The Boss's Baby Mistake. Raye Morgan

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      That was what she’d thought. What a mystery this man was. Still, she had to admit he was awfully good-looking. Despite the antagonism between them, she felt a strong pull of attraction. She remembered the feeling she’d had when her gaze had met his in the elevator, and she knew that electricity was simmering just below the surface even now. If she dropped her guard, she would feel it again. There was something masculine in him that she couldn’t help but respond to. But she had to remember that he was the enemy.

      She studied him from under her lashes. His dark hair was cut fairly short, as though he was trying to tame a tendency toward crisp curls that she could detect along his neckline. His profile was strong, and his dark eyes were deep and gorgeous. But the feature that struck her most strongly was his mouth. He had the sexiest mouth she’d ever seen. It looked like it had been created just for kissing. The thought of kissing it sent a sudden surge of sensation through her and she dropped her gaze quickly, willing herself not to blush. That would be a sign of weakness she couldn’t risk.

      She finally glanced back into his eyes and congratulated herself on how cool and calm she’d managed to be. “Why don’t you explain just exactly what you want with a child when you have no wife to help you raise him?” she demanded.

      His expression was guarded. “I will explain that to you. But not yet.” He waited a moment as the waiter refilled their water glasses. “We need to get to know each other first.”

      He made this sound like a long-term relationship. She had no intention of letting it go any longer than this day, this meal. “And how do you propose we go about doing that?” she asked impatiently.

      He looked very sure of himself. “We’ll eat a meal. Look at each other across the table. Talk about this and that.” He let a glint of humor appear in his gaze. “Give each other a smile now and then.”

      So that was it. Her mouth turned down in a cynical frown. “You’re counting on your charm to bowl me over, aren’t you?”

      He laughed, and it lit up his dark face. “No, Gayle. I have a feeling it would take more than my charm to bowl you over.” His smile faded. “I’m counting on facts and logic.”

      Facts and logic. Facts and logic!

      “You know, this whole thing is still very unreal and very scary to me,” she said after the waiter took their order and walked away. “Just a few hours ago I was carrying my husband’s child. And now…” Her voice wavered and trailed off as a surge of emotion surprised her.

      He cleared his throat. “I heard about what happened to your husband. I’m very sorry.”

      “Are you?”

      He frowned at the question. “Yes. Of course.”

      She took a deep breath and continued. “I thought I still had a piece of my husband—” Her voice broke and she shook her head, annoyed with herself. The one thing she didn’t want to do was to cry in front of him. But she couldn’t stop herself from adding softly, “Now I don’t have anything.”

      He stared at her and had to admit she was getting to him. He saw her huge eyes brim with sparkling tears, then watched as she forced them back. He felt like he should do something. But what? Take her in his arms? That had a certain appeal, but he didn’t think it would be appropriate at this point. His ex-wife had used the tears ploy so often he’d actually grown hardened to it. But Gayle was either a very good actress or she really was upset.

      Abruptly, he felt contrite. Hell, the woman had lost her husband, and now she was facing the prospect of losing her baby. Of course she was upset. What was he thinking? Maybe he should…well, reach out and take her hand, at least. He looked at it, lying on the table, the fingers long and delicate, the nails rounded and silvery-pink. And suddenly he wanted to hold it, wanted to comfort her. He started to reach out, but at the same moment, she put her hand in her lap.

      “I am really very sorry for your loss,” he said instead, after giving her a moment to compose herself.

      When her gaze met his again, her eyes were clear. “Thank you,” she said calmly.

      He felt a sense of relief. She was okay. She wasn’t going to break down. He was glad of that, not wanting to go soft on her. He had to keep his mind on what this was all about. She was very pretty, and seemed actually to be a very nice person. He liked her spirit, liked the way she smoothed back her beautiful mahogany hair and set her full lips, as though she was making up her mind to do something that was difficult for her. Under any other circumstances, he might even be attracted to her. Except that—hell, how could he forget?—she was seven months pregnant. Funny how he seemed to lose sight of that when he looked at her. He’d never been attracted to a pregnant woman before. He wasn’t sure that he liked it.

      “This is hard on you right now,” he said gruffly. “And I’m sorry for that. But we don’t have the luxury of a lot of time. We’ve got a baby coming and we have to get things settled. Because…you see, what you do have is…part of me.”

      Her eyes widened and he added quickly, “I know that isn’t what you want. But it’s the truth. And you know, if you think about it, that should make this so much simpler for you.”

      “Simpler? How?”

      “The baby you’re carrying isn’t what you wanted any longer. But it is exactly what I want.” He saw the shock in her eyes and he added, “I’m sure you’ll marry again. There will be other chances for you to have…well, another baby.” And he watched for her response, hoping to see if his arguments were making any sort of dent in her resolve.

      She was pale and looked furious. There, you see? he thought with resignation. Logic and facts never seem to go over very well with women. Go figure.

      “You’re suggesting I resign myself to having another baby?” she echoed, the outrage flashing in her eyes. Looking at Jack, she forced herself to hold back her anger and make conversation instead of blowing up at him. “What do you do for a living?” she asked shortly.

      “I’m a geologist,” he responded. “How about you?”

      “I’m a Web designer,” she said absently. “But I’m unemployed right now.” She looked at him. “How about a short biographical sketch?”

      “Why not?” he said, leaning back and folding his arms across his chest. “I was born on the family ranch in Santa Ynez, a ranch my father still works today. It was originally a Spanish land grant, established in 1820. A lot of Marins have come down the pike since then, a lot have worked that ranch.” He threw her a direct look. “Seven generations of Marins have lived in the Santa Ynez Valley. I plan to make it eight.”

      He went on as their food was served and they began to eat, talking about growing up on the ranch, about his rebellious decision to go into geology instead of ranching, his father’s anger at his choice. He gave her a sketchy picture of his failed marriage and let her know he had no intention of repeating a mistake like that ever again.

      She listened quietly, completely forgetting her anger. She ate sporadically from her salad and sipped her iced tea, but she didn’t taste a thing. His words were simple, but she was touched by the raw yearning she thought she could hear in them.

      When he finished, she gave him a short version of her own life, how she’d been raised in Alaska and had married her father’s best friend and business partner right after her father’s death. How they had moved to СКАЧАТЬ