Expecting the Boss's Baby / Twins Under His Tree: Expecting the Boss's Baby. Christine Rimmer
wrinkled her adorable nose at him. “I had a feeling you would say that.”
He knew a lot about Mexico. But then, he knew a lot about many places. “They’re called the Zapatistas, Zoe. And they’re nothing to fool with.”
“Most of the trouble was back in the nineties. Things are better now.”
“But is better good enough?”
“It is, yes. I’m sure it’s safe. Yes, the Zapatistas are in a war against the Mexican state, against globalization. But it’s mostly a nonviolent conflict. My research tells me that travelers are safer in and around San Cristóbal than in just about any major American city. As long as they behave respectfully and don’t take pictures without asking first.” She produced a memory stick. “Here’s what I have. I’ve tried to cover everything—what to pack, what to see, where to stay, how to get there.”
“A spreadsheet for projected costs?”
“That, too.”
He held out his hand. “I’ll give it a look.”
Her sleek brows drew together. He knew she was considering working on him a little more before she turned him loose with what she’d worked up. But apparently she decided against that, decided to let the work she’d done speak for itself. He very much approved of that.
She rose and passed him the stick. “Can’t ask for more.”
That evening, he read her proposal. And the next morning, when they went over his calendar, he told her what he thought.
“I like it. We’re going to do it.”
She gasped and those blue eyes lit up, bright as stars. “You mean it?”
He nodded.
“Yes!” In her excitement, she almost dropped her laptop. It slid off her knees. She lurched to rescue it and whacked her hand hard against the side of his desk. The enormous diamond made a loud cracking sound. Something plopped to the floor.
They stared at each other.
She let out a wild little laugh. “Oops.” She had her laptop stabilized on her knees and she was clutching her left hand with her right. She pressed her lips together as a scarlet flush rushed up her creamy cheeks. “Uh, sorry.”
Was she hurt? “Are you okay?”
“Uh, yeah. Fine. Perfect.” She pulled the ring off her finger—but carefully, keeping it out of his sight. “I think I, um, bent the setting on my ring a little.”
“Sounded to me like you broke the damn thing.”
The flush on her pretty face intensified. Her cheeks were now cherry-red. “No, no. Of course not.” Trying not to be obvious about it, she scanned the floor around her chair.
He pushed back his own chair and looked under his desk.
Near his left shoe, half of her engagement diamond sparkled at him. He bent and picked it up.
When he straightened, she was staring at him. The look on her face was absolutely priceless. He leaned across the desk and held the broken stone out to her.
She took it from him. “Uh, thanks.”
“It appears that Johnny will be buying you another ring. Tell him not to be such a cheap bastard this time.”
She looked as if she wished she could sink right through the floor. But Zoe was not one to be cowed by a little thing like abject humiliation. She pulled herself together and jumped to Johnny’s defense. “I’ll have you know that Johnny is not cheap—and this …” She looked down at the two halves of her supposed engagement diamond. “It’s nothing.”
He arched a brow but kept his mouth shut. He was thoroughly enjoying himself. Hadn’t had this much fun in a very long time.
She backpedaled madly, that quick brain of hers firing on all cylinders. “A … duplicate, a fake. I had it made.”
“Made?”
“Yes. Made—you know, because I was nervous. Muggings are … simply rampant these days.”
Simply rampant, huh? “No kidding?”
She fisted the broken ring in her palm and sat up straighter, flicking a thick swatch of that gorgeous red hair back over her shoulder. “Yes, well. Ahem … where were we?”
He debated whether to torture her some more or move on. In the end, he took pity on her. “The San Cristóbal Spotlight.”
She swallowed, nodded, eager to talk more about her proposal—and to put the embarrassing incident with the ring behind her. “I’m so pleased, Dax. I can’t tell you how much this means.”
“I’ve been thinking about what month we should use it.” With relish, he delivered the bombshell. “I’m thinking January.”
Her mouth dropped open again. He really did enjoy catching her off-guard. “B-but January is already locked in.”
Yes, it was. Spotlights, along with the rest of the magazine, were planned and scheduled nine months to a year in advance.
“I run this magazine. And if I say we go to Chiapas and not Greece for January, then that’s where we go.”
“But you’re leaving for Greece in a week and a half. I have the travel arrangements all set up.”
“Then you will change them. A little spontaneity is good now and then.”
“But … what if I can’t get that fabulous hotel?”
“You’ll find another fabulous hotel. I have faith in your ingenuity and resourcefulness.” He sat back in his chair and waited for her to confess what was really bothering her.
“But I …” She had her free hand folded over the one with the broken ring in it and both of them resting on her shut laptop. She stared down—at her hands, at the laptop? He couldn’t tell which. Her slim shoulders were slumped. She almost might have been praying.
“Zoe.” He spoke softly. “You what?”
The red head lifted, the shoulders went back and the blue eyes gleamed. “I was hoping, well, that it would be a little later. At least not for a few months. Not until, um, after the rainy season ends.”
“I don’t see a little rain as that much of a problem.”
“Daily, Dax. It comes down in buckets.”
“I know my weather patterns. It rains hard, but mostly just in the afternoon.”
So much for the rainy season. She let that go and cast about for another excuse to postpone the trip. “But I, well, if you could only wait until I’ve been working for you longer, until …” Words deserted her.
He didn’t let her off the hook. “What? Tell me.”
“Oh, please.” Her heated gaze accused him. “You know. I know you know.”
“You still have to say it. That’s how it works. You have to speak up and say what you want. Come on. Look at it this way, if you don’t get what you ask for, at least you’ll know you put yourself out there, that you did everything you could to make it happen.”
She sat up even straighter. “Fine. All right. I want you to wait to do the Spotlight on San Cristóbal until you’re ready to take me along as your assistant, instead of one of the associates. That’s what I want, okay? I want to go.”
He rested his elbows on the chair arms and steepled his fingers. Yeah, he was playing this, stringing it along to enjoy her honest excitement, her clear desire to be directly involved in the feature she had just proposed. Most of the time, she was careful around him, she guarded that light in her eyes from him. She tried to keep things all business.
And he respected that, he really did. Still,