Boardroom Kings. Catherine Mann

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Boardroom Kings - Catherine Mann Mills & Boon By Request

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lean, looming presence added the final touch to the stark skyline, his swimmer’s build, dark hair cut short, thicker along the top and just lifting in the harsh wind. He stood tall, immovable, uncompromising—physically and emotionally.

      She turned away and tucked her gardening tools back in her bag. “Hello, Jason.”

      His footsteps grew louder, closer, and still he didn’t speak.

      “I guess the doorman told you I was up here,” she babbled, her hands frantically busy.

      He knelt beside her. “You should be more careful.”

      She inched away. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people.”

      “What if it hadn’t been me coming up here? That door creaks mighty damn loud and you were in another world.”

      “Okay, you’re right. I was, uh, distracted.” By his impending arrival, the baby on the way, and oh, yeah, she had an embezzler on her payroll. So much for her insistence she was ready to take on the world.

      She could almost hear her parents’ disapproval about everything in her life. Except for Jason. He was exactly the sort of man her socialite mother would pick for her, with his blue-blood lineage, fat bank account and good looks.

      Hell, most any mom would be happy to have Jason Reagert as a son-in-law. But he was also stubborn and controlling and she’d fought too hard for her independence to risk it in a relationship with this man. No doubt that was why she’d succeeded in ignoring the attraction for the past months.

      She clutched her bag to her chest. “What are you doing here? You could have just called.”

      “And you could have called.” He looked at her stomach and back up again. “When I spoke with a friend of mine back here last night, he told me you’ve been working from home because you’re not feeling well. Are you all right? Is the baby all right?”

      And there it was. Her pregnancy news out there with a simple statement. No huge confrontation or shouting match like her parents would have had before—and after—their divorce. All the same, her fingers shook, so she hitched her bag over her shoulder and stood.

      “Only morning sickness.” She stuffed her hands in her pockets. “The doctor says I’m fine. I’m just more productive if I work from home. The worst is past.”

      “I’m glad to hear that.”

      The nausea had been debilitating for a couple of months. Entrusting so much of the office routine to others had been nerve-racking, but there hadn’t been any other choice. Too bad it had cost her so much. “I made it back up to half days in the office last week.”

      “Are you sure you’re ready? You look like you’ve lost weight.” A protective gleam lit his eyes. He grabbed an iron chair and hauled it over to her.

      Lauren glanced at him warily before sitting. “How much do you know about the pregnancy?”

      “Does it matter?” He shrugged out of his trench coat and draped it over her shoulders.

      The familiar scent of his aftershave mingled with his body warmth clinging to the fabric. Too tempting. She passed his coat back because she couldn’t handle even one more obstacle in her life. Not now. “I guess not, as long as you do know.”

      He stepped closer, his dark eyes intense in a way that sent shivers up her spine and had even led her to ditch her panties four months ago.

      She forced herself to look away, reminded too thoroughly of the feelings that had propelled her into his arms the first time. “Thank you for believing me.”

      “I would say thanks for telling me, but you didn’t.” The first hint of anger tinted his tones.

      “I would have, eventually.” Before the kid graduated from college, at this rate. “The baby isn’t due for five more months.”

      “I want to be a part of my child’s life, every moment. Starting now, we’ll work together.”

      “You’re moving back to New York?”

      “No.” He flipped the collar on his trench coat up over his ears, his suntanned face declaring how much he’d already acclimated to the more temperate California weather. “Let’s take this conversation to your apartment where there’s heat.”

      Then a sneaking suspicion seeped in deeper than the damp cold. “You’re not moving back to NewYork, but you want us to work together bringing up the baby. You can’t actually expect me to move to San Francisco, can you?”

      His silence confirmed her suspicion.

      Her anger rose. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Not to my apartment and not to California. You really expect me to uproot my life? To abandon the company I’ve put my heart and soul into?” If there was even a company left to look after.

      “Fine—” the word burst from his mouth in a gust of cloudy cold white “—yes, I want you to come to San Francisco. I want us to be together for our baby. What’s more important—your company or your child?”

      She wanted to shout that she had put her child’s welfare first at the cost of her business. And she knew she would do the same all over again. She only wished she’d shelled out extra dollars for someone more reliable to watch over the shop, instead of worrying about her tight budget and blindly trusting the people she’d hired to do their damn jobs.

      “Jason, why are you being so pushy so fast?” Some—okay, a lot—of her anger and fear from work directed itself at Jason. “There’s time for us to talk through this, months, in fact. What’s really going on here?”

      His face closed up, all frustration hidden until he looked as cold as the frozen lion fountain. “I don’t know what you mean.”

      “There must be a reason for the sudden hard sell to put me in the same state as you.” Wind whistled louder, almost drowning out the sounds of street traffic below. “Was your mother abandoned by some scum bucket of a man? Did a woman do you wrong in the past?”

      His laughter burst out in a fresh gust of puffy clouds until he shook his head. “You have an active imagination. I can assure you that I have none of those tortured scenarios in my past.”

      His laughter was infectious—and distracting. “That’s not a complete answer.”

      “I’m not here to fight with you.” He stepped closer, the ocean-fresh scent of him teasing her pregnancy-heightened senses.

      Warmth radiated off him in a welcome wave and contrast to the bitter cold. She ached to burrow against his chest and feel the lean coil of his muscles rippling against her. Tension gathered low and hot and fast as it always had around him, but even more so now that she knew how explosive they could be together.

      She raised her hands between them, stopping just shy of actually touching his chest. Wary of even touching him to nudge him away. “You’re moving too fast for me. I need time to think.”

      “Well, while you’re thinking, keep this in mind.” He slid a hand into his pocket and pulled out a black velvet ring box. He creaked open the lid to reveal…

      A

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