The Boss's Baby Mistake. Raye Morgan

spiking in from the bank of windows behind him, creating a halo effect.

      “Mrs. Smith?” the man was saying, looking down at her.

      His face came into focus. She looked at him blankly, uncomprehending. He wasn’t wearing a white coat and she didn’t remember having seen him here before, so she didn’t think he was one of the doctors. Was he going to apologize for the mistake, too?

      Maybe not. He didn’t look as scared as the others did. In fact, he was gazing at her with dark eyes that gleamed with a certain calm confidence, a sense of assurance she only wished she had at the moment.

      He took her hand in both of his, as though to comfort and protect her. His touch was solid, strong, and it filled her with a sense of warmth.

      “Mrs. Smith, I’d like to help you. My name is Jack Marin.”

      Jack Marin. The name was not familiar, but his eyes were kind as they met hers. That was good enough for her right now. Besides that, she thought with a small, guilty thrill, he was awfully good-looking. That never hurt.

      “Mr. Marin!” One of the men in the white coats was yelling at him, his face turning red from the effort, his voice getting louder and louder. “This is highly irregular! You shouldn’t have any contact with this woman!”

      “Mr. Marin,” said another of the doctors sternly. He had a large walrus mustache, which added immensely to his authority. “I must ask you to leave at once. I will have to call security if you do not vacate these premises immediately.”

      Jack Marin dropped her hand as he faced them, standing his ground. “You can call anyone you like,” he told them calmly, his dark eyes becoming cold as they turned toward the doctors. “You’re the ones who are responsible for this disaster. This lady is the victim of your mismanagement. I don’t think you want that getting out, now do you?”

      “Mr. Marin, you have no right—”

      He held up a hand to stop the protests. “Doctors, if you want to discuss this further, we’ll see you in court.”

      The doctors looked stunned, and Gayle almost felt sorry for them. Her new friend was turning out to be very handy to have around, and he seemed to know how to push all the right buttons. She took a step closer to him. At least there was one person here on her side.

      He must be a lawyer, she thought with a certain sense of irony. He must have heard about this mistake, and came to give me legal counsel.

      “Mrs. Smith needs time to assimilate what you’ve disclosed to her,” Jack Marin told them, taking her arm as though she’d already hired him on. “She needs to sit down somewhere and think over whether or not she’s going to sue the pants off you bunch of frauds.”

      He looked down into Gayle’s face and smiled reassuringly. She soaked up his strength from his smile and held her head high.

      “Good day, gentlemen,” he said as he began to lead her toward the elevator. “We’ll be in touch.”

      The doctors were milling about in frustration and murmuring among themselves, obviously at a loss as to what they would do next, but Gayle hardly noticed. In a daze, she let Jack escort her onto the elevator. In mere seconds, the doors closed and she couldn’t see the doctors any longer. She blinked, wishing she could believe this was all a bad dream.

      “I know the perfect place to get some privacy,” her rescuer told her smoothly. “La Paix, a little French restaurant, is right across the street. Great food, quiet atmosphere. Just what you need.”

      She knew the place to be one of the better restaurants in Rio de Oro, a medium-sized town on the central California Coast. She gave him a shaky smile, glad he was there. She knew she was going to have to make decisions regarding this debacle on her own, but it was a comfort to have someone help her through the early stages. She’d always been fairly solitary, but she’d never been so completely alone in the world before. She’d always lived with her father, and then, once he’d died, she had married and lived with her husband. It had only been a few months since she’d lost him in turn, and she wasn’t totally used to standing alone yet.

      She had been doing pretty well up to now. In fact, she’d been surprised at how easily she’d made the transition from wife to widow, despite a lot of obstacles that had been thrown her way, even before this latest bombshell. In fact, she’d been pretty proud of herself and the way she was weathering the storm. But that was before she’d been hit with the news that her baby’s father was a stranger.

      Her new friend didn’t say any more as they descended and made their way out of the building. She was glad of that. She didn’t feel like making small talk. She glanced over at him, met his jet-black gaze and felt a quick frisson of electricity shoot through her system.

      She looked away immediately, blushing. That was very odd, she thought. She didn’t react that way to men. Never. Never ever. It had to be because of the strange circumstances…and the heightened emotions of the situation…and the fact that he had the most intense dark eyes she’d ever gazed into.

      She tried to dismiss it from her mind and pretty much succeeded for a time. He took her arm again as they crossed the street, and she didn’t let it throw her. He seemed very large and very protective. She liked that. It would be such a luxury to be able to relax and let him take some of the worry off her shoulders. She knew she couldn’t do that—but the thought was certainly tempting.

      “Do you always give your clients this sort of first-class service?” she murmured as they reached the curb.

      “My clients?” he said absently, steering her toward the double doors. He threw a quizzical look her way, as though doing a quick scan to make sure she wasn’t going woozy on him. “You need to sit down and take it easy,” he told her, opening the door to let her in. “Then we’ll talk.”

      The little French restaurant had frilly white curtains and dimly lit, individual booths. The waiters wore black suits and the maître d’ wore a tuxedo. The music was classical and very soft, the ambience peaceful and serene. Gayle loved the place immediately.

      The maître d’ led them through the restaurant to a private section toward the back. Gayle slid into her side of the booth and sat back against the velveteen upholstery. The air was cool, the music sweet, the light filtered. She began to relax and, at the same time, felt her strength begin to return. She even felt strong enough to risk another look into her rescuer’s eyes. Looking across the table, she prepared herself, then smiled at him and was chagrinned to feel that tingle again. What was the matter with her, anyway?

      She had to admit he was one of the most attractive men she’d ever met. She wondered fleetingly if she’d ever met him before, but she couldn’t place him. And it didn’t matter. He knew what had happened, it seemed, and he was ready to help her.

      The waiter set a tall, frosted glass of something lime-green in front of her that Mr. Marin must have ordered when she wasn’t paying attention, and she took a sip, savoring its light, sherbety taste. She was definitely calming down. But the situation still seemed surreal.

      “Feeling better?” Jack asked her.

      She folded her hands before her on the white linen tablecloth and studied him for a long moment before answering. He was a classically handsome man and his dark eyes seemed warm and kind. He wore a crisp white shirt, open at the neck, with his shirt-sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows. She could see that he was a strong man. His chest looked muscular, and so did his forearms.

      He was the sort of man a woman could easily fall for, she decided. The sort of man a girl might fantasize making love to. She found her gaze dropping to explore the tanned chest exposed by his open shirt, and felt a hint of that electricity again.

      Quickly, she looked away. But his image stayed in her mind. There was something about him, something with a hint of the wild and rugged, that didn’t fit with his being a lawyer. She could see him more as some sort of outdoorsman, scaling mountains rather than dominating courtrooms.

      “I am feeling better,”