Her voice vibrated with every breath she took. She'd never expected to be in this position, possibly impregnated by a man who didn't want children. “Last week, I thought I had my period, but it was weird. First of all, it was early and that's never happened to me before.” Normally her cycles were like clockwork. “And it only lasted a few hours, which was even weirder.” She hated to share all of the clinical details, but considering how crucial this was, it seemed necessary. “It was more like spotting than a full period.”

“I'm confused.” His voice was shaky, too. He even cleared his throat, as if it might help. “That isn't an early sign of pregnancy, is it?”

“Actually, it is. But I wasn't aware of it until I looked up my symptoms online. At first I thought I was getting a virus based on how run-down I was feeling. Then when my period seemed irregular, I got a little worried and researched what could've caused that. And that's when I came across something called implantation bleeding. It's just like what I had. It's a result of the fertilized egg attaching itself to the wall of the uterus. It typically happens two to seven days before the beginning of what would be your regular menstrual cycle. In my case, it's been about six days. My period is due tomorrow.”

He looked relieved—not completely, but at least his body language wasn't quite as tense. “Then maybe it'll start and everything will be okay. Maybe you'll begin to feel better, too.”

“That's what I'm hoping. That's why I didn't want to take a pregnancy test or go to a doctor yet, either.”

He wrinkled his forehead. “Can a test even be taken this early?”

Carol nodded. “Yes, but I wanted to wait, just to see if my period comes first. Besides, early tests aren't always accurate.” She reached for her soup, needing fuel, so she cut into the matzo ball and ate a portion of that. “I haven't been queasy, so that's a good sign. Mostly my symptoms are lack of energy and light-headedness. It might just be stress. Sometimes women's menstrual cycles can get disrupted by that.”

He relaxed a bit more, moving away from the mantel. “Then that's probably what it is. It seems the most likely culprit. Even I figured that's what was wrong with you and why you're not feeling well. That's why I came over here to question you about it.”

“I appreciate your concern.” She hadn't wanted to see him until after she knew for sure, but she was glad that she'd gotten it over with. “If my cycle starts tomorrow, we're in the clear. But if it doesn't...”

He tugged at his hair, hard enough to create a grimace. “Pregnancy never even occurred to me.”

“Me, neither, until all of this blew up in my face.” She wanted to pull her hair out, too.

“If you don't start your period, how long are you going to wait before you take a test?”

“I don't know. A few days, maybe. I don't want to sit around on pins and needles, but I don't want to get a false reading, either.” She was just hoping and praying that her cycle showed up. “I could go to the doctor to get a blood test. Those give you an earlier reading. But it takes longer to get the results than a urine test, so I'd have to wait, either way. I doubt my doctor would rush the results of a blood test for me.”

“Will you call me tomorrow and let me know how you're doing and if anything happens?”

“Of course I will.” Now that he was part of the equation, she would keep him well informed. “But if you hadn't come over today, I wouldn't have told you any of this, not until enough time passed for me to be sure.” She blinked, fighting back tears. “I didn't want to worry you if it turned out to be nothing.” She put down her soup, leaving the spoon inside the mug. “I'm so scared, Jake.”

“Me, too.” He resumed his seat on the sofa, looking at her as if she might break. “But it'll be okay.”

She wished that she could believe him. But what if she was pregnant? He was the last man on earth she should be having a baby with. “You can't know it's going to be okay.”

“I'm just trying to comfort you. To say what I'm supposed to say.” Clearly, he was struggling with his role in this. “Would you rather be alone now? Do you want me to leave?”

She looked into the vastness of his eyes. “Do you want to go?”

He gazed back at her. “I asked you first.”

They sounded like kids, debating a silly subject. But that wasn't the case. This was a serious discussion between two anxiety-ridden adults.

She took the undecided road. “It's up to you.”

“Please, Carol. Either ask me to stay or tell me to leave. Don't make me choose.”

“Then maybe you should go.” If he stayed, she might fall prey to the temptation of those big broad shoulders and put her head on one of them. She might even cry in his arms, and that wouldn't do either of them any good.

“All right.” He wiped his hands on his pants, as if his palms had turned clammy. “We'll just keep in touch by phone.”

She walked him to the door, where they both stood outside. The air felt good, so she breathed in as much of it as she could.

“Take care of yourself,” he said.

“I will.” She hadn't been sleeping. She'd barely even been eating. “Thanks again for the soup.”

“If you need anything else, just let me know.”

What she needed was to
not
be pregnant. “Hopefully you'll get good news from me tomorrow.”

“I'll be waiting.” He gazed empathetically at her. “I'm sorry our weekend together is messing up your life.”

“Nothing is messed up yet.” It was only on the verge of disaster.

His breathing turned choppy. “God, Carol. How are we going to handle this if it's true?”

“I don't know. But you need to go.” She couldn't cope with his panic. She had enough of her own.

“You're right. I'm sorry. I'm supposed to be leaving.”

Thankfully, he didn't embrace her or do anything to stir up more emotion. There was nothing but a softly spoken goodbye before he turned and left.

She noticed that he was driving his Corvette, a ragtop convertible that he favored on warmer days. She could see the shiny red sports car from where she stood. She watched him climb behind the wheel and fire up the high-powered engine.

Carol tried to picture him in a minivan with a baby carrier strapped in the backseat, but it was a ludicrous image.

She shook her head, afraid, so damned afraid, that if tomorrow didn't bring an end to this, her wild-spirited boss could actually be the father of her unborn child.

* * *

Nearly a week later, Jake was at home stressing about the predicament he'd gotten himself into. Carol hadn't returned to work yet, but by now a doctor had confirmed what the home test had also revealed. She was pregnant. With his kid, Jake thought. His flesh and blood. He was going to be someone's dad.

Carol had already told him over the phone that she was keeping it, but he'd figured as much. He couldn't see her terminating her pregnancy under any circumstances, not with how badly she wanted a family.

But how did Jake fit into all of this? He didn't know how to be part of a family, not since he'd lost his own. Nor did he want to be part of one, either.

Carol was coming over later so they could try to figure things out. But even now, as he looked at himself in the mirrored wall of his gym, he wanted to ram his head against it.

He'd worked out like mad, making his muscles ache, making his body sweat. He'd pushed himself harder than he ever had before, trying to block the truth from his mind.

But it hadn't been the least bit effective.

What the hell was he going to do? How was he going to cope with being a father? Jake didn't even have a dog. Or a cat. Or a fish. He'd never been responsible for anyone or anything except himself.

He entered the bathroom that was attached to the gym and climbed into the shower. He turned on the spigot and let the icy cold water pummel him. But it didn't help. Nothing did. Still, he remained under the freezing spray for as long as he could stand it.

After he toweled off, he dragged a T-shirt over his head and zipped into a pair of holey jeans. He liked wearing old clothes around the house. For him, it took the pretentious edge off living in a mansion. Not that he was complaining. His place was amazingly cool, an ultramodern estate perched in the Hollywood Hills, with the kinds of amenities only high-dollar real estate could offer.

At least Jake could buy his son or daughter everything the child needed. That was his only comfort, the only part of this that made him feel grounded.

Over the years, he'd learned to hide behind his money. But if he hadn't gotten rich, he would be hiding behind something else. There would be a barrier either way. On the day Jake's family had burned to death in that car, he'd put up his defenses, using his grief as a shield. There was no going back, no changing it. He was what he was.

He went into the living room to wait for Carol, anxiety building with each second that passed. He couldn't marry her; he couldn't be the nice normal guy she dreamed about. But she wouldn't expect him to. Would she?

He scrubbed his hand across his jaw, feeling trapped within the walls of his big glass house.

Finally, Carol arrived. He invited her inside, and they sat across from each other in his sunken living room, decorated with red leather furniture and sleek gray tables. The floors were high-glossed wood, the artwork bold and masculine. The windows offered panoramic views, with Hollywood and all its glorious sins stretched out before them. This wasn't a home designed for a wife and child. He'd bought it as a place to party, to entertain, to live and let live.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked. “Water? Iced tea? Wine?” He stalled, made a face. Had he just offered a pregnant woman a drink? “Sorry. Scratch the wine.”

“That's okay. I don't want anything, anyway.”

Carol looked prim and pretty, with her oxford blouse all buttoned up. But she seemed tired, too. As fatigued as before.

“Has the nausea started?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. My symptoms are the same.”

“Maybe you won't get sick like that.”

She smiled a little. “I probably will, but it would be nice to bypass that part.”

“I don't know anything about having kids, Carol.”

“I'm not an expert, either.”

“Yeah, but it's in your DNA. You're going to make a great mom.”

“Thank you. This wasn't how I envisioned becoming a parent, but I'm not going to let that stop me from loving this baby with all of my heart.”

At that moment, Jake's heart was beating uncomfortably in his chest, crushing down on his lungs. “I'll give you both whatever you need. Neither of you will go without. But I can't marry you, Carol. I hope you understand that.”

“Of course I do. I didn't come over here hoping for a proposal. I could never marry you, either.”

He should have been satisfied with her response. It was what he wanted to hear, after all. But instead, it made him hurt for the child they'd created. Oddly enough, he hurt for himself and Carol, too.

“I'll buy you a house,” he said. “Around here somewhere. Then at least we can live close enough for me to see the kid regularly, too. I can come over and tuck it into bed or whatever.”

She bit down on her bottom lip. “Oh, wow. Jake.”

He frowned. “Oh, wow, what?”

Her eyes turned a little misty. “You're already starting to sound like a dad.”

“I am?” He didn't feel like one. All he felt was sad and scared and confused. Not knowing what else to say, he went silent, hoping she didn't go into a full-blown cry.

Thankfully, she cleared the mistiness, blinking it away. Then she said, “I appreciate your offer. But you don't have to buy me a house.”

“I'm in real estate. Investing in property is what I do.” So why wouldn't he want to make an investment for her, too? “Besides, you can't stay in the apartment. It's too small for you and the baby.”

“Okay, but maybe you can keep the house in your name, instead of gifting it to me. I want to be my own person and taking too much from you doesn't feel right.”

He wasn't going to argue with her, not in her condition. He would abide by her wishes for now. “You can at least pick out the kind of place you like.”

“I don't want it to be too big.” She glanced around at his enormous digs. “I'd prefer something a little homier, you know?”

“That's fine.” There were plenty of bungalows in the hills, with the warmth and charm of a family dwelling, which was what he figured she was after. “We'll find something that suits you.”