Little Secrets: His Pregnant Secretary

Three

Delia’s brain didn’t compute.

Her limbs still tingled pleasantly from the first orgasm a man had ever given her. Her whole body hummed with sensual fulfillment. And yet...panic was just starting to flood through her nervous system, rattling her from the inside out.

“What do you mean, it broke?” She knew what he meant, of course. But she didn’t understand how it had happened. How she could have let herself be so carried away by the man and the moment. Even if the man in question was Jager McNeill.

“I don’t suppose you’re on the pill?” he asked, instead of answering her question, as he gently extricated himself from her arms and legs.

“No.” She shook her head while reality slowly chilled the residual heat right out of her veins.

“You should stand up,” he urged her, lifting her off the desk and settling her on her feet. “Do you mind if I carry you into the shower?”

His matter-of-fact response to a potential grenade in both their lives only rattled her further, making the possible consequences feel all the more real. And frightening.

“I’ll walk there,” she assured him, wondering what the rest of his staff—her coworkers, for crying out loud—were going to think of her walk of shame through his house into the nearest bathroom.

She would headline local gossip for weeks. Or, quite possibly, nine months.

Oh, God. What had she done?

“We could try emergency contraception,” Jager suggested carefully. “If you’re amenable to taking the medication.”

Would that work? She’d never had a need to investigate the option. “I can call my doctor.”

Jager was putting a blanket around her. The throw from the back of the couch, she realized. Gratefully, she sank into the gray cashmere, veiling her tender body from the cool calculation she now saw in her lover’s eyes. He’d pulled on his pants and shrugged into his long-sleeved black shirt. Only his dark hair, disheveled from her fingers, gave away the less guarded man who’d made passionate love to her just moments ago.

Not that it was love, she reminded herself sharply.

“I’m sure I can find a pharmacy with the over-the-counter variety.” Jager was all efficiency. “I’ll get you settled and make a trip to the store.”

“Thank you.” She would still want to talk to her doctor. Double-check the side effects given her medical history. But she wasn’t sure how much to disclose about that right now with her thoughts churning.

“The guest room is closest,” he told her, tucking her under one strong arm as he opened the double doors of his office and steered her into the hallway.

Of course she knew the guest room was closest. She’d been in this house every day for two years. Would she lose her job now if she was carrying his child? Or even if she wasn’t? Only pride kept her from blurting out how much she needed this job.

When they arrived in the downstairs guest suite, Jager locked the door behind him and she scurried toward the bathroom.

“Delia.” His voice halted her just before she shut the door behind her.

Peeking out through a crack—not that it mattered since he’d already seen her very naked—she waited to see what he wanted. And wished she saw some hint of warmth in his eyes to reassure her.

“I believe emergency contraception has a high rate of effectiveness. But based on where you are in your cycle, how strong of a chance would there be that this would have—” He hesitated, and she wondered if this was rattling him more than he let on. But he blinked, and any hint of uncertainty vanished. “Resulted in pregnancy?”

“Based solely on my cycle?” She had no idea if she was a fertile woman. But if so? “We would want to come up with a contingency plan when I get out of the shower.”

* * *

Delia felt marginally calmer when she emerged from the bathroom in a pair of navy cotton shorts and a tee with McNeill Meadows printed on one pocket—promotional items given away to school groups who visited the community garden. She’d found a stack of clean items still in the packaging in the back of the guest bathroom’s linen closet. Indulging herself, she’d helped herself to two tees to make up for the fact that her bra still lay on the floor of Jager’s office.

She used a hand towel to dry her hair a bit more as she padded across the thick Persian carpet toward the king-size bed with its pristine white duvet. This bedroom overlooked the gardens, its deep balcony almost as large as the room itself. The sliding glass pocket doors were open now, and she followed the floral-scented breeze to where Jager sat on a padded chaise longue, looking out at the lit paths of the rock garden. The table nearby was set for two, a hurricane lamp glowing between the place settings of all white dishes. New serving platters undoubtedly held an entirely new meal. Sandwiches, maybe. Or fruit and cheese. Not even the McNeills’ talented chef could turn out five-star cuisine on an hourly basis.

The travertine tiles were cold on her bare feet as she padded outside to join Jager. He turned when she’d almost reached him, then stood.

“Would you be more comfortable in your own clothes?” he asked. “I brought them from the office and put your things in the closet.”

She winced to think of her wrinkled dress neatly hung in one of the gargantuan closets. “No, thank you. I’ve always liked these McNeill Meadows tees. I chose them last year for when school groups visit. At long last, I’ll have my own.”

“You wear it well.” His blue gaze slid over her and she felt it as keenly as any touch. “I had some food brought up in case you’re hungry. I wasn’t much of a host the first time around.”

Her stomach rumbled an answer at the same time she nodded. Needing to stay cool and levelheaded, she focused on slow, calming breaths. She draped the damp hand towel over one of the stone railings surrounding the balcony, then let him lead her to the table. The outdoor carpet was warm against her bare toes. He held out a chair for her and she sank into the wide seat. Once he tucked her chair in, he opened the platters, offering her each so she could help herself to a selection of fruits, cheeses and warm baguettes. Jager poured them both glasses of sparkling water over ice and lemons, then sat in the seat beside her. The hurricane lamp sent gold light flickering over the table while night birds called in the trees just off the balcony.

To a bystander, it would look like the perfect romantic setting. She guessed romance couldn’t be further from either of their minds.

“Based on your comment going into the shower earlier, I thought it would be wise to discuss a plan for the future. Just in case.” He slid a paper bag across the table. “Although I was able to obtain the contraception option we discussed.”

She eyed the bag dubiously, but took it after a moment. “I’d like to check with my own doctor in the morning, but if he gives me the okay, I’ll take it then.”

“That sounds fair.” He nodded.

“Thank you.” She congratulated herself on her calm tone that belied the wild knot of fears in her belly. She focused on her wedge of brie, spreading the cheese on a thin slice of baguette.

Jager laid a hand on her knee, an intimacy she hadn’t expected after how quickly he’d pulled away following the encounter in his office. It felt good. Too good. She couldn’t allow herself to fall for him. One moment of passionate madness was one too many when she needed this job and the good will of the McNeills to help keep the Rickard home and land.

“Let me begin by assuring you that I would never abandon my child.” Jager spoke with a fierceness that gave her pause. “My father taught me well the damage a parent inflicts with his absence.”

The candle flame leaped and the glow was reflected in his eyes. She wasn’t sure how to interpret his words, however.

“Neither would I,” she told him evenly. Family loyalty meant everything to her. Her father had raised her by himself, on the most meager means, after losing his wife in childbirth.

Some of the intensity faded from Jager’s expression. He lifted his hand from her knee and sipped his water before replacing the glass on the white linen tablecloth.

“Then we’ll have to stick together if tonight has consequences,” Jager observed. “In the meantime, I think I should fly out as soon as possible to begin the search for my brother. I want to find Damon so I can return here next month or in six weeks, whenever you think we might learn one way or another about a possible pregnancy.”

Her knife clattered to her plate as she lost her grip. She fumbled to retrieve it, but couldn’t hide her dismay at his quick abandonment. “I have set a new record for chasing a man out of my bed.” Resentment stirred. “I can email you the test results, if it comes down to that.”

“Delia.” He set down his own cutlery to reach across the table, his hand circling one of her wrists. “It never occurred to me you might want to travel with me, but I can arrange for that. Our chemistry is undeniable.”

Defensiveness prickled. She wasn’t planning to be his mistress.

“What about my job? I need the work, Jager. My father relies on my income. That’s why I asked about the raise before things got...complicated.”

“I had already planned to ask Gabe to supervise your work from now on. To eliminate any conflict of interest for me. But in light of what’s happened—”

“You already had a plan in place to have an affair and didn’t tell me?” She wondered when he’d decided that. Or when he would have clued her in to the fact. It might have put her more at ease about being with him.

Then again, what did it say about the beginnings of a relationship between them when he made all the decisions?

“I wanted to be with you, Delia.” His jaw flexed as he spoke and she had a memory of kissing him there. “I knew it in the water today that we weren’t going to be able to continue a productive working relationship with so much tension between us.”

She worried her lip, unsure how she felt about that. What if she didn’t like working with Gabe? More to the point, what if Gabe didn’t need her? If she was pregnant as a result of this night, how could she possibly maintain any independence when she worked for the family of her child’s father?

Most important of all? She wasn’t sure how she felt about an affair with Jager. Of course she was tempted. She couldn’t deny their time together had been incredible. One touch from him and she’d been lost, swamped by a desire so heated she’d forgotten her common sense. But she had a few obvious reservations straight out of the gate.

“I’m not sure we can have a productive personal relationship either if we’re not equal partners. I’d like to be a part of the decision-making.” She nibbled a strawberry, hungry despite the anxiety.

“I agree,” he surprised her by saying. But then, was he just trying to pacify her? “If there’s any chance we need to parent together, we’ll have to figure out how to share that responsibility in a healthy way.”

Determined to at least appear calm and in control, Delia lifted her glass in a silent toast. “We’re making progress then. I appreciate you hearing my opinions.”

“I value your input. Would you really want to travel with me for the next few weeks? The last I knew, Damon was in Marrakesh.”

She took a deep breath, steeling herself for a conversation he wouldn’t want to have. But he said he’d share the decision-making power. She didn’t plan on accepting his offer to extend this affair if he didn’t mean it.

“Your half brother said he knows where Damon is,” she reminded him. “On the off chance that it’s true, shouldn’t you find him as quickly as possible in case he needs you?”

Jager’s shoulders tensed. “You’re going to make this about my family?”

“Isn’t this whole conversation about the possibility of more family? A McNeill child?” Straightening in her seat, she tried to maintain some composure, but she could see him pulling away fast. It was in his shuttered expression.

“I know Damon. That means I can locate him faster than anyone else.” He’d sidestepped her question, she noticed. “The only thing left to decide now is if you want to join me in my search, or if you prefer to wait in Le François until we find out for certain if there will be another McNeill in our future?”

Four

Pacing the floor of the cottage bedroom, Delia paused to check her desk calendar for the third time, making sure her dates were right while she waited for the results of the at-home pregnancy test.

The calendar told her the same thing it had before. It was now two weeks until Christmas, and almost six weeks after that fateful night when she’d let her attraction to Jager run wild.

Nearly six weeks since she’d had unprotected sex with her boss, and no sign of her period. She’d ended up taking the morning-after contraception Jager had purchased for her after speaking to her physician, so she’d honestly thought they’d be in the clear, even though she hadn’t been able to take the pill within the first twenty-four hours as would have been ideal. But it was still supposed to be highly effective within the first seventy-two hours, so she hadn’t panicked when her doctor hadn’t gotten back to her personally until the next day.

Still, she’d delayed this test, fearing a false negative result. Better to wait longer and be certain, even if Jager had been texting her daily from Morocco, asking her for updates, tactfully suggesting a blood test at an appointment he’d helpfully arranged. She’d been ducking his calls, which was totally unprofessional given that he still had some sway over her job, despite Gabriel McNeill now technically being the one signing her paycheck. But the longer she went missing her expected period, the more her anxiety spiked.

Because honestly, she was scared to know the truth.

In Jager’s last text, he’d informed her he would fly home tonight, insisting they find out for certain one way or another. Knowing she couldn’t handle discovering the result in front of him, she’d surrendered and pulled out one of the pregnancy tests she’d purchased two weeks before.

Now she just had to wait three minutes.

Thirty more seconds, she corrected herself after checking her watch. Skin still damp from her bath, Delia tightened the bathrobe tie around her waist and returned to the steamy bathroom where the garden tub was draining. The clove-and-cinnamon-scented bubble bath, which she made from her own recipe during the holidays, was a small decadence she allowed herself at times like this.

The pregnancy test lay facedown on the white tile countertop beside the sink. She’d left it there while she reread the instructions to be sure she understood. One line meant not pregnant. Two lines—however faint—meant she was going to have a child with Jager McNeill.

She’d read online that high tension and stress could delay a period. That had to be why she was late. So, holding her breath, she closed her eyes. Flipped over the stick on the cool tile.

Two. Lines.

One bright pink. One paler pink.

There was no denying it. And according to the package, this was the most reliable at-home pregnancy detection kit.

“Oh, no. No.” Her legs turned to jelly beneath her. She felt so dizzy she clutched the narrow countertop with both hands to steady herself. The stack of rolled yellow hand towels swayed against the wall as she stared at it.

No, wait. That was her swaying.

She stumbled back to sit on the edge of the garden tub, the last of her bubble bath gurgling down the drain with a sucking swish. Kind of like all the plans she’d had for independence once she had her father more securely settled. Plans to get a college degree one day. To travel somewhere beyond this tiny island where she’d been born.

Plans for a future where she called the shots and dictated her own life. She must not have taken the morning-after medicine soon enough, but at the time, she’d really wanted her doctor’s advice about the pill considering her health history.

Wasn’t it enough that she’d screwed up by nearly marrying a guy who didn’t care about her? Nope. She had to compound her foolishness by succumbing to a moment of passion with a man who would never see her as more than...what? A company employee? A former friend turned sometime lover?

Her child deserved better than that.

That simple truth helped her emotions to level out. Made the dizzy feeling subside a bit. She couldn’t afford to wallow in a pity party for what she’d wanted in life. She was going to be a mother, and that was something tremendously significant.

She might have messed up plenty of times on her own behalf, but Delia Rickard was not going to be the kind of woman who made mistakes where her baby was concerned. That didn’t mean she had a clue what to do next, but she sure planned to take her time and figure it out.

Deep breath in.

Deep breath out.

Before she even finished the exhale, however, a swift, hard knock sounded on the front door of the cottage.

“Delia?” The deep rumble of the familiar voice caused panic to stab through her.

Jager McNeill had come home.

* * *

Jager stood under the cottage porch light, waiting. He knew Delia was here. His housekeeper had seen her enter the carriage house an hour ago and Delia’s lights were all on. Soft holiday music played inside.

She’d been avoiding any real conversations with him for weeks. He’d tried to give her some space, knowing she was even more rattled about the possibility of being pregnant than he was. Besides, the search for his brother had been intense, leading him on a circuitous path around the globe. Now he was certain, at least, that Damon was alive. But he’d seen signs that his brother was hell-bent on revenge and that scared him.

Still, Jager should have made Delia his first priority before now. Either she was delaying taking the pregnancy test for reasons he didn’t understand or—worse—she’d been hiding the news from him. Whatever the truth, he needed to earn her trust. He couldn’t afford to alienate her when their futures might be irrevocably bound.

He lifted his hand to knock again, only to hear the deadbolt slide free on the other side. The doorknob turned and there she was.

Delia.

Wearing a white terry-cloth robe and a pair of red-and-green-striped knee socks, she was scrubbed clean, her wet hair falling in dark gold waves onto her shoulders. Worry filled her hazel eyes. The rosy color he’d grown used to seeing was missing in her cheeks.

Hell.

He hadn’t seen her look so upset since that first day they’d met. And that comparison put his own behavior into perspective. He wasn’t a loser like her former fiancé. He should have come home before now. Been there for her.

“May I come in?” He hadn’t even changed his clothes when he stepped off the plane. He’d flown eight hours to be here today, the six-week anniversary of the passionate encounter in his office.

Six weeks hadn’t dimmed how much he wanted her. Not even when they were both stressed and worried about the future. If he had his way, she’d be in his arms already, but he didn’t want to pressure her.

“That would be wise.” Nodding, Delia retreated while he stepped over the threshold, closing the door behind him.

He hadn’t been inside the cottage for over a year. He’d overseen the delivery of a few basic pieces of furniture when she’d first taken up residence in the renovated carriage house. But it bore no resemblance to what he remembered.

To say she painted flowers on the walls didn’t come close to describing the way she’d made the interior look like an enchanted garden. Yes, there were flowers of all colors and varieties—some not found in nature—growing from a painted grass border along the floor. On one wall, a full moon glowed in white phosphorescent paint, shining down on a garden path full of rabbits and hedgehogs, all following a girl in a dark blue dress. On another wall, there was a painted mouse hole on the baseboard, with a mouse with a broom and apron beside it, as if the tiny creature had just swept her front mat. Above the couch, framing a window overlooking the garden, someone had painted an elaborate stained-glass frame, as if the window view itself was a painting. The white curtains were drawn and a holiday wreath hung from the curtain rod on a bright red ribbon. He could only imagine the effect in the daytime.

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