The Billionaire’s Pregnant Fling (Jameson Brothers Book 2) Page 4

  When Margot finally regained enough composure to turn back around, she found that Eddie had disappeared below deck. She pushed several strands of hair out of her eyes and exhaled in disappointment. She didn't know whether to feel more frustrated or relieved that his stilted attempts to propose had been interrupted. All of this...cliché...it was so not the Eddie Jameson she knew. And it definitely wasn't the Eddie Jameson who made her heart race with his unexpected antics. That boy was the one she had once dreamed of marrying: the one who promoted his total zest for life, and dragged others along with him into adventure.

  When Eddie reappeared moments later, he wasn't carrying a bouquet of exotic flowers or a glossy-furred Golden Retriever puppy with a bow around its neck. He was carrying a grocery bag. Before Margot could puzzle out the situation, or trust herself enough to open her mouth and ask, Eddie was ushering her back off the boat to the relative stability of the dock.

  The last thing she expected once they arrived was to find a carton of yogurt thrust into her hands. She blinked her astonishment in what must have been Morse code. "Oh, right." Eddie fished around his pockets and produced a small silver spoon. He passed it to her. "Here. Eat. Protein helps," he explained.

  Margot gazed at him in wonderment. "You...did you really stock the fridge of your ship with yogurt? Just for me?"

  "I have other stuff, too," Eddie said quickly. "Everything from ginger root to ginger ale if you're feeling nauseous. I can even make you a peanut butter and banana sandwich. I know you used to like those when we were growing up."

  Margot's face heated. "I'm not a kid anymore, Eddie." Somehow it felt important to convey as much. She wanted him to think of her as her own woman, and not some sepia-colored photograph of a childhood obligation.

  He watched her as she spooned a dollop of yogurt past her lips. It felt like the bravest thing she had done all morning. Her stomach gave a sharp twist as she swallowed, but almost immediately after she felt her insides overcome by a cool, soothing sensation. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply through her nose. When she opened them again, she noticed Eddie staring at her.

  "I know you're not a kid, Margot." His hand touched her waist, almost shy in its hesitance. She knew she should pull away—at the very least to spare him if her stomach decided it still had more left in it to evacuate—but she did the exact opposite. She leaned in.

  "What do you want from me, Eddie Jameson?"

  "I want you to marry me," he replied. "I'm not above asking you again."

  Margot could scarcely believe what he was saying. "Two marriage proposals in the same day?" she asked. She was trying to play it off lightly, but there was no easy joke to be found in their exchange.

  "In the same day," Eddie confirmed. He smiled crookedly. "I never got a proper answer from you before."

  "Maybe that's because I've never experienced a proper offer before." She knew she was stalling, and a part of her suspected that Eddie must know the same. This was all so sudden. First the unexpectedness of their one-night stand; then the baby; now marriage? It felt like the world's cruelest nursery rhyme played in reverse. First comes the baby carriage, then comes marriage, then comes…?

  Did Eddie love her? Margot paused, her spoon hovering over the yogurt. When she next summoned the courage to glance up, she found Eddie watching her intently. "Eddie, I…"

  He must have seen something in her face that encouraged him, although Margot couldn't imagine what. Her head was as turned around as her stomach, and even she didn't know how she intended to complete her sentence.

  But when Eddie sensed an opening, he took it. He withdrew the clamshell Tiffany box from his pocket a second time and popped it open. Margot stared in disbelief at the diminutive ring that glinted at her, nestled in its velvet cushion. It was the most perfect princess cut diamond she had ever laid eyes on. It seemed to wink at her, its square edges understated yet somehow regal in their dimensions. The architect in her couldn't help but appreciate Eddie's aesthetic choice, even if the woman in her had never imagined herself becoming a bride. Not recently, anyway.

  She still couldn't shake the memory of playing 'wedding' with a young Eddie Jameson. Wasn't this the natural conclusion to her childhood fantasy? Deep down, wasn't this what she had always wanted all along?

  "I've always cared for you, Margot." He seemed to articulate her thoughts aloud now, and Margot froze. Eddie stepped nearer to her. "Maybe this baby is a sign. Maybe we really should consider joining our lives together. What do you say?"

  Margot looked from the ring, to the yogurt, and back again. When her eyes finally alighted on one thing and one thing only, she beheld the image of Eddie Jameson: the boy she had known since childhood, all grown up now and ready to take the next terrifying leap into adulthood. Neither of them was prepared for this; she could see it in his face, despite his best attempts to hide his own misgivings. She knew him too well to not recognize the signs. His bold eyebrows knit together over the proud jut of his nose, and his lips held a smile that simply didn't match up with the concern his melting brown eyes were expressing. Two of the three Jameson boys were capable of poker faces in her experience, and Eddie wasn't one of them.

  "Eddie…" Margot trailed off. She was suddenly unsure if she had the words to properly convey how much he meant to her, and how terrified she was of committing without the time to think first. He seemed to have it all figured out—Eddie Jameson seemed to have a plan for this. Did she? A year or two ago, the old Margot would have obsessed over every little detail until it was perfect.

  But nothing about this situation with Eddie was perfect.

  And yet...a part of her whispered. And yet…

  And yet this was the boy, the one she had always loved, and never found a way to express as much. Somehow, the yogurt meant more to her than the peerless, priceless ring that glimmered just out of reach of her finger.

  "All right," she said. "Why not? Let's give this marriage thing a shot."

  It was probably the most anticlimactic form her answer could have taken, but Eddie expelled a long sigh of relief, and Margot realized she might have just single-handedly taken the weight of the world off his shoulders.

  She tried not to notice how heavy the ring felt as he slipped it on her finger.

  Chapter Six

  Eddie

  The last thing Eddie expected to do when he showed up at the bridal salon that afternoon was to cause a sensation.

  He had too much on his mind to really take notice of the female attention he was receiving, much less let it go to his head. He was a father and a fiancé now; the old Eddie need not apply.

  Still, it had taken him an embarrassing amount of time to recognize what everybody else was looking at. He arrived before Margot, and promptly introduced himself to the consultant he had spoken with over the phone. Zelma was a slender woman, maybe forty, with intelligent blue eyes framed by glasses; she didn't seem one to suffer nonsense, a type that usually steered clear of Eddie, but she had let her hand linger in Eddie's for longer than was expressly necessary to complete a handshake. All the other female employees of the salon, too, had taken turns indiscreetly peeking out from the front desk and around the door of the breakroom as Eddie followed Zelma through a head-spinning wonderland of glistening white fabric.

  His head had yet to stop spinning since that fateful night with Margot.

  "We will stick to the muumuus, then," Zelma was saying. "If what you say is true, and your bride will be showing by the time you walk her down the aisle.

  Eddie nodded gratefully. He was glad he had thought to mention it. That was one less thing Margot would have to worry about; he had already narrowed their choices and expedited the process.

  "And over here, you'll find we have a gorgeous selection of sheer nighties for the bride-to-be...forgive me for presuming, but I thought I would give you a brief tour before she arrives, in case you wanted to surprise her on your wedding night."

  "Good thinking," Eddie said. His eyes lingered on the tantalizing
array before him, and he reached out to finger the nearest number and see for himself just how translucent the fabric was when paired with human skin. He hadn't even thought about the wedding night.

  "If your fiancé doesn't show…" One of the salon girls surprised him by appearing to volunteer her services. Eddie turned to her and arched an eyebrow; two other female employees half-hidden behind an open fitting room door giggled and receded as if they were working. He wondered if he had inadvertently become the subject of a dare.

  Evidently his consultant wondered also. "You. Take these to the other room." Zelma unloaded what must have been five different wedding dresses into the girl's arms. "And shoo." She spoke with a tart accent he didn't recognize, but he thought she might be German. Then again, maybe it was only the tone of reprimand that made him think so.

  The fitting room was unrecognizable by the time he returned to it. There were dresses piled everywhere, hanging off of doors and partitions, and it appeared that extra mannequins had been hauled in from the back and draped in wedding finery. It looked like a snowstorm had blown through and deposited an avalanche. Eddie rubbed the back of his neck and contemplated voicing concern; Zelma noticed, and simply shook her head.

  "I assure you, Mr. Jameson, it is a normal amount. Can I get you a Perrier?"

  "Sure," Eddie said. He thought Zelma was probably also looking for an excuse to chastise her employees, but waved her off to let her know he would survive a minute without her. He felt momentarily relieved to be left alone...before realizing that he wasn't supposed to be doing this alone. He couldn't do any of the actual trying-on—although that would certainly expedite the process at this point.

  "Come on, Margot." Eddie checked his watch again. Margot was late, and he was getting antsy. He hadn't planned for the possibility that she might be a no-show, but now the dread was creeping up on him. Margot was usually so on top of things, but lately she seemed off her game. Eddie liked to think he understood completely—and that the new role he inhabited in her life enabled him to pick up the slack—but what if Margot's distraction came from a place he hadn't anticipated? What if she was already getting cold feet?

  If Margot backed out of the engagement, then he would be the one responsible for losing the Daley account. Eddie had done some snooping—which mainly involved calling up Trinity and asking for info he hadn't kept up with during his prodigal years abroad—and had confirmed his suspicion that Daley Flights was currently the agency's biggest client. They had maintained the number one spot for almost all his years of existence. Sam of all people had tried to downplay it the other night, as if Eddie could genuinely afford to lose them Jonathan Daley's business.

  Panic was setting in. He could feel it crawling up his throat; he was afraid that if he opened his mouth, he'd accidentally shout in primal dismay, or worse, call the whole thing off. Eddie swallowed the sensation back down quickly, and smoothed a thumb across one eyebrow. He was perfectly in control.

  "Eddie?"

  It was her voice. His bride-to-be. Suddenly, Eddie didn't need to establish appearances or coping mechanisms; a feeling of instant relief washed over him, and he turned with his arms already spread to greet Margot.

  "Your kingdom, my queen."

  Margot snorted. She was wearing a short red sleeveless dress, and there was a black belt cinched around her waist. Her beautiful long legs extended downward to a pair of matching heels. She balanced a small purse on her shoulder, and the hand clenched over the strap wore his ring. His heart jolted at the sight. He still wasn't used to seeing it there, nestled between her pinky and middle finger.

  "Hey, relax. I already did most of the hard part for you." Eddie stepped to her and pulled her hand free, sealing it between both of his. "White-knuckle that purse any more and you'll turn that diamond ring into a lump of coal."

  Margot compressed her lips and gave a little laugh through her nose. "I knew you flunked geology, Eddie. I just didn't realize you flunked it that badly."

  He watched her take in the array of dresses. He waited, half-expectant, for the inkling of a smile.

  When it never came, he realized suddenly that this may have been a bad idea.

  "Sorry. I didn't mean to inundate you with e-mails all week," he said as he led her deeper into the dressing room. "I knew blasting your inbox with wedding plans was probably a risky maneuver, but…"

  I wanted you to feel like I was taking charge. Not exactly something he could openly admit to a girl like Margot. She was fiercely independent, what he had once heard his father call a 'ball-buster', and that had been when they were six. He had to mold himself into the right man for her without too obviously letting onto the fact.

  Easier said than done.

  "No. I...really appreciate your maneuver, Eddie. All of your maneuvers." Margot waved to the dresses scattered around the room. Zelma chose that moment to return, and momentarily spared Eddie from trying to unpack the meaning behind Margot's words.

  "Beautiful bride," Zelma said approvingly. She passed them both a bottle of mineral water and gestured toward the dresses. "Shall we get started?"

  "Might as well make a dent," Eddie agreed as he sat down. He was suddenly too nervous to twist the top off his water, much less take a drink. "Margot?"

  "I'm on it." She grinned and gave him a game thumbs-up. The feeling of ease that just having her around returned to him, and Eddie laughed. Zelma didn't appear to appreciate them making light of her mountainous piles of dresses, but the consultant only thinned her lips and nodded. She selected one off the top and accompanied Margot behind the fitting room screen.

  An hour later, and their spirits were starting to dwindle. Eddie kept an encouraging smile plastered to his face as Margot reappeared in—was this dress five? Ten?—a monstrous white ensemble, looking for all the world like a deflated balloon. As the consultant bent to study something around the hem of the sequined skirt, Margot's wild eyes sought and found his. She mouthed something that looked like a plea for help; she clamped her teeth shut once more as Zelma rose. Her smile for the consultant looked excruciatingly painful.

  "These muumuu-style dresses are very beautiful," Zelma said as Margot made a first, second, and third pass before the mirrors. "So girlish. So modest."

  So not Margot, Eddie felt like volunteering. He watched her turn repeatedly; to the outside observer, it looked like she was desperately hunting for an angle she found flattering. He would never admit it out loud with their consultant in the room, but the dresses so far all looked awful hanging off Margot's slender frame. She might as well be trying on an assortment of high-end trash bags.

  "It's…" Margot fished for a word and came up short.

  Eddie turned to their consultant. "Zelma? Can we have a minute?"

  Zelma nodded. "Of course. I will be just outside the door if you need anything."

  As soon as she had vanished from view, Eddie rose and crossed to Margot. Now that the consultant was out of the room, Margot's proud posture deteriorated to a slump. Eddie put his arm around her bowed shoulders, and turned her face away from the mirrors with a gentle finger guiding her chin.

  "Margot," he whispered, "you can talk to me. Tell me what's wrong." He hated seeing her like this. Was it the baby? The wedding? Was it him? He dreaded hearing any or all of the above, but he'd rather she plunge the whole handful of emotional knives through his heart than hold back at this point. He would rather take on the pain than see her crestfallen look now.

  "It's just that...I had sort of envisioned wearing something different on the big day," she admitted. "These dresses are wonderful, Eddie. Really. But you know better than anyone how I used to drag you into playing out all my wedding fantasies when we were kids. I thought I grew out of them, but…" She shook her head. "God, I remember how much space it used to occupy in my little brain. I had oodles of drawings describing how I thought my dress would look. And these…"

  "Are hideous," Eddie supplied.

  Margot nodded gratefully and chuckled.

&nbs
p; "I should have known better," he said. "I wouldn't have let any of these—what did she call them, muumuus?—near you. Wait right here." He pulled his arm from her shoulders and went to relay this latest information to Zelma in the hallway. After a thoughtful moment, the consultant nodded and disappeared back inside the store. Moments later, she returned with an armful of dress that, to Eddie, looked identical to all the others. When he opened his mouth to protest, Zelma shook her head.

  "Wait," she advised him. She passed the dress off to Margot; the latter shot Eddie a desperate look. Surely Zelma's selection had come too easily to be correct. Eddie just shrugged and sat down. As much as he tried to help, he knew he was ultimately useless when it came to this sort of thing. He was willing to try just about anything at this point if it meant putting a smile back on Margot's face.

  Moments later, when Margot stepped from behind the partition, he lurched back out of his seat.

  "Margot!" Eddie blinked, and his eyes raked her figure. After all the previous failures, he hadn't expected to be dazzled by the vision of her in the dress, but this...this was something else.

  Margot laced her hands together in front of herself and grinned. The gown she wore was so pristinely white its shadows held an almost blue edge. The slightest tilt of her body caused the sequins of the embroidered bodice to catch the light and cast resplendent, dancing motes upon the wall. The heart-shaped top of the bodice perfectly cradled her breasts, while also pushing them proudly forward; the deep valley of her cleavage made his pulse triple, and he quickly raised his eyes to take in the rest of her. Without sleeves, Margot's sun-kissed shoulders and elegant bare arms were on full display. This gown may have been tighter than all the others, but it allowed her to move and breathe in a way he hadn't seen all afternoon. Margot looked at home; the dress looked as if it had been made for her.

  "Well?" Her thickly-lashed hazel eyes looked bigger than usual; they looked hopeful. Expectant. Somewhere behind him, Zelma gave a low whistle.