Bossman's Baby Scandal / Executive's Pregnancy Ultimatum: Bossman's Baby Scandal / Executive's Pregnancy Ultimatum. Catherine Mann

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