Little Secrets: Secretly Pregnant. Andrea Laurence
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Secret Identity. Secret Baby.
They’d worn masks! So after one wild night with a fellow Mardi Gras party guest, accountant Emma Dempsey never expects to see her mysterious seducer again. Her only reminders are a tattoo...and a positive pregnancy test.
CEO Jonah Flynn feels a strange connection to his beautiful new auditor. Her tattoo—identical to his own—explains why. They vow to keep things professional, even as desire tempts them away from their good intentions. But when everyone’s secrets are revealed, will Jonah have to choose between his business, his lover and his baby?
Their lips met with an unexpected spark.
She didn’t pull away. The old Emma would have. In her mask, she was someone else.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, her lips clinging to his as he probed and explored her with his tongue. It was deliciously naughty. In that moment, Emma wanted it more than anything else in her entire life.
“Come with me,” he whispered.
Emma knew what he was offering and every inch of her body urged her to take him up on it. She’d never done anything like this. Ever. And yet there was something about her hero that insisted she go with him.
So she did.
* * *
Little Secrets: Secretly Pregnant is part of Little Secrets series: Untamed passion, unexpected pregnancy…
Little Secrets: Secretly Pregnant
Andrea Laurence
ANDREA LAURENCE is an award-winning author of contemporary romances filled with seduction and sass. She has been a lover of reading and writing stories since she was young. A dedicated West Coast girl transplanted into the Deep South, she is thrilled to share her special blend of sensuality and dry, sarcastic humor with readers.
To Dan
Thanks for the inspiration
Contents
Fat Tuesday
Everyone was dancing and having a good time. Everyone except Emma. That wasn’t unusual, though. Emma Dempsey had forgotten how to have fun a long time ago.
After her recent breakup, she was beginning to wonder if something was wrong with her. Her ex, David, had said she was boring both in and out of bed. She made the mistake of telling that to her friend and former sorority sister, Harper Drake, and the next thing she knew, she was at a Mardi Gras party at a loft in Tribeca.
She’d tried. She wore a pretty butterfly mask and a tight skirt, but this just wasn’t her cup of tea. Perhaps she should just call a cab and go so she didn’t ruin Harper’s night. She nibbled absently on a carrot stick as her gaze fell upon a tequila bar that had been set up on the kitchen island beside her. That was always a second option.
Emma knew she had to make a choice. She could either go home and join a local Red Hat Society at the ripe age of twenty-seven or she could take this bull by the horns and have some fun for once.
Feeling brave, she abandoned her plate and moved down the island. There was an assortment of small paper cups, slices of lime, a salt shaker and several bottles of tequila laid out. She prepared a shot and held it there, knowing once she leaped off the cliff, there would be no turning back.
Being with you is like dating my grandma. The memory of David’s painful words pushed her over the edge.
Without further hesitation, she licked, drank and sucked the lime furiously to cover the flavor of the liquor. It burned her throat as it went down, splashing in her stomach and sending a scorching sensation almost immediately through her body that a beer couldn’t even come close to.
It tasted absolutely terrible, but within seconds, she could feel a pleasant change. Almost as though her spine had loosened. Slinky. Maybe feline. This wasn’t bad at all. With a smile of satisfaction, she poured a second shot as someone else came into the kitchen. A quick glance confirmed her worst fears.
“Hey there, beautiful,” a creepy guy in a Batman-like mask said, leaning against the counter.
The compliment fell flat considering 75 percent of her face was covered in an ornate Mardi Gras mask. Emma sighed and slammed back the second shot of tequila without salt or lime. She needed it. She started pouring a third, blatantly ignoring him.
“Would you like to dance? I’ve got some sweet moves.”
She doubted it. “I don’t dance, sorry.”
Batman frowned. “Well, then wanna blow this party off for someplace quiet and dark where we can...talk?”