Читать книгу: «Boardroom Kings»

I’m truly blessed to work with an AMAZING group of writing industry professionals! Hugs and thanks to the fabulously talented Emilie Rose, Maya Banks, Michelle Celmer, Jennifer Lewis and Leanne Banks. Ladies, it’s been a delight and an honor to collaborate with you on this project. Abundant appreciation to my brilliant editor Diana Ventimiglia and my savvy agent Barbara Collins Rosenberg. and my unending gratitude to the whole Mills & Boon team for bringing my books to life!

Prologue

New York City, four months ago

Lauren Presley wondered how a man could be so deeply inside her and yet totally distant at the same time. But no doubt about it, the sated, half-dressed man tangled up with her on her sofa at work had emotionally left the building.

She would boot the rest of him out of her deserted office as soon as she could breathe again.

The butter-soft leather of her turquoise couch stuck to the backs of her legs through her thigh-high stockings, sweat still slicking her body from their frenetically passionate—and surprise—hookup. At least her fledgling graphic-arts business was closed for the day, the workplace empty.

Everything seemed out of sorts, disconnected like a Salvador Dali painting. She couldn’t blame Jason for regretting their impulsive act, since she was pretty much freaking out, too, over how fast her panties had landed on the floor, her dress up around her waist while she’d torn at his belt buckle and zipper. Jason Reagert was a business colleague, one half of a working alliance they may very well have wrecked. She needed to get through this awkward post-sex moment ASAP with her pride intact.

A low drone filled the quiet of the empty office. Lauren tensed. “Your pants are vibrating.”

Jason arched back and raised a dark eyebrow, his close-cropped hair mussed on top from her fingers. “Pardon?”

She clapped her hand on his warm hip—beside his BlackBerry. “Seriously. It’s buzzing.”

“Damn.” He disentangled himself, cool air brushing her bared legs. Jason swung his feet to the floor, his Testoni loafers thunking against the scarred wood as he sat and unclipped the handheld. “Helluva bad timing.”

Avoiding his eyes, she slid upright and adjusted her silky black wrap dress, putting it in place again. Her panties would have to wait. She kicked the scrap of ebony satin under the sofa. “Your pillow talk leaves something to be desired.”

“Sorry.” His zipper closing rasped, overloud in the late-night silence. “It’s my reminder alarm.”

“Alarm for what?” She stared nervously at the white brick walls, the easel in the corner, the artwork on lit screens.

“My flight to California.”

Right.

He was leaving.

Lauren stood, smoothing her dress and looking for her favorite Manolo leopard pumps that she wouldn’t be able to wear again without thinking of this stupid, impetuous night.

She and Jason had been wrapping up final details on a graphic-art design project she’d freelanced for his last ad campaign at the New York firm—he was leaving his NYC job and heading to greener career pastures in California. The job at Maddox Communications in San Francisco was a great opportunity for him. She’d known about this for a couple of weeks. And as she’d hugged him goodbye tonight, she’d been knocked off balance by how upset she was over his impending move.

One second she’d been looking up at his leanly handsome face while blinking back tears, and the next second they’d been kissing… and more. Pleasure prickled down her spine, settling low, as she remembered the bold sweep of his tongue and his hands, his strength as he’d cupped her bottom and lifted her against him. Already her body ached to reach for him again, grab hold of that tie she’d never quite managed to undo and tug him toward her. The impulse was too much, too strong.

Too overwhelming.

Gathering her shredded self-control, she looked away from his strong cheekbones and tempting mouth. She didn’t know where all these frenetic feelings had come from and wasn’t sure how to undo them now that he was leaving.

She spied her leopard-print shoes under the desk and welcomed the chance to put some space between herself and Jason and a sofa that smelled of good sex. She knelt, pulling one pump free, but the other stayed annoyingly out of reach.

“Lauren—” his loafer-clad feet stopped beside her, making her all the more aware of her ungainly butt-up position “—I don’t make a habit of—”

“Stop.” She sat back on her feet, willing away one of those awful blushes that came with her auburn-head complexion. “You don’t need to say anything.” Echoes of her mother’s humiliating pleas for her husband to stay bounced around in Lauren’s head.

“I’ll call—”

“No!” Standing, she gave up on her shoes, her toes curling against the cool wood floor. “Don’t make promises you aren’t certain you’ll keep.”

He scooped his suit jacket from the back of a contoured metal chair. “You could call me.”

“What would that accomplish?” She faced him full on for the first time, taking in his prep-school good looks, hardened with an edge from his years in the Navy. He came from old money and had made his fair share of new, as well. “You’re moving to California, and New York City is my home. It’s not like we have any kind of real connection beyond being work acquaintances who happened to get caught up in a fluky hormonal maelstrom. Nothing to disrupt our entire lives over.”

Shaking her long, loose hair back, she opened the door to the larger studio outside, empty but for vacant rolling chairs pushed haphazardly up to tables.

He braced a hand on the door frame, his arrogant brown eyes revealing a hint of surprise. “You’re giving me the brush-off?”

Apparently Jason Reagert wasn’t told no often. Of course she’d been mighty quick to say yes, something she intended to change starting now.

“I’m simply being realistic, Jason.” She stared him down, her spine straight in spite of the fact he stood at least a head taller.

Later, away from him, she would hole up in her cute little one-bedroom apartment in the Upper East Side. Or better yet, hide out in the Metropolitan Museum of Art for the entire day, crawling into the world of each painting. Her art was everything. She couldn’t forget that. This business—bought with a surprise inheritance from her dear elderly aunt Eliza—was her big chance to make her dreams come true. To prove to her mother she was worth something more than a debutante slot and lucrative marriage.

She refused to let any man derail her.

Finally Jason nodded. “Okay, that’s the way you want it, that’s the way things will be.” He skimmed back her hair with his knuckles, his callused thumb stroking her cheekbone. “Goodbye, Lauren.”

She settled her features into a portrait worthy of any Dutch master—solemn and unrelenting. Jason turned away, his jacket hooked on one finger over his shoulder, and she fought back the urge to call out to him.

Hearing he was leaving New York had brought a surprise pinch of regret. But nothing compared to the twist in her gut as she watched him walk out the door.

One

San Francisco, Present Day

Working Lauren Presley out of his system had turned out to be tougher than Jason Reagert thought when he’d left NewYork. But up until sixty seconds ago, he’d been giving it a damn good try.

Clinking glasses, frenetic conversation and blaring eighties music in the high-end bar swelled more tightly around him. He looked up from the photo on his BlackBerry to the woman he’d been flirting with for the past half hour, then back down at the just-in image of Lauren Presley celebrating New Year’s Day.

An unmistakably pregnant Lauren Presley.

He wasn’t often at a loss for words—he was considered a major player in the advertising business, after all. But right now? His mind blanked. Maybe because his brain was suddenly filled with visions of that impulsive encounter in her office. Had that surprise—mind-blowing—night produced a baby? He hadn’t spoken to Lauren since then, but she hadn’t called, either. Certainly not with any pregnancy news. He blinked twice fast, the bar coming into focus again.

Pink mirrored walls cast a rosy glow as he studied the shocker image just sent by an NYC pal. He schooled his face to remain neutral while he figured out the best way to make contact with Lauren. She’d sure shown him the door fast enough the last time they’d seen each other.

Some guy gyrating to overloud music jostled him from behind and Jason angled to shield the BlackBerry screen from the packed clientele at the local martini bar on Stockton Street. Rosa Lounge was small and quaint and very expensive, pretty dim on the inside but still classy, with green glass tables and black-lacquered chairs.

A white marble bar took up the majority of one wall with bottles suspended overhead, while tall tables lined the other wall, dark wood floors stretching between. Since Rosa Lounge was just a block away from Maddox Communications, right on the park, MC employees tended to gather here when they closed a big deal or finished a major presentation.

His grip tightened on the BlackBerry. This gathering had been called in honor of him. What rotten timing to be the center of attention.

“Hello?” Celia Taylor snapped her manicured fingers in front of his face twice, her Key Lime Martini sparkling through the crystal glass in her other hand. “Hello? Earth to Jason.”

He forced his thoughts and focus to Celia, another ad agent at Maddox Communications. Thank God he hadn’t even started drinking his Sapporo. He didn’t need the top-shelf brew messing with his head. “Right. I’m here. Sorry to zone out on you like that.” He tucked the BlackBerry into his suit jacket. The stored photo damn near seared through his Armani jacket and shirt. “Can I get you a refill?”

He’d been about to offer her more—a date—but then the photo had buzzed through. Technology sure did have an ironic sense of timing.

“I’m good.” Celia tapped her painted nail against her martini glass. “That must be one hefty work e-mail. I could get insulted by the fact I’m not warranting your full attention, except I’m just jealous my cell phone isn’t buzzing.”

Celia flicked her bright red hair over her shoulder and perched a hand on her slender hip.

Red hair.

Green eyes.

Like Lauren. Damn. Realization kicked him in the conscience.

He’d deluded himself into thinking he was putting Lauren behind him this evening, only to try to pick up the lone redhead in the room. Of course, Lauren had darker, auburn hair and softer curves that had driven him crazy exploring….

Jason set his bottle on the bar and eyed the door, mind made up. Delaying wasn’t an option. He had to know. But he also didn’t want to alienate Celia.

She was a genuinely nice woman who tried to put on a tough facade in order to be taken seriously in the workplace. She deserved better than to be seen as a substitute for another woman. “Sorry to cut out, but I really need to return a call.”

Celia cocked her head to the side, her nose scrunched in confusion before she shrugged. “Sure, whatever. Catch you later.” She fanned a wave and pivoted on her spiky heel toward fellow ad exec Gavin.

Jason shouldered sideways through the crush of people in power suits, looking for the best way to duck out so he could place a few phone calls. And find answers.

A hand slid from the press of bodies and clapped him on the shoulder. He turned to find both Maddox brothers, the heads of Maddox Communications—CEO Brock and VP Flynn.

Flynn waved other MC employees nearby to join in and then lifted his drink in toast. “To the man of the hour, Jason Reagert! Congratulations on landing the Prentice account. You’ve done Madd Comm proud.”

“To the wonderboy,” CFO Asher Williams called.

“Reagert rules,” Gavin cheered.

“Unstoppable,” Brock declared, his executive assistant echoing the toast.

Jason pulled a smile for appearances. Bringing in the Prentice Group was undoubtedly a coup, although timing had certainly come into play in winning over the country’s largest clothing manufacturing company. Landing Prentice was the next best thing to nabbing Procter & Gamble. Jason had only just moved to California in the fall when Walter Prentice dumped his other PR firm for moral-clause violations.

The ultraconservative Prentice had a rep for ditching firms for anything from hearing that the account exec had visited a local nude beach to realizing an exec was dating two women at once. Jason’s eyes flicked to Celia.

Brock dipped a wedge of pork quesadilla in mango sauce. The workaholic had most likely missed lunch. “Spoke with Prentice today and he made a point of singing your praises. Good move sharing those war stories with him.”

Jason’s feet itched to get to the door. And damn it, he hadn’t shared the war stories as a schmooze move. He’d simply discovered a connection there since Prentice’s nephew had done a tour about the same time as he had. “Only making polite conversation with the client.”

Flynn lifted his glass again. “You’re a hero, man. The way you and that SEAL team took out those pirates back in the day… epic.”

He’d served his six years in the Navy after college graduation. He’d been a dive officer with a specialty in explosive ordinance disposal, attached to a SEAL team. Sure, he’d helped take out some pirates, saved a few lives, but so had the others around him. “I was only doing my job, same as anyone else.”

Brock finished off his dinner with a final bite. “You’re definitely on Prentice’s radar. Keep your nose clean and you’ll go far with his influence. Landing Prentice’s clothing line couldn’t be better timed, especially with Golden Gate Promotions breathing down our necks.”

Golden Gate was their main rival, another family-owned advertising agency with quite a pedigree and still helmed by its original founder, Athos Koteas. Jason understood well the specter that rival cast. This job at Maddox—this chance in California—was everything to him. He wouldn’t let anything screw it up.

His BlackBerry buzzed again from inside his jacket. More pictures? Was the guy sending him an ultrasound photo, for crying out loud? His gut pitched. He liked kids, sure, wanted some of his own.

Someday.

Flynn ducked in closer. “We consider it quite a coup, you charging in with a winning pitch after that lame ass was fired.”

Brock smiled sardonically. “Lame ass? Sunburned ass maybe, after hanging out on that beach au naturel.”

Low laughter rumbled up from the clustered bunch of MC employees. Jason slid his finger along the neck of his shirt. What a time to remember that Walter Prentice had reportedly disowned his own granddaughter for refusing to marry the father of her kid. Prentice lived by his motto Family Is Everything.

Performance on the job should be all that mattered, damn it. He’d already been dubbed the golden boy at Maddox Communications, a title he’d worked hard to achieve and would do anything to keep. The key word? Worked. He’d earned his way to the top, determined to shed the trust-fund label that had dogged him growing up. He wouldn’t allow an impulsive move from four months ago to wreck his chances for the success he’d damn well paid for.

He’d walked away from the carrot of joining his old man’s advertising company and took a Navy ROTC scholarship to college instead. After serving his six years, he’d launched out on his own in the ad world. While he’d tackled the New York City job, he could still feel his father’s influence breathing down his neck. The offer from San Francisco–based MC had put a whole country between him and the old man’s farreaching shadow.

And just that fast, inspiration hit.

As soon as he finished up here at Rosa Lounge, Jason would be on the red-eye to New York. By morning, he would be on Lauren Presley’s doorstep for a face-to-face with her. If that baby was his, she would simply have to come to California.

Any possible rumors would be taken care of when he introduced her as his fiancée.

The icy January wind kept most people indoors. Normally Lauren would have been in her apartment in warm wooly socks, tending her plants. But the cold helped calm her nausea. So she worked on the roof, checking the winterizing on the community garden she’d started a couple of years ago.

Kneeling, she tucked the plastic tighter along the edges of the rooftop planter while roaring engines and horns announced that the Big Apple was waking up. The city in winter wore the neutral palette of an Andrew Wyeth painting, a world reduced to blacks and whites, grays and browns. Icy-cold concrete stung through her jeans as she knelt, a bitter breeze whipping off the East River. She huddled deeper into her wool coat. She flexed her numbed fingers inside her gardening gloves.

Her stomach fluttered from more than the baby.

She’d gotten a panicked call from her friend Stephanie informing her that her husband had let Jason know about the pregnancy via a photo taken at last week’s New Year’s party.

And now Jason was on his way to NYC.

No amount of cold air or gardening would stem the tide of nausea this time. Her world was totally falling apart. Jason was on his way to confront her about the baby she hadn’t gotten around to informing him was due in five months, and oh, by the way, her business was all but in ruins.

Lauren sagged back against the concrete fountain, water frozen in the base, icicles dripping from the stone lion’s mane. A week ago she’d learned her bookkeeper, Dave, had used her sick leave as an opportunity to embezzle half a million dollars from her fledgling graphic-design business. She’d only found out when she hired a temp bookkeeper to take over while Dave went “on vacation.” Now they all knew he wouldn’t be returning from whatever island haven he’d taken up residence at using her money. Authorities didn’t hold out much hope of finding him—or her funds.

She rubbed a hand over the growing curve of her belly. A child completely dependent on her and she’d royally screwed up her life. What kind of mother would she make? A total coward, up here hiding.

Things had changed so much in a few months. She missed the color palette of spring and summer, but her artistic eye still appreciated the monochromatic starkness of a winter landscape.

The rooftop door creaked a second before a long shadow stretched over her. She knew before she looked. Jason had found her anyway. There was no more delaying this confrontation.

Lauren glanced over her shoulder and… She felt a shiver of awareness.

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 NewYork, 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 sweaterdress. 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 sus-picions 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.”

“Are you regretting the move to California?”

“Not at all. Things are going better at work. I’ve brought in some new clients, one big fish in particular. But that client is extremely conservative. You may have heard of him—Walter Prentice.”

Holy crap. “Congratulations, Jason. That’s amazing. Landing Prentice isn’t just reeling in a big fish. The Prentice account is a freaking whale.”

“A whale with the motto Family Is Everything. Prentice fired his last ad guy for going to a nude beach.” Shaking his head, Jason pulled his arm back. “He disowned his only granddaughter for not marrying the father of her baby.”

Wait, he couldn’t really be suggesting… “You can’t expect me to believe they’ll fire you because you have a pregnant ex-girlfriend.” Okay, so she’d never been his girlfriend. But still. She flopped back on the sofa. “Give me a break.”

He held up both hands. “I’m serious as a heart attack. The guy’s offering up a seven-figure ad campaign in tough economic times. He gets to call the shots and choose whoever he wants.”

She eyed her bag with the ring inside—a ring that hadn’t been romantic at all. It hadn’t even been offered out of old-fashioned chivalry. He wanted to keep his job.

A cold core grew heavy in the middle of her chest. “You’re that ambitious.”

“Aren’t you?” He leaned closer, eyes intent. “You and I are like-minded. We both want to prove to our families we can make it without their help. So let’s work together for the good of our kid.”

“Leave my parents out of this!” she snapped before she could think, but her heart hurt when it totally shouldn’t have. She knew better than to expect anything from Jason. There had never been talk of feelings between them.

In fact, she preferred her life be less emotional. Less like her mother.

“Fine,” he conceded, “it’s not about our parents. We’ll make this about securing our baby’s future by securing our own. I need you to agree to a temporary engagement, just until I’ve finished with the Prentice account. I’ll give you the money you need to tide over your business until you regain your footing.”

He was starting to make sense and that scared her. She shoved to her feet, pacing, restless. “I don’t need your money. I just need time.”

“You can call it a loan if it makes you feel better. A half million, right?”

She toyed with the strap on her purse, all too aware of the ring inside. His offer of money made it all sound so awful. “Do you know what would really make me feel better?”

“Name it.” He walked up behind her, quietly, looming without touching. “It’s yours.”

She spun to face him. “If you took your almighty money and—”

“Okay, okay, I get the picture. You’re not interested in saving your company.”

She jammed her arm elbow-deep in her purse and fished out the ring. “I’m not interested in handouts.”

He clasped his hands behind his back. “I’m offering you a trade.”

She thrust the ring toward him. “How can you be so certain this big-account client will even know the baby is yours? We can just stay silent.”

His chest expanded. “There’s no way in hell I’m denying my own kid for even a day. I may be ambitious, but there are lines. That one’s not negotiable.”

She pressed the back of her wrist to her forehead, ring box still in her grip. “This is all too much to absorb at once. I just don’t know… ”

He clasped her shoulders lightly. “Fine, we’ll let that ride for now.” He massaged gently, his touch both soothing and stirring. “We have more pressing concerns, anyway, making plans for the baby. I’ll pick you up after work.”

She struggled not to loll into his caress, his comfort. His help. She’d been so tense and scared her whole body ached from knotted muscles. “Do you think for once you could ask rather than command?”

He smoothed his hands down her arms, plucked the ring box from her and set it on her desk. Then he linked their fingers, the first real connection they’d shared since they’d made love in this office four months ago. “Would you like to go out to dinner after work?”

“To discuss plans for the baby.”

He nodded, still holding but not moving closer, not crowding, only tempting.

She should know better. But they did have to talk. She couldn’t avoid him forever. “Pick me up at my place at seven.”

As she watched him leave her office, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d made a mistake bigger than the rock resting in that ring box.

Three

Phone tucked under her chin, Lauren hopped on one foot, tugging on her purple boot. “Hi, Mom.” She dropped onto the edge of her bed. “What can I do for you?”

“Lauren, dear, I’ve been calling and calling and you never pick up at work, or home, or on your cell,” her mother said, rambling a thousand miles an hour at the other end of the line. Her flat New England accent was more pronounced, a sure sign she was worked up. “I’m beginning to think you’re dodging me.”

“Would I do that?” She’d spoken with her mom just a couple of days ago. Jacqueline Presley had logged in about thirty-seven messages since then. Lauren had enough trouble dealing with her mother in a manic cycle during a regular day.

These days were far from regular.

“I don’t know what you’ll do, Lauren, I don’t know anything about you lately.” Her mother paused. For air? To gather her thoughts? “Have you spoken with your father?”

Ah, hell. She needed to steer clear of that ticking bomb. “No, Mother, I haven’t given Dad a single minute more of my time than you’ve gotten.”

“There’s no need to be snippy. I don’t know why you get so uptight. Sometimes you’re just like your father’s sister, and she ended up alone. And fat.”

Great. Just what she needed to hear, her mother’s obsession with her daughter’s curves. Lauren had probably been the only ten-year-old on the planet who’d known what the term Rubenesque meant.

“Didn’t mean to offend you, Mom.” Perched on the edge of the mattress, Lauren zipped one boot, then the other, glancing at the clock. Jason would be ringing the doorbell any minute now. She’d barely had time to yank on the black stretch pants and long sweater after her workday had run late. She’d tossed her purse onto her bed and the ring box had tumbled out. “Things are just hectic at work.”

“You don’t have to grind yourself into the ground trying to prove yourself to me.” A chain jingled on the other end of the line as Jacqueline Presley undoubtedly fidgeted with her jewel-studded glasses chain. “I can tell your father to release a portion of your inheritance now. Or you could have simply invested that money from Aunt Eliza and had a nice little nest egg while you pursued real art.”

Lauren’s chest went tight. A typical stress reaction around her mom, especially when Jacqueline went down this path…

“You could be as good an artist as I was, Lauren, if you just applied yourself.”

Lauren twisted her fists into her satiny damask bedspread. The debacle with the accountant would only fuel her mother’s arguments. She felt ill. “Mom—”

“I’m going to be in the city next week.” Jacqueline plowed ahead. “We can lunch.”

Good God, once her mother was on a roll with her list of all the ways Lauren wasn’t living her life right, it usually ended with a list of eligible young men she’d met. Men Lauren would just love. Men like Jason.

Her mother was going to have a cow when she learned about this pregnancy.

“Mom, it’s been great talking to you—” she stood, tugging her sweater over her hips “—but I really have to go.”

“You have plans?”

And if she didn’t? Her mother would keep talking. Might as well be honest. “I do have a dinner date with a work associate. Not a date kind of date.” Babbling only made things worse, and worst of all made her fear becoming like her mother.

“Please, dear, do go and pretty yourself up. And remember, pink is not your color. Ta-ta.” Her mother hung up.

“Argh!” Lauren thumbed the off button so hard her nail polish chipped. She tossed the phone on the bed, pacing and shaking her hands as if she could somehow flick away the irritation.

The hurt.

After all these years, she should have gotten used to her mother, and actually, this conversation hadn’t even really been that bad in the big scheme of things. But she could hear the mania building, knew how close her mother was to the edge. One small nudge would send her flying into a full bipolar swing. Since her mother refused medication and therapy lately, the highs and lows grew more extreme.

Finding out about the baby would be more than a small nudge for Jacqueline Presley. Add the embezzlement, and who knew how her mom would react? One thing was certain, her mother wouldn’t handle any of the news calmly.

Passing a potted fern under the window, Lauren snapped off a dry frond. What would it be like to have a mother she could turn to right now? Her hand slid to her stomach. She would do whatever it took to be that kind of support for her child.

Lauren turned the fern stand so the other side of the plant received equal time in the sun. If only she could have a few weeks to regain her footing outside the high drama. If she just had some space to gather her thoughts, plan, put her life on track again…

The ring box in the middle of the mattress drew her eyes like a magnet. Her feet followed, leading her toward the bed.

Jason’s offer of a temporary engagement spiraled through her mind. Tempting. Dangerous. Could she risk that much time in California in close quarters with him?

Then again, with her life in NewYork ready to implode and her own health a bit touchy, could she afford not to?

Jason guided the rental car along the two-lane road leading into a quaint small town about forty minutes out of the city. Lauren sat beside him, her head resting back, that crazy sweater purse of hers cradled in her lap against the gentle curve of her stomach.

Of their baby.

He finally had Lauren alone for a few hours and he needed to make the most of them. He’d dug deep for everything he knew about her, had approached the evening as an account he needed to win.

Yeah, thinking of this analytically was a helluva lot easier for him than contemplating how important it had become to win this point. The more he thought about the crook who’d stolen from her business, the more pissed off he got. She was so damn talented. He’d recognized her extraordinary artistic gifts from their very first meeting.

His fist tightened on the luxury sedan’s gearshift. The urge to do more than protect—to take action—fired through him, stronger than anything he could remember since he’d been on assignment in the Navy.

Of course, persuading Lauren would be easier if she was awake. She’d been out like a light before they hit the city limits. If she didn’t wake up by the time he reached their destination, he would simply circle the block until she woke up or he needed to refuel the car.As much stress as she’d been under, she undoubtedly needed the sleep. And he could press his point better with a well-rested Lauren.

Vintage streetlamps dotted the roadside, casting dim orbs for a shadowy view of the small stores and shops. Snowflakes skittered in front of the sweeping beams of the headlights, the occasional car swishing past in the other lane.

Ring, ring. her cell phone cut through the silent car with soft wind-chime tones, buried deep in her funky sweater purse. Too deep for him to fish out. Would she simply sleep through it?

She stirred, then jolted awake, her long eyelashes sweeping wide and blinking fast. Lauren grabbed her purse and stuffed her hand inside. She pulled out the cell just as the ringing stopped. She frowned.

He turned down the radio, jazz music fading. “Do you need to take that call?”

She shook her head and stuffed her phone back in her bag. “No, it’s fine. I can call back later.”

“I understand if you have work commitments.”

“It’s not work.” She fidgeted with the handle on her purse, the strap looking as if it was made from the arms of a sweater. “My mother. She calls. A lot.”

From her tone it didn’t sound as if she looked forward to those calls, but still, they talked. He hadn’t spoken with his parents since his dad disowned him, vowing he’d broken his mother’s heart by turning his back on everything they’d done for him. Hell, he didn’t want to go there in his mind. Better to focus on Lauren. “What did your family have to say about the baby?”

She pitched her purse on the floor. “I haven’t told them yet.”

Strange. “She calls but she doesn’t visit?”

“We haven’t seen each other in a month. I only started showing a couple of weeks ago.”

“They’re going to hear soon. Hell, I heard clear across country. I’ll go with you when you tell them.”

A laugh burst free. “Who said you’re invited, ego man? Besides, they’re divorced.”

He eased up on the accelerator as they approached a curve, careful to keep the car well below the speed limit. He had precious cargo on board. “I thought we were going to try and get along for the baby’s sake.”

“Sorry.” She folded her arms under her chest and stared out the window, trees stretching ahead in the historic suburb, full of whitewashed fences and brick colonials. “I’m upset about work and taking it out on you.”

He wanted to remind her he could fix that work problem in a flash, but decided not to push his luck. Better to go at this from a different angle. “You can’t genuinely expect to keep it a secret that I’m the baby’s father, can you?Your parents will find out eventually. If they’re going to get upset, maybe it would be best to run a preemptive strike. We tell them as a unified front, catch them off guard, then head out before they have a chance to ask questions.”

“That sounds good in theory, but the odds of getting both my parents in the same room together are slim to none. And the second one of them finds out, that person will be on the phone blaming the other.” She shook her head, her booted feet crossing and uncrossing restlessly, her purple footwear drawing his eyes, not to mention his interest. “I just don’t want to put myself through that if I can possibly avoid it.”

He couldn’t recall her mentioning much about her parents before. They’d mostly talked about work and nightlife in New York. He’d always been attracted to Lauren, but the timing never seemed right to pursue it. First she was seeing someone else, then he was. Although he couldn’t even remember who that other woman was now. “Sounds like your parents have really hurt you since they split up.”

“Maybe in the past.” Her chin tipped, her green eyes glinting from the dashboard glow. “But I don’t let them have that kind of power over me anymore.”

“Are you sure?” He glanced at her purse with the cell phone. “Just because they had a contentious relationship doesn’t mean we’ll play out the same problems.”

The glimmer in her eyes turned cooler than the snowflakes picking up pace outside. “And just because you’ve been inside my body doesn’t give you the right to crawl inside my head.”

“Fair enough.” He liked her spunk most of all. When he thought about it, he liked a lot of things about her. Her smarts, her ambition, even her obsession with packing every square inch of her apartment with plants. Then there was the way her cool exterior lit on fire when he’d least expected it.

“That’s it? You’re backing off?” She looked over at him, her full lips parting in a pretty O of surprise that invited him to lean across…

He held strong. Better not push his luck. Especially when he had thoughts filling his mind of her wearing nothing but her hair.

“You asked me to back off. I’m listening to you.” Very closely. Details were important with so much at stake.

He slowed on the tree-lined road, nearing his destination.

She watched him through narrowed eyes. “I’ve seen you at work. You never give up, you merely change tack. Remember when you went crazy for the sailboat ink drawing I did and vowed to work it into the cologne campaign even though the client was dead set on a cowboy graphic?”

Okay, so that sailboat was now stamped on male cologne bottles around the world—the original drawing framed in his computer room at home. But all that was beside the point. He focused on the goal.

“This is more important than work. I want you calm and happy.” Honest enough, and while he was going for truthfulness… “Hell, and it just so happens that I also want you. You were beautiful before, but now you’re absolutely stunning.”

“Back down, Romeo,” she said, but still smiling, as he guided the car up to a small cabin restaurant. “You’ve already worked your way into my bed.”

“It’s been a while.” Four months that felt like longer and still he hadn’t been able to forget her. Irritation nipped. Damn it, he’d had to force himself to offer to buy another woman a drink. A drink, for Pete’s sake. He hadn’t even asked her for a date.

Lauren pulled out her cell phone and thumbed the keypad.

Jason reigned in his irritation and focused on Lauren. “Your mother again?”

“No, I’m checking the call history.” She pursed her lips. “Hmm… four months and not a single call from you. Doesn’t seem like you’ve been pining for me.”

Had she been mad that he hadn’t called? He’d considered it, but she’d been fast to show him the door after they had sex. Maybe he’d misread her. As much as he prided himself on gauging people, this time, he wouldn’t mind being wrong one damn bit.

Maybe she did want a repeat. God knows, he’d wanted more of her then, wanted more now. Her flowery scent drifted across the car, her soft curves warm, inviting him to pull off somewhere more secluded and tangle up with her. The pregnancy complicated matters, sure. But maybe sex could simplify them again.

Pure want pounded through his veins. “You made it clear our plans for the future didn’t jibe.”

“That hasn’t changed.”

“Everything has changed.” He shifted in his seat, the leather creaking as he leaned closer to her.

Her pupils dilated. She swayed nearer. Still he waited, taking his time to breathe in the fresh scent of her, the flowers and greenery she worked with.

He slid an arm along the back of her seat, just cupping her shoulder, absorbing the feel of her, remembering. Her curves fit into the curve of his arm, softer, fuller with the swell of pregnancy between them.

He forced himself to move away. “This baby puts a whole new spin on priorities, and the sooner you accept that, the sooner we can move on to the good stuff.”

She flopped back with a frustrated sigh. “You have a one-track mind.”

He wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. If there was a chance she wanted to resume the sexual relationship, he wouldn’t mess it up again by pushing too fast or walking away too soon. Time to start romancing the mother of his child.

Jason flipped his coat collar up and unlocked the car doors. “Let’s put this conversation on hold until after supper. I have a surprise for you.”

He was certain the specially chosen restaurant would charm her. He just had to hope his best powers of persuasion would be enough to sway this coolly inscrutable woman.

The stakes were too high to consider a loss.

Where had she lost her self-control?

Lauren gripped the banister of the front steps leading up to her apartment building, a restored brownstone. The dinner with Jason had been amazing. His choice of a family-owned Italian restaurant full of plants charmed her. The rustic old homestead was like a warm vineyard inside. Having him notice her love of greenery touched her. He was trying.

She climbed the steps, aware of him at her back. Of course he was trying. He wanted to get his way. Jason Reagert was a driven, ambitious man. Everyone in the ad business knew nothing could stop him when he set his mind to do something. She’d found it admirable when they were work friends.

But as the target of his campaign? She wasn’t so sure anymore. What would have been an enjoyable, intimate evening bothered her somehow, made her want the real thing.

No. She wasn’t ready to go that far. The ring would stay in her purse a while longer.

She glanced over her shoulder as a car slushed past. “Thank you for the thoughtful dinner. You actually managed to take my mind off the mess at work for a couple of hours.”

He turned up his coat collar, his dark hair shiny in the glow of the outdoor lights. “You need to eat. Glad I could be of service.”

Lauren twisted her key in the lock. “You’re not going to use my comment as an excuse to press your plan for a fake engagement?”

“You know where I stand. What more is there to say?” He followed her into the building’s hallway, apparently in no hurry to call it a night. “And before you ditch me on the stoop, I am going to see you safely to your apartment door.”

“For safety’s sake?” She gestured around the entryway, soaring ceiling echoing the low voices of a couple down the corridor and the older lady in 2A calling to her poodle for a walk. Nobody would get mugged here. Too many witnesses.

“Somebody’s gotta protect you from that vicious pup.” He smiled, his five-o’clock shadow adding a bad-boy air to go along with the glint in his eye.

She rolled her eyes and started up the stairs, trying not to think about how long those three flights would feel once she was in her third trimester. “Come on, then.”

He followed, a wooden stair creaking under his foot. “I’m not asking for coffee or anything. Although if you invite me, I’ll pick you up and carry you inside for a night you won’t forget.”

“I had forgotten how persuasive you can be.”

“I didn’t forget how good you smell.” He eye-stroked her. “Have I told you how much I like the scent of flowers on you?” He dipped his head. “Taking you to that restaurant was as much for me as it was for you.”

“Dinner was nice and I appreciate that you picked a spot to win me over, but I don’t like being manipulated. Your honesty calls out to me more than anything.”

A grin creased the corners of his eyes as they reached the third floor. “I forget sometimes that you and I are in the same business.”

“Just be straight with me.”

“I can do that.”

Could she believe him? Leaning back against her door, she searched his eyes for some sign of his deeper thoughts and feelings. She looked and found… passion.

Not a surprise, but unsettling all the same, with her own emotions in such a whirl that she felt the least upset could send her spinning. Before she could think, she reached to dust melting snowflakes off the lapel of his jacket. Hard, male muscles twitched under her touch. Her pulse raced, stirring that pottery wheel inside her faster.

“Whoa!” She jolted back, pressing a hand to her belly.

Frowning, Jason braced a palm against her back. “Are you all right? Give me the key. You need to lie down.”

“I’m fine, totally fine.” She stepped away before she succumbed to the temptation to lean against him. The baby’s swift kick brought her back to reality. “Our kiddo is just exercising off that fabulous chicken marsala.”

His gaze dropped to her stomach. His fingers flexed. The way he didn’t ask for what he so obviously wanted nudged her to offer. “Do you want to feel?”

He nodded curtly.

She took his hand and flattened it to the spot where… “I’m not sure if you’ll be able to feel—it’s still kinda early.” And no way was she inviting him to touch her bare stomach. Would he be at her doctor appointments down the road? Too much to think about. She needed to stay in the moment, one thing at a time. “Wait, just a little to the left.” She guided him. “Right there.”

His eyes widened. He looked up at her quickly, then back to her stomach. “I think I… Yeah. Wow.”

“Sometimes I just lie in bed and feel the baby move until all of the sudden I see an hour has passed. Wild, isn’t it?”

“I had no idea what that felt like. I’ve never… ” He looked up at her again, holding her gaze, no shutters in place for the first time. “Thank you.”

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?”