The Baby Claim. Catherine Mann

the meeting go with your father and your family?”

      “Stunned surprise.”

      She lowered the laptop screen, sliding back in her leather seat. “Not a surplus of congratulations, huh?”

      “We’re all still in shock.”

      “Less than an hour after the call, my sister-in-law and baby sister started sending out texts about organizing an impromptu shower or bachelorette party or something like that for the females in both families. Made me feel bad for not jumping on board with the congrats and felicitations.”

      “You have to remember that they weren’t blinded by the—”

      “Right. Don’t remind me. I feel bad about my reaction. My mother’s an adult. She’s entitled to her own life. It’s just tough to turn on a dime and see this relationship positively, after a lifetime of our parents bad-mouthing the business practices of the other family.”

      He flipped a pencil over and over, tapping it on the tabletop rhythmically. She watched it linger between his fingers, mesmerized by the small, controlled gesture. Only the challenge in his voice broke her trance. “The business practices? What exactly do you object to in the way we do business?”

      “I’m not trying to pick a fight.” Her voice rose, and her puppy sat up, whining. “We’re going to have to sort this out.”

      “No. We just have to come up with a cohesive plan for the financials that we can present to the board. Ways to combine assets while preserving jobs.”

      She snapped her fingers for Kota to come to her. “And staying on track for a pipeline.”

      He dovetailed on her thoughts. “Building it faster and safer, to pipe more and be competitive. It’s a matter of self-preservation. Our parents haven’t given us any choice.”

      “Right, of course.” She stroked her puppy’s back, the fluffy texture of his freshly washed coat soothing.

      And she could definitely use all the comfort she could get right now, being closeted in this room with Broderick. Her senses were on overload from the fresh cedar scent of his aftershave, teasing and tempting her every breath. Her body wanted him...but her mind rebelled.

      She still grieved for her dead husband. She’d loved him during their marriage. She’d loved him through every conflict as they’d worked so damn hard on their relationship. Yet on an earthy level, her body ached for closeness with a man. With Broderick.

      Inhaling, she shivered at the delicious tingle of his scent even as she resented the tightening of her nipples. “Do you ever want more than...this? The job, the office?”

      “No,” he answered without hesitation. “Does that mean you do want more? What would that be?”

      Was it just her wayward imagination or had his voice lowered to an intimate level on that last question? His eyes locked on hers with a heat that seared right through her.

      Her heart slugged faster in her chest even as she fought for composure. A professional distance.

      “Oh, you’re not getting rid of me that easily. My job’s not up for grabs.” She pulled the pen from her hair and pointed it his way. “And neither am I.”

      She needed to remind herself as much as she needed to tell him.

      Hands off Broderick Steele, she reminded herself.

      “Why not? The wall’s been torn down.” He gave her a truly quizzical look, as if he was genuinely considering the idea and not just flirting.

      Something about his tone made her wary. And very, very hot.

      She breathed deep, too aware of her body’s every response to this man.

      “No, no, stop right there. From the minute you walked in my office door three days ago, you’ve been filling what you say with sexual overtones.” She had to halt this line of discussion before she started questioning if maybe he had a point. “Now more than ever, sex between us would complicate things.”

      “How so?” That sly grin formed dimples in his cheeks.

      “You’re smarter than that.” She looked down, shaking her head while pretending to scrutinize his boots. “We don’t need to add more tension to an already strained situation. We’re not college students who’ve had a bit too much to drink at a party.”

      “You’re right. We’re not rebellious kids. We’re adults who know exactly what’s going on. Our parents are getting married. We’ll likely have to share Christmas dinner year after year. That’s a fact.” He leaned closer to her, across the table. His musky scent mingled with the playful growl in his voice. “But there’s always the mistletoe.”

      At the mention of such a cozy scene, the fire in her belly cooled. The image he painted was too...personal. “This isn’t funny. You’re sexy as hell, and clearly, I’m attracted to you. But I’ve lost enough. I’m not going to risk losing my job and my family, too.”

      “I like hearing that the attraction is mutual.” He twined his fingers with hers on top of her puppy.

      “Again, I will say, you’re a smart man. You had to know.” Her fingers curled for an instant before she pulled away.

      “I didn’t, not for sure. You made a hasty run for the door all those years ago after what I thought was an incredible weekend.”

      “It was...memorable,” she said, then rushed to add, “in a good way. But we can both see now how difficult that would have been. Think how impossible it feels to have your dad marry my mom. How tough would it have been back then after that impulsive weekend to combat our families’ feuds?”

      “And after that you got married.” A flatness entered his voice.

      “Yes, I did.” She tipped her chin defiantly, then tried to lighten the mood. “And you have to admit your reputation as a ladies’ man is well earned. Those tabloid articles can’t be all rumor.”

      “The gossips are going to be busy enough right now with my father and your mother. I don’t think they’ll have time left over for the two of us.” He skimmed his knuckles along her cheek in a flash of sensation before returning to his computer. “Think about it.”

      There was no missing the invitation in his eyes. The attraction echoed inside her. And as lonely as she’d been, her body ached for the simple touch of a man. This man.

      But no.

      With Broderick, it would be more than a touch.

      And it would never be simple.