Bossman's Baby Scandal / Executive's Pregnancy Ultimatum: Bossman's Baby Scandal / Executive's Pregnancy Ultimatum
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Jason’s lean, looming presence added the final touch to the stark skyline, his swimmer’s build, dark hair cut short, thicker along the top and just lifting in the harsh wind. He stood tall, immovable, uncompromising—physically and emotionally.
She turned away and tucked her gardening tools back in her bag. “Hello, Jason.”
His footsteps grew louder, closer, and still he didn’t speak.
“I guess the doorman told you I was up here,” she babbled, her hands frantically busy.
He knelt beside her. “You should be more careful.”
She inched away. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people.”
“What if it hadn’t been me coming up here? That door creaks mighty damn loud and you were in another world.”
“Okay, you’re right. I was, uh, distracted.” By his impending arrival, the baby on the way, and oh, yeah, she had an embezzler on her payroll. So much for her insistence she was ready to take on the world.
She could almost hear her parents’ disapproval about everything in her life. Except for Jason. He was exactly the sort of man her socialite mother would pick for her, with his blue-blood lineage, fat bank account and good looks.
Hell, most any mom would be happy to have Jason Reagert as a son-in-law. But he was also stubborn and controlling and she’d fought too hard for her independence to risk it in a relationship with this man. No doubt that was why she’d succeeded in ignoring the attraction for the past months.
She clutched her bag to her chest. “What are you doing here? You could have just called.”
“And you could have called.” He looked at her stomach and back up again. “When I spoke with a friend of mine back here last night, he told me you’ve been working from home because you’re not feeling well. Are you all right? Is the baby all right?”
And there it was. Her pregnancy news out there with a simple statement. No huge confrontation or shouting match like her parents would have had before—and after—their divorce. All the same, her fingers shook, so she hitched her bag over her shoulder and stood.
“Only morning sickness.” She stuffed her hands in her pockets. “The doctor says I’m fine. I’m just more productive if I work from home. The worst is past.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
The nausea had been debilitating for a couple of months. Entrusting so much of the office routine to others had been nerve-racking, but there hadn’t been any other choice. Too bad it had cost her so much. “I made it back up to half days in the office last week.”
“Are you sure you’re ready? You look like you’ve lost weight.” A protective gleam lit his eyes. He grabbed an iron chair and hauled it over to her.
Lauren glanced at him warily before sitting. “How much do you know about the pregnancy?”
“Does it matter?” He shrugged out of his trench coat and draped it over her shoulders.
The familiar scent of his aftershave mingled with his body warmth clinging to the fabric. Too tempting. She passed his coat back because she couldn’t handle even one more obstacle in her life. Not now. “I guess not, as long as you do know.”
He stepped closer, his dark eyes intense in a way that sent shivers up her spine and had even led her to ditch her panties four months ago.
She forced herself to look away, reminded too thoroughly of the feelings that had propelled her into his arms the first time. “Thank you for believing me.”
“I would say thanks for telling me, but you didn’t.” The first hint of anger tinted his tones.
“I would have, eventually.” Before the kid graduated from college, at this rate. “The baby isn’t due for five more months.”
“I want to be a part of my child’s life, every moment. Starting now, we’ll work together.”
“You’re moving back to New York?”
“No.” He flipped the collar on his trench coat up over his ears, his suntanned face declaring how much he’d already acclimated to the more temperate California weather. “Let’s take this conversation to your apartment where there’s heat.”
Then a sneaking suspicion seeped in deeper than the damp cold. “You’re not moving back to New York, but you want us to work together bringing up the baby. You can’t actually expect me to move to San Francisco, can you?”
His silence confirmed her suspicion.
Her anger rose. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Not to my apartment and not to California. You really expect me to uproot my life? To abandon the company I’ve put my heart and soul into?” If there was even a company left to look after.
“Fine—” the word burst from his mouth in a gust of cloudy cold white “—yes, I want you to come to San Francisco. I want us to be together for our baby. What’s more important—your company or your child?”
She wanted to shout that she had put her child’s welfare first at the cost of her business. And she knew she would do the same all over again. She only wished she’d shelled out extra dollars for someone more reliable to watch over the shop, instead of worrying about her tight budget and blindly trusting the people she’d hired to do their damn jobs.
“Jason, why are you being so pushy so fast?” Some—okay, a lot—of her anger and fear from work directed itself at Jason. “There’s time for us to talk through this, months, in fact. What’s really going on here?”
His face closed up, all frustration hidden until he looked as cold as the frozen lion fountain. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“There must be a reason for the sudden hard sell to put me in the same state as you.” Wind whistled louder, almost drowning out the sounds of street traffic below. “Was your mother abandoned by some scum bucket of a man? Did a woman do you wrong in the past?”
His laughter burst out in a fresh gust of puffy clouds until he shook his head. “You have an active imagination. I can assure you that I have none of those tortured scenarios in my past.”
His laughter was infectious—and distracting. “That’s not a complete answer.”
“I’m not here to fight with you.” He stepped closer, the ocean-fresh scent of him teasing her pregnancy-heightened senses.
Warmth radiated off him in a welcome wave and contrast to the bitter cold. She ached to burrow against his chest and feel the lean coil of his muscles rippling against her. Tension gathered low and hot and fast as it always had around him, but even more so now that she knew how explosive they could be together.
She raised her hands between them, stopping just shy of actually touching his chest. Wary of even touching him to nudge him away. “You’re moving too fast for me. I need time to think.”
“Well, while you’re thinking, keep this in mind.” He slid a hand into his pocket and pulled out a black velvet ring box. He creaked open the lid to reveal …
A platinum-set solitaire diamond engagement ring.
Two
Jason held the velvet box in his hand and waited for Lauren’s answer. Getting a jeweler to open up after hours had been a challenge, but he’d managed in time to catch the red-eye flight.
The shock on Lauren’s face wasn’t a great sign, but he was used to overcoming difficult odds. Wind stirred dry leaves around their feet, so frigidly different from the summer evening they’d spent working after hours in her office.
He extended his hand with the engagement ring, knowing he was being impatient, but time was short. “So? What’s the verdict?”
“Whoa, hold on.” She gathered her long straight hair back from her face and exhaled—hard. “I’m still stuck back on your idea that I would uproot myself to come to California and now you’re tossing an engagement into the mix?”
“Does this look like I’m joking?” He lifted the diamond. The morning sun refracted off all three carats.
The gardening bag slid from her shoulder and thudded to the ground. “You really expect us to get married just because I’m pregnant? That’s archaic.”
He hadn’t meant marriage. He’d been thinking more along the lines of an engagement to shut up any gossips, something she might appreciate, too. But telling her as much probably wouldn’t go over well. “If agreeing to marriage moves too fast for you, I’ll settle for a trial engagement.”
“Trial engagement? You’re out of your freaking mind and I’m freezing.” She turned toward the door. “You’re right about one thing. We should move this conversation to my apartment.”
He picked up the canvas bag she’d left on the ground—the only sign she might be nervous—and followed her down two flights of stairs to the third floor. Her place was safe by New York standards, but somehow that didn’t seem like enough now. And where would an active toddler play?
He’d had a lot of time to think on that flight, and one thing he’d settled on for certain—he didn’t want to be a bicoastal dad. He wanted to be a larger part of his child’s life. Sure, he worked hard, but he wasn’t going to be like his father, who’d expected Jason to be a carbon copy of him, while never spending any time with his son to actually get to know him.
He needed to lure Lauren to California for more reasons than the Prentice account. He tucked the ring back in his pocket—for now. His goal set, he waited while she unlocked the double bolts and swept the door wide.
Her one-bedroom apartment reflected her personality. Vibrant. Alive. Packed with flowers, plants and colorful framed fabrics, an oasis in the middle of winter. Each area was painted a different color—the living room yellow, the kitchen green.
A hint of pink showed past her partly open bedroom door. He’d joined others from work for drinks at her apartment before, out here in the living area, but he’d never seen the bedroom up close. Something he intended to change down the road.
He set her bag on the hall table and followed her inside, wiping his feet on a rag rug. “We were friends for months, and we’re obviously attracted to each other.” He gestured toward her stomach. “Can you honestly say you never considered a future between us?”
“Never.” She hung her coat on one of the vintage doorknobs mounted on a strip of wood, glancing back over her shoulder at him. “Now could you wrap this up, please? We can talk later about logistics for after the baby is born, but right now, I need to get ready for work.”
“Wow, no worries of a guy getting an inflated ego around you.” This didn’t seem to be a wise time to bring up how fast she’d kicked him out of her office four months ago. Besides, she looked tired. Fine lines of exhaustion furrowed her forehead. His instincts went on alert. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
She hesitated a second too long before walking away toward the green galley kitchen. “I’m fine.”
He tracked her movements as she poured a glass of milk, her silky red hair swinging along her back and inviting his hands to test the texture, to discover if it was as soft as he remembered. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”
“I promise the baby and I are both totally healthy.” She lifted her glass in toast, her back still toward him.
She was dodging something, he was sure, but he could also sense she wouldn’t share more now. He would be best served by a temporary retreat before advancing his cause again in a few hours.
He was an ad guy, after all. He knew how to make a pitch, and for now, he needed to back off. The right opportunity would present itself.
Jason pulled the box out of his pocket and set it on the small butcher-block counter. “Just hang on to this for now. We don’t have to decide anything today.”
She eyed the box as if it contained a snake. “I already know there’s no way in hell we’re getting engaged, much less married.”
“Fair enough.” He nudged the box forward until it rested beside an apple-shaped ceramic cookie jar. “Save the ring for our kid.”
Turning toward him, she sagged back against the counter, her T-shirt with paint splatters hugging her pregnant belly—and her fuller breasts. “You seem sure it’s a girl.”
His eyes dropped back to her stomach, his own gut clenching tight as an image of a little girl with red curls filled his head. This baby was real and growing inside Lauren just an arm’s reach away. He’d barely had time to process the idea of being a father, much less see the proof so visibly. His hands itched to touch Lauren, to explore the differences in her.
To feel the baby kick?
His throat went tight. “It could be a boy, who’ll one day need an engagement ring to give some girl.”
She tipped her head to the side, her silky hair gliding over the rounded curves of her breasts. “Do you want a boy? Seems that most men prefer to have a son first.”
“Is that how things were with your dad?” His own father sure as hell had wanted a mini-version of himself, someone to mirror his every move, decision, thought.
Her face closed up. “This isn’t about my father.”
“Okay, then.” He gave in to temptation and stroked back a lock of her hair, sliding his hand away before she could protest. “You look beautiful but tired, and I seem to recall you saying something about needing to go to work.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead, resisting the urge to linger and, instead, making a beeline for the door. “Goodbye, Lauren. We’ll talk later.”
He stepped into the hall, her confused face stamped on his memory, fueling him in his decision to retreat for the moment, keep her off balance. She had doubts and he could play on those.
She may have said no this morning, but he wasn’t down for the count. Without question, by the time he took the last flight out on Sunday night, Lauren would be coming to California with his child.
Lauren pushed through the glass door leading into the fourth-floor offices that housed her graphic-design business. Not much space, actually, just a common room with tables, a receptionist desk by the door and her own office in back. Where she and Jason had made this baby.
At the moment she couldn’t blame the pregnancy for her churning stomach. Her insides swirled around like a Jackson Pollock color extravaganza.
The small velvet ring box seemed to weigh ten tons in her purse—a sack of a bag made from an old sweater she’d found at a consignment store. She’d packed up the jewelry so she could call Jason, schedule a lunch and return the ring. An engagement was a ludicrous idea.
She had enough on her plate, anyhow, finding a way to save her business from bankruptcy.
Franco, her secretary, passed her a stack of memo sheets. “Ms. Presley, your messages.”
“Thanks, Franco.” She forced herself to smile.
Lauren shuffled through the inch-thick pile; calls from prospective clients were mixed in with phone numbers from creditors.
Franco stood, smoothing down his NY Giants tie. “Before you go into your office—”
“Yes,” she answered, opening her door at the same time. The floral scent wafted out.
Franco shrugged and leaned back. “They were delivered just before you arrived. And, uh …”
His voice dwindled off in her mind as she turned to find her office packed with at least five vases of white rosebuds with pink and blue ribbons. On the corner of her desk, she saw a carafe of juice and basket of muffins. She spun back to hear what else Franco was saying.
Movement drew her attention to the far recesses of the reception area, where Jason lounged, assessing her with sexy, hooded eyes. How had she missed him when she came in? And why hadn’t Franco told …? Okay, so Franco had tried.
Lauren nodded Jason into her office. “Come on. You might as well eat with me.”
He shoved away from the wall, slowly, lean and lanky, like a predator cougar as he strode toward her. Franco, the new accountant and the two interns from NYU looked from Jason to her with undisguised curiosity.
Jason slid his arm around her waist. “I wanted to make sure the mother of my child is well fed and happy.”
She stiffened under his touch. Damn his presumptuous ass. Just that fast he’d announced their relationship to the world. Well, not the world, but to her employees and three waiting clients.
“The baby and I are fine, thank you.” She planted a hand in the middle of his back and pushed. “Can I speak with you in my office, please?”
“Of course, dear,” he said with smooth affection and a charming smile that had the two interns giggling and blushing.
She closed her office door, sealing her in the room with Jason. Alone. With the turquoise sofa. With a host of memories.
Lauren opened the white metal blinds and let the sun blast through. Not that it did much to defuse her anger. “What the hell was that all about?”
“Only letting people know I care about you and our child.” He picked up a fat blueberry muffin. “Breakfast?”
“I’ve already eaten. Don’t you think you should have checked to see if I’d told the folks at work about the baby?”
He paused. “You’ve told them. You’ve been on sick leave.”
“Fine, you’re right. But the clients in the waiting area didn’t know, and this is my announcement to make to the world when I’m darn well ready.”
“You’re right, and I’m sorry.” He waved the muffin closer, near enough for her to catch a whiff. “Now would you like something to eat? The bakery made them fresh this morning. I saw them come out of the oven.”
She wanted to tell the pushy man what he could do with his muffins. But damned if she wasn’t starving all over again as she looked at those plump blueberries straining at the sides, the sweet crumble topping making her lick her lips in anticipation. While she loved her baby, sometimes she really resented these hormones that seemed to have such Herculean control over her body.
That same hormonal storm was making her go all teary-eyed over the flowers and food because, God, this was what first-time parents did for each other. The past few months had been so damn hard without the support of a partner. She didn’t even want to think about how difficult the coming months—years—might be.
For now she just wanted to enjoy her muffin.
Her feet carried her closer, until she stood toe to toe with Jason. Sniffing back her tears, she could smell him and the flowers and the muffin, and, gracious, but all of it smelled mouthwateringly good. Jason pinched off a piece and brought it to her lips. She parted for him before she could think, pretty damn much the way she’d done on that sofa four months ago.
What was it about this man that made her act so out of character? She wasn’t wildly impulsive like her erratic mother. She had control over her emotions. Except for a most memorable lapse around Jason.
She took the bready bite and her senses exploded with pleasure over the sweet fruit melting on her tongue. Jason’s thumb traced along her bottom lip, stroking, stirring a whirlpool of want inside her until her breasts tightened in response beneath her brown wool sweater-dress. She arched up on her toes inside her burnt-orange pumps, a whisper away from his mouth—
A knock rattled her office door.
“What?” Her voice came out breathy and impatient. She didn’t move. Neither did Jason, the heat of his brown eyes sizzling through her.
The knocking continued, more insistent now. Lauren cleared her throat and tried again. “Yes?” she said, stepping back, not a hundred percent sure who that “yes” was for. “What do you need?”
Jason smiled, wicked and sexy as if to say exactly what he needed. Here. Now.
Lauren clasped the doorknob, willing her professional composure back into place. “What can I help you with?”
She found the grandmotherly accountant she’d hired to sort through the financial mess. The brisk woman waited, hand raised for another knock. Talk about a splash of ice-water reality to douse her passion! She needed to tend to this now, but didn’t need Jason to hear.
Lauren said, her voice low, “I’ll be with you in five minutes.”
The accountant tucked the files against her chest. Her keen eyes proclaimed loud and clear that no one would steal cookies from the jar on her watch. “Good, good. We can go over the preliminary financial statement, with a list of the most pressing creditors.”
“Of course.” She glanced at Jason, nerves gnawing. She needed him gone. “Jason, we’ll have to talk later. Tonight, after work.”
He frowned. “Creditors?”
“It’s not your problem,” she said, dodging his question.
His chest expanded in a manner she’d come to recognize as territorial. “You’re the mother of my child. If something pertains to you, it’s my problem too.”
She angled toward the accountant. “I’ll meet you in your office in five minutes.”
Lauren closed the door and leaned back against it, facing Jason. The genuine concern in his eyes caught her off guard. She was so on the defensive these days, she’d all but forgotten what a champion he could be. In their year as friends, more than once she’d seen him go to the mat for someone else—a guy fired unjustly, a woman with a stalker boyfriend, even taking on the account of a company pro bono when he’d learned the owner’s kid had inordinately high medical bills.
Jason Reagert was pushy, but a goodhearted kind of pushy. It wasn’t surprising he’d found his way to military service for so many years.
She could cut him some slack while still keeping her boundaries in place. “It will be public knowledge soon enough when charges are filed, so you might as well know. My accountant, the one before this new lady, embezzled half a million dollars from my company.”
His eyebrows shot up toward his dark hairline. “When did this happen?”
“While I was working from home.” She pushed away from the door and sagged to sit on the sofa, suddenly weary all over again. If she couldn’t tell the guy who’d knocked her up, who could she tell? “I had some suspicions about Dave just before I got sick and planned on firing him. Then I spent a week in the hospital for dehydration. I was relieved when he turned in his resignation. I gave him two weeks’ paid vacation and had him escorted out of the office. Three days later I hired a new accountant, the one I should have hired in the first place, but I was trying to save money.” She shrugged. “I guess it’s true that you get what you pay for.”
He sat beside her, not touching, not crowding her for once since he’d shown up on her roof. “I’m so damn sorry.”
“Me, too.”
“No wonder you were upset this morning.” He clasped his hands loosely between his knees, his Rolex glinting in the light shining through the open blinds. “You don’t need this kind of worry, especially when you’re pregnant. Let me help.”
So much for not crowding her. “Whoa, back up. I may be in trouble, but I’ll handle it.”
“There’s nothing wrong with accepting help.” He stretched his arm along the sofa back, wrapping her in his scent if not his arms. “In fact, that’s why I’m here. I need your help.”
“With what?” she asked warily, wondering if she was talking with the altruistic Jason, who went to the mat for people.
Or the shark of an ad man who won accounts through his unerring ability to make people believe anything he said.
“I’m new at Maddox Communications and times are tight. No job is secure.” His chocolate-brown eyes seemed sincere, intense.
“I can understand that.”
“I’m not sure how much you know about MC….”
“It’s a family-owned business.” She hadn’t worked with Maddox before, but the grapevine said they’d hooked some hefty clients. “Run by two brothers, right?”
“Right, Brock Maddox is the CEO and Flynn is the vice president. The one thing standing in the way of the company’s domination out West is Golden Gate Promotions.”
“That’s a family-owned advertising business, too, isn’t it?” She relaxed into the sofa, more comfortable in their familiar ground of talking shop. “Athos Koteas still runs the show. I haven’t worked with him, but I’ve heard he’s quite a force to be reckoned with. Absolutely ruthless.”
“But successful.” His arm on the back of the sofa radiated a warmth that made the roots of her hair tingle. “He’s a Greek immigrant who made quite a splash, which brought in many European connections to give his company a leg up in these tough last few years. Now he’s trying to encroach on Maddox’s clients.” His face went tight with irritation. “He’s put some rumors out there to make Maddox Communications seem untrustworthy and now they’re losing business. It’s causing Brock even more headaches.”