The Makeover Takeover. Sandra Paul
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the job done. She grew up without a father. We talked once about how difficult that can be on a child.” At least, Lauren had talked about it. Remembering a couple of the heavy-handed foster fathers he’d lived with after his own mother had died when he was twelve, Rafe hadn’t been quite as convinced.
But the firmness of his tone apparently convinced Kane that Lauren wasn’t the woman he was searching for. Kane let the subject drop, and they moved onto a discussion about the latest takeover Rafe was orchestrating. It was clear, however, that Kane’s mind wasn’t on business, and soon Rafe suggested that they postpone the discussion until Lauren’s return. Since it was Lauren’s job to gather the numbers and analyze the data, they would save time if they waited for her.
Kane readily agreed. “We’ll set up another meeting then,” he said, rising to his feet. “When will she be back?”
“Probably Monday. From what I hear this bug doesn’t last long,” Rafe said deliberately, wanting to stress again that Lauren wasn’t the sperm bank bandit Kane was searching for.
Kane studied him, an unreadable expression on his face. “Are you sure—”
“I am.”
With a final nod of acknowledgment, Kane left the office, closing the door behind him.
Rafe walked over and sat behind his desk. Leaning back in his chair, he stared at that closed door a while, filled with profound sympathy for the man—and equally profound thankfulness that he wasn’t in Kane’s shoes. He wondered what Kane planned to do if he ever found the woman and discovered that she did need help. Offer to support the kid? Maybe even marry her? Nah, Kane wasn’t that crazy.
Catching sight of the message slip Kane had left on his desk, Rafe absently wadded it into a ball and tossed it toward the abandoned trash can. The paper sank without touching the rim. Not that he had anything against marriage. Not at all, Rafe thought, reaching for another scrap. He crumpled that up, too. Marriage was fine for other people. He supposed a wife could be an asset to a man’s career. Especially a rich, well-born, attractive wife with plenty of connections, a category that Maureen, Amy or Nancy all fit into nicely.
But he personally had no intention of taking such a drastic step. He took aim at the can again. So he made sure to keep his pistol holstered for the most part, and, at the least, to put a silencer on before he shot. He certainly wasn’t going to be trapped by one of his bullets going astray, as Kane’s had done.
The second paper ball followed the first. Another clean shot, nothing but net.
Rafe frowned as he considered the matter. How could the clinic make a mistake? What if some woman had learned about Kane’s “contribution” and asked for his sperm on purpose? After all, Kane was a rich and powerful man, and women had been using pregnancy for ages to trap men into proposing.
If so, then Lauren was definitely out of the running, he decided. He wasn’t sure he’d convinced Kane, but Rafe had no doubts at all on the matter. He knew the woman—hell, he knew her better than anyone. They’d talked quite a bit over the years; were pretty good friends, as well as boss and secretary. She would never do something like that. It just wasn’t in her makeup to chase after a man. Lauren would never try to trap a guy into marriage.
Still, he could understand why Kane might have suspected her of wanting a baby. When one of the women had brought her newborn into the office a few weeks ago, Lauren’s face had lit up like a kid’s at Christmas. She’d fussed and cooed over the little one, and had even held it for a while—a rather risky move, in Rafe’s opinion. Not only was the kid alarmingly tiny, it spit up more than a fountain in the park.
But Lauren hadn’t minded. Yeah, there was something—not maternal exactly—but definitely nurturing about his secretary. A slight smile curved his lips, and he leaned back in his chair, putting his feet up on his desk. Hell, she even worried about him at times—that he was working too hard or might be tired. There was a kindness, a gentle way about Lauren, that made her seem like the sort of woman who should have a bunch of kids around her knees. Pulling at her with sticky little hands. Clamoring for attention.
Rafe grimaced. Talk about a nightmare. But Lauren would handle it—revel in it probably. No doubt she would have a baby some day—far, far in the future. But now? No way. As he’d told Kane, she didn’t even date. Whenever he asked her to work late, she never had a moment’s hesitation in complying. Besides, they’d been so busy lately, she wouldn’t have had time to meet a man, even if she wanted to.
Although…Rafe frowned, lowering his feet and straightening up again…although it appeared she had met one guy at least. This Jay Leonardo person. Her neighbor.
He shrugged that off. Just because the guy gave her a ride to work, didn’t mean she’d gone out with him. Surely she would have mentioned it if she had.
Restlessly, he looked around for one more paper to throw before he settled down to work. Since his desk was clear except for Lauren’s notepad, he pulled that closer to tear off a sheet. But when he turned the pad over, he realized she’d made some kind of list on it. That figured; Lauren was always making lists. More than once he’d watched her tick off the items she’d compiled, smug satisfaction on her face as she made each mark.
To his amusement, he saw that this time she’d doodled little pictures next to each of the reminders she’d written down. In her small, compressed handwriting she’d written: Take gifts to women’s shelter. Boxed presents were next to that one, each adorned with an elaborate bow.
Number two was Buy decorations for company Christmas party, surrounded by round balls he took to be ornaments.
The third item didn’t appear to make much sense. Don’t forget the… he squinted, trying to make the last two words out …Barbie bottoms? He didn’t think so. Booby battles? Nope. He was pretty sure it wasn’t that either.
The doodle beside it proved equally confusing, so his gaze dropped to number four on the list. Buy a special present for Jay. Rafe stared at the happy face beaming beside the words, and his amusement faded. So she was buying presents for the guy, was she? His eyes narrowed. Then she probably was dating him, after all.
His eyes narrowed even more as he scanned the final item, the one she’d scribbled down before playing basketball. Buy presents for Rafe’s women. What did she mean by that? he thought, irritated by her phrasing. They weren’t his women—not specifically, anyway. What did she think he was? Some kind of sheik or something? He might like to play the field, but he wasn’t stupid enough to put too many players in the game at once. All three women were just friends and nothing more. At least, so far.
And what had she drawn next to the words? He turned the pad this way and that, then picked it up and held it closer, trying to make out the tiny picture. A cowboy with a lasso? Santa with a whip? He stiffened as he realized there were horns on Santa’s head. She’d drawn a devil, dammit, with its tail curling around to the front. Ending up in a place no tail had any business to be!
He leaned back, slightly stunned, unable to take his eyes off the offensive little stick figure cavorting in the margin. What the hell was this all about? he wondered, his annoyance growing even stronger. Okay, maybe he had virtually forced her to agree to buy the women gifts—but that didn’t make him Satan, for heaven’s sake! Never would he have believed Lauren could—would—draw something so downright graphic.
But since she had, that made booby battles a definite possibility, he decided, his gaze returning to number three. Both indecipherable words definitely began with B and—Ah, yes! The squiggle next to them was a bottle. Now he had it! Don’t forget the Barbie bottles. What the…? Damn. That still didn’t make any sense.
He studied the words once more. Suddenly, his stomach turned, as if the flu bug scurrying around the office had just attacked with a vengeance. That first word wasn’t Barbie but…baby. His jaw tightened as he read the sentence again.
Don’t forget the baby bottles.
By six that evening, Lauren was feeling much better. The thick, chalky pink medicine she’d forced down had