Bossman's Baby Scandal / Executive's Pregnancy Ultimatum: Bossman's Baby Scandal / Executive's Pregnancy Ultimatum

All noise around her faded, the other couple, the barking poodle, became a dull din drowned out by the drum of her pulse in her ears. She linked her fingers with his, wondering what it would be like to follow this attraction.

The heels on her boots brought her closer to his face. He only needed to duck a little, or she could arch up. Only a kiss. Nothing more. A simple … brush of his mouth against hers. She could feel his breath already touching her in a phantom caress and, God, how she wanted this, just this much. Why even bother worrying about whether they would take it further?

She nipped his bottom lip. He growled low, then took her mouth with his, fully, no way to tell who’d opened for whom first because the hunger just took over. They’d kissed in her office before landing on the sofa. It hadn’t been a totally impersonal hookup, but they certainly had made out. Not like this, standing in the hall outside her door, necking with the man who’d taken her to dinner. There was something wonderfully romantic about it. Something that made her want to sink in for a while and just enjoy the moment.

Her fingers tested the texture of his short hair still damp from snowflakes. He smelled of the cool crisp winter air and a hint of oregano from the restaurant, and her ravenous senses lapped up every bit.

“Lauren,” he whispered, scattering kisses up her cheekbone, over her ear, “this is getting more than a little out of control for a public hallway. Do you want to move inside?”

Did she? She inched back to stare up into his face.

Her apartment door swept open, startling her back a step and into the present. Jason stepped in front of her protectively, his back tense under her fingers. When had she touched him again? Her fingers curled deeper into the fabric of his jacket, taut muscles flexing under her grip.

She peered over his shoulder and winced. “Mom?”

Four

Lauren stared at her mother, framed in the open doorway, and tried not to panic. How long would it take those keen maternal eyes to notice the baby bulge under the baggy sweater? She really should have taken care of informing her parents before now.

Second-guessing herself served no good. She needed to focus on how to best handle the moment, which began with gauging her mother’s current mood by how she dressed.

Jacqueline Presley had always been a strange mix of junior league meets avant garde. She wore her standard Chanel suit—plum purple today—but with chunky jewelry in an animal theme. A family of ruby lizards climbed up one side of her jacket. Her emerald cape with silver fringe was draped haphazardly over her arm. She must have just arrived.

How she’d talked her way past the super to get inside, Lauren didn’t even want to know.

She had more pressing concerns, anyway. Her mother’s clothes said she was in an up mood, but her tousled hair, chipped nails and shaking hands testified to a frenetic edge. Sure, they were minor signs, but Lauren had learned long ago to catalog every detail, read the nuances, prepare herself for anything.

As she struggled for what to say, Jason stepped forward and thrust out his hand. “Hello, Mrs. Presley. I’m Jason Reagert.”

“Reagert?” She shook his hand, then tapped the air with a rhinestone-studded fingernail, chewed down on one corner. “Are you related to J. D. Reagert of Reagert Comm?”

His smile tightened but didn’t disappear. “My father, ma’am.”

“Oh, no need to call me ma’am. I’m Jacqueline.” She took his arm and hauled him into the apartment, not even looking back at Lauren.

What the hell?

She’d been so freaked out worrying that her mother would learn about the baby—only to be ignored completely. But then, Jason represented everything her mother wanted in a son-in-law. Lauren followed them inside, closing the door behind her.

Jacqueline’s laugh bounced around in the vaulted ceiling. Her mom had many wonderful qualities, and she could certainly be charming when she wanted. And the times she’d taken meds, life had been level, happy. Lauren couldn’t quite say “normal,” because her mother was always quirky and artsy, but when she took care of her health, those eccentricities were actually fun.

God, she hoped this was one of those times.

Lauren inched her purse around over her stomach and followed Jason and her mother deeper into the apartment, the pair still with their backs to her. Jason pulled out a chair for her mother at the dining table. Odd choice, but Lauren wasn’t going to argue, since sitting at the wooden ice-cream-parlor-style table would conveniently hide her pregnancy.

Had Jason known that? A sharp and watchful edge in his eyes indicated he was very aware of everything going on around him. Realization washed over her. Jason was shielding her from her mother. He’d maneuvered everyone so Lauren’s stomach was never visible, while keeping her mother distracted—offering to take her wrap, pulling out her chair, asking about her trip down.

Could they actually pull this off without her mom finding out about the baby in such an explosive way tonight? It looked increasingly possible as Jacqueline seemed enraptured with quizzing Jason about his new job in California. Neither of them spared so much as a glance across the table at Lauren. Jacqueline was too busy soaking up the attention to even fidget with her glasses chain dangling from her neck.

How strange, not to mention different, to have someone run interference with her mom. She’d never had that before—her father had been more concerned with hiding out than containing the situation. Okay by her. She was an adult now.

Still, it felt good to breathe. Of course, Jason offered only a temporary reprieve. The news would come out soon enough, but in a more controlled setting.

Fifteen or so minutes of small talk later, Jason clasped Jacqueline’s hand. “Jacqueline, it’s been a delight meeting you. I hope you don’t find me pushy here, but I’ve just gotten in from California to visit Lauren and have to leave soon …”

Her mother scooped up her cape and passed it to Jason to hold open for her. “Oh, don’t let me keep you two lovebirds. I’ll just head back to my suite at the Waldorf.” Stepping into her cape and shaking out the fringe, she turned to Lauren. “Lunch, dear, you and I, as soon your guy here returns to California.”

“Sure, Mom. We really do need to talk.”

“I know a great place with all organic foods. It’ll help you with that water retention. Your face is a little puffy.” Jacqueline leaned close to press her cheek to Lauren’s. “He’s a keeper. Don’t mess it up this time, dear.”

Lauren secured her purse over her stomach. “Of course, Mom.”

She so didn’t want to have a conversation with her mom about finding an “acceptable catch,” especially in front of Jason. She could even let the “puffy face” comment pass if it meant getting through this visit without a confrontation. Come to think of it, her mother would probably see this baby as an opportunity to reel in that “catch.”

Lauren shivered in disgust at the thought of her child being used that way.

Jacqueline breezed toward the door with a wave over her shoulder but not even a backward glance at Lauren as Jason escorted her out to the hall.

Lauren sagged in the chair, her purse sliding to the hardwood floor with a hefty thump. She smoothed her hand over the slight bulge of her stomach, the baby rolling under her hand. No child of hers was going to be seen as merely an opportunity to climb up some social ladder.

A tear dripped off her chin.

Damn. She scrubbed the back of her wrist along her face. She hadn’t even known she was crying. She heard the creak as Jason closed the door, and she swiped her fingers under her eyes again, praying she’d cleared away any mascara tracks.

As he stepped into the apartment again, she scavenged up a smile. “I can’t even begin to thank you.”

“For what?” He pulled a chair closer to her and sat.

“For running interference with Mom, for not saying anything about the baby or my slimy accountant.”

“I’m all about making things easier for you and our baby.”

Our baby.

His words sent a shiver through her. Of excitement or fear?

She thought of their kiss in the corridor and how quickly she could land right back in his arms again, in his bed. Jason had a way of making her lose control, and that scared her most of all.

Lauren clenched her hands together to keep from clasping his hand on the table. “You’ve been great. Really. Coming here the minute you found out, dinner, handling Mom.” In so many other ways, but still she couldn’t forget the past months of no communication, not even so much as an e-mail. They needed to talk about that night sometime. Discussing it seemed less daunting now in light of the land mine she’d just dodged with her mother. “You haven’t asked how I ended up pregnant.”

He scratched his jaw, leaning back. “I figured the condom must have failed.”

Memories of their frantic coupling churned through her mind, her body still humming from their make-out session in the hallway. Four months ago they’d torn at each other’s clothes. And yes, they’d kissed then, too, deeply, frantically, desperate to connect. Then the mad fumbling through his wallet to sheath him before … “We were pretty preoccupied at the time.” Lauren shifted in her chair, suddenly unable to get comfortable. “I appreciate you not questioning me about it.”

Her eyes lingered on his strong neck as she remembered the strength of it under her lips, savoring the bristly texture of his late-day shadow.

“We’ve known each other for a year and worked together most of the time the last month before I left. And I realize you weren’t seeing anyone else around the time we, uh, landed on your office couch.”

“I wasn’t seeing you, either.” Yet they’d ended up having impulsive sex, something she’d never done before. She’d only ever been with two men before, both long-term relationships, both men she’d considered marrying.

He angled closer, skimming his knuckles up and down her arm. “We may not have been dating, but I sure as hell always noticed you.”

His stroking hand moved slower, shifting from soothing to sensual, the heat of his skin searing through her sweater. She wanted him so damn much.

Too much.

She inched out of reach before she did something impulsive like draw him down to the floor with her. God, why hadn’t someone warned her about how out of control her hormones would be during pregnancy? Crying one minute and ready to jump Jason’s bones the next.

He rested his hand back on the table, giving her the space she needed. Okay, she would need a couple of states between them to disperse the tangy scent of his aftershave.

Lauren cleared her throat, settling on a subject sure to douse any passion. “How did you manage that whole scene with my mother so perfectly?”

His eyes smoked over her, assessing for three very loud beats of her heart before he relaxed in his chair again.

“A while back,” he said, apparently willing to concede her abrupt change of subject, “I landed an ad account for a new makeup line. The spokesmodel got pregnant. They still wanted her face on their product but not her stomach. We did some very inventive posing on that photo shoot.”

“Well, I appreciate your help all the same.” She toyed with a peppermill in the middle of the table. Maybe if she ground some flakes she could explain away the tears stinging behind her eyes. “I know I’m just delaying the inevitable.”

He tugged a linen napkin out of the basket and passed it to her. “Telling your mother about her first grandchild should be a happy event—at a time and place of your choosing.”

“Thank you for understanding.” Taking the napkin from him, she dabbed at her eyes, cursing the hormonal flood yet again. The weight of everything going on overwhelmed her—from saving her company to being pregnant on her own. It all felt like too much and Jason had offered her help. What did she have to lose by going to California with him, just for a couple of weeks to get her world in order and work out logistics for their life as parents? “Okay, Jason.”

“Okay what?”

She drew in a deep breath and crossed her fingers as the words bubbled out. “I’ll go to California with you for two weeks and pretend to be your fiancée.”

His eyes flashed with surprise briefly, then his face smoothed into his best calm-executive expression, which she’d seen him plaster in place often in the past. “Two weeks?”

So he’d caught that part. “I can’t leave my business indefinitely.” And she couldn’t let herself get caught up in playing house with Jason. “Look what happened when I was out of the office for a few weeks because of the morning sickness. My slimy accountant ran off with half a million dollars.”

“Valid point.” His features hardened, more angular with his negotiating face. “And you’re willing to accept my offer to infuse some cash into your business?”

“A loan. With interest and a payment plan.” Her pride would only let her go so far with this crazy idea. “I wouldn’t feel right otherwise, especially since I’m not agreeing to move to California permanently.”

“We could consider the money an investment for our child.”

“Jason, don’t push your luck. Even if half a million dollars isn’t much to you, it’s the principle here.”

“Fine,” he conceded. “I hear you.”

“I’ll accept a low interest rate.” She wouldn’t allow her pride to push her to the point of bankruptcy again.

“Good business decision. I’m obviously not going to argue, since I would have given you the money.”

“I’m going to be more careful this time in choosing who will watch over the business while I’m away. I considered hiring an office manager when the morning sickness first set in, but opted to cut corners to save money. That’s a mistake I won’t be repeating.”

She’d gotten a second chance, one she couldn’t afford to lose. Her baby deserved a strong, capable mother.

Lauren jabbed Jason in the chest with a finger. “But I really mean it when I say two weeks. I’m nervous enough being away from the office for that long.”

“You come back to New York in two weeks, but we leave the engagement on the books to quiet your mom and my client.” He clasped her finger and folded it against his chest, enfolding her in the warmth of his touch and chocolate-brown eyes.

“After a while, we can say time apart took its toll.”

“Hey, we just became engaged.” His thumb rasped along the inside of her wrist, her pulse leaping in response. “Do we have to plan the breakup already?”

“Quit trying to make me laugh.” And quit trying to turn me on.

He linked their fingers, holding her as firmly with his molten brown gaze. “But you have the most beautiful smile. Call me a selfish bastard, but I like to see it.”

The heat of his hand and his eyes stoked the barely banked fire inside her. She needed to hold strong.

Lauren eased her hand away. “I have one final condition.”

“Name it. I’ll make it happen.”

Lauren clasped the arms of her chair to keep her hands off him and her resolve in place. “Under no circumstances will we be sleeping together again.”

She’d agreed to go to California to give herself breathing room to regroup, to save her company and, yes, to help him secure his job. But she refused to let him blindside her a second time. She couldn’t risk the way sex with Jason stole her ability to think straight.

As she stared at his broad shoulders and steamy brown eyes, she wondered if she’d cut off her nose to spite her face.

Jason had known he would win in the end. Still, he was damn glad to be pulling up to his home in San Francisco’s Mission District with Lauren firmly planted in the seat next to him. Sure, she’d tossed that “no sex” clause into the agreement, a frustrating turn. Not unexpected, though. And not insurmountable. He’d seen the arousal in her eyes, the tightening of her nipples under her sweater.

He had hope.

Their day traveling together had gone well in a chartered flight with a catered supper on Sunday night. He’d bided his time and kept things low-key. He had two weeks to win her over, and he wasn’t going to blow it on the first day by pushing too fast. Right now, he needed to focus on getting her settled into his restored Victorian house for the night as smoothly as possible.

The streetlamps brightened the inside of the sedan. Lauren pressed her hand to the window of his Saab, her eyes widening. “You have a house.”

“I don’t live in my car.”

She laughed lightly, then looked back at the house as he drove around to the garage. “I just expected you to live in some cool condo in a singles’ complex.” She looked closer and gasped. “And look at that window box next door. They already have some flowers in January. This is all so … domestic.”

He hadn’t thought of it that way and wasn’t sure he was comfortable with the label. He turned off the ignition and closed the garage door. “When I was in the Navy, I spent so much time on a cramped ship and on the road. I’m ready for a space of my own.”

“Babies are noisy and take up lots of room.”

“Unless you’re pregnant with a dozen sailors, I don’t think we’re going to have a problem with space.” Winking, he stepped out of the car and opened the door for her, leading her out to the covered walkway connecting the new garage to the historic, million-dollar home.

He’d bought the property for its location. As he walked up the steps to the side entrance, he saw the details anew through Lauren’s artistic eyes—an old remolded Victorian home, gray with white trim. Hardwood floors stretched throughout, the newly refinished sheen gleaming as he flicked on the lights. Crown molding and multipaned stained-glass windows had made it too good an investment to pass up.

“This is absolutely gorgeous.” She spun on her heel, her loose dress swirling around her calves. Her pinup-girl curves and beauty sucker punched him.

Jason loosened his tie. “I like being at the center of things.”

“Does that mean you’re not a workaholic anymore?” She skimmed her fingers along the marble fireplace mantel, her gaze skipping around the room with obvious appreciation.

He’d known the vintage home would appeal to her. He hadn’t been shopping for the two of them when he’d bought the house, but appreciated the dumb luck of owning a home she liked. Or would that qualify as having something in common?

“My time for recreation is very limited. Having restaurants and nightlife more accessible makes sense.”

She traced the chair rail down the hall. “What a find.”

He set her luggage at the foot of the stairs. “The couple who lived here before remodeled the whole place, wiring and all. They even gutted and updated the kitchen and baths.”

“So how did you luck into it?” Her auburn hair swished along her back as she looked over her shoulder at him.

“Apparently the renovations put a strain on their marriage and they ended up in divorce court. It looked like they broke up in the middle of a project. The upstairs guest bath still had the materials for wallpaper stripping set up in the tub.” He’d been working so hard landing the Prentice account, he’d only gotten around to clearing out that guest bathroom the week before. “Neither of them could afford to keep the house on their own, so they sold it.”

“How sad.” She wrapped her arms around her waist, accentuating her lush curves. “Don’t you worry about stepping into all that bad karma?”

“I would worry more about paying the extra cash to get the same house down the road.”

“I guess so,” she said, her soft voice bouncing around the nearly empty space. “What about furniture?”

He glanced at the bare walls and mostly vacant rooms. A few moving boxes were stacked in a corner in each room. He just pulled out what he needed as he needed it. “I haven’t had time to pick anything out and my old place came furnished. So once I got here, I bought the bare basics and went to work. I figured I might as well wait to do it right rather than buy a bunch of crap I regret later on.” He gestured for her to follow him. “Come on back to the kitchen. I have seats and food.”

“You could hire a decorator.” Her footsteps echoed down the hall on her way into the kitchen. Her gasp of pleasure at the spacious layout made him smile.

“I can wait. I have everything I need.” He steered her toward one of the two bar stools at the mammoth island between the kitchen and eating area. “A recliner, a big TV. There’s a bed upstairs with a top-of-the-line mattress.”

Her lips went tight as she sat, resting her elbows on the Brazilian-granite countertop. “Where will I be sleeping?”

“In my bed of course.” His temperature spiked at just the words. He opened the refrigerator. “Bottled water? Fruit?”

“Yes, please.” She stood and took the drink and grapes from him. “Then I hope for your sake that your guest room has a comfy bed or sofa.”

God, he loved the way she didn’t take his bull, just quietly lobbing the serve back to him. “No furniture there, either. I’ll sleep in the recliner for now and have another mattress delivered.”

“That really sucks for you tonight, because I am not going to feel sorry for you and invite you to share the bed.” She tipped back her water.

“You’re heartless.” He slid a hand behind her waist and brought a grape to her lips.

“I’m fairly certain I made myself clear about the sleeping arrangements before we left New York.” She plucked the grape from his hands and popped it into her mouth.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.” His thumb stroked along her spine as he watched her eyes for any signs of arousal—like the widening of her pupils, the pulse along her neck quickening.

“Jason, we can’t just sleep together for a couple of weeks and then have a civil relationship. It’s not logical. We have a child to think about. We can’t afford to take risks.”

Since she hadn’t shoved him away, he urged her a little closer until she stood between his knees. “Don’t you think our kid would like to see us together?”

“Are you suddenly magically ready for a long-term relationship? Because you damn well weren’t prepared for that four months ago.”

His eye twitched. “Sure, why not?”

“How charming.” Her lip curled. She shoved his arms away and charged toward the stairs.

“Hey, I’m trying here.” He spread his arms wide, following. “This is uncharted territory for me, too.”

She gripped her roll bag. “I’m going to bed. Alone. Enjoy your recliner.”

Not a problem, since he doubted he would sleep, anyway.

“I will. Thanks. I’m a deep sleeper.” He slid the suitcase from her hand. “And I’m also a guy who can’t watch a woman—especially a pregnant woman—lug a suitcase up the stairs.”

Without another word, he loped ahead of her. He had her in his house and he had two weeks to work his way into her bed. And once he got there? He intended to make sure she wasn’t so quick to boot him out again.

Five

Loneliness echoed around her in the empty bedroom.

Lauren slumped against the closed door, Jason’s footsteps growing softer as he made his way to his recliner. Sure, she jammed too much furniture and plant life into her apartment back in Manhattan, but this space? It was beyond sparse.

A mattress on a frame.

One brass side table for a lamp and alarm clock.

And a closet full of clothes hanging from the racks and neatly folded on the shelves.

She pitched her purse on the bed, the bag bouncing to rest on the brown-and-blue comforter. Again the ring rolled out like a bad penny that kept turning up. Lauren placed it on the brass table. The generic piece of furniture.

Damn it, she didn’t want to feel sorry for him. Jason was known as a shark in the business world, and stakes were too high for her to be caught unawares. But something about this place made her sad, made her want to bring flowers and color and noise to his world.