Her Pregnant Agenda. Линда Гуднайт

waiting for the moment she lifted her head so that he could study her delicate face more closely. Purely for professional reasons, of course. An attorney gained a lot of information from a client’s eyes.

      As she straightened, her naturally dark complexion paled, and she grabbed for the edge of the desk.

      “Whoa,” she whispered and weaved sideways, knocking his nameplate to the beige carpet.

      Grant was out of his chair and around the desk faster than a guilty criminal could say appeal. He slipped an arm around her middle and had the novel experience of feeling a stomach move beneath his fingertips.

      Instead of the aversion he’d expected, his own stomach quivered in awed response. He shook off the sensation. Sentimentality had no place in attorney-client relations.

      “Are you all right?” His voice sounded gruff.

      “Fine.” She panted a few times, then took a deep breath. “A little dizzy. That’s all.”

      He backed her to the chair and very gingerly eased her down, then remained standing in front of her, studying the pale line around her mouth. “Has this happened before?”

      A little pink tongue flicked out over dry lips. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back. “Occasionally.”

      Along one wall he kept a small refrigerator stocked with drinks—one of his perks as head attorney. Keeping one eye on Ariana, he went to it and retrieved a bottle of water. Uncapping the container, he held the drink to her lips. Her eyes fluttered open.

      “Thanks.” Her voice was a whisper. She took the water and sipped.

      “Are you eating properly?”

      She hedged. “Today was a bad day.”

      Placing a hand on each chair arm, he bent low and peered into her eyes. “What did you eat?”

      She sat up straighter. “I’m fine now.”

      “I don’t think so. You’re still pale. Are you getting prenatal care? Taking vitamins? Sleeping enough?”

      Her slender shoulders stiffened. She shrank back from him and in a soft voice said, “Am I on trial here?”

      “I beg your pardon.” He relented, leaning back slightly, though remaining close enough to notice the lines of fatigue around her eyes and mouth. What if she fainted and slithered out of the chair? He glanced at his watch. Time to go home anyway. “I’ll escort you to your car whenever you’re ready to leave.”

      She shook her head slightly. “I rode the T.”

      Of course she had. What was he thinking? Most everyone in Boston used public transportation, even him, though lately he’d taken to driving his car because of the erratic work hours. Fortunately, another of his perks was an underground parking space.

      He had a car and she didn’t. And she was unwell.

      One glance at this Rolex and Grant made a quick decision, his usual kind. “That settles it.”

      “Settles what?”

      “I’m driving you home.”

      “Grant, you’re very thoughtful.” Ariana recapped the water and placed the bottle on his desk. “But I’m fine now—really—and perfectly capable of seeing myself home.”

      “This has nothing to do with kindness and everything to do with common sense. You’re exhausted, hungry, and you nearly fainted. You have no business on public transportation. What if you pass out? As a gentlemen I would be remiss not to see you safely home.” He offered his hands, palms up. “Let’s go.”

      She drew back, stubborn chin lifting. “I need a lawyer, not a keeper.”

      He waited, offer still open. Couldn’t she understand that he knew best? “You’d risk your babies out of stubbornness?”

      Ariana fisted both small hands on her thighs. She was getting her Irish up, an attitude he found intriguing. “That was a dirty trick.”

      He allowed a tiny smile and shrugged. “I’m an attorney. What did you expect?”

      Ariana’s full mouth pursed as she thought over the offer. “Well…I am a little weak in the knees. And the T will be standing room only.”

      “Air-conditioned car. No jostling bodies.” He loved negotiations.

      Finally she poked a finger at him—a small, stub-nailed finger. “Not that I normally need anyone to take care of me, but okay, you win—this time.”

      Suppressing a laugh, Grant helped her out of the chair. Didn’t she understand? He always won.

      Chapter Two

      With considerable pleasure, Emily Winters watched Ariana and her new attorney exit the building together. She felt like that legendary Samaritan performing the good deed for the day. Grant, with his take-charge attitude and legal genius, would look after sweet Ariana. If anyone could squeeze support out of that deadbeat fiancé, Grant could.

      With a contented smile she headed for Carmella’s office. As vice president of Global Sales, Emily had plenty to do, but if Carmella wanted to see her, something important concerning their “secret project” must have developed.

      “Have you read this?” Carmella asked as soon as Emily entered her office. Displaying the cover of a romance novel, she then pressed the book to her bosom. “This story is so romantic. Just like Matt and Sarah.”

      “Everything did work out for the best with those two, didn’t it?” Regardless of Emily’s discomfort with the whole idea of matchmaking, once the brainy accountant noticed his sweet, innocent secretary there was no stopping the inevitable.

      “Ah, if only the others were so easy.” Carmella lay aside the book and tilted her head, salt and pepper hair catching the gleam of light. “So, is Grant Lawson to be the next lucky bachelor?”

      “Grant? Oh, you mean with Ariana?” Emily shook her head. “The idea never crossed my mind. When I heard Ariana crying in the bathroom and discovered the reason why, my heart broke for her.”

      “So, this is not part of our plan to see another of your father’s bachelor employees joined in happy matrimony?”

      Emily sighed. Ever since Carmella had come to her with the distressing news that her father wanted her to marry yet another of the firm’s bachelors, she’d been forced into the uncomfortable roll of matchmaker. If she didn’t find wives for Wintersoft’s eligible men, her father would publicly embarrass himself and everyone else by prodding the bachelors in her direction. He’d done that once already, and the resulting marriage and divorce had left Emily willing to do most anything, right down to prying into other people’s affairs, to avoid suffering that humiliation again. She knew her father well and once he got an idea in his head, he was like a dog on a bone. Anything she might say to try to change his mind was wasted breath, so she had no choice but to resort to playing the reluctant matchmaker.

      “No, Carmella, I’m not setting Ariana and Grant up with each other. Ariana really needs Grant’s help.”

      “And you really need Grant to find a wife.”

      “Other than me.”

      “Exactly.”

      Carmella patted her hand. “Your father loves you very much, Emily. He only wants your happiness.”

      “And ten or twelve grandchildren.”

      Carmella laughed. “Would one or two be so bad?”

      “Someday maybe, but not now. Until he realizes that I can run this company as good as any man, my career is my primary focus. I know my father loves me, and I adore him, too, but he has a blind spot where I’m concerned. As long as one male employee remains unattached, he’s a candidate for my hand in marriage.” Her father would