Boardroom Kings. Catherine Mann

legs, each brush teasing her already overloaded senses, the beaded top suddenly itchy and un-comfortable against her breasts. God, she so needed to get her mind in the moment and off the way Jason made her feel with just a look.

      The dinner party—catered by Wolfgang Puck’s local Postrio—was being held in an exclusive yacht club that sported a fabulous view of San Francisco Bay. Through the wall of windows, she could see the Golden Gate Bridge through the mist.

      It was one hell of an impressive party, from the five-star dinner to the A-list guests, everything running smoothly, thanks to Brock’s ever-efficient assistant zipping to and fro.

      Growing up in Connecticut, Lauren had wined and dined with influential families and major players in political circles. Even so, she was impressed. Maddox had pulled out all the stops.

      With her nausea totally abated, her appetite had kicked into full gear. She could well enjoy everything from the crusted Alaskan halibut to the sweetheart plum dessert. Too bad she couldn’t pack a doggy bag.

      For another picnic in front of the fire? She shook off the memory.

      The best of California wines flowed. Not that she’d been able to drink any, but the fragrant bouquets wafted through the room, mingling like the high-end guests. She sipped her sparkling water with lime.

      “Mrs. Reagert,” a voice called from behind her, “may I refill your drink?”

      Lauren glanced over her shoulder to find the offer came not from a waiter but from Jason’s big-catch client, Walter Prentice. Apparently even the ultrauptight client enjoyed a vintage wine on occasion.

      “Thank you, Mr. Prentice. I was just making my way over.”

      “Then let me help you with that.” He snapped his fingers impatiently and a waiter magically appeared to take her order, as well as a refill for Prentice’s wife. The poor woman looked as if she could use a shot of something stronger to lift her spirits. Her husband was obviously devoted to her, but the worry lines across the woman’s brow, the sad frown that didn’t appear new hinted that Angela Prentice wasn’t as happy as her husband.

      Taking her fresh sparkling water from the waiter, Lauren smiled her thanks.

      Prentice rocked back on his heels. “Sharp group of up-and-comers working with Maddox. It was a close competition between them and Golden Gate Promotions, but I’m pleased to be with such a dedicated and savvy group of young people.”

      Lauren glanced around the room at the major movers in the business. “I’m still getting to know everyone, but they’ve been wonderfully welcoming.”

      CFO Asher Williams placed his empty wineglass on a tray and led his law-student girlfriend onto the dance floor. Gavin Spencer shifted restlessly from foot to foot, the musclebound guy tugging at the neck of his tux absently as he listened intently to a cell-phone-company heiress.

      Angela Prentice touched Lauren’s arm lightly. “Tell me your name again, my dear.”

      “Lauren Presley, uh, Reagert now, of course.” She smiled. “But the Presley part is no relation to the King.”

      Walter laughed full and loud. “I imagine you get asked that often.”

      “Often enough.” She thought through what she knew about Prentice and zeroed in on his company mantra. Family Is Everything. “Although my family is from Connecticut, nowhere near Graceland.”

      “Lovely country in Connecticut. I have a place on the coast.” The billionaire probably had places on every coast. “You knew Jason in New York?”

      “I own a graphic-arts business. We collaborated on a few accounts, and our relationship formed from there.” True enough, even if the details might have sent Prentice into an apoplectic fit.

      Angela pressed two fingers to her furrowed brow. “How will you manage your business from clear across country now that you and Jason are married?”

      Prentice frowned. “I hope you don’t intend to try one of those bicoastal relationships. They never work, you know. That’s why I have my wife and children travel everywhere with me.”

      No wonder the woman had bags under her eyes.

      “A lot can be accomplished with a good office manager, a computer and telecoms.” She’d actually been thinking through some possibilities already, since making sure Jason was a part of their baby’s life would require a great deal of travel on both their parts, especially for the next few years.

      Which would also necessitate spending time together. A lot of time. Her eyes gravitated to Jason, speaking with Flynn, MC’s vice president. The VP’s broad shoulders and swagger drew more than a few female eyes in the room, but Lauren preferred Jason’s lean swimmer’s build. She could almost smell the salt air and sun on his skin.

      Lauren yanked her focus back to Walter Prentice, who was speaking.

      “You’re a modern-day businesswoman.”

      She stiffened. Was that good or bad in his eyes?

      Angela rested a gentle hand on her arm. “Congratulations again, dear, to you and Jason on the marriage and the baby. Walter and I are happy for you and your growing family.”

      “Hear, hear.” Walter lifted his glass in a toast. “Now if you’ll excuse us, Mrs. Reagert?”

      “Of course. Nice speaking with you both.” Lauren relaxed as the older couple walked away. Jason had read the situation right. All was well. She thumbed her wedding band, watching the Prentices. Forty years married. What would that be like? Staying with one person for more than half your life? While the Prentices seemed to have everything, Angela’s sad eyes made Lauren think about all she had in New York.

      Shaking her head, she pivoted and came face-to-face with… the very woman she’d been avoiding most of the evening.

      Celia Taylor winced visibly.

      Lauren considered making a quick excuse and speedy exit, then changed her mind. Running or evading would only fuel possible rumors. And weren’t there already enough rumors about this woman floating around? While she should hate Celia, instead, she felt kind of sorry for her. The business world could be catty and vicious to beautiful women.

      So Lauren plastered a big—hopefully genuine-looking—smile on her face. “Hello, Celia. I was just looking for you. I’m still new in town and was wondering if you could recommend a good hairstylist.”

      Sheesh, that sounded lame. So much for ignoring the issue of looks. Why hadn’t she thought to ask about work? Or consult on some other business matter? Or even ask for a freaking art gallery? Hell, she was committed to the conversation, so might as well forge ahead. She really wanted to smooth over any awkwardness with Jason’s coworker.

      Celia blinked fast, scrunching her too-darn-perfect nose. “Sure, sure, I’ll e-mail you the name of my salon and spa.”

      “I appreciate it.” She also needed to find a new ob/gyn out here, as well, if she was going to visit Jason again. Or maybe stay longer.

      “I’m sorry about the other day,” Celia said softly, leaning closer, her cologne expensive and probably delightful, but pregnancy heightened Lauren’s sense of smell in a fickle way. It had to be the pregnancy, right? Not the fact that right now she resented the woman for merely existing.

      Now wasn’t that utterly ridiculous? Celia Taylor hadn’t done anything wrong. The jealousy was totally Lauren’s issue, not this woman’s. “Really, there’s no need for things to be awkward.”

      “Of course not. I just wanted to make sure you know there’s nothing between Jason and me. I mean, I was asking about after-work plans… if he was going to Rosa Lounge with others from the office.”

      Celia wouldn’t have asked in the first place if there’d been an inkling Jason was already in a relationship. Except he hadn’t been. Not really. If their mutual friend hadn’t sent Jason that photo showing Lauren pregnant,