Pregnant By The Ceo: Sensible Housekeeper, Scandalously Pregnant / She's Having the Boss's Baby / The Baby Who Saved Dr Cynical

“Yes.” But her success came at a price. Between caring for the baby and the bakery, Louisa only slept six hours a night at most. She was so tired. So, so tired. And Rafael looked more devilishly handsome than ever, well-rested and well-groomed in his black button-down shirt and slim-fitting jeans. “We work hard,” she said. “Matthias left nothing to my sister. The bakery needs constant attention, as do the children.”

“Children?” he asked.

Louisa bit her tongue, furious at her mistake. But before she could come up with an explanation, the bell chimed at the door.

“Sorry I’m late.” Her sister came in with her niece, who was carrying a backpack and several large sheets of artwork. “The line at the school was so long. It seems all the parents wanted to pick up their kids today…Oh.” She stopped, staring at Rafael. “Hello.”

Louisa glared at her. “Look who dropped by for a visit. My old boss.”

Katie had the audacity to smile and hold out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Cruz.”

“Call me Rafael.”

“Rafael.”

Behind them, Louisa simmered with fury. Then she jumped when she heard her baby give a soft mewling whimper from behind the office door. She glanced at Rafael, but by some miracle, he hadn’t heard it. Yet.

“I think I’ll give him a quick tour around the island,” Louisa interrupted abruptly. She looked at Rafael. “Would you like that?”

He looked startled, but instantly said, “Yes.”

Louisa untied her apron. “Take over the counter for me, Katie. Feed the little one with what I left in the fridge.” She gave her sister a hard look. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Looking abashed, her sister nodded. Katie would make sure to feed Noah some of the milk she’d left in the fridge.

Hanging her apron up on a hook, Louisa came around the counter. Kicking off her sturdy shoes and shoving her feet into flip-flops, she pulled out her bun and shook out her hair, letting it tumble down her bare shoulders over her tank top. “Have you seen Key West?”

“No,” he said, looking at her shoulders and hair. His gaze lifted slowly from her chest to her neck to her lips to her eyes. “When my plane landed, I came straight here.”

“You’re in for a treat,” she said grimly. “Come with me.”

Rafael couldn’t stop looking at her.

Louisa had changed so much in sixteen months, he thought. How much had changed? Her hair? Her face? Her clothes? Yes, but it was more than that.

For the last year and a half, when he’d dreamed of Louisa, he’d pictured her either naked or in a gray shapeless skirt suit, wearing black glasses over her pale skin with her brown hair pulled back into a tight bun.

This new Louisa looked nothing like the tight, prim, aloof housekeeper he remembered.

Now, her face was tanned, bringing out the natural beauty of her bare face. He could see the intense color of her eyes in the sun. Her lips were deep pink. Her hair no longer was pulled back into the tight bun, but now fell down her shoulders, highlighted by the sun into the color of dark honey. She’d put on a few pounds in all the right places. His eyes traced the shape of her body beneath the aqua-colored tank top and madras shorts. What was different?

Color, he realized. She was in color.

She’d been beautiful as his employee, but had always been in the background, almost invisible, the capable Miss Grey in her black-framed glasses, sensible shoes and gray suit.

Here in this little town, on the edge of the turquoise Caribbean Sea, Louisa was vibrant with her youth and energy. She shone with color and life.

As they walked toward the beach, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. He hadn’t come just to ask for forgiveness. He’d come to offer Louisa her old job back. He’d missed her. His houses were all disorganized, half in shambles since she’d left. He’d intended to quadruple her salary, to give her two months of vacation a year, to invite her family to come along—whatever it took to lure her. He needed her. Not just as his housekeeper, but as his mistress. As his lover and friend.

The flyer in the mail had been the sign he needed. He’d given her over a year to cool off. He’d come to Florida, confident he could convince her.

But from the moment he’d walked into the charming, busy bakery, he’d started to have doubts. As they went down the street, everyone they passed seemed to know her. Young mothers pushing baby strollers, gray-haired retired couples holding hands, children, teenagers—they all greeted her with enthusiasm. Including—Rafael growled beneath his breath—some men. Young men in their twenties, carrying surfboards and scuba gear. Older men with expensive wristwatches and expensive cars. Young or old, every time one of them smiled at Louisa, his eyes lingering on her face and body, Rafael had to restrain himself from punching a stranger.

As he and Louisa walked by Mallory Square, Rafael set his jaw. He’d been so arrogant, so sure he could get his way on the journey from Paris. But now, he looked down at her from the corner of his eye. What did he have to offer that would compete with the vibrant life she’d created here for herself?

She had her own business, a life with her sister and her niece, friends of her own. And for all he knew, she had a lover. Or worse: more than one…

“Key West,” she began, “is the southernmost settlement in the continental United States…” She continued to describe the island like a tour guide, but Rafael barely understood the words. He heard only the lovely sound of her beautiful voice. Only saw the movement of her lush pink lips. He couldn’t look away from her as they walked down the sidewalk, then crossed the busy street.

“Are you hungry?” she asked suddenly.

He’d been openly staring at her, he realized. He forced himself to look away, to not look at her gorgeous face, her high cheekbones tanned by the sun. To not look at her sensual mouth, or the full shape of her breasts in her clingy blue tank top. To not notice how tiny her waist looked, barely the span of both his hands, above the wide sway of her hips and her impossibly long, tanned legs.

“Well?”

He swallowed, forcing himself to meet her eyes and only her eyes.

“I’m starving,” he muttered.

“Come on, then,” she said, giving him a brief, impersonal smile. “We can’t let you leave on an empty stomach.”

He followed her to a nearby food stand near Mallory Square. After placing her order, Louisa turned and thrust a piping hot fried pastry, wrapped in a napkin, into his hands.

“What’s this?” he said, staring down at it.

“It’s a conch fritter,” she said, taking a bite of it. “Try it.”

He tried not to watch the way her mouth moved as she chewed the greasy fried pastry. She licked a spot of grease from her lips, and he nearly shuddered.

Then he realized she was waiting expectantly. He reached for his wallet.

“No. My treat,” she said brightly, stopping him. “You came all the way from Paris. It’s the least I can do to feed you before you leave.”

It was the second time she’d made the not-so-gentle hint about him leaving. But could he blame her, after the way he’d treated her? “Right.” He cleared his throat. “Shall we go sit down?”

She shook her head. “I’d rather just walk as we eat.”

“It’s crowded.” He felt the stares of passing tourists, and other people, locals who greeted Louisa by name with big smiles. Some of them were men. It irritated him to no end. He glanced at the wide vista of the beach. “How about we walk by the beach?”

“By the boardwalk? Sure. There’s a path. Come on.”

They walked in silence, the only sound the soft crunching of sand beneath their feet as they crossed the path. He felt the hot wind blow against his skin.

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. He’d missed her. Dreamed about her. And now, seeing her like this, wearing almost nothing over her curvaceous body…

He wanted her.

So much he shook with it.

She ate with gusto, swiftly finishing her fritter. Lifting her eyebrows, she looked at his own fritter. He hadn’t even taken a bite yet.

“Don’t you like it?” she asked, her eyes glinting at him in the sunshine. She was daring him to say no. Taunting him to admit he only liked fancy gourmet food, the kind she’d prepared for him while she was his housekeeper in Paris.

She didn’t know about all the years he’d barely existed in New York, where he’d started his commodities trading firm while still in college. He’d poured all his money into investments, barely surviving on the cheapest food he could get.

But he hadn’t had to live that way for long. Success had come easily for him. He’d found that all it took to do well in the world was charm and confidence, and never, ever admitting when he had no clue what he was doing.

And the same was true of love affairs. No matter what women said, they did not want a man who was vulnerable. Kindness? They saw it as weakness. Whatever they said, women were attracted to one thing only: power.

Looking straight into her eyes, he took a bite of the conch fritter.

“It’s good,” he said. He took another bite, though he barely tasted the food. How could he explain that he had no appetite? He wanted only one thing.

He wanted Louisa in his bed.

“I’m sure it’s not what you’re used to,” she said mockingly. “It’s not exactly caviar and steak tartare.”

He stuffed the rest of the fritter in his mouth, not tasting it at all. He put the napkin in his coat pocket. He stopped halfway across the beach and looked at her.

Wind swirled her dark honey-colored hair around her face. Behind her, he could see the green leafy palm trees and brilliant bougainvillea. But the pink of the flowers was nothing compared to the roses in her cheeks, to the deep red of her lips.

He reached out to push back the dark blond tendrils of hair from her face. His fingertips brushed her warm skin. Touching her burned his fingertips.

She looked up at him, so close beneath the bright Florida sun, and he noticed for the first time that the eyes he’d always believed to be a regular brown were actually hazel, gleaming with a thousand tiny slivers of green and blue and brown like an explosion of light and color.

He took a deep breath.

“Come back to me, Louisa,” he whispered.

She sucked in her breath, staring at him.

“I miss you.” Reaching down, he took both of her hands in his own. Her fingers were slender and gentle and warm. He looked down at her intently. “I want you.”

Their eyes locked. “You do?” she whispered. “Why?”

He couldn’t tell her the full truth. Couldn’t tell her how much he needed her. Right here. Right now. Being weak would never win him what he wanted; so he told her half the truth.

“My homes are in shambles,” he said honestly. “The various housekeepers do their best, but no one organizes things like you. No one oversees things. I need a firm hand, I need your intelligent command. I need you.”

She stared at him. Then she looked away, blinking fast. “You want me to work for you,” she said dully. “That’s what you need from me. You want me to be your housekeeper again.”

“Yes.” He paused. “I will quadruple your pay. Give you all the vacation time you need. Whatever you want.”

Her lips curved. “You are generous,” she whispered, but her tone was bitter. Then she turned to face him, her eyes suspiciously bright. “But I’m afraid I have no interest in being your housekeeper ever again.”

Rafael clenched his hands into fists. From the moment he’d seen her in the bright bakery, looking so vibrant and happy as she served customers, it was just what he’d feared she would say.

But he couldn’t accept that—couldn’t!

“I told you I was sorry about what I said to you,” he said quietly, “and I am. I overreacted. Can’t we put it all in the past?”

“It is in the past.” She looked past him to the brightly colored booths across the road, to the single roving chicken squawking as it walked freely on the beach, flapping its wings. In the distance, children were laughing as they flew a kite in the breeze. Turning back to him, she gave a brief smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m not leaving Key West. I like it here. With my family…”

“I’ll buy your sister an apartment near us in Paris.”

“No, thank you.”

Why was she being so stubborn? Was it truly because she loved this island so much—or was it because she’d already given her heart to another man? But he wouldn’t think about that possibility, couldn’t allow himself to think about it! He set his jaw. “I could offer you a great deal of money—”

“No!” She whirled on him fiercely. “We are not having a hard time with money. My little bakery is doing just fine, for your information. I don’t want or need your help. I can support my own family. Without you.” She gave him a hard look. “You’ll have to find someone else to sort out your messy life.” Her whole body seemed tight as she turned her back on him. “I need to get back to my bakery now.”

“Louisa, wait!”

But she started walking away, so he had no choice but to hurry after her. His mind was spinning with ways to convince her to come back to him. But he could not think of anything he hadn’t yet offered. They crossed back through the town where everyone seemed to know her, where everyone was glad to see her.

What could Rafael possibly offer her to compete with the life she’d created for herself?

“Here we are,” she said briskly as they reached the door of her gingerbread-style shop beneath the overhanging awning on the wooden sidewalk. She held out her hand. “Goodbye.”

Slowly he took her hand. But when he felt it in his own, he knew he could not let her go. He shook it, then instead of releasing her, pulled her hand closer, pulling her toward his body.

“Come back to me, Louisa,” he said in a low voice. His eyes searched hers. “Not as my employee…but as my mistress.”

Her jaw dropped. “What?”

“I’ve never tried to be faithful to one woman before,” he said. “But since you left I haven’t been able to forget you. I want to be with you, Louisa. Not as your boss. As your, your…lover.” The word was pulled from him painfully. “I was a fool to let you go. A fool to push you away. You are the one woman who’s never lied to me.” He gave her a crooked smile. “The one woman who defied me when I deserved it, who dared to tell me when I was making an ass of myself. I need you.”

She stared at him. “What are you saying?”

“I can’t offer you marriage. But for as long as we’re together—” he took a deep breath “—I promise I will be faithful to you.”

He heard her intake of breath, felt her tremble in his arms.

Suddenly an explosion of happiness went through him. He knew he had convinced her.

Lowering his mouth to hers, he gave her a long kiss full of passion and tenderness. He held her tightly, kissing her until he felt her surrender, until he felt her sigh in his arms. Until she started to kiss him back.

When he finally pulled away, he was smiling. He’d never been so happy.

“So you’ll come?” he whispered, feeling more sure of himself now. Caressing her face, he smiled down at her. Louisa’s eyelids fluttered open. She blinked in apparent bewilderment as he stroked her cheek and added, “My plane is waiting to take us to Buenos Aires.”

She looked up at him. Then she sucked in her breath.

“No,” she said. “Damn you! No!”

His jaw dropped as he stared at her, unable to believe her answer. He couldn’t even fathom what he was hearing. For his whole adult life, he’d been the legendary elusive playboy. He’d never offered any woman as much as he’d just offered Louisa.

So now to have her actually refuse him!

“Why?” he demanded over the lump in his throat. He thought again of the men they’d passed on the street who’d been so delighted to see her. All those surfer boys looking at her with longing, all those wealthy yacht-owners who’d eyed her with lust. Rafael’s expression hardened. “Is there someone else?”

He heard her intake of breath as her eyes flashed up at him.

“Yes,” she said in a low voice. “There is someone else. I’m sorry.” She pulled her hand out of his grasp, and he had the sudden feeling of the warmth of her slipping away, slipping away forever. “Goodbye,” she whispered.

Turning in a whirl of vibrant color, she pushed open the door into her bakery. He heard the bright tinkle of the bell, and then he was left alone on the wooden boardwalk, beneath a cloudless sky stretching to the brilliant blue sea.

Chapter Seven

LOUISA’S legs wobbled with emotion as she went back into the bakery.

She felt the sudden blast of warmth and light as she entered the shop, smelled bread baking in the oven, heard the laughter of her six-year-old niece talking to her baby son in his bouncy chair. She was home again, and safe. She’d kept her secret and left Rafael behind forever. She’d put her child first. He was the only one who mattered.

So why didn’t she feel happier? Why did she feel so broken inside? She blinked her eyes fast, barely able to keep from crying, staring down at the floor.

The floor needed to be mopped, she thought dimly. She would do that first. And as her heart turned over in her chest she pushed away the memories of the man she’d tried for over a year to forget, the father of her baby. She tried to focus on her business, her child, the rest of her daily schedule. Anything but the man she’d just pushed away…

I can’t offer you marriage. But for as long as we’re together, I promise I will be faithful to you.

“Did you have a nice visit?” her sister said innocently as the last customer left carrying a box of caramel macadamia brownies. “I didn’t expect you back for hours.”

“Didn’t you?” she said hoarsely.

“To be honest I’m glad to see you,” Katie said with a sigh. “This is the first lull in traffic we’ve had since you left. A minute ago five people were waiting in line wanting cookies and tarts, and then the baby started to cry, and I thought I would lose my mind either laughing or crying…”

Louisa slowly lifted her head. Her eyes glittered at her sister.

“You sent that anonymous letter, didn’t you? You brought him here.”

Her voice was even, revealing nothing of her turmoil inside.

Katie stopped. Then she slowly nodded.

“Why?” Louisa said. She heard her baby give a snuffling cry and walked swiftly behind the counter and lifted him from his bouncy seat, jiggling him on her hip as she continued to glare at her sister. “Why would you try to hurt me? Do you want him to take my son from me? Do you still hate me so much?”

“No!” her sister gasped, her expression horrified. Tears rushed into her eyes, the hazel-colored eyes so similar to Louisa’s own, though her sister was several years younger and her hair was lightened into a luscious light blond color. She swallowed. “I once took away the man you loved. I am trying to make it up to you.”

Louisa blinked at her in shock.

“I’m so sorry for what I did to you,” Katie choked out. “I thought I loved Matthias. I thought you didn’t. But I was wrong. So wrong to sleep with him. And I should have known. A man who would betray one person in his life would betray others…” Her voice trailed off bitterly. She looked up, openly weeping. “You’ve done so much for me. Always. I’ll never forgive myself for taking Matthias away from you.”

Matthias. The truth was that Louisa could barely remember him now. How could she have ever thought she loved the man, when she’d barely known him?

Unlike Rafael, whom she knew so well in so many ways.

The way he played the piano at night when he was lonely, the way he would carelessly eat five of her caramel brownies before dinner. The way he loved the smell of roses in the springtime. The way he ate dinner at three in the morning, then rose for his coffee and newspaper three hours later. The way he ruthlessly cut people out of his life before they could disappoint him.

Louisa shook her head. “You were right all along. I never loved Matthias,” she said in a low voice. Lifting her head, she gave a shuddering breath. “But Rafael…”

“You have to tell him,” her sister said. “He has to know.”

Louisa looked at Katie. “It’s too late.”

“It can’t be,” she whispered. “It can’t be too late. I need to do something, something to make you forgive me…”

Six-year-old Madison, her blond hair in pigtails, reached her arms up anxiously around her weeping mother. “What’s wrong, Mommy? Why are you crying?”

It had been almost two years since her father’s death, and the little girl already had forgotten almost everything about her father.

“Nothing’s wrong, sweetie,” Katie said, wiping her eyes and trying to smile.

But so much was wrong, Louisa thought. She and Katie had had such a happy childhood in northern Florida, beloved and protected by both their parents. Then, all too young, their mother had died of a long, lingering illness, followed by their father six months later when he simply seemed to lose the will to live. They’d lost their parents. Her niece had lost her father. But that had been beyond their control.

Louisa was deliberately choosing to deprive her baby of his father, and though she tried to remind herself why she’d had no choice, suddenly pain ripped through her. She looked down at her baby. What if she’d made the wrong choice?

“Can you ever forgive me?” her sister whispered.

Reaching over, Louisa hugged Katie fiercely with one arm. She realized she was crying, too. “There is nothing to forgive.”

“I love you,” Katie whispered. “And I want you to be happy. Do the right thing while you have the chance. Give your child a father.”

“I can’t tell him,” Louisa said over the lump in her throat as she pulled away. “Rafael would be furious. He might try to take Noah away from me…”

“He wouldn’t!”

“You didn’t hear him last year when he said he would force me into marriage and make my life hell as his wife. If he ever knew I’d had his baby…”

She looked down at Noah. At almost eight months, he was a happy, chubby baby with fat legs and a smiley disposition. Other than his dark hair and the slate-gray color of his eyes, he was nothing like the man who’d fathered him.

“Whatever he said to you, he said in anger,” Katie argued. “He wouldn’t take Noah away from you. You’re a good mother!”

“You don’t understand,” Louisa cried, wiping her tears away fiercely. “If Rafael knew I’d had his baby…he would destroy me.”

The words were still coming out of her mouth when Louisa heard the chiming bell of the door. She froze. Then, with her baby still against her hip, she turned.

Rafael stood in the doorway. He’d been reaching for the bag of caramel brownies that he’d left on the counter. But by the wide look in his eyes as he saw Louisa with the baby in her arms, she knew her worst fears had been realized. He knew everything.

“Rafael,” she breathed. “I can explain.”

He looked at the baby.

“Who is that?” he asked in a low voice.

“Rafael…he is…I wanted to…”

His eyes narrowed. His shoulders straightened, and his body seemed so tall and strong and powerful. His face was dark as he took a step toward her, and it took all of her courage to remain rooted in one spot.

“Is that baby mine?” His voice was cold. Dangerous.

The panicked thought raced through her brain that she should lie, say the baby was her sister’s, or that she was babysitting for a neighbor—but as she looked up into his hard, gray eyes, her heart pounded in her throat. And she found she could not lie.

“Tell me.” His voice was deceptively soft as he took another step toward her. “Who. Is. That. Baby.”

Her teeth chattered. “He is…my son.”

Coming very close to her, looking down at her without touching either her or Noah, he said in a voice low as a whisper and dark as night, “And who is the father?”