Free Expecting the Boss's Baby by Leanne Banks

opened. She glanced up to see Michael. He looked at the two computers. “What are you doing?”
    “Setting up two computers I bought today.”
    “But you already have a computer and a laptop.” He walked closer. “This doesn’t have the best name-brand processor.”
    “Don’t be snooty,” she warned him. “This processor may not be a designer brand, but it’ll do the job. It’s fast. I’m donating Claire and Delores to the home for unwed teenage mothers because the one computer they have must have been donated by the pilgrims. I visited the home today; they need a computer teacher, and I am now it.”
    “Claire and Delores,” he muttered. “I never understood your propensity for naming machines.”
    “It keeps me from smashing them to pieces when they crash.”
    “Why didn’t you bring them to my apartment?”
    “I don’t like your apartment,” she said and felt him staring from behind her. The tension which had drained from her began to seep in again.
    “Why?”
    “It’s bare,” she said. “There are no plants or pictures. No memorabilia. It doesn’t tell anything about you.”
    “I wasn’t aware that was a requirement,” he said dryly. “I don’t have a lot of cute pictures of me from my childhood.”
    Kate felt a pang at the thought of Michael’s lost childhood, but the hour was late and his proximity made her itchy. “Why is that?” she asked. “Were you an ugly child?”
    He gave a double take, then chuckled. “I’m sure that’s a matter of opinion. Redecorate it?”
    “No. Because then it would be my apartment instead of our apartment,” she said as she installed the last program on the computer. “I need to know your preferences, your favorite colors, what kind of art you like, what things make you feel good and comfortable—besides chocolate chip cookies,” she said remembering his penchant for stealing them when she’d brought a few to the office.
    He gently guided her chin around. “I like blue. I don’t like art that I can’t figure out. I like lots of windows and I don’t like heavy draperies. I like comfortable furniture. I like plants and flowers that I can’t kill. And I like you,” he told her with topaz eyes that made seductive promises she knew he could deliver, “in my bed.”

Six
    K ate delivered Delores and Claire to the home for unwed teenage mothers the following day and was impressed with the director. Unable to bear the terminal beige decor of Michael’s apartment, she picked up a few more things to add some color. She kept herself busy for fear of a flat-out panic attack as the wedding date drew nearer.
    Although Kate had never thought of herself as helpless, she couldn’t help feeling like a mouse with Michael as the sleek, savvy cat. She’d watched him negotiate mergers and while he’d always made the companies he acquired feel good, they still ended up being eaten. His forceful masculinity drew her in at the same time she felt the need to protect herself from it. It was enough to interrupt her sleep knowing he was nearby and wanted her.
    Another day passed, and Kate’s parents called to remind her they would be coming tomorrow. On edge, she received a curious call that afternoon from the home for unwed teenage mothers. Just when she’d thought Michael’s blood ran green for dollars instead of red, he proved her wrong.
     
    Michael arrived home at close to eight o’clock. He’d buried himself in work. Knowing Kate was in his bed filled him with visions that left him in a state of permanent arousal. Michael had a strong understanding of timing and negotiations, and he knew he’d pushed Kate into the marriage. Pushing her into making love with him before the ceremony might put his ultimate goal of marriage at risk. This situation reminded him of nitroglycerin and he refused to upset the precarious balance. Rocking her already emotional boat by pushing her into bed with him could make her run in the wrong direction—away from him. He