Pregnant on the Upper East Side? / The Billionaire in Penthouse B: Pregnant on the Upper East Side?

Two

“Let’s have it,” Alex said the moment Amanda finished hanging up their coats. She hadn’t looked him in the eye once since leaving the coffee shop.

She carried the bag of muffins to the kitchenette and fished around the cabinets for plates. After placing a muffin on each dish, she retrieved utensils and carried the lot to the small glass-and-steel high-top bar table. Her movements were deliberate and graceful, but he didn’t need his body-language-reading skills to recognize she was stalling.

“Amanda?”

Her wary grey eyes finally met his. “How much has Julia already told you?”

Not nearly enough. No matter how hard he’d tried to pry information out of his friend’s new bride, Julia had stayed closemouthed about anything that mattered about her former Vassar roommate. The only details she’d shared had been useless stuff he’d already figured out.

“Only that your split with Wilks has left you disinterested in a new relationship.”

And Julia had only volunteered that because Amanda continued to shoot Alex down at every turn despite the obvious chemistry between them. He knew women too well to misread the awareness he saw in Amanda’s eyes.

She ruffled her short blond hair with her fingers. The strands fell more or less back into place, but she didn’t run to a mirror to check it. Amanda’s lack of primping was just one of the things he liked about her. Her long, lean body didn’t hurt, and the fact that she was confident enough to wear sexy-as-hell heels despite her height was a total turn-on.

“You heard Curtis. I have a banknote coming due and I’m running a little short. But that won’t affect my ability to plan this event for you.”

A wise man would back away from a company in financial trouble. But he wasn’t feeling wise at the moment.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Do you need a loan?”

Her eyes widened and then her long lashes fluttered down. She focused on peeling the paper off the muffin. “I’ll talk to the bank about an extension. Now, about your party—”

He wasn’t going to let her change the subject that easily. “Spill it, Amanda. All of it. And then I’ll decide whether or not we’ll do business.”

Her chin tilted in a defensive angle. “I am very careful about budgeting and planning ahead. We’ll have a contract. You don’t have to worry that I’ll take your deposit and pay my creditors and stiff the people we engage for your event.”

“I wasn’t. But if you’re so good with budgets how did the shortfall happen? Is business slow? I’ve heard nothing but accolades about your work.”

She shoved her dish aside with a wistful glance at the muffin she’d crumbled into a messy pile. Instead of looking at him, she concentrated on wiping her chocolatedotted fingers on a paper napkin. Stalling again.

“It’s my fault, really. I made the mistake of allowing Curtis to help me set up the books and accounts for Affairs by Amanda.

“It worked well for a while. But then my operating capital started disappearing. At first I didn’t notice because the amounts were small and I was too busy building my client list to pay attention, but then bigger chunks went missing. I questioned Curtis and he claimed I’d underestimated the costs of several major items. But I never underestimate. I always overestimate by five percent, just in case. When I asked for the receipts in question he told me he’d have to find them. Then he moved out while I was away for the weekend and left me holding all the bills.”

Her case sounded typical of many others he’d handled. The embezzler started with small amounts to test the waters and then grew bolder and took more. “There are legal avenues for handling this situation.”

“I know. But there are three reasons I’ve chosen not to go that route. Curtis knows them. One, I don’t have the money to pay lawyer fees right now, and two, as Curtis said, I’d rather my parents not hear about this. Three, I may be convinced Curtis is responsible for the missing money, but proving it is another story. The questionable invoices mysteriously vanished when he did. And I had given him access to my accounts, so that makes me at least partially responsible.”

His first instinct was to take her case pro bono. But he also intended to sleep with Amanda, and that was a conflict of interest he’d learned the hard way not to repeat. So as much as he’d personally love to nail the Wilks weasel, he had to hand this off.

He extracted his checkbook, a business card and a pen from his inside coat pocket. “I’m writing the name of one of the associates from my firm on the back of my card. Call him.”

“Alex, I can’t afford—”

“He’ll defer payment until settlement.” Alex would make sure of it—even if he had to guarantee the fees himself. “And I’ll loan you the money to make your payment.”

“I don’t think—”

“You don’t want to damage your credit by asking for an extension.”

“Well…no.”

“Do you want to let Wilks get away with this?”

“Of course not. But, Alex, you don’t have to do this.”

“What are your other options?”

She grimaced. “I could ask my father for a loan.”

“You said you didn’t want your parents to find out. Will your father hand over a chunk of cash without asking why you need it?” He barely waited for her to shake her head before going for the closer. “I want you handling my party, Amanda. If you’re worrying about your finances, you’ll be distracted and you’ll give me less than one hundred percent.”

And she’d be less likely to fall in with his plans.

He wanted Amanda Crawford for more than just sex, although that played a large part. Her networking expertise was unparalleled. The woman knew how to work a room better than anyone he’d ever met. She was exactly who he needed by his side to build the powerful connections that brought in clients and put money in the bank. She’d be an asset to his career for as long as their affair lasted, and it wasn’t an ego trip to know he would be equally beneficial to hers. The fact that she wasn’t interested in a permanent relationship only enhanced the attraction.

He opened his checkbook. “How much do you need?”

She hesitated. “Are there strings attached to the loan? I mean, do you expect me to sleep with you?”

Full disclosure wouldn’t be in his best interest at this point. “When we share a bed it will be because you’re tired of fighting the chemistry between us, not because of misplaced gratitude.”

Her pupils expanded and her lips parted. “You sound convinced that will happen.”

“It will.”

“But you want something from me.”

Smart lady. “I could use your connections. You introduce me to potential clients and I’ll do the same for you.”

She inhaled deeply as if preparing to argue, but then shook her head and blew out a long, slow breath. “I can do that. But, Alex, I never took you for the knight-in-shining-armor type.”

Taken aback, he straightened. “I’m not.”

Her lips twitched into a small smile and her eyes sparkled as if she had a secret. “I don’t believe you.”

A corner of his brain urged him to accept her change in attitude and use it to get ahead in the game. “Believe whatever you want. Give me an amount.”

After a moment she did. He wrote the check and tore it out of the book. It was his job to get everything in writing, but discussing a repayment schedule would kill the deal faster than bleach killed germs. From everything he’d learned about her she would reimburse him. But if she didn’t, he wouldn’t miss a few thousand. And it wouldn’t be the first time a woman cost him.

“Pay me back when you can.”

Looking a little suspicious and a lot stunned, she took the check and business card. “That’s it? You’re just handing me money?”

“That’s it.”

“Thank you.”

And then she surprised him by throwing her arms around his neck. Her body bumped his. He hugged her back, learning the feel of her lean length pressed against him, her breasts on his chest, her warm, smooth cheek against his and her soft hair tickling his ear. His libido howled like a wolf, but there would be time for that later. He released her the moment she eased back on her heels.

“Thank you again, Alex. I don’t know what to say.”

Her scent lingered in his nostrils. “Say yes to dinner.”

She gasped, and her cheeks pinked.

“We never did get around to discussing the party,” he reminded her.

She nibbled her bottom lip and then nodded. “Yes. To dinner.”

Her measured tone said, “And only dinner.” He fully intended to change her mind. But not tonight.

Success would take patience. And strategy. Luckily, he excelled at both.

Amanda couldn’t believe she was nervous. But her damp palms were a dead giveaway. She pressed them to her flannel trousers.

Did Alex consider this a date? He’d certainly steered the dinner conversation away from planning his event, and he’d done so with such skill she hadn’t even realized it until the taxi ride back. Each time she’d tried to stay on task he’d eased the conversation from the topic to people or places they both knew—people who would be at his party. Tricky.

Would he try to kiss her good-night?

Would she stop him this time?

He’d shown her a side of himself today that was different from what she’d seen before. She’d always considered him more ruthless shark than noble rescuer. Now she wasn’t so sure she’d read him correctly.

Oh, please. Are you twenty-eight or eighteen?

As usual, Alex invaded her personal space the moment he entered her apartment. He stood with his hands in his coat pockets but close enough that she could see each blade of dark beard stubble and the fine lines in his lips. She yanked her gaze away from his mouth and tamped down the anticipation vibrating along her nerve endings. Her hands trembled as she unwound her scarf and hung it up along with her coat.

“Dinner was nice. Thank you.”

The hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant was new to her but apparently not to Alex, who had been welcomed by name and immediately shown to a table despite the line of customers waiting to be seated. He couldn’t have made a reservation because he couldn’t have known she’d accept his invitation. She hadn’t even known until the words had tumbled from her lips. And he couldn’t have called ahead because he hadn’t been out of her sight between her acceptance and their arrival at the family-run place.

“You’re welcome. It’s nice to share a meal with a woman who eats.”

She flushed. She’d definitely done an embarrassing amount of that by packing away a salad, veal parmesan, crusty bread, her chocolate gelato and then some of Alex’s pistachio.

“May I take your coat?”

“I’m not staying. Make the calls tomorrow morning and meet me for lunch to tell me what you’ve set up.”

She scrambled to claw through her surprise or dismay or whatever it was and recall her calendar. Her Monday was lamentably open. She had a couple of small events in the works, but nothing more urgent than Alex’s. “I could confirm by phone.”

“No.” Flat. Nonnegotiable. Bossy.

Her hackles rose, but she ignored them. “Where, then? My office?”

“Mine.” He pulled out his BlackBerry and punched a few buttons, then slid it back into his pocket. “I should be finished by twelve-thirty.”

His hand curved over her shoulder, strong and sure. The heat from his palm permeated her sweater. A shower of tingles rained down from the point of contact. He leaned closer. She caught her breath and swallowed the sudden rush of moisture to her mouth.

“You did a good job, Amanda. Your ideas thus far are top-notch. I’ll see you tomorrow.” His fingers tightened briefly and then he released her. She stood as still as a statue as he let himself out of the apartment.

No kiss? She stared at the closed door. She wasn’t disappointed he hadn’t attempted to kiss her good-night.

She wasn’t.

This was business. Only business. And that was a good thing. Exactly what she wanted. She didn’t have room for complicated relationships in her life at the moment, especially not with a finance attorney who probably thought she was a complete idiot for getting herself into her current predicament. She’d bet the trust fund she wouldn’t come into until she turned thirty that Alexander Harper never made stupid mistakes with his money.

Tension poured from her muscles like sand through a broken hourglass. She headed for her bedroom, shed her clothes and took a long, hot shower. She conditioned her hair and shaved everything that needed shaving. She’d had to give up waxing to save the salon costs and because she was too much of a wimp to wax herself at home. She had a half-used waxing kit in the vanity cabinet as proof of her cowardice.

But the antsy feeling wouldn’t leave her alone. Wrapped in a lavender towel, she padded into the bedroom, snatched up the phone and dialed Julia’s new number. Her friend answered before the second ring.

“Moving pretty fast for a pregnant lady, aren’t you?”

Julia laughed. “You’re just lucky I had the receiver parked on my mountainous belly. You sound out of sorts. What’s the matter?”

She and Julia had known each other too long to miss the nuances in each other’s voices. Julia heard Amanda’s distress as clearly as Amanda heard her friend’s happiness. “Go ahead and have me committed.”

“Why? Are you dating Curtis again?”

“If I were that stupid I’d commit myself.” She took a deep breath and confessed in a rush, “I agreed to plan an event for Alex Harper.”

“And that’s bad because…?”

“You know why.”

“He’s in hot pursuit. Yes, it’s so tragic when a handsome, intelligent, wealthy guy wants you.”

“Hey!”

“Amanda, you two can’t keep your eyes off each other when you’re in the same room. Max thinks Alex is a great guy. And I know you need someone to boost your confidence after that jerk Curtis. I say go for it—the party and anything else Alex is offering.”

So much for her friend talking her off the celibacysucks ledge. “You know my goal. Get my life back on track and make a success of my business before I hit thirty.”

“And come into all that money.”

“I have to prove I can make a success of my business before then. Otherwise, my parents will just think Granddad’s money bailed me out.”

“Amanda, that’s two years away. One brief affair is not going to set back your schedule.”

“Says the woman who ended up pregnant after a very brief one-night stand.”

“Ooh. You only fight dirty when you’re running scared. Just remember Alex isn’t the forever type.”

“No kidding.” She couldn’t keep the sarcasm from her voice.

“In fact, he’s quite a hound dog. Take precautions. You can’t be celibate forever.”

With her track record it would probably be her best option. “Why not?”

“Besides the obvious—that sex is fantastic with the right partner?”

Well, yes, there was that. “He’s not the right person.”

“You don’t know that. Give the man points for persistence and reward his efforts already. Watching you dance around each other is exhausting me, and my poor, pregnant body is already on a hormonal roller coaster without watching all that longing in your eyes. Do him already.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re not helping.”

“Yes, I am. You’re just not willing to admit I’m giving sage advice.”

Admit to her newlywed and now aggressively matchmaking friend that she was attracted to Alex Harper?

Amanda would rather walk naked through Times Square.

At twelve-twenty-six the next day Amanda pushed open the heavy gold-stenciled glass door of Harper & Associates.

Alex’s firm epitomized the affluent type of client Amanda longed for. Perhaps, she thought, she should consider targeting more corporate clients instead of focusing primarily on private affairs.

Her D&G pumps sank into the thick carpeting as she crossed to the cherry reception desk that had been polished to a mirror shine. A twenty-something blonde greeted her with a face and a toothy smile worthy of a beauty queen. “Good afternoon. May I help you?”

Amanda smiled back. “Amanda Crawford for Alex Harper.”

“One moment please.” She swiveled away and spoke quietly into a headset before turning back. “His assistant will be right with you. Would you care for a beverage?”

A stiff shot of something to calm her nerves would be good. “No, thank you.”

“There she is now,” the receptionist said, drawing Amanda’s attention to a compact, midforties brunette charging down a wide corridor in her direction.

“Ms. Crawford? I’m Moira Newton. I’ll take you to Mr. Harper’s private waiting area.”

Amanda followed her into a room that reeked money, from the wainscoting to the clean-cut lines of the leather and cherry furniture to the original artwork on the walls. If a room could instill a client’s confidence in its owner, then this one would.

“Alex will be with you momentarily. May I get you anything while you wait?”

“I’m fine. Thank you.”

“I’ll take your coat.”

Amanda shrugged off the garment, handed it over and sank into a deep wing chair tucked in the corner.

Moira hung her coat in a small closet hidden by the paneling, then sat behind a desk that fronted the remainder of her work space, which was discreetly concealed in a large alcove.

Moments later the muted timbre of Alex’s voice scattered the butterflies that had been resting in Amanda’s stomach. A door on the far wall opened and a harassed-looking, balding man stepped through, followed by Alex. As yet unnoticed, she drank Alex in as the men said their good-byes.

From the aggressive angle of his jaw to the straight set of his shoulders, Alex radiated self-assurance. His black tailored suit accentuated his height and athletic build, and his white shirt brought out his olive complexion. His dark hair swooped back from the side part, the ends covering his collar at his nape. Traditional, conservative clothing and furnishings, but the deliberately in-need-of-a-trim hairstyle hinted at a rebellious side. And her rebellious side snapped to attention.

Business only.

The client left. Alex turned and nailed her to the chair with his direct gaze. “Hello, Amanda.”

How did he unsettle her with nothing more than a slow perusal and a hello? She had to work on shutting down that reaction.

“Alex.” She dipped her head in greeting and rose, lifting her laptop case. “I have confirmations and contracts, and I need signatures.”

“Come in.” He extended his arm, gesturing for her to precede him.

His spacious office contained the same high-end furniture but had a slightly more relaxed atmosphere. A subtle hint of his cologne hung in the air. In addition to the desk and bookcases, he had a boardroom table set up in front of a bank of windows. He led her to that table. “Have a seat.”

His knuckles brushed her shoulder blades as he seated her in the chair closest to the glass. She hid her shiver by reaching into her briefcase, extracting his file, then admiring the view of the Manhattan skyline.

“We have the Carlyle Trianon Suite for Saturday, the twenty-second. We need to choose a theme and send out invitations immediately. If you have e-mail addresses for the people on your guest list I can also send out a blanket ‘save the date’ notice tomorrow.”

He leaned back against the edge of his desk and crossed his ankles. His unwavering gaze pinned her to her chair. “Moira can give you the addresses. You look beautiful today.”

Her brain tripped. She couldn’t remember what she was supposed to say next. How did he fluster her so easily? “Thank you.”

She dropped her gaze to the papers in her hand and struggled to regain her footing. “I have—” A knock at the door interrupted her.

“That should be our lunch. Eating in will allow us more time. I hope you like Greek food.”

Lunch in an office shouldn’t seem intimate. But it did. “A working lunch is a good idea. We have a lot to cover. And I love Greek food.”

He opened the door to reveal Moira with a brown paper bag in one hand and tableware in the other.

“Need help setting up?” his assistant asked.

“We can handle it.” He took everything from her, then placed the bag on the table and opened it. A delicious aroma saturated the room.

Amanda’s mouth watered as he removed the lids from containers of feta, tomato and spinach salad, followed by farmer’s bread and artichoke moussaka. He crossed to a small wine refrigerator tucked beneath a counter in the corner and returned with a bottle of Dry Creek Valley Zinfandel, which he opened and poured into two glasses.

She’d learned to keep a clear head when around Alex. “I don’t usually drink when I’m working.”

“The wine goes well with moussaka, but I’ll get you a bottle of water if you prefer.” He retrieved two bottles from a different refrigerator and set them on the table.

After scooping generous portions onto plates, he surprised her by shoving the containers to the opposite side of the table and sitting beside her instead of across from her. Their shoulders brushed as he adjusted his chair.

Too close. How could she concentrate with him touching her?

He lifted his glass and twisted in his seat. “To an enjoyable and profitable relationship.”

“I’ll drink to that.” She lifted her glass and clinked her rim against his.

She took a sip. The zesty fruit-and-berry flavor of the cool liquid slid smoothly down her throat. She would have to be careful because she liked this wine too much, and that could get her in trouble.

Alex looked at her over the rim of his glass. “I’ll need you to act as my hostess.”

Her heart skipped a beat. She snapped her gaze from the food in front of her to Alex’s. “You can’t find someone else at this late date?”

“I want you, Amanda.”

Three

I want you.

Alex’s firmly stated phrase, delivered in close proximity and with direct eye contact, made Amanda’s insides quiver.

He means for the party.

No, he means more than that. But you’re ignoring the “more” part. Remember?

“I—I can hostess.” Usually she facilitated events from behind the scenes, but it would be much easier to make those much-needed connections by Alex’s side.