Her Pregnancy Secret Read online

  Had Will really invested a quarter of a million dollars in Chez Z? No wonder Michael thought she was out for all she could get. How much did she owe her other investors? He was right. She should know these things.

  Fresh tension ate at her. The only thing she knew for sure was how much she didn’t know.

  Z had been in charge of the numbers. She had only a vague idea about her food costs and the specifics of her financial situation. She felt a bit defensive at the thought of Michael sending in an expert who might humiliate her. But what was a little humiliation? The bistro was in trouble, and things were getting worse under her management, not better. If she kept on her same path, wouldn’t she keep getting the same results?

  In the end she decided she owed too much money to too many people to say no. What if Luke could give her a crash course that would help her turn things around?

  “Okay,” she whispered, her voice low and tight. “Thanks. I’d be happy to hear what he has to say.”

  * * *

  Not that she was happy. No, she felt scared and nervy.

  Fortunately, the doorbell rang.

  “Great! Your sardine sandwich is here, and it’s right on time.”

  After Michael brought it to her, they sat down again at his kitchen table. She grew increasingly self-conscious when he smiled as she unwrapped her huge sandwich.

  “Don’t you want some? This really is much too big for me,” she said.

  He shook his head. “You’re eating for two.”

  “I could cut it in two and share.”

  “That’s very generous of you. But no.”

  “I’m absolutely ravenous.”

  “Enjoy.”

  When he didn’t talk about business anymore, she began to relax. She studied her magnificent sandwich. Appetite and sensuality flooded her as she bit into the crusty bread and sardines.

  “Careful,” he whispered, handing her a napkin.

  She munched happily, savoring the combination of tart mustard, cream cheese and fish.

  A few minutes later she’d eaten all she could and was feeling sick with pleasure when she set her huge sandwich aside.

  He smiled. “Had enough? Okay, then. Run along to bed. I’ll tidy up.”

  “Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?” she said, feeling suspicious again.

  “Maybe because you were hurt in my home. Suddenly I’ve been thinking maybe we should call a truce. What are we accomplishing by being so rude to each other?”

  She stared at him blankly. “You started it.”

  “I won’t argue. So, will you let me end it? What do you think—can we have a truce?”

  When she hesitated, his quick, easy grin made her blood heat, made her remember the kisses in the car and the wonderful sandwich he’d ordered for her.

  “Come on,” he coaxed. “You’re always acting like you’re the one who’s all heart. Show me that you’re a tolerant, liberal denizen of the West Side for real.”

  Knowing she shouldn’t let her guard down, she nodded warily as she backed out of the kitchen.

  Funny, she’d felt so much safer when he’d acted as though he was dead set against her than she felt when he was helpful and friendly. Was he trying to lower her defenses so he could move in for the kill?

  With some effort she recalled his ruthless reputation in business and with women, and how ruthlessly he’d treated her to protect his brother.

  His feelings for her hadn’t changed. If she were smart, she wouldn’t let her defenses down.

  Seven

  “Have you got those food costs for me yet?”

  Luke Coulter smiled down at her as he stepped into her office.

  “Not quite. But almost. Like you said, I haven’t been keeping very good records, so it’s taking me a while.”

  “It’s essential that you know what they are. You can’t be fuzzy about numbers or they’ll kill you.”

  When she handed him her notebook, which bulged with dog-eared receipts, he took the jumble and sat down.

  Bree couldn’t believe how easy it was to work with Luke once Bijou and everybody had warmed up to him. With his shaggy blond hair and affable smile, he seemed like a huge blond bear, albeit a friendly one—most of the time. His quick temper could be formidable.

  Michael had brought Luke to the bistro three days ago. After he’d gone over her books and sampled their menu, he’d been fairly brutal with his criticism about everybody, especially her. She and her staff had been doing their best to improve so they could please him.

  He’d told her she had to take control of everything—the staff and every creative and financial detail. “You can’t please everybody,” he’d said. “This is a job—more than a job, it’s your career. Your future.”

  And her baby’s future. Who knew if the trust fund Will had so generously set up would be enough?

  Besides, Bree didn’t come from a family who sat around.

  “You have to account for everything you buy and sell, and to know what everything costs so you can price your menu correctly. You can’t keep advancing money to all your employees the way you’ve been doing. Marcie’s in to you for five hundred dollars.”

  “Her little girl’s been sick.”

  “You can’t afford to be everybody’s lifeboat when the mother ship is sinking. Will you let me talk to your staff about this and establish a new policy?”

  “Yes.”

  He’d managed to squeeze in two more tables in their back dining room, he’d revised their menu and taught her cooks several new, delicious dishes that would be easier and less costly to serve.

  “This place can make it,” he said as he skimmed her receipts and slashed through several marks she’d made in her notebook with his red pencil. “You have a devoted staff and a loyal clientele. You were doing fine until you lost Z, who kept a firm rein on the finances. Nobody’s stealing money. Things haven’t slid that far. We don’t have that much to tweak.”

  “You have been incredibly generous with your time. I can’t believe you came over right after Michael called you.”

  Luke’s intense blue eyes met hers. “Michael let me know just how important you are to him.”

  New hope sent hot blood rushing to her cheeks, but she was embarrassed that Luke might read her too accurately.

  “It’s not what you think. He was just trying to be helpful,” she said.

  “Michael is never helpful without some motive. I wouldn’t underestimate his interest if I were you,” Luke said. “Be careful. He’s extremely focused, calculating and very, very dangerous. You’re not exactly his type.”

  She looked away. “Right, he prefers models.”

  “That’s not what I meant. Being a man, maybe I read him a little more clearly than you do.”

  “I’d rather not talk about Michael, if you don’t mind.”

  Luke held up his hands. “Okay. We could go back and forth all day. Michael is not as fierce as he sometimes seems. He was different...before he married Anya. She made him feel as if he was worthless, made him believe no woman would want him for anything other than his wealth. Because of his past, when he felt he was nothing—he can’t let those feelings go. Since he divorced her, he has concentrated single-mindedly on business and he’s grown harder.”

  “I don’t know why you’re telling me this.”

  He laughed. “Don’t you? Michael’s unhappy, and you have a soft spot for people who are in trouble. Look at the way you’ve tolerated Mark’s repeated absences even on nights when the bistro is packed or the way you’ve let Marcie take advantage of your generosity. Michael’s like a wounded wild creature, and you want to heal him and tame him. If you aren’t careful, he’ll gobble you alive.”

  She felt her cheeks flame. He already had.

&nbs
p; “I’m sorry.” His voice was kind. “I’ve said too much. I’ve got you blushing and upset again. It’s just so obvious that the two of you—”

  “I’m not upset.” But she was.

  “Why don’t we get back to these fascinating numbers before you are,” he murmured drily. He pointed to a number. “Did you know you were spending this much on toothpicks?”

  * * *

  As Michael deftly whipped his silver Mercedes past a honking cab, he parked at the curb just in time to see Bree laughing as she walked out of Chez Z on Luke’s arm.

  She wore a brightly flowered pink blouse and a flounced lavender skirt. Bright beaded necklaces dangled from her neck, and her waist was sashed with a fringed orange scarf. He remembered how his doorman had smiled and then refused to meet Michael’s eyes when he’d left the building with her this morning.

  Michael had never seen her looking so lighthearted and happy. He frowned. Yes, he had. She’d been like that the first night he’d flirted with her at the fund-raiser, and then again that night at the bistro when he’d seduced her...before he’d told her the truth.

  She had a beautiful smile, and he liked the way her golden eyes sparkled and her bright curls tumbled. What he didn’t like was thinking that Luke had caused her special radiance.

  Michael wanted Bree to look at him like that, to feel that relaxed and happy around him.

  When he called out to her, she blushed and gave Luke a quick goodbye hug. Luke’s broad, tanned face broke into a grin, too, as he waved at Michael before lumbering off down the crowded sidewalk.

  Her eyes wary now, Bree came over to the Mercedes. When Michael opened his passenger window, she leaned down and he caught the fragrance of strawberries mingling with the rich aroma of onions a vendor was grilling on a cart.

  “Ready?” he growled.

  “I’ll just be a minute,” she said, smiling. “I need to get my purse.”

  A few seconds later, purple clutch in hand, she slid breathlessly into his Mercedes.

  “How did it go today?” he asked as he’d asked her every day after work. He liked the way it was beginning to feel like a pleasant habit.

  “Better and better. Luke’s wonderful, like you said.”

  He knew how things were going because he talked to Luke every night. Luke liked her.

  “Great,” Michael replied.

  “Thanks so much for asking Luke to take a look at the bistro. He’s made me see all sorts of things I never saw before.”

  “I’m glad it’s working out.” He was, but at the same time, he envied her easy friendship with his friend.

  “Yes. But it’s been a stressful three days.”

  “Change is never easy.”

  “I’m lousy with money, but I’m determined to improve.”

  When he pulled into the traffic she fell silent and stared out the window.

  “How did it go at the doctor’s?” he asked.

  “Wonderful. He cleared me. The baby’s doing great. I’ll be fine on my own now.”

  “He released you a day early, did he?”

  He was relieved she was out of danger. Even so, her bright smile and quick nod darkened his mood.

  “What did he say about your foot?”

  “That you missed your calling, that you would have given him a run for his money if you’d gone into medicine. If we go to your place now, I can pack and be out of your hair in no time. I’m sure you think that’s wonderful because you won’t have to explain me to your super or your board or come down to breakfast every morning and be bombarded by hard rock anymore.”

  “Right.”

  Funny, how little the thought of peace and quiet and indulgent luxury or the approval of a bunch of nosy, uptight neighbors mattered to him.

  He wanted Bree with him in his penthouse. He enjoyed her. He wanted...

  What he wanted was dangerous as hell.

  “Hey,” he said, “I’ve been making the arrangements for Will’s memorial, so there are a few last-minute details we need to go over together.”

  “Sure. We’ll talk while I pack.”

  That would mean she’d be gone in less than an hour.

  He shook his head. “I worked through lunch. Since we both have to eat, why don’t I take you somewhere nearby for a quick dinner?”

  It annoyed him when she argued, but he easily overrode her complaints and drove them to one of his favorite restaurants with a magical view of Central Park.

  “I thought you said a quick dinner,” she said as he let her out at the five-star hotel.

  “I know how you love really good food.”

  “But you shouldn’t bring me here,” she protested even as they followed the maître d’ into an elegant dining room accented with soft, muted colors and the glow of warm candlelight.

  “Why not?”

  “You said we were going to discuss the memorial arrangements.”

  “All the more reason we should choose an enjoyable place, don’t you think?”

  “But I’m not dressed properly.”

  “Nonsense. You look lovely.”

  “Like a gypsy with too many scarves and bangles.”

  “A truly lovely gypsy,” he replied in a husky tone that was meant to coax and seduce.

  This time, he knew her vivid blush, which said don’t you dare try to seduce me over a meal again, was meant for him instead of Luke.

  The waiter seated them by a window with a magnificent view. As soft music tinkled in the background, he watched her as she admired the park and the city. Why did he feel so at home in her presence and so uneasy at the thought of her moving out?

  The sky was dark, and the sommelier pointed out the lightning in the far distance.

  “Looks like it’s going to rain,” Michael said. “It may get a little chilly.”

  “It’s that time of year,” she replied.

  With a smile, Michael ordered the tasting menu and asked the sommelier to bring appropriate wines for each course.

  “You know I can’t drink right now,” she said.

  “Wine looks so nice on the table.”

  “It’s extravagant to use wine to decorate.”

  “You’ve already told me I’m spoiled. Indulge me. After all, you did agree to that truce, and it is our last night together.”

  He made quick work of the memorial details and settled down to enjoy her, a pleasure that began even before the waiter brought them a tiny plate with a minuscule porcini tart and other delicacies, including slim slices of lamb tucked into crisp greenery.

  “An amuse-bouche, mademoiselle,” the waiter said in his perfectly accented French. “Un petit gift from the chef.”

  “This is too exquisite, Michael,” she said as soon as the waiter vanished. “I can’t believe what I’m tasting. Lamb sorrel, chickweed and dandelion. What an imaginative combination of flavors. So rich...and yet subtle. How do they do this? I feel like I’m in a romantic forest glade.”

  What the hell was chickweed? He didn’t care. All that mattered was that his lovely gypsy was running her tongue over her lips and shutting her eyes in pure, sensual bliss and looking so aroused it was all he could do not to reach across the table and touch her. Too bad they were in a public restaurant instead of her imaginary forest glade.

  He caught himself. He knew what she was, so why did he continue to want her in his life?

  Next, they had soup. Again, she noted her surprise at its originality. She couldn’t stop rhapsodizing about the sharp mint of the chives mingled with the sweetness of the garlic.

  “I’ve never had such an elegant soup made from such basic ingredients,” she said in pleasure and awe. “How does he get the flavors to run so deep?”

  And so it went, her attitude toward him improving with each marv
el that she tasted, each course delighting her more than the last. All around them the rich fragrances of roasted ducks being carved at nearby tables and caramel sauces being drizzled over poached foie gras swirled around them.

  The festive and voluptuous richness of the food seemed to make her forget her fear of him. It definitely made him forget his doubts about her.

  He was so mesmerized by her sparkling eyes and quick blushes, he scarcely noted the clinks of silverware or the sounds of the other diners’ muted laughter. It was as if they were the only two people in the universe.

  For dessert he ordered a chocolate napoleon and she ordered warm raspberries followed by vanilla cream, which she ate with the relish of a true gourmet.

  “That was all so delicious,” she said dreamily as she licked the last of the cream off her spoon with the pink tip of that tongue of hers that he knew could be so wickedly clever at other erotic things.

  A hot frisson of desire shot through him. God, he wanted her—wanted her to continue living with him indefinitely, wanted to sleep with her again.

  Not that he gave her any indication of his feelings or intentions as he caught the waiter’s eye, held up his hand and signaled for their bill.

  When it was time to leave, she arose reluctantly, as if she’d enjoyed dining with him as much as he’d enjoyed her.

  “That was nice. Really, really nice,” she gushed. “You shouldn’t have done it, but thank you so much.”

  He nodded. “I assure you. It was my pleasure.”

  She was still blushing when the valet brought his car around and Michael helped her slide into the cocoon of the plush, black leather interior.

  * * *

  Her heart beat much too fast as they stepped outside into the damp coolness of the rainy night.

  She shouldn’t trust him. The meal, which had been too fantastic for words, combined with his attentive, amusing companionship, had her in a dangerously aroused mood. Had he remembered how their first shared meal had primed her senses in the same way? All night his gaze had been so dark and intense, she burned. Had he planned tonight’s dinner tonight for some underhanded reason?

  She, who never wanted to believe the worst of anyone—not even him—didn’t want to think that. He’d been nicer since she’d injured her foot, treating her almost as if he was her friend. He was helping her with the bistro, wasn’t he? Maybe he was beginning to like her a little. She felt a dangerous hunger to finish this night of sensual delights in his bed.