Baby for the Tycoon. Emily McKay
slipping away. “We’ll stay married as long as it takes to convince your family that we’re suitable parents. We won’t even have to live together. I’ll grant you an annulment as soon as we’ve convinced them.”
“No,” she said softly.
He felt a pang in his chest at her response. Then he saw it. Her letter of resignation. Signed, dated and ready to be handed over. As official as an order for his execution.
This past week had been a premonition of his future without her. He could envision an endless parade of incompetent temps. Countless hours of interviewing assistants, all of whom would fail to live up to the precedent set by Wendy. This government contract would slip through his fingers, just as the Olson deal had. FMJ had lost millions on that one. Which was nothing compared to what they’d miss if they didn’t secure this contract. He could feel the stepping-stone slipping out from under him, the future he’d planned out for the company dissolving before his very eyes.
Panic mounting, he kept talking. “If you’re worried about sex, don’t be. I certainly wouldn’t expect to sleep with you.”
Her gaze darted to his as she bolted to her feet. “No.” Then she squeezed her eyes closed for an instant. “What I meant was…” She drew in a deep breath. “… a fast annulment wouldn’t work.”
Just as quickly, her eyes shifted away from his. In that moment, a powerful, unspoken message passed between them.
Not once in all the years they’d worked together had they talked about sex. They had shared countless other intimacies. Eaten meals late at night. Sat beside each other on long plane flights. He’d had her fall asleep with her head on his shoulder somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean. They had slept in hotel rooms with walls so thin he’d heard the sound of her rolling over in her bed. And yet despite all that, neither of them had ever broached the subject of sex.
But now that the word had been said aloud, it was there between them. The image of her, sprawled naked on a bed before him, was permanently lodged in his brain.
He found himself oddly pleased by the faint blush that crept into her cheeks as she couldn’t quite meet his gaze.
“If we’re going to do this—” she shot him a look from under her lashes as if she were trying to assess his commitment “—then we have to go all in.”
He raised his eyebrows, speculatively. She wasn’t saying no. She was making a counteroffer. He felt a grin split his face. Just when he thought he knew her, she always managed to surprise him.
“We can’t get an annulment in three or even six months,” she said. “My family will see right through that. In a year, maybe two, we’ll have to get divorced. Simply pretend the marriage didn’t work out.”
“I see.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think you do. I’m committed to fighting for Peyton. I’ll do whatever I have to. But I can’t ask you to do the same.”
“You’re not asking,” he pointed out. “I’m offering. And just so we’re clear, I’m not doing this out of the goodness of my heart.” The last thing he needed right now was her developing some starry-eyed notion about his motives. “I’m doing this to keep you working for FMJ. You’re the best damn assistant I’ve ever had.”
She threw up her hand to interrupt him. “This is ridiculous. Just hire another assistant. I’ll even help you find one. There are plenty of other competent people in the city.”
“But none of them are you. I need you,” he argued. “None of them know the company the way you do. None of them would care about what FMJ does the way you do.”
She seemed to be considering for a moment, then admitted,
“Well, that’s true.”
“Besides. I don’t have the time or energy to train someone new. My motives are very selfish.”
“Trust me, I wasn’t about to swoon from the romanticism of the moment.” Her lips twisted in a wry smile. “I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting into. If my family suspects what we’re up to—”
“Then we’ll convince them that our marriage has nothing to do with Peyton.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Convince them we’re in love?”
“Exactly.”
Wendy gave a snort of laughter. Baby Peyton squirmed in response. She turned her head and gave Jonathon a look of annoyance. If a baby could be annoyed. Obviously she wasn’t going back to sleep. Pressing her tiny palms to Wendy’s chest, she pushed away as if she wanted to be set free.
Wendy crossed to a diaper bag sitting on her desk. He hadn’t even noticed it before, but when Wendy tried to unzip it with one hand, he moved to help her. He brushed her fingers aside and unzipped the bag. “What do you need?”
“The blanket. That pink one there. Spread it out on the floor.”
Once the blanket was out, she situated the baby on her belly in the center of it.
The sight of a baby in the middle of FMJ’s executive offices was so incongruous he could barely remember what they’d been talking about. Oh, right. She’d been snorting with laughter over the idea of them being in love. Nice to know he’d amused her.
“So you don’t think we can convince your family we’re romantically involved?”
Wendy was back at the diaper bag now, pulling out an array of brightly colored toys. “No offense, Jonathon, but in the five years I’ve been here, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you romantically involved.”
“That’s ridiculous. I—”
She held up her hands to ward off his protests. “With anyone. Oh, I know you’ve dated plenty of women.” She stressed “plenty” as if it was an insult. “But romance is not your strong suit.”
Dropping to her knees, she strategically placed the toys in an arc in front of the baby. By now, Peyton had wedged herself up on her elbows.
“You think I can’t be romantic?” he asked.
“I think you approach your love life with all the warmth and spontaneity of a long-term strategic planning committee.”
“You’re saying… what? That I’m a cold fish?” His voice came out tight and strained.
There was something very matter-of-fact about her tone. As if she were stating the obvious. As if it hadn’t even occurred to her that this might insult him.
“Not really.” She tilted her head to the side, her attention focused on Peyton. She nudged a stuffed elephant closer to the baby. He didn’t know if the topic made her uncomfortable or if infant toys were really just that fascinating. “More that you keep your emotions tightly under control.” Apparently satisfied with the arrangement of toys, she stood, dusting her hands off. “You’re a dispassionate man. There’s nothing wrong with—”
Okay, he’d had enough. He strode toward her, pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
He didn’t know what pushed him over the edge. Whether it was her unending lecture about how dispassionate he was. Or the fact that ever since he’d said the word “sex” aloud a few minutes ago he hadn’t been able to get it out of his head. Or maybe it was that tempting bit of shoulder her shirt kept exposing. Or hell, maybe it was even the hot-pink strap.
Whatever it was, his restraint snapped and he had to kiss her. And then, he couldn’t stop.
Wendy had not seen it coming. One minute, she was trying to calm Peyton down, keep her distracted enough so she could keep talking to Jonathon. Because frankly, Wendy was having enough trouble concentrating on the logistics of the conversation without Peyton breaking out into all-out fussiness.
And then, a second later, her body was pressed against Jonathon’s and