Mom for the CEO's Daughter (3 page)

Then she met his silver-blue eyes. Worry flickered through them as he sighed wearily.

“We need to talk.”

She headed for the cupboard, ignoring the bucketful of anxiety that landed in her stomach with a plop. For all she knew, the “talk” he wanted to have might be something good. Not bad. Maybe he wanted to find a way to work their new personal relationship into their professional lives?

She threw together a pot of coffee, shoring up her courage with positive thoughts. But when she turned from the cupboard, she saw his eyes again. Something had been added to the worry. Something that appeared to be regret.

Swallowing, she headed for the island. Needing to be able to see his eyes, she walked past the chair beside his and chose the one across from him.

“This thing between us,” he said, motioning from her to him and back to her again, “isn't a good idea.”

Anger rushed through her. She'd been in love with this man for months and
he
got to be the one to decide whether or not they'd pursue this? “It seemed to be a very good idea last night.”

His gaze meandered over her. He took in the swell of her breasts that peeked above the U of her tank top, the long length of her neck, her mouth and finally caught her gaze.

“I had a really bad marriage.”

“That's what most people who are divorced say.”

“My wife adored me until she realized what my money could do for her.”

She frowned. “She stole from you?”

“No. She changed.”

“People are supposed to change. To grow.”

“Not like this.”

The coffeepot gurgled its final release. Kara slid off her stool, walked over to the counter and grabbed two mugs.

When she brought their coffee to the center island, she caught him staring at her. The angle of his gaze told her he'd been looking at her butt.

As she walked closer, he studied every inch of her, setting off a firestorm of sparks inside her and urging her not to quit, not to give up on him, on them. He
was
attracted to her. And he wanted this. He'd just hit a stumbling block because of the way his marriage had ended.

“Drink this.” She set the mug in front of him.

He shook his head. “Caffeine won't change my mind.”

“You can't judge all relationships based on one bad marriage.”

“My divorce didn't sour me. It taught me a lesson. A lesson about money. When you hit a certain point of wealth, you don't own the money anymore. It owns you.”

She took her mug to her lips, but didn't sip. “That's sort of absurd. Money doesn't have that much control. You have the control.”

“Really? If money's not that important, explain to me why I didn't know about your past.”

Heat rose to her cheeks. “You did know. I told you I was raised by a single mum.”

“Who couldn't afford to take you on vacations.”

“Yes.”

“Baloney.” He waved his hand. “I don't mean baloney on the vacations. I mean baloney on your pat story. Something about the fact you were poor really bothers you and you won't talk about it. Maybe something embarrassing happened. Maybe you were merely kept from having something you desperately wanted. But whatever it was, it bothers you enough that it controls you. It controls how you tell your story.”

She licked her lips. “It doesn't.”

“It does.” He sucked in a breath. “Otherwise, you'd give me the whole story, not just the easy parts.”

“All right.” She set her mug on the counter. “You already know the basics. My mum raised me by herself.”

He folded his arms on his chest and sat back. She'd had his full attention in the past. But usually it was when she was was giving him a report on something she'd investigated for him. Today he wanted to know about her, and the syrupy warmth that rode her veins wasn't from excitement at sharing her story. It was fear. Hot, slithery fear.

When she told people about her past, it changed how they perceived her. No one saw the bright, ambitious woman who'd worked her way up from nothing. They saw the little girl who'd begged for food. And they pitied her. Frequently, she got perks she didn't deserve, but no promotions. No one could ever get beyond her past enough to recognize her value.

If she told Gabe, she risked he would never again see her as the woman he'd kissed the night before. He'd only see her past. And he'd pity her.

But if she didn't tell him, he'd believe he was right.

She had to take that risk.

“What you don't know is that my mum was a drug addict. I had to beg for money from strangers to eat. I got most of my clothes from dumpsters.” She toyed with the handle of her mug so she wouldn't have to look at him. “And you're right. I didn't really want you to know that.”

When she finally glanced up at him, his eyes were squeezed shut. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't feel sorry for me.” She rose from her stool and walked to the counter to warm her coffee, putting distance between them.

“I don't.” His soft, patient voice rattled through her. “I'm sorry I made you explain that.”

“Now that it's out, I'm glad I told you.” She wasn't. Not even a little bit. She could already sense the change in him, hear the sympathy in his voice, recognize the sadness in his eyes.

She shouldn't have taken the risk. But had there been a choice? She knew him; if she'd been anything less than honest, his reaction would have been worse.

So now he pitied her. And he'd be stalled there. He'd never see her as anything but that hungry little girl. He'd never touch her again, never kiss her. Forget loving her.

With a heavy heart, she headed for the kitchen door. “I'm going to shower and get dressed.”

***

Kara left the room and Gabe slumped to the counter. He'd expected her to tell him that she'd done without some luxuries. Then he'd intended to slam her with his ex-wife's similar past to show her he had a reason to protect himself.

Now he just felt like hell.

By the time she returned to the kitchen, dressed in one of her ugly suits, wearing her bun and black-frame glasses, Stacy was awake and begging for pancakes.

“Good morning,” Kara said to Stacy.

His daughter smiled broadly as Kara entered, and his heart stuttered. He couldn't imagine his sweet little blue-eyed blonde begging for food, yet Kara had. She'd had no choice. He pictured her at six or seven, her long red hair whipped around by a biting Rhode Island winter wind. Her fingers numb with cold. Her stomach empty. And his heart shattered.

Still, he smiled when he faced her. “I'm making pancakes.”

She turned away. “That's okay. I'm not hungry.”

He froze. Had he battered her pride so much that now she couldn't accept anything from him?

What had he done?

Chapter Five

Kara was in the den when the McKenzies arrived. Excited to see the triplets, she bounced from her seat and raced up the hall, but she stopped. She was Gabe's assistant, here at his beach house to work. She wasn't a friend. Though she'd love to see those triplets again, it wasn't her place to run into the kitchen and greet them.

She heard Wyatt telling Stacy it was time to play and Stacy's jubilant squeal. She also heard Missy inviting Gabe and Stacy to supper.

She licked her cool, dry lips. Having Gabe and Stacy go to the neighbors' for supper was a good thing. It would be nice to be able to roam around Charleston while he was gone.

Alone.

Her heart sagged. He really was gone now. Not physically, but the dream that he would be her suitor, her lover, her husband was gone. He'd never again look at her with desire in his eyes. She'd always find pity there. But if she had to move heaven and earth, she would not let him know that he'd hurt her.

Gabe came into the den about ten minutes later. “Stacy's at the beach with the neighbors.”

She smiled. “Yes, I heard her squeal of joy.”

Gabe laughed. “She loves those kids.”

She glanced down at her electronic tablet. “Maybe you should move down here permanently?”

“The McKenzies only come here a few times a year.”

She didn't look up. “There were seven emails from Bronson this morning.” She handed her tablet to him across the desk. “Letting them stew overnight was a very good idea. They seem more receptive to negotiating now.”

He took the tablet. “Before we get into this, I just want to say that I handled that whole deal this morning badly. There were so many different ways to approach it, yet I chose the one that lambasted you. I'm sorry.”

“No harm done.” A lie. But a necessary one. It was an easy way to let him off the hook so they would never talk about it again.

She looked up at him. “Why are you surprised you went right for my weak spot?”

“Excuse me?”

“Gabe, this is what you do for a living. You find a person's weakness and you use it to get what you need. And you got the result you wanted. Any crush I might have had on you has totally been obliterated.” She smiled, though it hurt her heart to do it. “So we're good.”

His eyes narrowed, then opened again. “Is that really how you see me?”

“That's really how you are. You're a bull dog when it comes to negotiating. That's nothing to be ashamed of.”

“It is if you're doing it in your personal life.”

Shaking her head, she chuckled. “That's exactly my point. I'm not part of your personal life. I'm part of your work life. That's where you want to keep me and that's where I am.” She paused, smiled. “Now, can we get to work?”

***

They started discussing the deal, but what Kara had said gnawed at him. No. It wasn't what she'd said. It was her easy acceptance that he'd used her past—her weakness—to get what he wanted.

He sucked in a breath, trying to rid himself of the slimy feeling that enveloped him. “Wyatt and Missy invited us to dinner tonight.”

She laughed airily. “No, they didn't. They invited you and Stacy.”

“Missy said, I quote, ‘Would you guys like to come to supper tonight,' and to me, that includes everybody in the household.”

“Okay. I get it. But actually, I could use a night by myself tonight.”

“Don't pout—”

“Don't insult me!” Her demeanor changed as quickly as a tornado drops from the Kansas sky. “I'm not pouting. I'm a twenty-seven-year-old single woman in a beach town. I want to go out.”

“Oh.” His pride took a direct hit, but at least they were talking normally again. “Well, okay. That– I mean, you should—” He swallowed. “Enjoy yourself.”

But that evening while he was at the McKenzies', eating barbequed ribs that fell off the bone and watching Missy's three little munchkins spoil his daughter, his thoughts were on Kara.

What had she worn?

Had she packed something as sexy and surprising as her hot pink bikini had been? Like a tight little red dress? And was she now flaunting her smokin' hot bod at a bar?

“So you're here for privacy to negotiate some big deal?”

Gabe looked up to find Wyatt handing him a beer. He took it. “I'm buying a struggling construction company. It will fit nicely into my real estate arm.”

“Sounds good.”

Or maybe she'd worn one of her ugly skirts, with her hair in a bun and those glasses? She'd stand out in a beach bar and every man with a librarian fantasy would race after her. She'd probably be too naïve to notice…

Who was he kidding? She'd reminded him she was a twenty-seven-year-old single woman. At home in Rhode Island, she probably had boyfriends. She was fine…she probably wanted to be hit on.

His heart twisted. He glanced up to see Missy and Wyatt staring at him expectantly. Apparently, he'd been asked a question that he'd missed.

“I'm sorry. I was off on another planet.”

Wyatt laughed. “We noticed. That's why we offered to keep Stacy tonight. You can go home and get back to work.”

Stacy's eyes widened with joy. “Can I stay, Daddy?”

He sucked in a breath. “That's such an imposition—”

“Are you kidding! The kids love her. And she's about the same size as the girls. We can fix her up with pajamas and a swimsuit.” Missy rose. “We'll bring her home around four tomorrow afternoon.”

Taking his cue from Missy, Gabe rose, too. His muscles might have sighed in relief, but his head went crazy.

Should he go searching for Kara? And if he did, what would he say if he found her?

Or should he just go to the beach house? And if he did, how would he stay sane knowing she was “out there” somewhere?

He kissed Stacy goodbye, but she couldn't wiggle out of his hug fast enough. “I'll see you guys tomorrow at four.”

“And don't worry about Stacy. You just take care of your deal.”

He smiled, not bothering to correct their misconception that his deal had stolen his concentration all night.

He jogged down the steps of their deck. Just a sliver in the sky, the moon didn't shed much light. The black ocean was nothing but sound. Deck lights lit little squares in front of houses, but otherwise the world was dark.

Which perfectly reflected his mood. He hadn't been in a beach bar in years. He wasn't twenty-seven. He was a thirty-six-year-old divorced father who hid from life by making money.

Why was he even considering going after her? People depended on him for their livelihoods. He had a child. He didn't do bars.

Still, he couldn't suppress the urge to find her. Halfway to his beach house, he convinced himself it was to protect her. But by the time he got to the deck steps he knew that wasn't true. He wanted to find her for himself.

And then what?

He had absolutely no idea, but the ache in his belly wouldn't go away.

Suddenly, there she was, walking along the beach. His eyes narrowed. No. She was dancing on the beach. A scarf wrapped around her shoulders. Her red hair floated in the breeze from the surf.