Little Secrets: His Pregnant Secretary. Joanne Rock

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Little Secrets: His Pregnant Secretary - Joanne Rock Mills & Boon Desire

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move had caused for all of them made his shoulders sag with grief for Damon and the loss of his vibrant and beautiful wife.

      Now Damon had disappeared too. He’d left to travel two months ago and at the time, Jager had agreed it would be wise for him to get away. But days after his departure, Damon had shut off his phone and hadn’t been in contact since.

      To make it worse, around that time Jager had been contacted by their father, who’d barely acknowledged him as a child and whom Jager hadn’t seen in fifteen years. Now, suddenly, he was offering the help of his wealthy family.

      Too little. Too late.

      As if Jager had any desire to spend time with the dirtbag who’d walked out on their mom. Apparently Jager’s paternal grandfather—whom he’d never met—was determined to reunite all his grandsons. Bastard offspring and otherwise. Jager had told them hell no.

      He finished off the whiskey and set aside his glass.

      His world was a giant mess. The one moment of clarity in it all?

      When Delia had been in his arms in the water just two hours ago. The dark churn of thoughts that had plagued him for nearly a year suddenly quieted, burned away by an attraction grown more intense since that first day when she’d washed up on his island. Nothing prohibited them from being together now. He was so distant from the Martinique-based businesses that he could make a move without worrying about the impact on their working relationship. Or he’d simply transfer her to another part of the company where Gabe could monitor her job performance, eliminating the conflict of interest. Gabe could make the decision about that raise she wanted.

      His conscience clear, Jager watched her step from the cottage, her fair hair glowing golden under the porch light as she locked the dead bolt with a key. Now he could allow himself to think about the possibilities of being alone with her. Of forgetting the hell of the past year for a night in her arms.

      Backing away from the window, Jager watched as Delia strode toward the main house. She wore a rose-colored tank dress, with a thin white sweater thrown over her shoulders. A simple gold bangle wrapped around one wrist. She worried her lip with her teeth as she stared down at the dusky gold pavers that led to the stone steps up to the house.

      If he could have a taste of that soft pink mouth, he would indulge as often as possible. Was she nervous about spending the evening with him? Or was she looking forward to it as much as he? She had to have known she was getting to him today in the water. Soaking wet and hard as hell for her, he’d been unable to hide his fast reaction to feeling her breasts pressed to his chest. He’d felt her reaction too though. The attraction wasn’t one-sided.

      “Hello, Jager.” He couldn’t believe how long he’d allowed himself to ruminate over her body. She’d entered the house and his office while he was preoccupied.

      Of course, she had domain over the whole place while he was gone. And he’d left the double doors to his office open. He was more than ready to let her in.

      “I trust you’re feeling better after the impromptu swim?” He turned to greet her but did not approach, hoping to put her at ease. She’d pinned her golden-blond hair up, leaving only a few stray pieces around her face. The rest bounced in a loose knot as she walked.

      He gestured toward the seating arrangement near the fireplace. A wrought iron candelabra with fat white pillar candles had been laid in the cold hearth at some point in his absence. A homey touch. Delia perched on the edge of a wide gray twill armchair near the rattan chest that served as a coffee table, her posture stiff even though she gave him a smile.

      “I’m almost warm again, thank you.” She tugged the shawl sweater more tightly around her while he took a seat on the couch adjacent to her chair. “Tourists may swim in November, but I don’t usually go in the water this time of year.”

      “Yet you didn’t even hesitate.” He’d been watching her from the deck of the skiff carrying him from the seaplane to the marina. “I saw how fast you jumped in after Emily fell.” He’d spoken to the girl’s family briefly after reaching the dock, to make sure she was going to be fine and that they would focus more on parenting and less on partying.

      “You were in the water almost as quickly as me.” She shook her head and briefly closed her hazel eyes as a delicate shudder passed through her. “I don’t even want to think about what might have happened if you hadn’t arrived when you did. I was never so panicked as those few seconds when I couldn’t find her.”

      “I only spotted her because you were just above her in the water.” He’d swum faster than he’d known he was capable of. “Although I would have searched the whole damn marina for her if I had to. I’ve had enough sleepless nights thinking about how different our lives might be if someone had been there to haul Caroline out of the water.”

      He hadn’t meant to share that, but the loss of his sister-in-law had overshadowed everything else for their family. Delia’s hand on his forearm cut through some of the darkness though, providing an unexpected comfort.

      “I’m sorry,” she said simply, her eyes filled with genuine empathy.

      Empathy that didn’t even rightfully belong to him. It was Damon who’d been through hell. Suddenly Jager was reminded that he needed to focus on his family and not whatever he was feeling for his assistant right now. At least until they’d cleared up some business.

      “Thank you.” He acknowledged her kindness before redirecting the conversation. “Which reminds me that I won’t be staying in town long, so I’d like to come up with a plan to review any new business over the next week.”

      “You’re leaving again? Why?” Delia’s touch fell away from his arm. Her lips parted in surprise.

      “I need to find Damon.” He’d never imagined his brother as the kind of man who might do himself harm, but Damon had been through more than any man should have to bear.

      “I understand.” Delia nodded, but her expression remained troubled. She spun the gold bangle around her wrist.

      “I won’t leave until we address any concerns you may have about the business.” Or Gabe did. But there was enough time to share his plan with her. He still hoped to put her at ease first.

      “Of course.” She quit spinning the bracelet and glanced up at him. “I know how committed you are to this place. You’re always quick to respond to any of my questions about the business.”

      Leaving him to wonder if she’d ever had questions of a more personal nature that he’d overlooked? He studied her features, trying to read the woman who’d become so adept at managing his affairs. A woman who had become a professional force to be reckoned with despite a lack of formal training.

      She deftly changed the subject.

      “Have you eaten?” she asked, straightening in her seat. “Dinner is ready. Chef texted me half an hour ago to say he’d prepared something—”

      “Will you join me?” he asked, wanting her with him.

      “I don’t want to monopolize your time on your first day home.” She scooted to the edge of her seat as if looking for the closest exit. Cautious. Professional. “I can bring you up to speed on the house and marina in the morning so you can enjoy your meal.”

      “My brother Gabe is in Los Altos Hills for another week,” he reminded

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