Happy Holidays - The Pregnancy Negotiation Part 7

She let go a cheerless laugh. "That's for sure. If you intend what I think you intend, that could take you all night long, and well into next week."

"Don't bet on it." He leaned over and rested his lips against her ear. "When I touched you tonight, you were hot. If you'd given me another minute, you wouldn't have known what hit you. And that's exactly what's going to happen tomorrow night."

Whit left the room then, taking all his macho confidence with him, along with a good deal of Mallory's mind. She couldn't deny any of what he'd said. She had been totally turned on by his touch, and even now she experienced another frisson of heat blended with excitement when she rewound his words in her head.

She truly wouldn't put it past him to make good on his promise, and she really hoped he did. However, just in case, she decided to study up.

Crossing the room to the corner desk that housed her computer, she opened her briefcase and took out Roz's magazine, something she'd sworn not to do. But hey, it certainly couldn't hurt. If she had to live by a few lists to get what she wanted, then so be it.

During adulthood, Whit Manning had never felt inadequate as a man when it came to women. But last night, he'd experienced a definite deficiency in terms of confidence when it came to Mallory. He worried he might fail her, s.e.xually and emotionally. She'd obviously been through the wringer in her past relations.h.i.+p, and, more than anything, he wanted to help her beyond that. In order for that to happen, she would have to let down her guard, open up to him, allow him to show her that she wasn't a lost cause in the bedroom. That she could experience real pleasure. He wanted her to trust him that much.

Right now he was strung as tightly as a guy wire; even his two-mile morning run hadn't alleviated the tension. Determined to relax before starting his day, Whit left the chaos of downtown and drove to a nice subdivision on the northwest side of Houston. A place with streets divided by neatly manicured medians, a lot of well-planned parks, cul-de-sacs lined with oaks and pines and houses sitting on acre lots.

At the end of one of those circular streets, he pulled the company truck up to the curb and studied the two-story house in progress. His house in progress, four bedrooms, four bathrooms and almost four thousand square feet. The house no one knew about, not even his dad. Especially not his dad.

The basic structure was nearing completion, aside from the brickwork, which was scheduled to begin today. After that, it would be completely dried in, and Whit planned to spend more time here, overseeing the electricians and plumbers, making certain they adhered to his strict specs. And soon he'd have to get serious about hiring an interior designer to have the place ready for the fall showcase of homes and, hopefully, the beginning of a career as a renowned custom home builder who provided quality, efficient residences for families. He was good at architectural detail, but he didn't have a great eye for color or putting things together.

Mallory was good at it. She'd done some nice things with his place, convincing him to buy a couple of tables, chairs and shelves along with a few accessories that had turned the apartment from stark to comfortable. The only thing that hadn't impressed him was that freakin' red s.h.a.g rug in the middle of the den floor. As far as he was concerned, it looked like a deceased llama. Mallory loved it, and he hadn't had the heart to tell her he'd prefer it in the downstairs Dumpster.

But Mallory had her own career, so he doubted she'd be willing to play interior decorator to his dream. He just hoped she would be willing to play in his bed tonight, or her bed, it really didn't matter. If she didn't suddenly change her mind, and he really hoped she didn't. Not only because he wanted to make love to her, but because he was getting used to the whole baby idea and actually beginning to like the thought of having his own kid. Daughter or son, it really didn't matter at all despite what he'd said to Mallory about wanting a son. Whatever its gender, he planned to be the best father he could be. But first, he had to make certain the soon-to-be mom enjoyed the conception.

Pulling off his sungla.s.ses, he tossed them onto the dash and rubbed both palms down his face. But he couldn't make the images of making love with Mallory disappear, which prevented him from getting out of the truck to look the place over. If one of the neighbors caught him wandering around in his current state of arousal, he'd surely be arrested unless he darted from tree to tree to prevent detection. He pulled away from the curb to head into the office, thankful he didn't have any pending meetings since it looked as though he would need to spend most of the day trying to salvage his dignity behind a drafting table.

On the return drive, he mulled over exactly how he planned to handle the situation tonight, and he determined what Mallory needed most was a sense of control. He had no problem allowing her that control-to a point. He wouldn't make her feel pressured or inadequate in any way. He vowed to be patient, gentle and thorough. Before the evening ended, she would know exactly how it felt to be totally lost to her own body's demands, and he'd use everything in his repertoire to make that happen. Whatever it took.

Five.

W hile preparing for the evening with her family-and eventually the night alone with Whit-Mallory had successfully made a total mess of her makeup. She'd managed to smudge mascara beneath her eyes, twice, forgotten to apply powder to her chin and had drawn a nice line of Quirky Coral above instead of on her lip. She now had a list detailing how to have a baby and a list on how to uncover the vamp supposedly residing within her. Unfortunately, she had no tips on how to apply makeup when her skin threatened to crawl off her body.

If she couldn't successfully complete something so routine as applying makeup, how was she ever going to go forward with her plans to seduce Whit right out of his wits? Easy. As she did in her daily work, she would view the whole course of action as a significant step to an important goal-having a baby. Being relaxed during lovemaking created conditions conducive for conception. If she followed the magazine article's instructions on seduction, then she could enjoy success by allowing herself to loosen up. If she followed the Internet list on conception, then she could do that by being on top and somewhat in control.

That didn't seem quite so simple when she walked out her bedroom door and nearly ran into the prospective father-to-be dressed in a navy polo and jeans, his thick dark hair combed into neat layers that she would really like to ruffle. She would also like to remove that s.h.i.+rt and those slacks and forget about family obligations in order to get on with the plans. The suspense was starting to kill her.

He took a long lingering glance down her body. "Is that outfit new?"

She glanced at the sheer b.u.t.ton-down, sleeveless black blouse and semi-mini denim skirt that she'd purchased on her lunch break in accordance with Tip Number Two: Wear something s.e.xy that you wouldn't normally wear. "Yeah. I thought I'd try something different from my usual corporate attire." She met his gaze. "I don't look like some trashy teen-idol wannabe, do I?"

She saw definite appreciation in his dark eyes. "You look great. s.e.xy as h.e.l.l. Are you sure we have to go to this little soiree?"

"Yes, I'm sure." She needed more time to develop her master plan, and to restore her resolve.

He let loose a rough sigh. "Okay, if we really have to. Are you ready to roll?"

She was getting there. "Sure. My car or yours?"

"My truck went into the shop this afternoon for service so I'm driving the company sedan."

"Your daddy's favorite Caddie?"

"Yeah. Normally I prefer something more compact, but there are advantages to having something bigger."

Mallory's gaze meandered to where Whit had hooked his thumbs in his pockets. "Bigger can be good." Mortified, she forced her eyes to his face. "I meant the car is bigger than mine or yours. More comfortable. Has all the little amenities, like the six CD changer, the navigation system, the split bench seat." She sounded like a rambling car salesman.

He grinned. "It also has a large backseat, in case we end up staying out longer than planned."

a.s.saulted by another annoying fit of nerves, Mallory s.n.a.t.c.hed up her purse from the sofa table and nearly spilled its contents.

Tip Number Six: Be the s.e.xual instigator. Your guy will love you for it.

She inhaled deeply and reminded herself that tonight, she was the seductress, the feisty femme fatale. Facing Whit again, she flipped her hair back from one shoulder before running a fingertip down his chest to his belly. "We won't be later than 9:00 p.m., tops. And if by some chance we are detained, we could always make good use of my old bedroom at the house. I've always wanted to sneak a guy in there."

Whit caught her hand and brought her palm to his lips for a warm kiss. "Oh, yeah. I'm sure Dermot and Lucy would just love that, us copulating under their roof."

She smiled. "What Dermot and Lucy don't know won't hurt them." If they did find out that Mallory planned to have a baby without the benefit of marriage, that would hurt them greatly. They wouldn't have to know unless she did get pregnant. Now if she could just maintain the front that she and Whit were only friends, not partners in conception, everything would work out fine.

Whit walked to the door and opened it for her. "Let's go, O'Brien," he said, then patted her bottom when she moved into the hallway. All the way down the elevator, he watched her with his dark eyes, drove her insane with his scent, made her perspire with his smile. She really did have to get a grip, otherwise she wouldn't be able to make it through the evening-and the night.

After they settled into the sedan, Mallory realized that Whit was already starting the preliminaries when he flipped up the center armrest dividing the split bench seat. He kept his hand on her leg while they drove, tracing a random path on the inside of her bare knee with his thumb. She thought it might be best to cross her legs but couldn't find the will to do so. As long as he didn't move his palm any higher, she would just sit back and enjoy it, if she didn't unexpectedly combust and char the expensive ecru-colored leather.

A few blocks from the old home place situated in the center of west Houston and middle cla.s.s suburbia, Whit stopped at a red light at a cross street, leaned over and kissed Mallory briefly. "What are you wearing underneath that skirt?"

She gave him her most seductive smile. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"I plan to know before the night's over, so you might as well tell me now."

"A black lace thong."

He tipped his head back against the headrest. "You should not have told me that."

"Hey, you asked."

"True." A horn honked when Whit failed to move immediately through the green light. He gunned the car

forward and turned onto her parents' street, taking the corner just a little too fast in Mallory's opinion. "Now I'm going to be imagining that thong all night long," he said. "Guess I'll have to find a spot behind a hedge in the backyard to hide behind."

"I have a thought." A very naughty thought. Not a chance Mallory could do it.

Tip Number Four: Do not resist being daring.

Yes, she could. No, she couldn't. Yes she could.

I am not a lousy lover. I am a lean, mean seducting machine.

Now or never. She opted for now. Reaching beneath the skirt, she s.h.i.+mmied the skimpy panties down

her legs, worked them over her shoes and held them up by one finger for his inspection. "Now you don't

have to imagine them."After glancing her way, Whit swerved to avoid a street-side mailbox before he pulled behind Logan'sSUV positioned at the curb in front of the house. He put the car in Park, stared out the winds.h.i.+eld for amoment and then said, "Mallory O'Brien, you're about to hear me say something I've never said to anywoman. Put your panties back on and exit the car immediately."

Mallory laughed from the exhilarating feelings, from the sudden surge of purely s.e.xual sensation. "Are you sure?"

"No, but you need to do it anyway."

"Okay. If I must."With agonizing slowness, she worked the thong back up her hips, noting Whit's perusal in her peripheralvision. But before she could open the door, he leaned over and kissed her soundly and seductively. "Justso you know, the next time those panties come off, I'm going to be the one taking them off."

She grinned. "Promise?"

"You bet. As soon as we get this little party over, the real party begins."

"Whitty, it is so good to see you!"

If anyone aside from Lucine Kabakian O'Brien called him Whitty, he would offer a cutting comment to awoman, and a right cut to a man. But Mallory's four foot eleven inch, half-Armenian dynamo of amatriarch could call him just about anything and get away with it.

Whit hugged her hard and planted a kiss on her cheek. "Good to see you, too, Lucy. You're looking better than ever. When are you going to leave Dermot for me?"

Lucy smoothed one hand over her khaki skirt and blushed. "Dear boy, you know my husband cannot survive without me." She turned her attention to her daughter, her near-black eyes wide with surprise.

"Mallory, you can see right through that blouse." She glanced back at Whit. "Can't you see her

bra.s.siere, Whitty?"

Oh, yeah. He'd also seen her panties only a few minutes before. Don't even go there Manning. "Ah, come on, Lucy. That's the style. Besides, I didn't really notice. I mean, Mallory's just Mallory, kind of like a kid sister." Good thing electrical storms hadn't been forecasted for the evening, otherwise Whit would be struck down in his prime.

Mallory stepped forward, her hands fisted at her sides. "My bra isn't that obvious, Mom. Besides, it's black like the blouse."

Like the panties, Whit thought before pus.h.i.+ng that dangerous thought away again.

Still perusing Mallory's outfit, Lucy crossed one arm over her middle and laid a palm on her jaw. "Aren't you a little old to be wearing that? You're thirty now, Mallory, not a teenager."

Mallory rolled her eyes. "Thanks for reminding me, Mother."

"Well I'll be, the missing cub has come home!" boomed a voice from behind Whit, thankfully interrupting the mother/ daughter moment. He turned toward the owner of the booming voice to find Mallory's father heading toward the foyer. In contrast with his wife, Dermot O'Brien was a hulk of a man, an inch taller than Whit with a ruddy complexion, strawberry-blond hair and a girth that would rival a compet.i.tive beer drinker's belly.

After Dermot gave Mallory a boisterous hug, Whit accepted the man's outstretched hand and a solid slap on the back that almost knocked the wind out of him. "How's retirement treating you, Dermot?" he asked as soon as his lungs expanded again.

Dermot released his crus.h.i.+ng grip on Whit's fingers and grinned at Lucy. "Not too bad a'tall. Just ask me wife."

"Speak for yourself, old man," Lucy muttered, yet sent him a smile reserved for her husband of fifty years.

Dermot wrapped his arm around Lucy's waist and gave her a squeeze. "Now woman, you know you enjoy me being around on those rainy afternoons." He wiggled his eyebrows. "She does like the rain, I'l be tellin' ya."

"Oh, please, Daddy," Mallory said. "We don't want to hear about you and Mother fooling around."

Whit frankly didn't want to hear or think about anyone fooling around at the moment.

Dermot turned toward Mallory, who appeared to be hugging the wall while she was hugging her arms to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, daughter. Just cause your da is old doesn't mean he has to give up all the things that make life worth..." He frowned. "That's a new outfit, darlin'."

"Yes, Daddy, it is."

"Where's the rest of it?"

Mallory pushed off the wall. "I'm thinking I could use a gla.s.s of wine. See you all later."

"Have a couple of gla.s.ses," Whit called out after her as she headed toward the kitchen. "I'm personally going to have a burger. A beef burger."

The acid look she sent him over one shoulder told Whit exactly where she would like him to put that burger.

"Speakin' of burgers." Dermot nodded toward the back exit. "I'll be checkin' on Logan now. He insisted on tendin' the barbecue even though he knows I'm the expert. And he'd better hurry. I'm so hungry, I could eat a donkey's a.r.s.e through a blackthorn bush."

Lucy braced both hands on her hips. "The next time you say that, I'm going to bind and gag you."

He winked at his wife. "Now that's something we haven't tried yet, love."

Lucy pointed toward the backyard. "Go. Now."

"Tell Logan I'll be out in a minute," Whit called after Dermot, who laughed all the way out the patio doors. And Whit had a mind to tell Logan that he didn't appreciate being called away from his plans with sister. But if he did that, he was in danger of ending up seated on a pile of hot coals.

Lucy slipped one frail hand in the crook of Whit's arm. "Tell me, Whitty. Is Mallory trying to make you into a vegetarian?"

She was trying to make him into the father of a baby girl. "You know how Mallory is. Always on some diet kick. Right now it's fish and vegetables."

"Well, you don't listen to her. A strapping man like yourself needs protein."

"I'll be sure to tell her that." Like she'd really listen.