The Makeover Takeover Read online

  The doorbell chimed, interrupting her thoughts. Jay! she thought immediately, setting her work aside. Her neighbor had gotten in the habit of stopping by in the evenings to chat for a while, and Lauren enjoyed the visits, too. It made the long winter evenings pass more quickly.

  Delighted at the prospect of company, Lauren opened the door with a smile of welcome on her face, shivering a little as the cold air rushed into the warm room.

  Her smile slowly faded, and she pushed the door almost closed again, sheltering behind it. A man was standing on her unlit landing. His face was in profile, his shoulders braced against the sleet as he glanced back at something behind him. For a moment, she didn’t recognize him.

  But then he turned, and the light from the room behind her slanted across the hard angles of his face and lit up his intent eyes.

  Lauren’s heart skipped a beat, then picked up again at a faster pace. What was he doing here? He looked… menacing somehow. But that was probably because of his evening beard. The dark stubble shaded his lean cheeks and chin, making him look like a gangster from an old black-and-white movie. The effect was heightened by his wet hair, which he’d slicked back off his forehead with a careless hand. Snowflakes glistened in the thick dark strands, and on the shoulders of his black overcoat.

  For once his dark eyes looked serious—angry almost. But why would that be? Had something gone wrong at work?

  “Rafe?” she said uncertainly.

  Chapter Four

  “Yeah, it’s me.” She looked surprised to see him, Rafe noticed. He could understand that. He was pretty surprised himself that he’d ended up on her doorstep this evening.

  He stared down at her as she stood half-hidden by the door, her slight figure silhouetted by the light behind her. All day he’d told himself he wasn’t going to come over here again—that he wasn’t going to ask her a damn thing. Because even after seeing those baby bottles on her list, he still didn’t believe Lauren was the woman Kane sought. That she’d deliberately get pregnant like that.

  But then he’d realized that maybe it hadn’t been deliberate. What if some guy—like this Jay character—had taken advantage of her? Gotten her into trouble? What if she’d accidentally gotten pregnant that way?

  The more he’d thought about it, the more the evidence had added up. She’d been sick this morning—and had admitted she’d been ill all week. She’d also been awfully anxious not to let him into her apartment. Why, she’d practically raced to her bedroom to pull the door closed. He’d thought at the time she was embarrassed to have him see her clothes lying around, but maybe what she’d really been trying to prevent was him seeing someone else’s clothes in there. Like a man’s shirt. Or shoes. Or pants. That seemed a definite possibility.

  But even more compelling was the feeling he’d been having lately; the one that until today he’d chalked up to his imagination. The feeling that Lauren was hiding something from him.

  She wasn’t as confiding as she’d been when they’d first started working together. More and more often, she’d have a shuttered, closed expression on her face when she looked at him. As if she had a secret she was determined not to share.

  Not, Rafe reminded himself, that it was any of his business if Lauren didn’t want to tell him about her personal life. She might be more naive than most women he knew, but she was still an adult, capable of making her own decisions—stupid though they might be.

  Like unlocking her door without a moment’s hesitation. That wasn’t any of his business either, yet he couldn’t help asking, “Don’t you think you should check first to see who’s out here before opening your door?”

  “I usually do,” Lauren said, tucking back a strand of hair that had fallen along her cheek. “But I was expecting someone.”

  “Jay, I suppose,” he drawled.

  She nodded. Even though Rafe had suspected as much, her ready agreement caused a spark of irritation to flare inside him. Not that it was any of his business who she hung out with on her time off, of course. Not at all.

  “Is there something wrong? Do you want to come in?”

  He glanced down at her again. She was staring up at him with a puzzled, slightly worried expression. “Did you come over for anything special?” she added.

  “I just stopped by to see how you were doing.”

  Her face lit up with shy pleasure, and she hugged the door a little closer. “I’m fine now. I don’t feel sick at all anymore.”

  “That’s great.” Rafe shoved his hands into his pockets. “Glad to hear it.”

  But he didn’t feel glad. If she had the flu, she should still have the flu, damn it! But morning sickness…

  Not wanting to complete the thought, he pulled a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and held it out. “I also came to give you these notes from the meeting. Thought they’d help bring you up to speed on what’s happening.”

  “Oh. Thank you.” Some of Lauren’s pleasure at his unexpected visit dimmed a bit. Of course he hadn’t come just to see her; Rafe was a busy man. It made sense he’d also brought some work for her.

  She accepted the paper, and when he made no move to leave, asked hesitantly, “Did you want to come in while I read this?”

  No, he didn’t want to come in. Rafe had decided that on the drive over. He’d hand her the notes—which were strictly company business—then leave. The storm was getting worse and driving would be a bitch as it was. He wanted to get on home.

  “All right. Just for a moment.” He stepped inside her tiny foyer.

  “Let me take your coat.”

  He turned toward the living room as he shrugged it off. Nothing suspicious in there. Knitting needles hung from a brown sweater she’d tossed over a corner of the couch— a man’s sweater judging by the size of the thing. The bundles of yarn lying next to it and on the floor were brown, too. Not pink, not blue, just plain old brown.

  She folded his coat over a nearby chair, and clasped her hands together in front of her. “Would you like some tea?”

  Tea? Rafe hated tea. “Okay.”

  He followed her into the kitchen. He leaned against the table, crossing his arms as he surreptitiously scanned her counters in search of a baby bottle. None were in sight. “Did you rest at all?” he asked idly.

  “All afternoon.” She opened a cupboard.

  He glanced over to see if any bottles were on the shelves, and for the first time, really noticed what she was wearing. His eyebrows lifted in surprise.

  Never before had he seen her dressed so casually. The gray sweat suit she had on was faded and worn, but it also looked soft and touchable. And he’d bet she wasn’t wearing a bra under that baggy top—no, she wasn’t, he noted, the suspicion confirmed as she stretched, reaching for a canister on the shelf. The movement caused the thin fleece of her top to press against her chest, revealing the small, tight peaks of her nipples.

  “Pekoe? Or chamomile?”

  “Huh?” His gaze jerked up to meet hers.

  She tilted her head and wiggled the canister at him. “Which tea would you prefer?”

  Neither. “Either.”

  She pulled out a tea bag, then turned toward the stove to get the kettle, her long hair swinging gently with the movement. It looked damp, as if she’d showered recently, and as she passed by him again, he smelled the crisp, soapy scent of her shampoo.

  He watched her as she solemnly dipped the bag into the cup of hot water she’d poured. Her pale skin looked translucent, flawless—like that of a young child’s. Not wearing her glasses made her look younger too. More vulnerable. Almost naked somehow.

  A muscle tightened in his jaw. Was this how she dressed when that Jay guy came over? Didn’t she know any better?

  Clothes like that gave a man all sorts of ideas. Made him think how easy it would be for her to kick off those furry slippers as he carried her to bed. Or about cuddling her on his lap and pulling off those droopy pants. Hell, they were so loose they’d probably fall down on their own without much trouble.
A man might be tempted to slide his cold hands beneath the soft gray fleece to stroke the warm, smooth skin of her flat stomach. Or higher yet to cup the slight curves of her breasts, to gently tease those enticing nipples into an even greater response.

  Yeah, he’d bet that Jay character had thoughts just like that every time he looked at her, Rafe thought. His gaze swept over her again and his jaw clenched. The bastard.

  Seeing the disapproval on Rafe’s face, Lauren shifted uneasily. Tension radiated from his tall figure, making her oddly nervous. She wasn’t sure exactly what was wrong— but one thing she did know: He sure didn’t like the way she was dressed. The stern expression on his face as he looked her up and down made that more than clear. He was probably used to women greeting him at their doors wearing evening gowns or negligees. Or, at least, a decent blouse and pants. Certainly not in scruffy old sweats.

  Feeling awkward, she set the tea bag aside, and handed him the cup. “Maybe I should change—”

  “You’re fine the way you are,” he said, almost curtly as he accepted his tea. “I’m only going to stay a minute.” So, Rafe thought, hiding a grimace as he sipped the pale green liquid. For him—someone she’d known for almost three years—she felt she had to change. But for Jay…

  None of your business, buddy, he reminded himself. Not your business at all.

  He set his cup down on his saucer with a clatter. “Go ahead and check over the notes,” he told her. “I should get on my way.”

  She nodded and began to unfold the paper he’d given her. Rafe’s gaze lingered on the pale curve of her cheek and the fringe of her dark lashes as she stared down at the few lines he’d written there. Then she glanced up at him, a question in her blue-gray eyes as they met his. “There’s not very much here.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He’d been lucky to come up with that much, the meeting had been so short. He started talking, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation. “But I figured you’d want to be informed—”

  Never mind that there wasn’t too much yet to be informed about.

  “—so I recorded—”

  Made up.

  “—our notes. Then, I decided you’d probably prefer to see them today, rather than waiting until Monday. So, I cruised over—”

  Through a brewing blizzard.

  “—to give them to you. That’s the reason I’m here. The only reason—a business reason,” he stressed. “And to find out how you are, of course,” he added, suddenly remembering his previous inquiry.

  Lauren blinked. She’d certainly never heard Rafe ramble on like that before. “Have you been drinking?”

  “Of course not!” He glared at her. “Nothing but this da—this tea you just gave me. Why would you ask something like that?”

  “No reason,” Lauren said noncommittally. She glanced down at the paper again. “I’m not sure what this says. Your handwriting is a little hard to read.”

  “You should talk,” he muttered, not quite beneath his breath.

  Lauren’s head snapped up. “What did you say?”

  Rafe stayed silent, content to give her his most skeptical expression.

  “My writing is very readable,” she said defensively.

  “Yeah, right,” he said in a bored tone.

  Lauren stared at him. What was wrong with him? she wondered. He’d never complained about her handwriting before. “Is that all you wanted to give me?” she asked stiffly,

  “Yeah. I’d better go.”

  She readily picked up his coat from the chair and handed it to him. He draped it over his arm as he said, “Oh, yeah. You haven’t forgotten you promised Kane you’d take care of the decorations for the company Christmas party, have you?”

  “No, I haven’t forgotten.”

  “He hasn’t said anything, but I’m sure he’s expecting you to help hostess this year, too.”

  “That’ll be fun.”

  Still, he lingered without making any move to leave. “I guess you’ll be pretty busy, especially since we have that business trip coming up in a couple of weeks.”

  “I probably will.”

  He fixed his intent, narrowed gaze on her as he added, “I hope the trip won’t interfere with… your social life.”

  “It won’t,” she assured him, slightly surprised by the remark and the edge of sarcasm in his voice. Since when did Rafe care about her social life?

  But it seemed Rafe cared about a lot of things she didn’t suspect. “How’s Jay?” he suddenly demanded.

  “Jay’s fine,” Lauren answered, bewildered by the change of topic.

  “I don’t see how you have time to visit with anyone,” he growled, “when we’ve been so busy at work.”

  Ah, now she understood. Lauren’s annoyance eased. Rafe must be acting so strangely because he was tired. He’d admitted this morning to feeling a little stressed. He’d probably worked too hard today—especially without her there to help him.

  The thought that he needed her made her feel soft inside. “Yes, we have been busy,” she agreed. “You’d better get home and rest.”

  Rafe stared at the slight smile on her lips, the warm light in her eyes and set his back teeth. Okay, fine. So she wasn’t going to tell him… in fact, she was kicking him out of her house. Well, that was great, because he didn’t want to know.

  He swung around toward the door. He wasn’t going to get involved; he didn’t need this hassle. It wasn’t any of his business, and he really didn’t care.

  He had his hand on the doorknob when something registered—something he’d glimpsed from the corner of his eye. He glanced back for a second look.

  Beady black eyes met his. What he’d taken to be a bundle of yarn was actually a bear. A stuffed, furry brown bear almost hidden by the sweater she’d been working on.

  That was it. The final straw. The bear that broke the camel’s back.

  He tossed his coat over the chair again. He swung around to face her. “Okay, Lauren, you might as well tell me everything. I know what you’ve been trying to hide.”

  Chapter Five

  Lauren stared at him. She felt the blood drain from her cheeks. “You do?” Her stomach clenched. She wrapped her arms around her waist, trying to ease the odd sensation.

  His gaze dropped to her stomach, covered protectively by her crossed arms, and his expression hardened. He nodded curtly. “It wasn’t hard to figure out, once I’d put all the facts together.”

  A painful flush rose, burning up her neck to her face. “It wasn’t?”

  “No.”

  How humiliating. Lauren stared miserably down at her slippers, not knowing what to say, wishing he would just leave. But it seemed Rafe still wasn’t through.

  He turned and strode toward the couch where her knitting lay abandoned. His voice emerged on a low growl as he added, “Especially after I saw this damned—” Sweater, Lauren thought, shutting her eyes in despair. “Bear!”

  Lauren’s eyes popped open—just in time to see Rafe pounce on poor Teddy. He snatched it up, and gave the little stuffed creature a savage shake.

  Lauren’s mouth dropped open—then snapped shut. “What are you doing?” she asked, thrown off balance by his strange actions. And as his words registered, “And what does that have to do with anything?”

  Rafe was glaring down at Teddy, but he spared her a glance to say, “C’mon, Lauren. I know who this bear is for.”

  Lauren frowned in confusion. “That’s my bear. I bought it over a year ago.”

  “You did?” His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Why did you do that?”

  “Because I like them, of course. Everyone likes teddy bears.”

  Everyone, apparently, except Rafe. He shook Teddy at her as he demanded, “So you didn’t buy it for the baby?”

  “What baby?”

  “Your baby!” he roared. “The one we’ve been talking about.”

  Rafe paused—she looked completely bewildered. Tossing the bear back on the couch, he put his hands on his hips, determined to
get to the bottom of things. “Damn it, Lauren, are you pregnant—or aren’t you?”

  She gasped. “Of course I’m not pregnant!”

  “You’re not?”

  “No. Is that what you thought?” Relief flickered across her face. “Whatever made you think I was going to have a baby?”

  “You were sick this morning—and then you felt better.” Rafe raked a hand through his hair as she just stared at him, obviously waiting for him to continue. “And then there was the bear—and—” he shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out another paper “—and this!”

  He thrust the crumpled sheet at her. Lauren accepted it gingerly. It looked as if it had been crushed by his fist it was so wrinkled and wadded up. She spread it open and glanced down. Heat rose in her cheeks again as she recognized the list she’d made in his office that morning. “Oh. I’d forgotten about this.”

  “I thought you had,” Rafe said in grim triumph. He jabbed at one of the items with his finger. “Let’s hear you explain this away, if you can.”

  Lauren’s face burned hotter, but she decided to give it a shot. “Well, as you probably figured out, the devil represents you. And I drew the tail around to the front like that because—”

  “Not that!” Rafe snatched the paper away. “I meant item number three. The one about the baby bottles!”

  “Baby? —Oh.” The puzzled crease in her brow smoothed out as realization dawned. “Those are for the women’s shelter. The director asked if I would pick some up.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yes, oh.” Lauren repeated, her relief turning to amusement at the blank look on his face. That seemed to blow a little steam out of his engine.

  Rafe frowned down at the paper. That made sense; so much sense he didn’t know why he hadn’t seen it for himself. He tried to find an excuse for his misunderstanding. “If the bottles were for the shelter, then why didn’t you put them down after the first item where you mentioned it?” he demanded.