Baby for the Tycoon. Emily McKay

today, she needed comfort more than she needed professionalism.

      But, dang it, she wished he would stop looking at her with that hungry look.

      It wasn’t the first time in the five years they’d worked together that she’d seen him look at her like that. As if she was a temptation he had to resist. But it was the first time she’d allowed herself to feel even the faintest bit of need in return. Jonathon may be the stuff of feminine fantasies, but he was hell on women. She’d watched up close and personal as he’d trampled countless female hearts. She’d promised herself long ago that she’d never join the legions of women crushed by Jonathon Bagdon.

      She could only hope that this new awareness she felt for him was the result of her exhaustion. Or perhaps her emotional vulnerability. Or maybe some bizarre hormone malfunction. At any rate, she wouldn’t be around long enough for it to matter.

      Jonathon wanted to pull her back into his arms. He didn’t, of course. But he wanted to.

      Instead, he held open the office door with one hand and shoved the other deep into his pants pocket, hoping to hide the effect her nearness had had on his body. As ridiculous as it was, in the few seconds he’d held his tempting little assistant against his chest, his body had responded. Only her shoulder and her palm had touched him and he’d still gone rock hard.

      Of course, he’d felt that punch of desire for Wendy before. But normally he was better at schooling his response to her. Then again, she was usually dressed in blandly professional, business casual clothes. Not today. Her faded jeans were skintight and her T-shirt hung loose on her, its wide neck baring a tempting swath of collarbones, part of one shoulder and a hot pink bra strap.

      He swallowed again, forcing his gaze back up to her face, searching for something to say. Something other than “Lose the shirt.”

      “I trust your trip went well,” he finally ventured.

      She frowned and took another step back.

      Then he remembered she’d been to a funeral. Hardly the kind of trip that would go well. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he added. Her frown deepened. Were those tears in her eyes? “However, I am very glad to have you back.”

      He sounded like an idiot. Which was not wholly unexpected. He didn’t deal well with emotional women.

      “I—” she started.

      Then she broke off again. She turned away from him and pressed her hands to her face. If the tension in her shoulders was any indication, she was about two seconds away from bursting into tears.

      In five years, Wendy had been nothing but completely professional. If she was going to break into tears, why couldn’t she have done it when Ford was here to deal with her? Ford had three sisters, a mother, a stepmother, a wife and a daughter. Surely all of those women in his life had better prepared him for dealing with this sort of thing.

      Jonathon followed her into the front office and placed a hand on her back. He meant it to be comforting, but he was instantly aware that he’d placed it on the shoulder bared by her shirt. She twisted to look at him, her eyes wide and surprised, damp with unshed tears, but lit with something else as well. Beneath his hand her skin was hot, the strap of her bra silky and tempting.

      She bit her lip again before pulling free of his touch.

      And then he heard it. The unmistakable sound of crying. But not a woman crying. And it wasn’t coming from Wendy.

      Confused, he walked in and scanned the room for the source of the sound. It wasn’t all-out screaming. More of a soft, mewling noise. Like a puppy might make. The room appeared empty. He moved toward the sound as Wendy rushed up behind him and practically threw herself in his path.

      “I can explain!” She held up her hands in front of her as if warding off an attack.

      “Explain what?” He dodged around her to look behind the desk. Her chair had been shifted to the side and where Wendy normally sat was an infant’s car seat. And in that was a pale pink bundle.

      He turned back to Wendy. “What is that?”

      “That’s a baby.”

      Jonathon’s shock was palpable.

      If she didn’t know better, Wendy would have thought he’d never even seen a baby before. Though she imagined they were rare in his life, surely he had encountered at least one. After all, Ford had one himself. Jonathon must have been in the same room as his best friend’s child at some point.

      She dashed around him and squatted beside the car seat. She gave the back of it a gentle nudge but Peyton continued to fuss. Peyton’s sleepy eyes flickered open, blinked and then focused on Wendy.

      Something inside of Wendy tightened into a knot. A gut-level reaction to those bright blue eyes. Perhaps the only thing she’d ever felt that was actually stronger than that burst of attraction she’d felt for Jonathon just now.

      Of course, she couldn’t have Jonathon. She wasn’t stupid enough to try. But for now, she did have Peyton. And she’d do anything in her power to keep her.

      She unfastened the buckle strapping Peyton in and picked up the pink cotton bundle. Snuggling the baby close to her chest, she pressed her lips near Peyton’s ear and made shushing noises. Then she drew in a breath scented like tear-free shampoo and pure love.

      Suddenly feeling self-conscious, she looked up to find Jonathon watching her, a frown on his face.

      She tried to smile but felt it wavering under the weight of her shifting emotions. “Jonathon, meet Peyton.”

      “Right,” he said bracingly and he looked from her to the baby and then all around the room as if searching for the spaceship that must have dropped off this strange creature. “What is it doing in our office?”

      “She’s here because I brought her here.” Which maybe hadn’t been the smartest move, but she and Peyton had only gotten in the previous evening, after driving from Boulder, Colorado. With less than seventy-two hours of parenting experience under her belt, Wendy hadn’t known what else to do with Peyton. “I didn’t have anyone to watch her. And I don’t think she’s ready to be left with a stranger yet anyway. I mean, I’m strange enough, right? And—”

      Jonathon cut her off. “Wendy, why do you have a baby?” His gaze dropped to her belly, suspicion lighting his gaze. “She’s not… yours, is she?”

      She was glad he’d cut her off, because she’d been babbling, but at the same time dreading the conversation to come, because he was not going to like what she had to say. Still, when she glanced down at the sixteen-pound baby, she had to laugh.

      “No, I didn’t go away for seven days and miraculously get pregnant, gestate and deliver a four-month-old. She’s—” Her throat closed over the words, but she forced herself to say them. “She was my cousin’s. Bitsy named me guardian. So she is mine now.”

      There was a long moment of silence during which Jonathon’s expression was so blank, so unchanging she thought he might have suffered a stroke.

      “I—” he began. Then he looked down at Peyton, his frown deepening. “Well—” He looked back at her and cocked his head to the side. “It turns out Jeanell was right. On-site childcare was a good idea. I’m sure she’ll be just fine there.”

      Dread settled in Wendy’s belly. As well as something else. Sorrow. Nostalgia maybe. She didn’t want to leave FMJ. Even though she was just an assistant here, she’d never felt more at home anywhere else. Professionally or personally. Working at FMJ had given her purpose and direction. Something her family had never understood.

      “I’m not going to bring Peyton to work,” she began. And then decided there was no point in pussyfooting around this. “I’m not coming to work anymore. I came in today to resign.”

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