One Wild Night: Magnate's Mistress...Accidentally Pregnant! / Hot Boss, Boardroom Mistress / The Good, the Bad and the Wild

Then Chris smiled at her, and the crinkles nearly did her in. He had a point—regardless of how they worked out the details, they were going to be attached to each other for the rest of their lives through this child.

Six weeks ago, she’d made a decision that had changed her life forever by sleeping with him. Now she had to decide how she wanted to go forward, and animosity wouldn’t be a good choice—for her or the baby. “You want this baby, don’t you?”

“Very much.”

Options. Decisions. She had to choose quickly. She was caught between Scylla and Charybdis, and ironically, the Circe was offering her a possible safe navigation through with minimal losses. She was slowly gaining a new—albeit grudging—respect for Odysseus.

But that didn’t mean she was going to just roll over. “Are you willing to phone your lawyer right now and call him off?”

“Yes. I’m willing to be reasonable as long as you are.”

“Do that first,” she said, putting her hand in his as she let him help her to her feet. “Then you can show me the Circe.”

“You’ve done an amazing job. She looks much better than she did.” Ally ran her hand over the new seats in the Circe’s cockpit. “And the cabin is going to be positively decadent—I guess her racing days really are over.”

The cavernous OWD workshop was usually alive with people and noise, but with most of the men gone to lunch at the moment, it echoed instead. Glad for the lack of an audience, Chris watched Ally carefully as she explored the dry-docked Circe. While she seemed to accept his offer of a truce, she was still wary.

Ally’s arrival, so hard on the heels of Marge’s revelations, had thrown him. But he was used to thinking fast on his feet, making the most of whatever opportunity came his way, and he was secretly quite pleased with how quickly he’d managed to adapt the situation to suit him.

Dennison hadn’t been pleased to get the phone call and had tried to convince him to reconsider, but Chris was now hopeful he and Ally could work this out. Therefore, he concentrated on repairing what little relationship he had with Ally.

As she sat back in the cockpit and gave the tiller an experimental push, Chris assessed his options. While he’d originally floated the idea of marriage halfheartedly, it had oddly taken on new appeal. Marriage had never been on his radar before, and it would certainly solve a lot of problems. Ally was smart and beautiful, and she was already carrying their child. They got along well enough—especially in bed. Successful marriages had been built on a lot less.

The thought of Ally in bed led to the thought of Ally in the ocean, Ally on the beach, Ally on the trampoline of the cata-maran…his entire body grew hard at the memories. Oh, yes, they were certainly more than compatible there.

“What’s that one called?”

Ally’s question brought him back to the matter at hand. He looked where she pointed at the yacht dwarfing the Circe. “That’s the Dagny. It means ‘new day.’”

“And it’s a racing yacht? It’s awfully big.”

“Ninety-six feet, but designed to go long distances very quickly with only a one-man crew. I’d offer to take you aboard, but Jack is a little possessive of the Dagny at the moment.”

“Jack?”

“A cousin who designs all of Team Wells’s racers. The Dagny is his latest pride and joy.”

“And how far is a ‘long distance’? I mean, I would have considered Tortola to Charleston a pretty long distance but the Circe made it, and she’s tiny in comparison.”

He laughed. “I said the Dagny would cover long distances quickly. The Circe might make it around the world, but not in any reasonable amount of time.”

Ally looked at him strangely. “That’s what you’re planning to do? Sail the Dagny around the world? Alone?”

“And break the record at the same time.”

“Wow.” She sat quietly, her brow furrowed as she thought. “How long does that take?”

“If I’m going to break the record, less than sixty days.”

The furrows got deeper. “Oh.”

“Ally? Is everything okay?”

The frown lines disappeared as she brightened and plastered a smile across her face that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m just trying to reconcile this Chris with the one I met on Tortola.”

“Same guy.” He grinned at her.

“Not exactly.”

“But close enough.”

“Maybe.”

She fell silent, tracing the pattern on the seat cushions with a finger, and he wondered what she was thinking about. In the silence, Ally’s stomach growled. Loudly.

She blushed, placing a hand over her stomach. “Excuse me. I haven’t eaten much today—between the morning sickness and, well, everything else that happened.”

He stood. “Then I get the chance to feed you, after all. Let’s go.”

Ally hesitated. “Um, I should probably head home….”

He’d almost forgotten Ally’s overly cautious nature, but even coupled with what she euphemistically called “everything else,” he didn’t realize he’d have to coerce her just to get her to have a meal with him. Of course, she was probably still a bit distrustful of his motives, but they had to get past that if they were going to work anything out. And if he’d learned anything as the captain of Team Wells, it was how to build a crew. Food helped.

“I never did get to take you out for a meal before, so I think I’m due. You need to eat, the baby needs to eat, and I haven’t had lunch, either.”

Her brow started to furrow again, but she seemed to catch it in time and shrugged instead. “You’re right. Food would be good. Just not Mexican.”

He jumped to the ground as Ally carefully descended the ladder propped against the Circe’s hull. Reaching up, he grasped her waist to guide her down the rungs and felt a tremor run through her. Like an electrical current, it vibrated through his fingers and shot through his veins, and he was loath to let her go when her feet finally touched ground.

Ally didn’t turn around, and his fingers tightened on her as the heat of her skin seeped through the thin cotton of her dress. He remembered the feeling. Obviously so did she.

With her back to him, those wild curls tickled his face, the fresh citrus smell of her filling his nose and warming his blood. Experimentally, he moved his thumbs in small circles and another shiver shook her. Only inches separated them. If she’d just lean back a little…

Voices filled the room, chasing the silence away as the men returned from lunch, and Ally stepped away.

As she faced him, he noted the flags of color on her cheeks and the way her teeth worried her lower lip. Ally might be angry with him or wary of him or any other number of things, but she wasn’t immune to him.

Satisfied with that knowledge for the moment, he allowed her the space she seemed to need to get herself back under control.

“I think—I mean we…Um, I, uh, guess…” She blew out a deep breath and brushed her hair away from her face. “Let’s just go, okay?”

She turned on her heel and took two steps in the direction of the door before she stopped. The Dagny was right in front of her, and she looked at it carefully, her eyes tracing over the rigging before returning to the three hulls of the trimaran. Her mouth twisted briefly and she nodded, almost imperceptibly, before she set her shoulders and turned back to him.

Her smile—a real one, this time—snared him. “Are you coming? I’m hungry.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

“AND AFTER THAT, everything went fine. We had a nice lunch, and I came home.” She’d been too tired to do much more than send a quick text to Molly last night, so Ally brought her up to speed on the revelations of yesterday while they tackled the much overdue and mindless chore of filing.

“You certainly seem in better spirits this morning.”

“My breakfast stayed down, so that was a nice way to start the day.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“I know.” Ally grinned. “But it’s still good news, right?”

“You just seem to be in a really good mood for someone who still has the threat of a massive, ugly legal battle looming over her.”

“You don’t get it, do you?”

“Obviously not.”

“Dagny.”

“It’s a boat. It’s what the man does for a living. I don’t see the connection.”

“Okay, pay attention. Chris got all upset over the news of the baby, then I escalate that by handling the situation badly, too. Like any man, he had to fight back.”

“And he used the big guns.”

“The biggest. But right now, this is still fresh news for Chris. That will fade. At this very moment, even with impending fatherhood on the horizon, he’s still planning on going off on this around-the-world race thing. We talked about it a lot yesterday, and he’s bordering on obsessed with it. That, and rehabbing the Circe. After that, there’ll be another race and another boat vying for his attention. He’ll lose interest in me and the baby soon enough—between the distance and everything he has to do for this race, we’re not going to be high on his radar—and by the time the baby gets here, Chris will have figured out that he doesn’t want to be tied down with a child.” Ally closed the file drawer with a satisfying bang. “He’ll have moved on. Maybe we’ll work out some kind of settlement to salve his conscience or some visitation plans or something, but I guarantee he’ll tire of this baby stuff soon enough.”

“You sound pretty sure of that.”

“Molls, racing is everything to him. He only works in the shipyard to make his grandfather happy. Wandering feet and an adventurous soul don’t exactly equal Father of the Year. Look at my brother. Diane’s been slow coming around to this simple fact, but even she’s starting to realize that Steven will never marry her and settle down.” Hungry again, she dug in her desk drawer and found an apple. Biting into it, she savored the taste and the lack of roiling nausea. “Nope, all I have to do is just bide my time and ride this out and Kiddo and I will be fine.”

Molly’s shoulders relaxed. “I’m glad to hear that. Oh, and by the way, the Kriss brothers are coming by Monday to work up an estimate on your new office.”

“Excellent.” And she meant it. After the upheaval of this week, she was finally feeling as if she had things back under control. TGIF indeed. She had about a thousand things she needed to do today. She’d been next to worthless most of the week, and poor Molls hadn’t been able to pick up all of the slack, but her to-do list was manageable, if long, and without continual distractions she’d be able to get caught up and still enjoy the weekend.

But she found it hard to concentrate. The radio played softly, Molly’s keyboard clicked away in the background, and the phones were silent, yet she couldn’t seem to make the columns of numbers on her screen add up properly. After two hours of working on the same account, she’d made little headway, and she closed the file in disgust. She did mundane things instead—balanced her brother’s checkbook, renewed her father’s fishing license—but those simple chores didn’t require much of her attention.

Her e-mail inbox was empty—since Erin had kicked her out of the wedding, she was no longer forced to referee the ongoing battles between her mom and her sister over caterers and flowers—and the lack of family drama felt odd. Maybe that was why she was unable to focus; she wasn’t used to working without constant interruptions.

She’d certainly have plenty of interruptions once Kiddo arrived. The thought made her smile. She should enjoy the peace while it lasted—Erin couldn’t stay mad at her forever, Steven would do something else stupid soon enough, and she’d be back in the mix. Plus, with two new babies in the family…

She shook her head to clear it and reopened the file from earlier. Focus. It took her another hour to find the mistake, and she was relieved to see it was the client’s error, not one caused by her inattention.

When the phone rang, she jumped on the distraction eagerly.

“Hi, Ally.” Her heartbeat accelerated at the sound of that now-familiar baritone, before she reminded herself she didn’t need to panic. She only needed to humor him.

She tried for an upbeat, noncommittal tone. “Hi, Chris. What’s up?”

“I’m done for the day and should be headed that way in another hour or so. Can you be ready by six?”

“Six?” She nearly choked on the word. “Ready for what?”

“Dinner.”

“You want to go to dinner?” Her voice sounded strangled and Molly looked over, eyebrows raised in question.

Chris chuckled, and the sound did strange things to her already confused insides. “I’d heard forgetfulness was a side effect of pregnancy, but really, Ally. I told you I’d call and we’d go to dinner.”

“I didn’t know you meant tonight.” Every other male on the planet waits at least a week before they call—if they call at all.

“Do you have other plans or something?”

Lie. Tell him you’re busy. “Um, well…”

“Good. I’ll pick you up at your place at six. Bye, Ally.”

She was still sputtering her refusal when the line went dead. She placed the phone in its cradle and buried her head in her hands.

“What was that about?”

Ally didn’t bother to look up. “He’s taking me to dinner tonight.”

She heard something that sounded suspiciously like a snort from Molly. “So much for staying below the radar.”

“Molls…” Lifting her head, she saw a smirk playing at the corners of Molly’s mouth. “This is not good.”

This is not good was rapidly becoming her mantra. She left work a little early and took a nap, waking up still groggy an hour later. Cold water splashed on her face helped wake her up a bit, but the fatigue still grabbed at the edges of her mind.

Molly’s lecture about the importance of appearing keen on Chris’s ideas—for the time being, at least—echoed in her head as she pulled on a simple skirt and a sleeveless silk shirt. After clipping her unruly hair at the nape of her neck, she tried to add some color to her pale face. Deciding it wasn’t going to get much better, she took one last critical look in the mirror before turning off the bathroom light.

She still had a few minutes before Chris was due to arrive, so she booted up her laptop and took it to the couch. She typed Chris’s name into the search engine, but hesitated over the enter key.

Part of her still didn’t want to know. She’d convinced herself weeks ago that the less she knew about Chris the better off she’d be. But that had backfired in her face. Molly had been more than willing to play research assistant, but Ally had held her off, still undecided about how much she did want to know. Even last night, after she’d returned from Charleston, she’d purposefully left the computer turned off, willing to just ride this out. But now, with Chris headed to her door, seemingly serious about this get-to-know-you game, she had no choice but to learn everything she could about him.

Taking a deep breath she hit Enter, and seconds later Google returned its list.

The impressiveness of Chris’s accomplishments floored her. From his earliest races when he was still in his teens to his most recent win, Chris had racked up an impressive résumé around the world. It didn’t seem to matter where or what kind of boat he raced, he rarely lost, and never finished lower than third place. It seemed Wells Racing had several teams, and while Chris captained their most successful one, he also oversaw the entire racing operation.

OWD Shipyard built a variety of yachts—not just the ones Chris sailed—and their designs were popular all over the world. From what she could find, Chris had his hands in that aspect of the business, as well.

Oh, and here was a mention of Chris meeting with the OWD stockholders in his grandfather’s place. And look, he ran summer camps for inner-city kids to learn sailing, and donated huge chunks of cash to environmental causes.

Good God, when did the man sleep? How on earth had he found the time to go to Tortola and sail the Circe home? Of all the men in the world she could have hooked up with, how had she, of all people, found the one who just happened to be the world’s only zillionaire businessman/champion racer/philanthropist paragon? It boggled the mind.

Remembering their discussion yesterday, she added “world solo record” to her search terms to narrow the results. Google returned very few this time. While several sites speculated Chris would one day attempt to do it—and most likely break the record in the process—none seemed to know that plans were in the works to do just that.

The last link on the page had a very odd headline, and Ally clicked through. The Charleston Gazette must have put all of their archives online because the date on the article was close to twenty years ago. She scanned the first few lines quickly and almost closed the window before the impact of the words sunk in. Carefully, she started over again.

After an intensive nine-day search, rescuers have located the boat of missing sailor Paul Wells floating abandoned ten miles off the coast of Darwin, Australia. Based on the heavy damage to the hull, rescuers believe Wells, who was attempting to break the solo circumnavigation world record, perished in recent storms in the Timor Sea. Wells was a native of Charleston and is survived by his father, Porter Wells, and his eleven-year-old son, Chris.

A rock landed in her stomach. Chris wanted to attempt the same stunt that had killed his father? Was the man insane?

Wait, hadn’t Chris told her before that sailboat racing wasn’t all that dangerous? “It’s hard to kill yourself,” he’d said. She changed her search terms to give her more information about solo circumnavigation, and from the results it seemed it wasn’t all that hard to die after all.

Great. The father of her child had a death wish. Maybe that’s why he was so keen on claiming this baby—he’d have a piece of immortality in case his boat sank in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

That thought made her a little sick.

The doorbell rang and she quickly shut down the laptop before she went to answer it. Taking a deep breath to prepare herself, she opened the door to Chris.

Who looked so good the air in her lungs came out in a painful rush.

With the sun behind him, he seemed surrounded in a golden glow. A black T-shirt hugged those strong shoulders and skimmed over the planes of his chest before disappearing into the waistband of low-slung faded jeans. He grinned, and her heart melted a little as her senses sprang to life. This was the Chris she’d flipped for, and her body definitely remembered him. He leaned in to give her an innocent peck on the cheek in greeting, but even that brief touch of his mouth burned her.

“Come on in.” Ally stepped back to allow him to pass as she tried to compose herself. How different this time was from Monday when he’d been here, so angry the air around him had nearly burned from the heat. Today he seemed comfortable, almost relaxed.

Well, at least one of them should be, and it wasn’t shaping up to be her. With a sigh, she closed the door behind him.

“You look great, Ally. Are you hungry?”

“Starved.” Amazingly enough, she was, but she would’ve lied if necessary. Her living room usually seemed open and spacious, but Chris seemed to fill it completely, making her overly aware of him and creating an uncomfortable feeling of intimacy.

“Then let’s go.” Chris reached for her hand, and the touch of his hand sent a shiver through her. Yesterday she’d chalked up her immediate physical reaction to his touch as a simple aberration—something to do with all of those pregnancy hormones sweeping through her—but the repeat of the sensation today underscored her need to keep him at arm’s length.

Literally.

But he made that extremely difficult to accomplish. He kept touching her—to help her out of the car, to guide her as they walked, to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear—and her nerves were a complete jangle by the time they reached the restaurant on the riverfront.

Chris made small talk, and although her mind kept wandering to deeper places, she managed to keep up her end of the conversation. At the restaurant Chris sat opposite her, and finally she had enough distance to begin to incrementally relax.

A drink would have helped, but when Chris waved away the wine list, she remembered it would be a long while before alcohol touched her lips again. She’d have to find her courage outside of a bottle.

“I brought you a present.” Chris slid a small black box across the table.

Jewelry. Jewelry came in boxes like that. “That’s really not necessary.” She scooted the box back to his side of the table.

“Yes, it is. It’s what men do when they’re trying to impress a lady.”

She thought about Gerry and muttered, “Not the men that I know.”

“Then you know a sorry class of men. No wonder you dumped your ex.”

She looked up sharply to see if he was teasing. The look on his face didn’t help her any there. “The fact he was sleeping with someone else had a lot to do with it.”

Chris nodded sagely. “Then he wasn’t only sorry, he was stupid, as well. I don’t know what you ever saw in him.”

That comment brought a laugh and suddenly the wariness lifted. “Me, neither.”

He pushed the box back to her. “Then open your present.”

Sliding off the red and white ribbon, Ally pulled the lid off carefully. Inside, nestled against black velvet, she found a circular gold disk attached to a delicate chain. Holding the disk to the light, she could see the design: two lions rampant, flanking a pillar.

“It’s beautiful.” From the twitch of his lips, she realized she was missing something. “Okay then, tell me what it means.”

“I thought you said you were a mythology geek. It’s the symbol of Rhea.”

Rhea, mother of the Titans, the goddess of female fertility and motherhood. Rather appropriate, considering. “Of course. Those are the lions that pull her chariot.” She ran her thumb over the design. “I’ve never seen anything like it before. It’s lovely. Thank you.”

Before she realized it, Chris was behind her, seemingly uncaring of the curious stares of the other patrons as he took the necklace from her fingers and placed it around her neck. The disk settled perfectly in the hollow between her breasts. His fingers brushed lightly against her nape as he fastened the clasp. The touch was gone as quickly as it had come, and Chris returned to his seat.

His eyes moved over her like a caress. “It suits you.”

The words and appreciative stare caused her face to heat, and she was very thankful for the dim lighting in the restaurant and the well-timed arrival of their server with their food.

As they ate, the conversation moved easily through current events, how she was feeling, and the book she was reading before Chris casually mentioned something about the Dagny that gave her the opening she needed.

She tried to keep her tone light. “It’s a really ambitious goal, but isn’t sailing around the world by yourself a bit dangerous?”

Chris set his drink down slowly and looked at her strangely. A moment later he nodded in understanding. “You’ve been doing some research. It was an accident. It’s not likely to happen again.”

“But that doesn’t change the fact…” She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

“That my father died doing the same thing?” he provided for her.

“Exactly.” She pushed her plate away, suddenly not hungry any longer.

“Things have changed a lot in the last twenty years, Ally. We’ve come long way. GPS systems, automatic emergency beacons, satellite communication, improved ship design—it’s very unlikely anything catastrophic will happen.”

He sounded so calm and sure about it. She wanted to smack some sense into him. “But from what I’ve read, there’s at least a thousand easy ways to die out there.”