Vicki Essex - Red Carpet Arrangement

His tanned brow wrinkled. “Was it bad?”

“Yeah.” Kat sank onto the edge of the bed. “I got it at night, so it made working at the bar hard. One night I fainted and dropped a whole tray of beers. Then I threw up all over one of the customers. I got fired that night.”

Riley sat forward. “That’s...that’s discrimination! You can’t fire someone for being pregnant. Was it that old boss at the tiki bar? The slimy one?”

“No, no, I left that bar after...” She trailed off. She didn’t want him to know what her attraction to him had cost her. “I’d just started at this new place downtown. I didn’t have to wear a coconut bikini top there, at least.”

He smirked. “Shame.”

Kat rolled her eyes, but was secretly pleased by his appraisal. “Anyhow, it’s not as if I could’ve fought it. The boss claimed I’d been drinking on the job. I didn’t confirm I was pregnant until after I’d been fired.”

“So how’d you come to California?”

“I had some savings. I sold my car and most of my stuff, got my plane ticket on the cheap. I have a few friends in LA who let me couch surf. Did a little random clerical work for a few of them—transcribing and that sort of thing. Spent what I had to for doctor’s appointments and medication.”

“Didn’t you sign up for health insurance?”

She shook her head. “Kind of had other issues to deal with...like finding a job and a place to stay.”

His scowl said it all. The judgment, the reproach, the pity. It all came off Riley as stony intensity, with his thoughts boiling beneath his calm veneer.

He steered away from her employment history. “So is everything with the baby...?”

“I’m healthy, and so is the baby. Things were slow to start—the fetus wasn’t growing as quickly as the doctor hoped. But that changed quickly.” She patted her belly.

“You don’t look as if you’ve been eating enough.” Riley rubbed his palms together, as if he could summon up a plate of hash browns for her there and then. She kind of wished he could. “I mean, for a pregnant woman.”

She smiled to herself, wondering what he’d think when he got the room service bill. “All women are different. I’m eating what I need to. I’ve been taking care of myself as well as I can.” There was no denying that before her pregnancy she’d been much less careful about what she put in her body. Being a waitress meant she worked odd hours, and she’d subsisted on bar food for much of her life. But now that a new life was involved, she’d become more conscious of everything she put in her mouth, as if every french fry and loaded nacho would become a part of the baby’s physical makeup.

She blew out a breath. “I won’t be coy, Riley. The truth is, you’re right, I’m running out of money, and no one will hire a pregnant waitress. My mother is the only family I have, and she’s AWOL. I can’t rely on my friends forever, either. I mean, my friend Jamie’s been great, and I don’t think she’d mind having me around, but a baby in a one-bedroom apartment with two women—”

“No, no, of course.” At least he wasn’t sneering about the money issue anymore. He stared at a spot on the floor. It seemed to be really sinking in now, his brow gathering furrows as pronounced as the San Andreas Fault. He looked so much older than his thirty-seven years, though the late-night talk show hosts always remarked on his ageless, devil-may-care grin.

They’d never seen his real smile, though. The one he wore for the cameras was entirely different from the one she’d seen when they’d lain in bed together, the moonlight pouring in through the hotel room window with the sound of the surf so close she thought she could dip her toes in if she let her feet dangle off the mattress. She wondered if she’d ever see that smile again.

A loud knock on the door startled her out of the moment. “Must be my clothes.” She went to answer it.

* * *

SO THIS WAS all about money.

Riley supposed he shouldn’t have been disappointed. Of course, any discussion about the baby was going to be a practical one. He knew better than anyone that money made a difference. He didn’t know why he’d expected more from Kat.

Once she’d gotten dressed, Riley escorted Kat up to his suite. He studied her reflection in the mirrored elevator. Too thin, and so pale, despite the coastal sunshine. Weren’t pregnant women supposed to glow or something? Maybe it was anemia. That was a pregnancy thing, right?

As they entered the suite, Winnie greeted Kat with a smile. A sudden bout of nerves flashed through Riley. Stripped of makeup and that designer evening gown, she was much more “mom” in a light sweater and capris, and now she was meeting the woman who was very likely carrying her grandchild. Kat rubbed her arms nervously, looking like a small, trapped animal.

“Good morning, dear. Please, come in. I’ve got French toast warming in the oven, fresh fruit and bacon. I also have plain oatmeal if you’re not feeling up to anything rich.”

“You have a kitchen in here.” Kat took in the amenities with a note of awe.

“I prefer to cook when I travel with Riley. Eating out too much is bad for your health, and it can get so expensive in LA.” She held out her hands entreatingly. “How are you doing? Did you sleep well? I had such a difficult time with this one, I remember...” She nodded at Riley. “Always rolling around and kicking me black-and-blue inside at the ungodliest of hours.”

“He or she must take after her father, then.” Kat placed a hand over her stomach. “Stuntman in the womb.”

Winnie laughed and they got to chatting about pregnant-lady things. Riley tuned them out ruthlessly as he picked up his tablet and absentmindedly scanned the entertainment news headlines, searching for word about the Infinite Destinies premiere. Though he’d privately accepted the likelihood that the baby was his, that modicum of doubt made him nervous about his mom bonding with Kat.

“Help me set the table, Riley.” His mother’s sweet command pulled him out of his turbulent thoughts. To Kat, she said, “Don’t ever let him off the hook when it comes to quality time. He’s always on about how busy he is, but that doesn’t excuse him from sitting down for a proper meal with his family.”

A small smile curved Kat’s lips even as she slid Riley an apologetic look. The way his mom was talking, it sounded as if she fully expected them to have a more permanent arrangement.

Someone knocked as they were sitting down for breakfast. Riley answered the door. “We’ve got problems,” Sam said without preamble as she strode in, before correcting herself graciously. “I beg your pardon. Good morning, Winnie. Excuse me for barging in. I’ve got—”

“Business with my son, yes, yes. Let’s have breakfast first. I don’t like to hear bad news on an empty stomach.”

“I’ve already had—”

“Coffee and cigarettes alone won’t sustain a body. Now, you sit down and eat, Samantha Silverman.” Winnie settled her hands over the petite agent’s shoulders and marched her to the table.

“Don’t argue with her,” Riley murmured, slightly amused by his agent’s long-suffering sigh. He knew Sam secretly loved Winnie’s doting.

Sam smiled tightly as she faced Kat. “Good morning, Miss Schwinn.”

“Kat, please,” she said a touch hesitantly.

Sam, normally a friendly sort, seemed visibly wary—she obviously didn’t trust Kat. None of them should. But Riley didn’t like the tension running across Kat’s shoulders. It couldn’t be good for the baby.

That note of strain remained as everyone heaped their plates with food. They were quiet as they ate. Riley watched Kat cut her food into bite-size pieces and chew them carefully. He thought eating for two meant stuffing your face with abandon. Or did the baby need as much food at six-and-a-half months?