They were all looking at her. Megan was watching with kindly approval. Lana was staring with stunned surprise and the beginnings of laughter. The Suits were staring as if she was some sort of peculiar specimen, the thugs were watching with veiled menace, and Gloria was glaring at her with loathing.
And the waist of her pajamas was slipping down!
Before she could do anything, Michael’s arms came around her, and one of his hands slipped to the side and her pajama bottoms rose miraculously to their rightful position. She practically sagged with relief. She did sag, but Michael’s hold tightened, and his mouth once again brushed her hair.
“You’re my wife and I’m proud of you,” he whispered into her ear, and her blush started all over again. “Remember that.” And then he turned to face the company.
“Now.”
Michael’s gaze took in the assembled company. “Who do we have here? Lana, you’re here to take my wife shopping. Very nice. She needs something a little more fashionable in the nightwear line, and I’m counting on you to help out. Aunt Megan, you’re here to get to know my gorgeous Jenny. I know you approve.”
His gaze moved to the immigration officials. “And you two gentlemen. What are you here for?”
“To satisfy ourselves that this woman is living as your wife,” the older Suit said.
“And are you satisfied? I told your colleague last night that my wife was exhausted. She slept late this morning and she can hardly look more domestic than she does now. Or are you saying I telephoned her when I heard your knock, she grabbed a cab and rushed across town and arrived here to greet you?”
“I think we’re satisfied now, sir,” he said, but the younger man stopped him.
“If I may…”
“What is it, Charles?” his partner asked, and Charles gave a self-conscious grin.
“The old lady says this marriage is a sham and she wants us to prove it. You want proof this lady lives here? Use the dog.”
“The dog?”
“It’s obviously Lord’s dog,” Charles said patiently. He addressed himself to Jenny. “Okay. The dog’s clearly vicious. Your husband’s told it to sit. I want you to grab the mutt from behind and haul it backward away from him.” He raised his brows. “There’s not many dogs that’ll tolerate that-except from an owner. So will you do it? Unless you’re afraid, of course. If you’re the least bit unsure, then don’t even try.”
“This is ridiculous,” Megan said, startled, but Michael was grinning. He’d seen what Jenny could do with Socks last night. They’d bonded like two soul mates.
“I don’t want to,” Jenny said with dignity. “It’s not fair to Socks to tease him like that.”
But Michael propelled her forward.
“Just do it, Jen. Then never again. Let them all see that Socks is yours as much as he is mine.” He grinned.
She didn’t grin back.
Her humiliation level somewhere above her eyebrows, she stalked around to stand behind Socks. Socks was still sitting, as ordered, gazing at Michael with love. His dopey face was a huge question mark.
“It’s just me, Socks,” Jenny said, then grabbed his skinny frame around the middle and hauled him backward. “Sorry I have to do this!”
As an attack dog, Socks was definitely a failure. His rump slid easily across the polished tiles, and he gazed around in surprise to see who was doing the hauling. When he realized it was Jenny, he wriggled all over with delight and gave her a long, slurpy lick. Then he went back to glaring at the thugs.
“Sit,” Jenny said as she wiped a hand over her damp face. “Sit!” She stared helplessly at Michael. “He might let me do anything to him but he won’t sit for me.”
“He knows who’s boss,” Michael said smugly, crossing the room to pat Socks and then hold his wife hard against him again. He turned to the officials. “Satisfied?”
“Perfectly, sir,” Charles said, and beamed. He turned to his boss. “This lady knows this dog, sir.”
“It’s not totally conclusive,” the older man said, though clearly it was convincing enough for him. “There’s a written interview we’d like you both to complete.”
“Not now,” Michael said. “My wife’s been through enough. I do not want my son born prematurely.”
My son… The words were like a bombshell.
There was a hiss from Gloria. “Your son?”
“Yes, ma’am, my son,” Michael said blandly, meeting her look. “We had him checked out so we knew what color to paint his bedroom. We’re hoping he’ll have red hair, just like his daddy.”
“He’s not your son.” Gloria almost spat the words. “He’s my…”
“Yes?” Michael raised his eyebrows.
“He’s my grandson. My heir!” It was practically a wail, and despite himself, Michael softened. There was a touch of desperation there.
“Then I suggest you get yourself on decent terms with my wife,” he said softly. “We have no objections to our son meeting you and getting to know you as he gets older-as long as you realize that we’re his parents.”
“You’re not his parents.”
“You’re saying my wife is not his mother?”
“I-” Gloria was almost speechless with rage.
“Yes?” He smiled at her, waiting for her to go on, and of course she couldn’t.
“You’ll regret this,” she said, and whirled to leave, but Jenny rushed over to her, placing a hand on her beautifully jacketed arm.
“Gloria…”
The woman whirled to face her, and she looked at Jenny’s hand as if it was infectious.
“Get your hand off me.”
“But-”
“I have nothing to say to you. Unless you agree to return to England like a sensible woman.”
“You know I can’t do that.” Jenny’s voice was laced with unhappiness, and Michael heard it and took an instinctive step forward.
“Then I have nothing more to say to you, girl,” the woman snapped, and shook her aside and stalked out of the room.
Her hired men followed.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE IMMIGRATION officials left soon after.
“We’re real sorry to have bothered you again,” the older man told them, while Charles made friends with Socks. “You can’t believe the pressure we’re dealing with over this one. Our report will recommend an end to the thing, and the pressure should stop. She’ll be able to insist on one last interview. In the case of a rushed marriage involving a green card, the usual follow-up is an interview to make sure everything’s in order, but now that the claim you’re living apart has been disproved, we’ll put that off until after the birth.”
Michael only had part of his mind on the conversation. He was watching Jenny, who was on the floor, Socks sprawled ecstatically over her knees. Lana was down there, too, with baby Greg gurgling on her lap. But Michael’s gaze rested solely on Jenny. She looked extraordinary.
In that moment, emotions stirred in Michael that he’d sworn he’d never feel again. And there were new emotions, too-ones he hadn’t even known he was capable of feeling. He knew right then and there that he welcomed them. He was falling in love, he thought, dazed. He was falling in love with his wife, and he was loving every minute of it.
“She really is very beautiful,” the older official said, watching Michael’s face with good-humored understanding.
“I…yes. I’m sorry.”
“There’s definitely no need to apologize, sir,” the man said, and beamed. “We see all sorts in this business, and it’s a pleasure to see a happy marriage. And I sure don’t blame you for looking at her. If I may say so, your wife’s not the sort of woman you’d want to take your eyes off for a minute.”