The Boss's Pregnancy Proposal. Raye Morgan

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СКАЧАТЬ no,” he said, dabbing at the wound. “I can do this myself.”

      “No, you can’t.” She shook her head in exasperation. “I know you’re a control freak, but you can’t control everything yourself. There’s a time to admit when you need help.”

      His blue eyes rose and held her gaze. There was nothing warm there, no teasing, no humor.

      “What makes you think you know me, Ms. Callie Stevens?”

      “I don’t really know you, Mr. Grant Carver, but I know your type.” She was on a roll. Things seemed to work much better when she took the initiative. He was scary in his way, but he could be tamed. At least, she hoped so.

      “My type? Please, enlighten me. What is my type?”

      She tried to glare at him but it didn’t come off. He looked strangely vulnerable in the T-shirt with his mouth still bleeding. Like a fighter after a fight. All his hard edges were blurring a bit.

      “Go on,” he pressed. “I want to know what you think ‘my type’ is.”

      “Okay.” She raised her chin. “Type A for arrogant. Type C for controlling. Type T for tyrant. Should I go on?”

      “I get the picture. You don’t like me very much, do you?”

      She blinked at him and words stuck in her throat. Like him? What did that have to do with it? She didn’t really know him, just as he’d said. What right did she have to be name-calling? Suddenly she regretted that she’d let herself tumble down this blind alley.

      His handkerchief was soaked with blood and he was fishing in his desk for another one. The cut seemed to be getting worse the more he fooled with it.

      She frowned. “I think you should sit down while we figure out what to do about your face,” she said.

      He looked up at her with a spark of humor in his eyes. “You don’t like my face, either?” he said, managing to make it sound pathetic in a way guaranteed to touch her heartstrings.

      She bit her lip to keep from smiling at him.

      “Sit down,” she said.

      “I don’t need to sit down, I…”

      Reaching out, she flattened her hand against his chest and gave him a shove into the large leather desk chair behind him. He let her do it and didn’t resist, sinking down into the leather and watching her curiously, as though he was interested in what she thought she was going to do with him next.

      “Now pick up the phone and call a doctor,” she ordered.

      He gave her a skeptical look. “Be serious.”

      “I’m serious as a heart attack. You need help. I’m not leaving you here to bleed to death in the night. Pick up that phone.”

      “At the rate my blood is flowing, it’ll take a week to bleed to death,” he scoffed. But he did glance at the soaked handkerchief. Still, he hesitated. “Listen, my sister’s a general practitioner. She can take care of it—if I decide that’s necessary.”

      She motioned toward the telephone. “Call her.”

      “What are you talking about? It’s after ten o’clock. I can’t call her.”

      “Call her. She won’t mind.”

      His dark eyebrows rose. “Do you know her?”

      She gave him a tight smile. “I know sisters.”

      He stared at her for a long moment, and then something changed in his face.

      “All right.”

      He picked up his cell and punched in a code, then put it to his ear. “Hi, Gena. It’s Grant. Sorry to call so late, hon. No, nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to say ‘hi’ and…”

      It must have been because he didn’t see the move coming that she was able to get the phone away from him so easily. It obviously hadn’t occurred to him that anyone would do such a thing. But she could tell his conversation with his sister was going nowhere, so she turned, zeroed in on her target and snatched the receiver right out of his unsuspecting hand, then quickly moved out of his reach while she pressed it to her ear.

      “Hi, Gena. This is Callie Stevens.”

      “What the…?” he growled.

      She waved away his rude expletive.

      “You don’t know me. I work…er, I used to work for your brother. I just wanted to let you know that he’s just had an accident….”

      Grant swore again, but she ignored it.

      “No, no, he’s fine. But he is…damaged, so to speak.” She made a face at him. “He’s got a cut lip and it looks like it needs stitches to me. It keeps bleeding, and…Oh, great. Yes, we’re at the office. Thanks.”

      She handed him back his telephone and gave him a superior smile. “She’s coming right over.”

      “What?”

      “She said she’s only minutes away.”

      “Wait one dang-burned second here,” he said, his blue eyes frosty. “I’m getting confused. Who got fired today, you or me?”

      The superior smile was working, so she kept it up. “You’ll be taken care of. So I figure we’re even now. And I’m leaving.”

      His expression hardened. “Not yet. The key, please.” He held out his hand.

      She bit her lip and tried to look innocent. “What key?”

      “The one you must have used to get into the building tonight.”

      Oh, that key.

      It was one she’d had for opening the office early a few months before and she’d found it with her things when she’d gone through the boxes of stuff from her desk. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled it out and handed it to him.

      “Wait a minute,” he said. “I need to talk to you.”

      She turned toward the door. “Write me a letter.”

      He rose and followed her. “I’m quite serious. I’ve got something I need to discuss with you. I’ve got some ideas on ways we could use you here at ACW. How would you like your job back?”

      There was a certain sense of satisfaction in hearing his words. This was almost an apology, wasn’t it? At any rate, it was an admission that she shouldn’t have been fired.

      Yeah. That and a quarter will get you a ride on a pony. Big deal.

      She turned back and studied his eyes. “You could do that?”

      “Of course. I wouldn’t have let my uncle fire you in the first place if I’d known his plans. I’ve been out of the office all week, СКАЧАТЬ