Chapter Four
Mayson let her words hang there, convinced her sister’s smack down was coming any moment, when Camryn surprised her by leaping across the bed to pull her into a tight hug.
“Mayson! I’m going to be an aunt!”
With her sister’s arms banded tightly around her shoulders, tears welled up without warning. The pregnancy thoughts had been a near-constant companion throughout the day, and she’d grown increasingly convinced she was right. But it was her unsuccessful attempt at fitting into an outfit before the barbeque that had been the final clue.
Camryn sat back. “Why the tears?”
“I’m pregnant. A single mother.”
“It doesn’t make the news any less joyful.”
“No, but it doesn’t exactly paint me like a saint.”
One lone, well-manicured eyebrow inched toward her sister’s forehead. “I wasn’t aware you were aiming for sainthood.”
“I’m not.” Mayson brushed at the tears. “But come on. Admit it. It’s a bit socially awkward, especially since I’m not dating anyone.”
“You’re not fifteen, Mayse. I don’t mean to minimize your concerns, but you’re a grown woman. You can care for your child.”
“What about my work with Hands, Hearts and Hugs?”
“What about it?”
“It’s physical work with the kids. And I’ve made a commitment to them to spend time there. I’m not going to have a lot of free time after the baby comes.”
“One day at a time, sweetie. Besides. I’ve seen you with those children. You bring joy and encourage them to be all they can be. You’ll figure it out, but you don’t have to decide it all right now.”
While she appreciated Camryn’s ready defense, Mayson knew it wasn’t that easy, especially with the funding they were trying to get for the expansion of the facility. She needed to be there and devote time to the site, yet her commitments to her child would come first. Not to mention all of her commitments to her job.
“You need to tell Holt.”
Camryn’s comment pulled her back into the here and now. “I need to take a pregnancy test.”
“Fine. After it’s positive, you need to tell Holt.”
Positive.
The word slammed through Mayson like an avalanche. Was it really possible? “I don’t want him to think I trapped him.”
“Did you use protection?”
“Yes.”
“The kind he had to put on?”
“Yes.”
“Then how could he think you trapped him?”
“I know, but…” She shook her head, the odd mix of complications swirling in her mind with gale-force winds.
She’d only ever had one other one-night stand, and that was in college. It had left her feeling strangely empty and disillusioned, and she’d avoided them ever since, preferring her sex inside a monogamous relationship. Adding to the complications, she and Holt used protection. She remembered them using protection, especially since they’d joked about it and she’d ordered him to get the condoms from his pocket.
So what the hell had happened?
Her hand strayed to her stomach, the thought of a life growing there—a one-in-a-million life, based on what had to be their odds—filling her with a quick rush of excitement.
She caught Camryn’s mushy smile. “What?”
“It’s sinking in.”
“I don’t know for sure.”
Camryn leaned forward and pulled her into a tight embrace once more. “Yeah, Sweetie, you do.”
…
Mayson stared at the stick on the bathroom counter and tried to grab hold of the myriad emotions swamping her in thick, heavy waves. Happiness and joy. Panic and fear. Even more happiness and joy.
She was pregnant.
Once she’d finished her cry-fest the night before, she and Camryn had driven into town and picked up a kit. She’d purposely waited overnight to do the test, which meant she’d had very little sleep. Of course, she mentally admonished herself, she wouldn’t have gotten a lot of sleep had she had the results in hand, either.
After another half hour of aimlessly roaming her room, she finally threw in the towel and put on her workout gear. “Might as well have a productive morning if nothing else.”
Keira had given them a quick tour the day before, and Mayson only took one wrong turn on her way to the house’s workout room. And stopped short as she walked in on Holt, his large form striding impressively on one of the room’s treadmills. His smile was broad as he eyed her from across the room.
“Morning.”
“Good morning.” Mayson crossed to retrieve a towel and bottled water from a small alcove along the far wall, then headed for the empty treadmill next to him. She’d have selected another machine, but her stomach chose that moment to protest its empty state and she was suddenly afraid of passing out on the elliptical.
He eyed her sideways as he ran a towel over his head. “You’re up early.”
“I couldn’t sleep. What’s your excuse?”
“A maniacal unwillingness to miss a work out.”
“Impressive.”
“Obsessive.”
“Clearly it’s working for you.” She laughed as she said the words, but the moment they were out, Mayson wished she could snatch them back, especially when images of every inch of his hard body floated through her memories. She fiddled with the treadmill’s control panel and searched for a new topic. “I think we’re the only ones up.”
“A lot of people were up late. Nathan and your sister know how to entertain.”
The treadmill came to life beneath her feet. “They’re in sync with each other. It’s nice. Even if it means neither of them will get much sleep this weekend.”
“I didn’t see much of you.”
She nearly stumbled on the treadmill but righted herself just in time. “It was a long week and I pooped out early.”
If he suspected anything underlying her words, he didn’t show it, and they moved into their respective workouts, the quiet between them punctuated only by the heavy whirl of each machine and a flat-screen TV on the opposite wall. She pointed toward the screen. “I didn’t take you for the hard-hitting celebrity journalism type.”
“I’m not.” Holt nodded toward the blonde who filled the screen. “I’ve been watching to see if the recent rumors about her were true. She’s sent her business people to sniff around investment opportunities at the Vegas property. Rumor has it she’s getting ready to launch a lingerie line and wants to open a flagship store.”
“From the sounds of that story, she knows her way around lingerie. And cocaine.”
“And if that story is even half-true, I don’t think we’ll be inviting her to join us any time soon.”
Mayson knew her work put her in contact with the mercurial lives of the rich and famous, but she hadn’t realized his would do the same. While McBride Media had always made it a policy to avoid coverage of out and out bad behavior, she knew the success of their magazines and websites hinged on keeping tabs on what was considered hot and newsworthy. Qualities that wouldn’t necessarily be a plus in Holt’s line of work. “Likely a wise choice. Her erratic behavior’s been on the rise. Even by Hollywood’s standards.”
“Yet one more reason I’m more than happy to call New York home.”
She’d always loved her home, and she couldn’t hold back a conspiratorial smile. “I know exactly what you mean. There’s no place like it.”
“Nope.”
His ready acquiescence had her probing further. “Are you a native?”
“No.”
Although it was subtle, she didn’t miss the slightest hesitation in his voice before he answered. “Where are you from, then?”
“Small town Midwest.” His shoulders lifted in a slight shrug.
“What brought you to New York?”
“A bus ticket and fifty-four dollars in my pocket.”
The answer was so honest—and so unexpected. “Wow. That’s pretty amazing considering what you’ve created.”
“I had a lot of attitude and determination to go with the bus ticket.” His grin was back, and whatever brief hesitation she’d sensed in his words was gone.
“Those two traits will take a person far.”
“Something you and your sisters know something about.”
She smiled at that, the we-will-not-fail mentality the three of them had carried into the restoration of the family business front and center in her mind. “You could say that.”
“Why don’t you tell me more about it over breakfast?”
Here was the chance she was waiting for. Breakfast would get them out of the house and away from the possibility of prying eyes or interruptions. “There’s a small diner on the main drag in town. We passed it on the way in yesterday.”
“Good. I’ll meet you back down in the lobby in an hour.”
…
Holt parked his two-seater in front of a quaint restaurant he’d seen on his drive in. The early morning hour ensured the crowds were minimal and parking readily available. The heavy smell of the ocean floated on the breeze, and he was captivated by the way it blew the dark strands of hair around Mayson’s face. After a swift mental shake to pull him out of his reverie, Holt crossed around the car and snagged her door just as she had it open, one long leg planted on the asphalt.
Damn, but she was gorgeous.
The thought hit him hard, with a heavy clutch in the belly. He was captivated by her. And while the outer package was beautiful, it was the woman inside he kept snagging glimpses of that had his fascination growing deeper.
A bright smile filled her face as she looked up and down the street. “I can feel the ocean, even if I can’t see it. It sort of surrounds you here.”
“We’ll go look at it after breakfast. I’m starved and in desperate need of coffee.”
That smile stayed firmly in place as she offered him a jaunty little salute. “Excellent idea, Captain.”
Within moments, they were seated in a booth, the vivid smells of toast, muffins and coffee replacing the lingering scent of saltwater. A young girl stopped by their table, a full pot of coffee in hand. “What can I get you?”
Mayson handed over her menu, her eyes bright and her smile warm and open. “Spinach and cheese omelet, a side of corned beef hash, and a croissant. And orange juice.”
“I’ll have the same, with bacon instead of the corned beef.”
Their waitress departed, and Mayson assessed him over her mug. “You’re not a corned beef fan?”
“Only on St. Patrick’s Day, and even then, I prefer mine in a sandwich.”
“Some think it’s an acquired taste for breakfast.” She let out a small laugh. “It was one of my grandfather’s favorites. On the rare occasion my grandmother allowed him to indulge.”
“A treat’s a treat, no matter the age.”
“That’s what he always said.”
“You have good memories of him?”
“The best. He was absolutely everything a grandfather should be. Warm and caring, and he spoiled my sisters and I rotten. And he believed in who we were and always looked at us as if we were perfect.”
“You mean, the formidable McBride sisters aren’t perfect?”
“Hardly. But it was nice that both my grandparents never seemed to notice.”
“I think it’s part of the job description.”
The image Holt had in his mind’s eye—a vague memory of seeing an interview with her grandfather late in his life—wasn’t one of a doting grandfather, but more of a cunning business man. Her warm memories and soft smile only proved a fact he’d long knew—the image one person generally held of another was forged in the circumstances of the relationship.
“So what about you? You had to be the apple of a doting grandmother’s eye. Or a doting mama excited about your accomplishments.”
The reality couldn’t be any farther from the truth, but Holt wasn’t about to tell her that. Instead, he offered up the same polite platitudes he’d uttered on the rare occasion a business reporter probed into his private life. “I lost my family pretty young, so my memories are limited.”
He uttered those words many times throughout his adult life and had never felt a moment of remorse at the implication in his words. His loss of family had been through choice, not death, but most simply took the comment at face value. So why did he feel a distinct layer of guilt now? Before he could dwell on it, Mayson reached out and closed a hand over his. An unexpected jolt at the contact coursed up his arm, but in lieu of the sympathy, he only saw understanding.
The strangest urge to tell her about his mother gripped him, but years of keeping up pretenses prevented him from saying anything. Then the moment was broken by the arrival of their waitress bearing breakfast, but he felt the subtle squeeze of Mayson’s fingers over his before she removed her hand. And as she reached for the orange juice the waitress set down with her meal, Mayson deftly moved the subject to less choppy waters. “So how’d you end up in real estate?”
“I’m not sure it was a conscious choice so much as it was a necessary choice.”
“Necessary? I’m intrigued. Tell me more.”
As was he, Holt thought. He took in the soft swirl of hair that framed her face and the bright, vivid interest shining in her dark eyes. “Working in real estate gives you an opportunity to leave a mark. Some tangible proof you’ve walked this earth and left something lasting in your wake.”
“What a feeling. To know you’ve left a mark that way. Like that building in Dubai.”
Holt wasn’t sure where the words came from, but now that she’d asked the question, he found he was loath to ignore them. “Exactly. There’s always been something there for me, and I caught the bug early, while still in college.”
“What was your first project?”
“A small condo renovation in Brooklyn. Bought it and flipped it in two months. It’s still one of my favorite projects. I’ve been known to drive by from time to time, just to take a look at the bright lights shining in the third floor windows.”
“What followed from there?”
“A few more condos along with a degree, then a move out west for a few years. Brick by brick it just all came together.”
“You may be a real estate maven, Holt Turner, but I think you’ve got the soul of a poet. It’s such a shame your family never got a chance to see it.”
…
Mayson saw the light go out of Holt’s eyes before she’d even finished her statement. On an inward curse, she berated herself for bringing up his family. Damn it, he’d already put up the no trespassing signs on that one. So why’d she walk clean through the yellow caution tape?
Her voice unnaturally bright, she forked up one last bite of her omelet. “How’d you manage to get away this weekend? From the sound of it, you keep a pretty busy schedule.”
“An executive I’ve been trying to strike a deal with is here, so I thought I’d take advantage of the invitation. I also thought I might have a shot at seeing you again.”
“Oh.” Her fork clattered against her plate and she rested it against the ceramic. His sweet words were the opposite of the tense moment over his past, and she scrambled to keep up at the change in direction. “You could have just asked Keira.”
“Would she have known a mysterious woman named Elizabeth? Especially since you weren’t wearing a bridesmaid dress.” His gaze faltered at that before his eyes narrowed in deeper confusion. “Why weren’t you wearing a bridesmaid dress? I assume you were in the wedding?”
“I had a run-in with the delicious Bordeaux I was so thrilled you had a bottle of. I had just come back down from my room when I ran into you.”
“So this explains how you became a bridesmaid incognito.”
“Blame it on the wine.” Among other things, her conscience taunted.
Before she could give in and blurt out the news of what that night had produced, Holt pointed toward the windows. “You up for that walk on the beach I promised you?”
“Sure.”
It didn’t take them long to navigate the small downtown area until they came upon the beach. The heavy waves of the Atlantic crashed against the shore as Mayson and Holt walked along a small path that wove through the edge of town. Where she usually found the heavy pounding of waves soothing, her emotions were more roiled up than the foaming ocean.
Tell him.
“You clearly have fond memories of your grandparents, but you didn’t say much about your parents.”
Thoughts of the baby faded as images of her mother’s face filled her mind’s eye. “We lost my mother to breast cancer almost a decade ago.”
“I didn’t know.” He reached for her hand and gave it a slight squeeze before lacing his fingers with hers.
She took in the subtle offer of comfort before turning toward him as awareness dawned. “And since you never made it in to the wedding to hear the lovely toast my new brother-in-law made to her memory, how would you?”
“I was waylaid.”
A sly smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “So you were.”
“And your dad?”
“We don’t see much of him.”
“Oh?”
“He’s never been all that interested in the family business, which means he’s had very little interest in us since we’ve become so invested in it.”
“That seems awfully selfish.”
“I’d say you just pegged my father to a T.”
Mayson knew it was petty to talk about him that way. She did love her father—had worked hard to come to grips with her feelings on his limitations—but every so often that edge of hurt she worked hard to keep in check rose up and swamped her.
“His loss.”
“Yes, I think so.” She squeezed his hand once more before pointing toward a small set of steps that lead down to the beach. “Why don’t we head down and walk a bit.”
Five minutes later they had their shoes in hand as they left two pairs of footprints in the wet sand. “You talked about your charity when we met at the wedding and a few hiccups you were facing. What happened with that?”
Mayson couldn’t hold back the shock—or sweet roll of attraction that filled her belly—at the fact he’d remembered her talk of Hands, Hearts and Hugs. “It’s still unresolved, but we’ve got another pitch to the town council in a few weeks.”
“What’s the problem?”
“We need a bigger facility. The number of children we can reasonably house and care for is limited by space, and the waiting list has more than doubled the current occupants. We thought we had a builder in place to help us add on to the facility, but the township is giving us a hard time.”
“Why?”
“They’ve been encouraged to believe the land wasn’t intended for such a large number of tenants so they’re using zoning restrictions to keep us from building further.” They came to a stop on a small outcropping of rock and Mayson took a seat on a large boulder that had dried with the morning sun. A renewed wave of anger and frustration gripped her at the reality she might not see the organization grow as it needed to.
“Wouldn’t that have been the case when the original facility was built?”
“It was before my time with the organization, but I know there’s a lot of history there. The founder built the charity for his sister, but another family member has always protested the use of the land. From what I’ve been told it’s complicated and messy, made even more so by bad family behavior.”
Holt shook his head as he took a seat next to her. “I see it often in my line of work. Property comes available or comes off the market often at the whims of those who’ve inherited it.”
“Do you think we have a chance?”
“I wouldn’t say no out of hand, especially without knowing the specifics, but it does sound like those blocking the development are going to slow things down at a bare minimum. What about alternatives? Do you have other options?”
“Not really. The charity is well-run, but they don’t have a lot of excess funds. To go out and buy new property before selling this one would put a financial strain on them they can’t quite absorb.”
“I could look into the zoning for you.”
“Would you?” Another shot of warmth filled her at his ready offer. “I’d love to have an objective third party who really understands this stuff weigh in.”
“Sure. Shoot me the details and I’ll nose around a bit. It’s all a matter of public record.”
“Thank you.” On impulse, Mayson leaned over to press a quick kiss to his cheek. Light stubble on his chin scratched against her lips before he turned toward her.
Mayson knew the instant the simple gesture changed into something else entirely. Something hot and urgent as greedy wisps of need reached out to wrap sly tendrils around both of them. His arms came around her, tightening as he dragged her against his chest. She shifted her hands at the last minute so they settled against his shoulders, the hard muscles under her fingers flexing as he pulled her close.
Those lush, sensuous lips quirked in a half smile before they took possession of hers, and then there was nothing but need as each fought the battle to consume. The heavy crash of the ocean faded as the sound of her heart swished in her own ears, matched in counterpoint to the heavy thrum of Holt’s pulse under her fingertips. His lips were firm under hers before they opened, his tongue sweeping into her mouth in a show of carnal possession.
She opened for him, allowing him to fill her, the immediate slam of her heart against her ribs vivid proof of how badly she wanted him. Needed him. She brushed off that knowledge, shoving it into a small corner of her mind, resolute to take it out later and worry about it then. In the meantime, she was back in Holt’s arms.
With one hand still firmly splayed against the hard muscles of his shoulder, she used the other to trace the hard, corded lines of his throat, before grazing the rim of his jaw. Stubble abraded her fingers and she marveled at the sheer differences in their bodies, evidenced in the decidedly male growth of beard.
Those strong arms that held her tightened as he shifted on the rock next to her. With questing fingers, she felt his hand move from where it rested on her thigh, stroking up to the sensitive skin of her stomach. He rubbed a small area above the waistband of her shorts before running a small circle around the rim of her bellybutton with the pad of his thumb. Sensation filled her at the light touch, the muscles beneath her skin clenching in need. And then reality came crashing back in as she realized where his hands rested.
“Mayson?” Confusion clouded his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“There’s something I have to tell you.”
The news had eaten away at her since she’d finally admitted her concerns that she was pregnant to Camryn the night before, but now that she was faced with telling Holt, the words stuck in her throat. All of the same emotions from earlier—happiness, joy, fear—seemed to lodge in the center of her chest. It was only when she dug down deep and focused on the one that was clamoring the loudest that Mayson acknowledged the depth of her problem.
She was filled with joy at becoming a mother. And she had to acknowledge the very real possibility Holt would feel the exact opposite.
“What is it?”
“I’m pregnant.”
Shock painted his features in stark lines before he stood and began to pace. “You’re what?”
Mayson fought the urge to rub her arms at the loss of warmth and stood, unwilling to stare up at him from her perch on the rock. “I took a test this morning.”
“How is this possible?”
“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten, Holt?”
The joke fell flat and he swept an arm wide. “We used protection. Is the baby even mine?”
Hurt—raw and deep—struck at his words. “I’ve been with no one else.”
“But we used protection.”
“You can keep saying it, but it’s not going to change the outcome. What we used didn’t work.”
“And you’re positive?”
“I’ll go to the doctor this week, but I took two tests. They’re pretty accurate, from what my friends have told me and from the articles we’ve done in our magazines.”
“I don’t believe this.”
The shock on his face was rapidly fading toward anger, and Mayson simply stood still and watched. With each step he took, he trampled on another layer of her happiness.
And what did you expect, McBride? You blindside a guy you had a one-night stand with. Did you really expect him to start turning cartwheels down the beach?
The real problem was, she knew, somewhere deep inside, she had hoped he’d do cartwheels. That he’d be excited they were bringing a life into the world. Instead, she had to accept that her fling had produced consequences.
Consequences Holt Turner didn’t want.