Not the Boss's Baby

She dressed carefully. She felt like she was going too slowly, but she wasn’t about to rush and accidentally pop a seam on such an expensive dress. She decided to go with a bolder eye, so she spent more time putting on eyeliner and mascara than she had in the last month.

She’d barely gotten her understated lipstick into the tiny purse that Mario had put with this dress—even though it was a golden yellow—when she heard the knock on the door. “One moment!” she yelled, as she grabbed the yellow heels that had arrived with everything else.

Then she took a moment to breathe. She looked good. She felt good. She was going to enjoy tonight or else. Tomorrow she could go back to being pregnant and frugal and all those other things.

Not tonight. Tonight was hers. Hers and Chadwick’s.

She opened the door and felt her jaw drop.

He’d chosen a tux. And a dozen red roses.

“Oh,” she managed to get out. The tux was exquisitely cut—probably custom-made.

He looked over the top of the roses. “I was hoping you’d pick that one. I brought these for you.” He held the flowers out to her and she saw he had a matching rose boutonnière in his lapel.

She took the roses as he leaned forward. “You look amazing,” he whispered in her ear.

Then he kissed her cheek. One hand slid behind her back, gripping her just above her hip. “Simply amazing,” he repeated, and she felt the heat from his body warm hers from the inside out.

They didn’t have to go anywhere. She could pull him inside and they could spend the night wrapped around each other. It would be perfectly fine because they weren’t at work. As long as they weren’t in the office, they could do whatever they wanted.

And he was what she wanted to do.

No. No! She could not let him seduce her. She could not let herself be seduced. At least, not that easily. This was a business-related event. They were still on the clock.

Then he kissed her again, just below the dangly earring, and she knew she was in trouble. She had to do something. Anything.

“I’m pregnant,” she blurted out. Immediately her face flushed hot. And not the good kind of hot, either. But that was exactly what she’d needed to do to slam on the brakes. Pregnant women were simply not amazing. Her body was crazy and her hormones were crazier and that had to be the only reason she was lusting after her boss this much.

Thank heavens, Chadwick pulled back. But he didn’t pull away, damn him. He leaned his forehead against hers and said, “In all these years, Serena, I’ve never seen you more radiant. You’ve always been so pretty, but now...pregnant or not, you are the most beautiful woman in the world.”

She wanted to tell him he was full of it—not only was she not the most beautiful woman in the world, but she didn’t crack the top one hundred in Denver. She was plain and curvy and wore suits. Nothing beautiful about that.

But he slipped his hand over her hip and down her belly, his hand rubbing small circles just above the top of her panties. “This,” he said, his voice low and serious and intent as his fingers spread out to cover her stomach, “just makes you better. I can’t control myself around you anymore and I don’t think I want to.” As he said it, his hand circled lower. The tips of his fingers crossed over the demarcated line of her panties and dipped down.

The warmth from his touch focused heat in her belly—and lower. A weight—heavy and demanding and pulsing—pounded between her thighs. She didn’t want him to stop. She wanted him to keep going until he was pressing against the part of her that was heaviest. To feel his touch explore her body. To make her his.

If she didn’t know him, she’d say he was feeding her a line of bull a mile long. But Chadwick didn’t BS people. He didn’t tell them what they wanted to hear. He told them the truth.

He told her the truth.

Which only left one question.

Now that she knew the truth, what would she do with it?

* * *

The absolute last place Chadwick wanted to be was at this restaurant. The only possible exception to that statement was the gala later. He didn’t want to be at either one. He wanted to go back to Serena’s place—hell, this restaurant was in a hotel, he could have a room in less than twenty minutes—and get her out of that dress. He wanted to lay her down and show her exactly how little he could control himself around her.

Instead, he was sitting across from Serena in one of the best restaurants in all of Denver. Since they’d left her apartment, Serena had been...quiet. He’d expected her to push back against dinner like she’d pushed back against the gown that looked so good on her, but she hadn’t. Which was not a bad thing—she’d been gracious and perfectly well-mannered, as he knew she would be—but he didn’t know what to talk about. Discussing work was both boring and stressful. Even though this was supposed to be a business dinner, he didn’t want to talk about losing the company.

Given how she’d reacted to him touching her stomach—soft and gently rounded beneath the flowing dress—he didn’t think making small talk about her pregnancy was exactly the way to go, either. That wasn’t making her feel beautiful. At least, he didn’t think so. He was pretty sure if they talked about her pregnancy, they’d wind up talking about Neil, and he didn’t want to think about that jerk. Not tonight.

Chadwick’s divorce was out, too. Chadwick knew talking about exes and soon-to-be-exes at dinner simply wasn’t done.

And there was the part where he’d basically professed how he felt about her. Kind of hard to do the chitchat thing after that. Because doing the chitchat thing seemed like it would minimize what he’d said.

He didn’t want to do that.

But he didn’t know what else to talk about. For one of the few times in his life, he wished his brother Phillip was there. Well, he didn’t—Phillip would hit on Serena mercilessly, not because he had feelings for her but because she was female. He didn’t want Phillip anywhere near Serena.

Still, Phillip was good at filling the silence. He had an endless supply of interesting stories about interesting celebrities he’d met at parties and clubs. If anyone could find something to talk about, it’d be his brother.

But that wasn’t Chadwick’s life. He didn’t jet around making headlines. He worked. He went to the office, ran, showered, worked, worked some more and then went home. Even on the weekends, he usually logged in. Running a corporation took most of his time—he probably worked a hundred hours a week.

But that’s what it took to run a major corporation. For so long, he’d done what was expected of him—what his father had expected of him. The only thing that mattered was the company.

Chadwick looked at Serena. She was sitting across from him, her hands in her lap, her eyes wide as she looked around the room. This level of luxury was normal for him—but it was fun seeing things through her eyes.

It was fun being with her. She made him want to think about something other than work—and given the situation, he was grateful for that alone. But what he felt went way beyond simple gratitude.

For the first time in his adult life—maybe longer—he was looking at someone who meant more to him than the brewery did.

That realization scared the hell out of him. Because, really—who was he if he wasn’t Chadwick Beaumont, the fourth-generation Beaumont to run the brewery? That was who he’d been raised to be. Just like his father had wanted, Chadwick had always put the brewery first.