The Boss's Pregnancy Proposal

And that was what he wanted—deeply, passionately, with all his heart. He just wasn’t sure how he was going to be able to make it happen.

“Do you have any family around you?” he asked Callie curiously. He knew she was a widow, but he didn’t know much else about her circumstances. “Any parents or aunts and uncles?”

She had the look of someone who was thinking of edging toward the door.

“Family?” she repeated. “Uh…no, not really. I’m pretty much alone.”

Leaning against his desk, he dabbed at the blood on his lip again. “Everybody needs some sort of family,” he advised her. “I just spent the last few days at a friend’s family reunion in San Antonio. Watching all those people enjoy each other and care about each other and depend on each other really brought it home to me. We all need other people in our lives.”

And I need a son.

He didn’t say it aloud, but somehow he almost felt she heard his thoughts. Watching her eyes change, he knew she was thinking of the same thing he was—of that rainy fall day about six months before when he’d nipped into his cousin’s medical clinic and found Callie Stevens sitting in the waiting room.

Babies—that was his cousin’s business. Ted ran an infertility clinic that specialized in in vitro fertilization. Tortured by his longing for a child to love, Grant had stopped in to see if he could get some information from his cousin about surrogate mothering—without actually planning to come clean on why he was asking about it.

And there was Callie, flipping nervously through a food magazine. He’d nodded in recognition. She’d turned beet-red and nodded back, then pretended fascination in tofu recipes. And he’d left without the information he’d come for, but with a new curiosity in just what a woman like Callie had been doing in his cousin’s waiting room.

As a widow, could it be that she, like him, longed for a baby but didn’t want the complications of another relationship? The thought was tantalizing and he’d spun a whole scenario around it, getting more and more enthusiastic. His cousin’s office wasn’t the first place he’d gone to find out about surrogates. He’d gone as far as to interview candidates at two other clinics. And he hadn’t been impressed. But if he could interest a woman like Callie Stevens…

He knew instinctively she would never have a baby for mere money. So what could he do to provide an incentive? He’d mulled it over for days and thought he’d come up with a plan that would be mutually advantageous. She obviously wanted a baby. He could provide the support for her if she had a child for him—and then stayed on to basically be the child’s nanny. That way they both could get what they wanted.

It sounded good to him.

The next day he called her into his office and ran it past her. She’d acted like he was setting up a baby smuggling ring and wanted her to provide the baby. She couldn’t get out of his office fast enough. He was actually afraid she might quit her job or file some kind of harassment suit.

She hadn’t done that, but she had acted very wary around him for a while. He hadn’t brought it up again. But the possibilities were provocative, and he’d done his share of wondering—what if?

CHAPTER TWO

“YOU’RE bleeding again,” Callie said, jerking Grant’s attention back to the present situation. “We really need to do something about it. You need a doctor.”

“Oh, no,” he said, dabbing at the wound. “I can do this myself.”

“No, you can’t.” She shook her head in exasperation. “I know you’re a control freak, but you can’t control everything yourself. There’s a time to admit when you need help.”

His blue eyes rose and held her gaze. There was nothing warm there, no teasing, no humor.

“What makes you think you know me, Ms. Callie Stevens?”

“I don’t really know you, Mr. Grant Carver, but I know your type.” She was on a roll. Things seemed to work much better when she took the initiative. He was scary in his way, but he could be tamed. At least, she hoped so.

“My type? Please, enlighten me. What is my type?”

She tried to glare at him but it didn’t come off. He looked strangely vulnerable in the T-shirt with his mouth still bleeding. Like a fighter after a fight. All his hard edges were blurring a bit.

“Go on,” he pressed. “I want to know what you think ‘my type’ is.”

“Okay.” She raised her chin. “Type A for arrogant. Type C for controlling. Type T for tyrant. Should I go on?”

“I get the picture. You don’t like me very much, do you?”

She blinked at him and words stuck in her throat. Like him? What did that have to do with it? She didn’t really know him, just as he’d said. What right did she have to be name-calling? Suddenly she regretted that she’d let herself tumble down this blind alley.

His handkerchief was soaked with blood and he was fishing in his desk for another one. The cut seemed to be getting worse the more he fooled with it.

She frowned. “I think you should sit down while we figure out what to do about your face,” she said.

He looked up at her with a spark of humor in his eyes. “You don’t like my face, either?” he said, managing to make it sound pathetic in a way guaranteed to touch her heartstrings.

She bit her lip to keep from smiling at him.

“Sit down,” she said.

“I don’t need to sit down, I…”

Reaching out, she flattened her hand against his chest and gave him a shove into the large leather desk chair behind him. He let her do it and didn’t resist, sinking down into the leather and watching her curiously, as though he was interested in what she thought she was going to do with him next.

“Now pick up the phone and call a doctor,” she ordered.

He gave her a skeptical look. “Be serious.”

“I’m serious as a heart attack. You need help. I’m not leaving you here to bleed to death in the night. Pick up that phone.”

“At the rate my blood is flowing, it’ll take a week to bleed to death,” he scoffed. But he did glance at the soaked handkerchief. Still, he hesitated. “Listen, my sister’s a general practitioner. She can take care of it—if I decide that’s necessary.”

She motioned toward the telephone. “Call her.”

“What are you talking about? It’s after ten o’clock. I can’t call her.”

“Call her. She won’t mind.”

His dark eyebrows rose. “Do you know her?”

She gave him a tight smile. “I know sisters.”

He stared at her for a long moment, and then something changed in his face.

“All right.”

He picked up his cell and punched in a code, then put it to his ear. “Hi, Gena. It’s Grant. Sorry to call so late, hon. No, nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to say ‘hi’ and…”

It must have been because he didn’t see the move coming that she was able to get the phone away from him so easily. It obviously hadn’t occurred to him that anyone would do such a thing. But she could tell his conversation with his sister was going nowhere, so she turned, zeroed in on her target and snatched the receiver right out of his unsuspecting hand, then quickly moved out of his reach while she pressed it to her ear.

“Hi, Gena. This is Callie Stevens.”

“What the…?” he growled.

She waved away his rude expletive.

“You don’t know me. I work…er, I used to work for your brother. I just wanted to let you know that he’s just had an accident….”

Grant swore again, but she ignored it.

“No, no, he’s fine. But he is…damaged, so to speak.” She made a face at him. “He’s got a cut lip and it looks like it needs stitches to me. It keeps bleeding, and…Oh, great. Yes, we’re at the office. Thanks.”

She handed him back his telephone and gave him a superior smile. “She’s coming right over.”

“What?”

“She said she’s only minutes away.”

“Wait one dang-burned second here,” he said, his blue eyes frosty. “I’m getting confused. Who got fired today, you or me?”

The superior smile was working, so she kept it up. “You’ll be taken care of. So I figure we’re even now. And I’m leaving.”

His expression hardened. “Not yet. The key, please.” He held out his hand.

She bit her lip and tried to look innocent. “What key?”

“The one you must have used to get into the building tonight.”

Oh, that key.

It was one she’d had for opening the office early a few months before and she’d found it with her things when she’d gone through the boxes of stuff from her desk. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled it out and handed it to him.

“Wait a minute,” he said. “I need to talk to you.”

She turned toward the door. “Write me a letter.”

He rose and followed her. “I’m quite serious. I’ve got something I need to discuss with you. I’ve got some ideas on ways we could use you here at ACW. How would you like your job back?”

There was a certain sense of satisfaction in hearing his words. This was almost an apology, wasn’t it? At any rate, it was an admission that she shouldn’t have been fired.

Yeah. That and a quarter will get you a ride on a pony. Big deal.

She turned back and studied his eyes. “You could do that?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t have let my uncle fire you in the first place if I’d known his plans. I’ve been out of the office all week, as you know, and I only found out that he’d scuttled the entire research department when I got back this afternoon.”

She hesitated, considering. “What makes you think I would want to come back to a place that’s treated me so shabbily?”

He looked pained. “Please, no more self-righteous speeches. I thought you desperately needed this job. What happened to all your tales of woe?”

She started to speak, then thought better of it and shook her head. But she turned back, because she’d forgotten her orchid again. It would be completely ridiculous to leave it behind after all the trouble she’d taken to get it.

“You weren’t really lobbying to get your job back, were you?” he said, eyes narrowing. “You were just trying to make me feel bad. Is that it?”

She looked up at him and didn’t answer. What could she say? He was only partly right.

For some reason, this seemed to anger him. His hand gripped her arm, fingers curling around it.

“Just between you and me, Ms. Stevens,” he said coolly, staring down into her eyes in a way that made her heart pound, “I don’t feel bad. I never do.”

Her breath caught in her throat. She prepared to yank her arm away from his grip, but he released her before she had the chance.

“Just be here first thing in the morning,” he said. He glanced at the open calendar on his desk. “Oh, wait. Damn. I’ve got a couple of important meetings in the morning. It’ll have to be after lunch.” He looked up at her. “How about two o’clock? Right here in my office.”

She couldn’t muster any more of the superior smile shtick. Her lips were beginning to ache. So she made do with a superior shrug. “I’ll think about it.”

He saw right through her facade. “I’m sure you will,” he said, his voice tinged with just a touch of sarcasm. “And while you’re at it, think about this.” He gathered her pot shards and the still-perky orchid plant and stuffed them into a drawer in his desk. “You don’t get your orchid unless you show up.”

She sprang toward him, as though to rescue her plant, but he was ready for her this time and she stopped herself at the last second to avoid another close contact with his large, hard body.

“You can’t do that,” she cried in outrage. “That’s my property!”

It was his turn to try the superior smile.

“And you are here after breaking into my property. So I guess we’re even again.”

She felt like pouting. Jaw rigid, she held out her hand. “May I have my orchid, please?” she said.

“You know, I don’t think I’m going to let you take it.”

She glared at him. “That’s despicable.”

A half smile was curving his full lips. “I think I’m going to hang on to it to make sure you come back tomorrow.”

“That’s…that’s like blackmail.”

He considered her charge. “No, more like bribery.”

“Whatever. It’s illegal.”

He smiled. “So sue me.”

“I just might do that,” she said, though they both knew there wasn’t a chance in the world of that happening. “And you know what? If I’d had the chance, I’m sure I would have fired you.”

And with that nonsensical statement of defiance, she turned and stormed off, taking the stairs again because she needed to work out her anger on something physical in order to keep from killing the man.

It was long past midnight. Grant still sat behind his desk, staring moodily at the dark window. His sister, Gena, had come and gone, working her medical magic, and now half of his face felt numb. But that wasn’t what had him brooding. His encounter with Callie was nagging at him like a burr under a saddle. He’d mulled it over and he’d come to a decision.

Callie Stevens was the perfect woman to have his baby.

He remembered when he’d brought it up to her before. Her reaction had been extreme in his opinion. She was so calm and logical about most things. Why wasn’t she logical about this? The entire plan the way he’d presented it to her would be to her benefit—that was just so obvious. And yet he knew if he came at her from that perspective again, she would react just as irrationally as she had before.

There was only one thing for it: he had to figure out how to appeal to her better nature and get her to see things his way. What was he going to do if she didn’t show up tomorrow at two o’clock? What if she decided that she didn’t really want to work for him and her orchid wasn’t worth another run-in?

He couldn’t wait for that. He would have to go to her before she had a chance to develop a real program of opposition. He didn’t know where she lived but there must be a record of that in the files.

That was what he would do. He looked at his couch and grimaced. He would catch a few hours’ sleep, take a shower in the washroom and take her orchid plant to her. That would make a good excuse. He shouldn’t have kept it anyway. That was a foolish thing to do and he regretted it. He would stop off and pick up some doughnuts to take along as a peace offering. Just a friendly visit. That way he could get the lay of the land, see how things were with her where she lived. Maybe get an idea from her situation. Become friends with the woman.

He shrugged. It was worth a try.

“So, is he incredibly sexy?”

Tina Ramos was keeping a straight face, but the mischievous light in her dark eyes gave her away. She sat on the well-worn couch, her legs folded in around her, a cup of steaming coffee in her hands.

Callie stared at the friend who shared her apartment with her. They were sitting in the living room, watching Tina’s thirteen-month-old daughter play with a round plastic toy on the floor in front of them. Callie had just finished telling Tina about what had happened the night before when she’d gone in search of her abandoned plant.

“Sexy? What? Who?” Despite her words, she knew she sounded artificially dismissive. She wasn’t fooling anyone.

“Grant Carver, of course,” Tina said with affected nonchalance. “We already know he’s incredibly handsome.”

Callie was astonished. “Oh, really? And just how do ‘we’ know that? I’ve never said a thing about his looks.”

“And never noticed either, I suppose.”

“Well…”

“Oh, come on, Callie.” Tina was laughing. “You should see the way you look when you talk about him.”

“That’s crazy!” Blood was rushing to her cheeks. She could feel it. It had to be because this line of conversation was so darn annoying. Had to be. “I’ve never thought twice about the man.”

Tina’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, is that it? I guess I mistook the look.”

“I guess you did.” She threw up her hands and wailed, “Tina…!”

“Oh, I’m just teasing.” Tina raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to the meeting?”

“Of course not.”

“Why not?”

Callie hesitated, unwilling to admit aloud that it was exactly because he was sexy and he was handsome that she didn’t relish going. There was something strangely compelling about the man and that made her uncomfortable. She’d built herself a little island and she fended men off with a virtual firehose. But he was the sort of man who might walk right through the blast, damp but undaunted. And mostly, she was afraid that she might let him.

“I have other things to do,” she said, knowing it sounded lame, but that it had the advantage of actually being true. “I have to go out to Shady Meadows Rest Home and see my mother-in-law. I’m hoping I can talk them into keeping her where she is for just one more month while I try to scrape up enough money to transfer her to full nursing care.”

“Scraping together money isn’t going to be easy now that you’ve lost both jobs,” Tina said, her eyes losing their sparkle quickly.

Callie sighed. “I will go out and see him later,” she said, knowing it was childish to go late, just because he wanted her to come at two. But when you came right down to it, she did need the job. She had to go.

Tina hesitated, then reached out and took her friend’s hand. “Callie, I called the agency last night and told them to double my assignments. If I can make a bit more…”

Callie winced. Tina was trained as an elementary teacher, but after a cancer scare, she’d taken up cleaning houses for a living, working for an agency part-time and making just enough to get by on.

“No, Tina. You need to be home with your baby while you can be.”

Tina pressed a finger to her lips. “I’m taking her with me,” she whispered.

Callie groaned. “You’re not allowed to do that and you know it.”

Tina shrugged. “No one’s turned me in yet. Everyone loves having Molly around.”

Callie glanced down at the beautiful child. Of course everyone loved Molly. What was there not to love? With her head of shining chocolate-colored curls and her huge dark eyes, so alive and so interested in everything, she was as fresh and pure as a snowflake.

The little darling had certainly turned Callie’s life around. Tina and Molly had come to live with her just before Christmas and nothing had been the same since. There was joy in her life now. Joy, and a beautiful baby.

It wasn’t her baby, and it was only temporary—like everything else in her life. But that didn’t really matter right now. A life that had been cold and lonely for years had become warm again. She’d been searching for something to live for. She’d even looked into having a baby on her own. The hunger for a child was deep and raw inside her. But no matter which way she turned, she couldn’t seem to manage to find a way to do it that made sense. Now, with her own little rag-tag family, she had something. At least for the moment.

Rising, she started toward the kitchen but the sound of the doorbell startled them all.

“I’ll get it,” Tina said, heading for the door.

Callie frowned, wondering who it could be and smoothing back her hair. She’d thrown on a big purple sweatshirt and an old pair of baggy jeans when she’d rolled out of bed. She thought she remembered brushing her thick hair, but it felt a little wild at the moment. She wasn’t really ready for company, especially not…

Grant Carver.

“I hope I’m not intruding,” he was saying as Tina let him in.

And then there he was, handsome and sexy, just as Tina had surmised—if a bit wounded. His lip was swollen and that side of his face was slightly discolored. Callie winced, looking at him. And then she wondered once again why the injury made him look so much more appealing. Did she feel a natural attraction to damaged men?

Carrying a large Stetson, he was dressed for the office, very sharp and very elegant—while she knew she must look like a refugee from the hill country.

Was he intruding? Oh, yes, very definitely.

“Oh, no, not at all,” Tina said quickly when Callie didn’t answer him right away. She threw him a bright smile that spoke volumes as to her opinion of the way he presented himself. “I’m Tina, the roommate. We’ve been up for hours. Just talking, you know. About…” She stopped and bit her lip, looking guilty as sin.

“About?” he asked, waiting.

“About things,” Tina said with a sigh and a quick look of apology toward Callie. They all knew that he knew he’d been the object of their conversation.

“‘Shoes and ships and sealing wax’?” he quoted helpfully.

“Oh, yes. Those things, too.” She smiled at him. “Cabbages and kings. All that stuff.”

“Wonderful.” He held out one of two bags he carried with him. “I brought doughnuts, just in case.”

“Lovely,” Tina cried, taking it from him. “How do you take your coffee?”

“Black, thanks.”

“I’ll be just a moment.”

“Take your time,” he said, turning slowly to look at the room and wondering what the hell he was doing here.

Well…bringing Callie back her orchid plant. That was the official objective. And to take the first steps toward becoming friends. But now that he was here, he realized he might be walking into a trap of his own making.

And then he looked at Callie and he was sure of it.

Crazy. That was the only word for it. He was crazy. Just being here went against every rule and every plan he’d made for himself.

He hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind. He told himself it was because she represented such possibilities. Looking at her, he knew it was more than that. And now he knew something else.

The efficient, no-nonsense Callie he was used to at work fascinated and intrigued him. But there was another Callie. This one had sleepy eyes and a thoroughly kissable mouth and hair that glowed like a wild, golden cloud around her pretty face. No makeup. Bare feet. Lovely breasts that were emphasized by the way the cloth of her sweatshirt draped across them.

And suddenly he felt something he hadn’t felt for a long, long time. Deep, hungry, carnal desire.

He looked away quickly. Wow. This was no good. He didn’t want to feel sexually attracted, not like this. He needed distance so as to keep control.

“Hey,” he said, nodding to her and looking stormy on purpose. “I had a hell of a time finding you.”

“Really?” She shrugged nonchalantly. “And here I didn’t even know I was lost.”

“Oh, you were lost all right. At least to me. The employee card I used had your old address.”

She looked incredulous. “So you went to Buckaroo Court, looking for me?”

“Yeah.” He made a face. “Not exactly the garden spot of Dallas, is it?”

She sighed. “Not exactly. Which is why I moved over here as soon as I could.”

He nodded, and she frowned.

“And someone told you my new address?”

“Yes.” One dark eyebrow rose. “A semidelightful gentleman named Butch. He was throwing soapy water on his motorcycle in the driveway but kindly took a break to give me your whereabouts.”

“The so-called manager.” She shuddered. “More like the game warden.” Giving him a wise look, she added, “How much did he stick you for?”

“A cool twenty got me the information. I thought it was a bargain.”

She winced, eyes sparkling. “Yikes. I guess I’m going cheap these days.”

He shrugged. “I got a discount after I roughed him up a little.”

She gasped, then didn’t know whether to take him seriously or not. “You didn’t!”

He gave her a half smile, not ready to satisfy her curiosity. “Enough about Butch. He’s not very interesting anyway. I brought you your orchid.” He held up a brown paper bag and peeled back enough to show her a flower peeking from inside.

“So I see,” she said, looking at it warily, then shifting to look up into his eyes. “What do you want for it?”

He gave her a pained look. “See, that’s exactly why I brought it to you. I decided you were right. It wasn’t fair to hold your orchid as bait to draw you back. I ought to have enough faith in you to assume you’ll do the right thing without having to be coerced.”