The Beaumont Brothers: Not the Boss's Baby

“But that’s the beauty of fashion,” Mario said, stepping back to look her over yet again. “Every morning you can wake up and decide to be someone new!” Then his face changed. “Even Mario.” His voice changed, too—it got deeper, with a thicker Hispanic accent. “I’m really Mario from the barrio, you know? But no one else does. That’s the beauty of fashion. It doesn’t matter what we were. The only thing that matters is who we are today. And today,” he went on, his voice rising up again, “you shall be a queen amongst women!”

She looked at him, more than a little surprised at what he’d said. Was it possible that he really was Mario from the barrio—that he might understand how out of place she felt surrounded by this level of wealth? She decided it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he’d made her feel like she could do this. She felt herself breathe again—and this time it wasn’t a strain. “You really are fabulous, you know.”

“Oh,” he said, batting her comment away with a pleased grin, “I tell my husband that all the time. One of these days, he’s going to believe me!” Then he clapped his hands and turned to the cart that had God only knew how many diamonds and gems on it. “Mr. Beaumont is quite the lucky man!”

But he wasn’t. He wasn’t the father of her baby and he wasn’t even her boyfriend. He was her boss. The walls started to close in on her again.

She needed to distract herself and fast. “Does this happen a lot? Mr. Beaumont showing up with a fashion-challenged woman?” The moment she asked the question, she wished she could take it back. She didn’t want to know that she was the latest in a string of afternoon makeovers.

“Heavens, no!” Mario managed to look truly shocked at the suggestion as he turned with a stunning diamond solitaire necklace the size of a pea. “His brother, Mr. Phillip Beaumont? Yes. But not Mr. Chadwick Beaumont. I don’t believe he ever even joined his wife on such an afternoon. Certainly not here. I would recall that.”

Serena breathed again. There wasn’t a particularly good reason for that to make her so happy. She had no claim on Chadwick, none at all. And just because he hadn’t brought a girl shopping didn’t mean he hadn’t been seeing anyone else.

But she didn’t think he had. He worked too much. She knew. She managed his schedule.

“Now,” Mario went on, draping the necklace around her neck and fastening it, “you may have woken up this morning a frugal...” He tilted his head to the side and looked at her suit, now neatly hanging by the door. “Account executive?”

“Close,” she said. “Executive assistant.”

He snapped his fingers in disappointment, but it didn’t last. “By the time Mario gets done with you, you will be royalty.”

He held his arm out to her, for which she was grateful—those heels were at least two inches higher than her dress shoes. Then he opened the door and they walked out into the sitting room.

Chadwick was reclined in the loveseat, a glass of champagne in one hand. He’d loosened his tie, a small thing that made him look ten times more relaxed than normal.

Then he saw her. His eyes went wide as he sat up straight, nearly spilling his drink. “Serena...wow.”

“And this is just the beginning!” Mario crowed as he led her not to Chadwick but over to the small dais in front of all the mirrors. He helped her up and then guided her in a small turn.

She saw herself in the mirrors. Mario had smoothed her hair out after he’d gotten her suit off her. Her face still looked a little ashen, but otherwise, she couldn’t quite believe that was her.

Royalty, indeed. Chadwick had been right. This dress, just like her black dress at home, made her feel beautiful. And after the day she’d had, that was a gift in itself.

She got turned back around and saw the look Chadwick was giving her. His mouth had fallen open and he was now standing, like he wanted to walk right up to her and sweep her into his arms.

“Now,” Mario said, although it didn’t feel like he was talking to either Serena or Chadwick. “This dress would be perfect for Saturday, but half the crowd will be wearing black and we don’t want Ms. Chase to blend, do we?”

“No,” Chadwick agreed, looking at her like she hadn’t announced half an hour ago that she was pregnant. If anything, he was looking at her like he’d never really seen her before. And he wanted to see a lot more. “No, we don’t want that.”

“Plus, this dress is not terribly forgiving. I think we want to try on something that has more flow, more grace. More...”

“Elegant,” Chadwick said. He seemed to shake back to himself. He backed up to the loveseat and sat again, one leg crossed, appraising her figure again. “Show me what else you’ve got, Mario.”

“With pleasure!”

The next dress was a pale peachy pink number with a huge ball gown skirt and a bow on the back that felt like it was swallowing Serena whole. “A classic style,” Mario announced.

“Too much,” Chadwick replied, with a shake of his hand. She might have been hurt by this casual dismissal, but then he caught her gaze and gave her a smile. “But still beautiful.”

Then came a cornflower blue dress with an Empire waist, tiny pleats that flowed down the length of the gown, and one shoulder strap that was encrusted with jewels. “No necklace,” Mario informed her as he handed her dangling earrings that looked like they were encrusted with real sapphires. “You don’t want to compete with the dress.”

When she came out this time, Chadwick sat up again. “You are...stunning.” There was that look again—like he was hungry. Hungry for her.

She blushed. She wasn’t used to being stunning. She was used to being professional. Her black dress at home was as stunning as she’d ever gotten. She wasn’t sure how she was going to pull off stunning while pregnant. But it didn’t seem to be bothering Chadwick.

“This one has a much more forgiving waistline. She’ll be able to wear it for several more months and it’ll be easier to get back into it.” Mario was talking to Chadwick, but Serena got the feeling that he was really addressing her—greater wearability meant better value.

Although she still wasn’t looking at the price tags.

“I don’t know where else I’d wear it,” she said.

Chadwick didn’t say anything, but he gave her a look that made her shiver in the best way possible.

They went through several dresses that no one particularly loved—Mario kept putting her in black and then announcing that black was too boring for her. She tried on a sunflower yellow that did horrible things to her skin tone. It was so bad, Mario wouldn’t even let her go out to show Chadwick.

She liked the next, a satin dress that was so richly colored it was hard to tell if it was blue or purple. It had an intricate pattern in lace over the bodice that hid everything she didn’t like about her body. That was followed by a dark pink strapless number that reminded her of a bridesmaid gown. Then a blue-and-white off-the-shoulder dress where the colors bled into each other in a way that she thought would be tacky but was actually quite pretty.

“Blue is your color,” Mario told her. She could see he was right.

She didn’t think it was possible, but she was having fun. Playing dress-up, such as it was. High-end dress-up, but still—this was something she’d had precious little of during her childhood. Chadwick was right—she did feel beautiful. She twirled on the dais for him, enjoying the compliments he heaped upon her.

It was almost like...a fairy tale, a rags-to-riches dream come true. How many times had she read some year-old fashion magazine that she’d scavenged from a recycling bin and dreamed about dressing up in the pretty things? She’d thought she’d gotten that herself with her consignment store dress, but that was nothing compared to being styled by the fabulous Mario.

Time passed in a whirl of chiffons and satins. Soon, it was past seven. They’d spent almost four hours in that dressing room. Chadwick had drunk most of a bottle of champagne. At some point, a fruit-and-cheese tray had been brought in. Mario wouldn’t let Serena touch a bite while she was wearing anything, so she wound up standing in the dressing room in her underthings, eating apple slices.

She was tired and hungry. Chadwick’s eyes had begun to glaze over, and even Mario’s boundless energy was seeming to flag.

“Can we be done?” Serena asked, drooping like a wilted flower in a pale green dress.

“Yes,” Chadwick said. “We’ll take the blue, the purple, the blue-and-white and...was there another one that you liked, Serena?”

She goggled at him. Had he just listed three dresses? “How many times do you expect me to change at this thing?”

“I want you to have all options available.”

“One is plenty. The blue one with the single strap.”

Mario looked at Chadwick, who repeated, “All three, please. With all necessary accessories. Have them sent to Serena’s house.”

“Of course, Mr. Beaumont.” He gathered up the gowns in question and hurried from the room.

Still wearing the droopy green dress, Serena kicked out of her towering shoes and stalked over to Chadwick. She put her hands on her hips and gave him her very best glare. “One. One I shouldn’t let you buy me in the first place. I do not need three.”

He had the nerve to look down at her and smile his ruthless smile, the one that let everyone in the room know that negotiations were finished. Suddenly, she was aware that they were alone and she wasn’t wearing her normal suit. “Most women would jump at the chance to have someone buy them nice things, Serena.”

“Well,” she snapped, unable to resist stamping her foot in protest, “I’m not most women.”

“I know.” Then—almost as if he were moving in slow motion, he stood and began taking long strides toward her, his gaze fastened on her lips.

She should do...something. Step back. Cross her arms and look away. Flee to the dressing room and lock the door until Mario came back.

Yes, those were all truly things she should do.

But she wanted him to kiss her.

He slipped one arm around her waist, and his free hand caught her under the chin again. “You’re not like any woman I’ve ever known, Serena. I could tell the very first time I saw you.”

“You don’t actually remember that, do you?” Her voice had dropped down to a sultry whisper.

His grin deepened. “You were working for Sue Colman in HR. She sent you up to my office with a comparison of new health-care plans.” As he spoke, he pulled her in tighter, until she could feel the hard planes of his chest through the thin fabric of the gown. “I asked you what you thought. You told me that Sue recommended the cheaper plan, but the other one was better. It would make the employees happier—would make them want to stay with the brewery. I made you nervous—you blushed—but—”

“You picked the plan I wanted.” The plan she’d needed. She’d just been hired full-time. She’d never had health benefits before and she wanted the one with a lower copay and better prescription coverage. She couldn’t believe he remembered—but he did.

Her arms went around his chest, her hands flat on his back. She wasn’t pushing him away. She couldn’t. She wanted this. She had since that day. When she’d knocked on the door, he’d looked up at her with those hazel eyes. Instead of making her feel like she was an interruption, he’d focused on her and asked for her opinion—something he did not have to do. She was the lowest woman on the totem pole, barely ranking above unpaid intern—but the future CEO had made her feel like the most important worker in the whole company.

He had looked at her then the same way he was looking at her right now...like she was far more than the most important worker in the company. More like she was the most important woman in the world. “You were honest with me. And what’s more than that, you were right. It’s hard to expect loyalty if you don’t give people something to be loyal to.”

She’d been devoted to him from that moment on. When he’d been named the new CEO a year later, she’d applied to be his assistant the same day. She hadn’t been the most qualified person to apply, but he’d taken a chance on her.

She’d been so thankful then. The job had been a gift that allowed her to take care of herself—to not rely on Neil to pay the rent or buy the groceries. Because of Chadwick, she’d been able to do exactly what she’d set out to do—be financially independent.

She was still thankful now.

Still in slo-mo, he leaned down. His lips brushed against hers—not a fierce kiss of possession, but something that was closer to a request for permission.

Serena took a deep breath in satisfaction. Chadwick’s scent surrounded her with the warmth of sandalwood on top of his own clean notes. She couldn’t help it—she clutched him more tightly, tracing his lips with her tongue.

Chadwick let out a low growl that seemed to rumble right out of his chest. Then the kiss deepened. She opened her mouth for him and his tongue swept in.

Serena’s knees gave in to the heat that suddenly flooded her system, but she didn’t go anywhere—Chadwick held her up. Her head began to swim again but instead of the stark panic that had paralyzed her earlier, she felt nothing but sheer desire. She’d wanted that kiss since the very first time she’d seen Chadwick Beaumont. Why on God’s green earth had she waited almost eight years to invite it?

Something hard and warm pressed against the front of her gown. A similar weight hung heavy between her legs, driving her body into his. This was what she’d been missing for months. Years. This raw passion hadn’t just been gone since Neil had left—it’d been gone for much longer.

Chadwick wanted her. And oh, how she wanted him. Wanted to forget about bosses and employees and companies and boards of directors and pregnancies and everything that had gone wrong in her world. This—being in Chadwick’s arms, his lips crushed against hers—this was right. So very right. Nothing else mattered except for this moment of heat in his arms. It burned everything else away.

She wanted to touch him, find out if the rest of him was as strong as his arms were—but before she could do anything of the sort, he broke the kiss and pulled her into an even tighter hug.

His lips moved against her neck, as if he were smiling against her. She liked how it felt. “You’ve always been special, Serena,” he whispered against her skin. “So let me show you how special you are. I want to buy you all three dresses. That way you can surprise me on Saturday. Are you going to refuse me that chance?”

The heat ebbed between them. She’d forgotten about the dresses—and how much they probably cost. For an insane moment, she’d forgotten everything—who she was. Who he was.

She absolutely should refuse the dress, the dinner, the way he had looked at her all afternoon like he couldn’t wait to strip each and every dress right off her, and the way he was holding her to his broad chest right now. She had no business being here, doing this—no business letting her attraction to Chadwick Beaumont cloud her thinking. She was pregnant and her job was on the line, and at no point in the past, present or future did she require three gowns that probably cost more than her annual salary.

But then that man leaned backward and cupped her cheek in his palm and said, “I haven’t had this much fun in...well, I can’t remember when. It was good to get out of the office.” His smile took a decade of worry off his face.

She was about to tell him that the champagne had gone to his head—although she was painfully aware that she had no such excuse as to why she’d kissed him back—when he added, “I’m glad I got to spend it with you. Thank you, Serena.”

And she had nothing. No refusal, no telling him off, no power to insist that Mario only wrap up one dress and none of the jewelry, no defense that she did not need him to buy her anything because she was perfectly able to buy her own dresses.

He’d had fun. With her.

“The dresses are lovely, Chadwick. Thank you.”

He leaned down, his five-o’clock shadow and his lips lightly brushing her cheek. “You’re welcome.” He pulled back and stuck out his arm just like Mario had done to escort her to the dais. “Let me take you to dinner.”

“I...” She looked down at the droopy green dress, which was now creased in a few key areas. “I have to get back to work. I have to go back to being an executive assistant now.” Funny how that sounded off all of a sudden. She’d been nothing but an executive assistant for over seven years. Why shouldn’t putting the outfit back on feel more...natural?

A day of playing dress-up had gone right to her head. She must have forgotten who she was. She was really Serena Chase, frugal employee. She wasn’t the kind of woman who had rich men lavish her with exorbitant gifts. She wasn’t Chadwick’s lover.

Oh God, she’d let him kiss her. She’d kissed him back.

What had she done?

Chadwick’s face grew more distant. He, too, seemed to be realizing that they’d crossed a line they couldn’t uncross. It made her feel even more miserable. “Ah, yes. I probably have work to do as well.”

“Probably.” They might have been playing hooky for a few hours that afternoon, but the world had kept on turning. The fallout from the board meeting no doubt had investors, analysts and journalists burning up the bandwidth, all clamoring for a statement from Chadwick Beaumont.

But more than that, she needed to be away from him. This proximity wasn’t helping her cause. She needed to clear her head and stop having fantasies about her boss. Fantasies that now had a very real feel to them—the feeling of his lips against hers, his body pressed to hers. Fantasies that would probably play out in her dreams that night.

She couldn’t accept dinner on top of the dresses. She had to draw the line somewhere.

But she’d already crossed that line.

How much farther would she go?

Six

Chadwick did not sleep well.

He told himself that it had everything to do with the disastrous board meeting and nothing to do with Serena Chase, but what the hell was the point in lying? It had everything to do with Serena.

He shouldn’t have kissed her. Rationally, he knew that. He’d fired other executives for crossing that very same line—one strike and they were out. For way too long, Beaumont Brewery had been a business where men took all kinds of advantage of the women who worked for them. That was one of the first things he’d changed after his father died. He’d had Serena write a strict sexual harassment policy to prevent exactly this situation.

He’d always taken the higher road. Fairness, loyalty, equality.

He was not Hardwick Beaumont. He would not seduce his secretary. Or his executive assistant, for that matter.

Except that he’d already started. He’d told her he was taking her to the gala. He’d taken her shopping and bought tens of thousands of dollars worth of gowns, jewels and handbags for her.

He’d kissed her. He’d wanted to do so much more than just kiss her, too. He’d wanted to leave that gown in a puddle on the floor and sit back on the loveseat, Serena’s body riding his. He wanted to feel the full weight of her breasts in his hands, her body taking his in.

He’d wanted to do something as base and crass as take her in a dressing room, for God’s sake. And that was exactly what Hardwick would have done.

So he’d stopped. Thankfully, she’d stopped, too.

She hadn’t wanted the dresses. She’d fought him tooth and nail about that.

But the kiss?

She’d kissed him back. Tracing his mouth with her tongue, pressing those amazing breasts against him—holding him just as tightly as he had been holding her.

He found himself in his office by five-thirty the next morning, running a seven-minute mile on his treadmill. He had the international market report up on the screen in front of him, but he wasn’t paying a damn bit of attention to it.

Instead, he was wondering what the hell he was going to do about Serena.

She was pregnant. And when she’d come out in those gowns, she’d glowed. She’d always been beautiful—a bright, positive smile for any occasion with nary a manipulating demand in sight—but yesterday she’d taken his breath away over and over again.

He was totally, completely, one hundred percent confounded by Serena Chase. The women in Chadwick’s world did not refuse expensive clothing and jewelry. They spent their days planning how to get more clothes, better jewels and a skinnier body. They whimpered and pleaded and seduced until they got what they wanted.

That’s what his mother had always done. Chadwick doubted whether Eliza and Hardwick had ever really loved each other. She’d wanted his money, and he’d wanted her family prestige. Whenever Eliza had caught Hardwick in flagrante delicto—which was often—she’d threaten and cry until Hardwick plunked down a chunk of change on a new diamond. Then, when one diamond wasn’t enough, he started buying them in bulk.

Helen had been like that, too. Oh, she didn’t threaten, but she did pout until she got what she wanted—cars, clothes, plastic surgery. It had been so much easier to just give in to her demands than deal with the manipulation. In the last year before she filed for divorce, she’d only slept with him when he’d bought her something. Not that he’d enjoyed it much, even then.

Somehow, he’d convinced himself he was fine with that. He didn’t need to feel passion because passion left a man wide open for the pain of betrayal. Because there was always another betrayal around the next corner.

But Serena? She didn’t cry, didn’t whine and didn’t pout. She never treated him like he was a pawn to be moved until she got what she wanted, never treated him like he was an obstacle she had to negotiate around.

She didn’t even want to let him buy her a dress that made her feel beautiful.

He punched the treadmill up another mile per hour, running until his lungs burned.

He could not be lusting after his assistant and that was final.

This was just the result of Helen moving out of their bedroom over twenty-two months before, that was all. And they hadn’t had sex for a couple of months before that. Yes, that was it. Two years without a woman in his arms—without a woman looking at him with a smile, without a woman who was glad to see him.

Two years was a hell of a long time.

That’s all this was. Sexual frustration manifesting itself in the direction of his assistant. He hadn’t wanted to break his marriage vows to Helen, even in the middle of their never-ending divorce. Part of that was a wise business decision—if Helen found out that he’d had an affair, even after their separation, she wouldn’t sign off on the divorce until he had nothing left but his name.

But part of that was refusing to be like his father.

Except his father totally would have lavished gifts on his secretary and then kissed her.

Hell.

Finally his legs gave out, but instead of the normal clarity a hard run brought him, he just felt more muddled than ever. Despite the punishing exercise, he was no closer to knowing what he was supposed to do when Serena came in for their morning meeting.

Oh, he knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to lay her out on his desk and lavish her curves with all the attention he had. He wanted her to straddle him. He wanted to bring her to a shuddering, screaming climax, and he wanted to hold her afterwards and fall asleep in her arms.

He didn’t just want to have sex.

He wanted to have Serena.

Double damn.

He threw himself into his shower without bothering to touch the hot water knob. The cold did little to shock him back to his senses, but at least it knocked his erection down to a somewhat manageable level.

This was beyond lust. He had a need to take care of her—to not fail her. That was why he’d bought her nice things, right? Sure. He was just rewarding her loyalty.

She’d said that her ex hadn’t responded to her email. There—that was something he could do. He could get that jerk to step up to the plate and at least acknowledge that he’d left Serena in a difficult situation. Yeah, he liked that idea—making Neil Moore toe the line was a perfectly acceptable way of looking out for his best employee, and it didn’t involve kissing her. He doubted that Serena would hold Neil responsible for his legal obligations—but Chadwick had no problem putting that man’s feet to the fire.