Her Little Secret, His Hidden Heir(20)

His broad shoulders and wide back stretched the material of his expensive white dress shirt as he moved. Dark gray slacks that probably cost more than she made at the bakery in a week hugged his hips, and more importantly, his butt. A very nice, well-rounded butt that didn’t seem to have changed much since they’d been together.

Lifting a hand to her face, she covered her eyes and silently chastised herself for being so weak-willed. What was wrong with her? Was she crazy? Or catching a bug? Or were her hormones still dreadfully out of whack because of the pregnancy?

Spreading her fingers a few brief centimeters, she peeked through and knew exactly what her problem was.

Number one—she knew what lay beneath all that cotton and wool. She knew the strength of his muscles, the texture of his skin. She knew how he moved and how he smelled and how he felt pressed up against her.

Number two—her hormones probably were out of whack—and not just the pregnancy variety. The regular ones seemed to be turned all upside down, as well.

Which was no surprise. She’d always been a total pushover where Marc was concerned. One smoldering look and her bones had turned to jelly. One brush of his knuckles across her cheek or light touch of his lips on hers and she’d been putty in his hands.

Given how long it had been since they’d been together—how long it had been since she’d been anything more than a human incubator and a first-time mommy—it was no wonder, really, that her mind was wandering down all sorts of deliciously naughty garden paths.

And no doubt if Marc knew, or even suspected, he would take full advantage of her vulnerability and inner turmoil, so it would be wise of her not to do or say anything to give him the wrong idea. Or any ideas at all, for that matter.

Through her fingers, Vanessa watched him undo the top couple of buttons of his shirt and loosen his collar. Such a familiar habit. She remembered him doing the same thing almost every night when he got home from work. He would usually spend a couple of hours in his home office, but taking off his jacket and tie, loosening his collar and rolling up his sleeves were the first steps toward relaxing for the evening.

She lowered her hands from her face just before he picked up the laptop and turned back around. Crossing the room, he lowered himself to the edge of the bed, set the laptop beside him, and then patted the pristine white coverlet.

“Come sit down for a minute,” he said, “I want to show you something.”

Vanessa raised a brow. “That sounds like another bad pickup line,” she told him.

Marc chuckled. “Since when did you become so cynical? Now, come here so I can show you some of these plans I worked up for The Sugar Shack.”

That got her attention, allaying some of her suspicions and fears—and giving rise to new ones. Moving to the bed, she sat down, tucking the skirt of her dress beneath her to keep from flashing too much leg.

He clicked a couple of buttons, then turned the screen so she could see it more easily. “You said you want to expand into the store space next door, right? Use it for a possible mail-order division of the business.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Well, this is a quick prospectus I worked up before dinner for what I think it would cost to renovate the space, what your expenses and overhead would be, et cetera. Of course, there are a lot of aspects to the bakery business I’m sure I’m not familiar with, so it will need to be adjusted. But this gives us a rough estimate and an idea of where to start.”

He got up for a second and stretched to reach the bureau, grabbing a large yellow legal pad before returning to the bed, sending the mattress bouncing slightly.

“And this is a rudimentary sketch of a possible layout for the expansion. Counters and shelving and such.”

She pulled her attention away from the document on the computer screen to the tablet he was holding out to her. She studied the drawing for a minute, picturing everything exactly as it would look next door to The Sugar Shack.

It was good. Encouraging, even. And the idea that something so simple might one day soon be a reality caused her heart to leap in her chest.

There was only one problem.

Lifting her head, she met Marc’s gaze. “Why did you do all this?” she asked, passing the legal pad back to him.

“Nothing is written in stone,” he murmured, setting aside the tablet and turning the laptop back toward him. “And it won’t be cheap, believe me. But the expansion is a good idea. I think it’s a smart move and has the potential to really pay off in the long run. Especially if you do well enough to start that Cookie-of-the-Month Club thing you mentioned.”

Her heart jumped again, making her palms damp and her throat tight. It was so nice to hear someone sharing her enthusiasm about branching out with the bakery and actually supporting her ideas.

But in this case, there were strings attached. So many strings.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” she said softly. And then she asked again, even though a part of her was afraid of his response. “Why did you do all this?”

He sat back, clicking the lid of the laptop closed and moving the computer to the nightstand, along with the legal pad.

“You need a partner to pull this off, Vanessa. You know that, or you wouldn’t have gone to Blake and Fetzer for help.”

Her pulse slowed and the temperature in the room fell ten degrees. Or maybe it was only her own internal temperature that dropped like a stone.