Not the Boss's Baby

Serena wasn’t like that. She didn’t need a new coffeepot just because the old one was old. It still worked. That seemed to be good enough for her.

He filled his mug—emblazoned with the logo of a local bank—and sat at the table, watching her. She moved comfortably around her kitchen. He wasn’t entirely sure where the kitchen was in his family mansion. “You make breakfast often?”

She put some bread into a late-model toaster. “I’ve gotten very good at cooking. It’s...”

“Stable?”

“Reassuring,” she answered with a grin. “I bring home my own bacon and fry it up in the pan.” She brought plates with bacon and eggs to the table, and then went back for the toast and some strawberry jam. “I clip coupons and shop the sales—that saves a lot of money. Cooking is much cheaper than eating out. I think last night was the first time I’d gone out to dinner in...maybe three months?” Her face darkened. “Yes. Just about three months ago.”

He remembered. Three months ago, Neil and she had “mutually” decided to end their relationship.

“Thank you for making me breakfast. I’ve never had someone cook for me. I mean, not someone who wasn’t on staff.”

She blushed. “Thank you for dinner. And the dresses. I think it’s pretty obvious that I’ve never had anyone spend that kind of money on me before.”

“You handled yourself beautifully. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

That had been his mistake. It was just that she fit in so well at the office, never once seeming out of place among the high rollers and company heads Chadwick met with. He’d assumed that was part of her world—or at least something close to it.

But it wasn’t. Now that he saw her place—small, neatly kept but more “shabby” than “shabby chic”—he realized how off the mark he’d been.

She gave him a smile that was part gentle and part hot. “It was fun. But I think I’ll get different shoes for next time.”

Next time. The best words he’d heard in a long, long time.

They ate quickly. Mostly because he was hungry and the food was good, but also because Serena shifted in her seat and started rubbing his calf with her toes. “When do you have to leave?”

He wanted to stay at least a little bit longer. But he had things to do, even though it was Sunday—for starters, he had an interview with Nikkei Business, a Japanese business magazine, at two. He couldn’t imagine talking about the fate of the brewery from the comfort of Serena’s cozy place. How could those two worlds ever cross?

The moment the thought crossed his mind, he felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. Really, how could their two worlds cross? His company was imploding and his divorce was draining him dry—and that wasn’t even counting the fact that Serena was pregnant. And his assistant.

He’d waited so long for Serena. She’d done admirably the night before at dinner and then the gala, but how comfortable would she really be in his world?

They still had this morning. They finished breakfast and then he tried to help her load the dishwasher. Only he kept trying to put the cups on the bottom rack, which made her giggle as she rearranged his poor attempts. “Never loaded a dishwasher before, huh?”

“What gave me away?” He couldn’t bring himself to be insulted. She was right.

“Thanks for trying.” She closed the dishwasher door and turned to him. “Don’t worry. You’re better at other things.”

She put her arms around his neck and kissed him. Yeah, he didn’t have to leave yet.

He stripped the robe from her shoulders, leaving it in a heap on the floor. No, nothing underneath. Just her wonderful body. With the morning light streaming through the sheers she had hung over her windows, he could finally, fully see what he’d touched the night before.

Her breasts were large and firm. He bent down and traced her nipple with his tongue. Serena gasped as the tip went hard in his mouth, her fingers tangling through his hair. Sensitive. Perfect.

“Bed,” she said in a voice that walked the fine line between fluttery and commanding.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, standing back to give her a mock salute before he swept her off her feet.

“Chadwick!” Serena clutched at him, but she giggled as he carried her back down the short hall.

He laid her down on the bed, pausing only long enough to get rid of his pants. Then he was filling his hands with her breasts, her hips—covering her body with his—loving the way she touched him without abandon.

This was what he wanted—not the company, not Helen, not galas and banquets and brothers and sisters who took and took and never seemed to give back.

He wanted Serena. He wanted the kind of life where he helped cook and do the dishes instead of having an unseen staff invisibly take care of everything. He wanted the kind of life where he ate breakfast with her and then went back to bed instead of rushing off for an interview or a meeting.

He wanted to have a life outside of Beaumont Brewery. He wanted it to be with Serena.

He had no idea how to make that happen.

As he rocked into Serena’s body and she clung to him, all he could think about was the way she made him feel—how he hadn’t felt like this in...well, maybe ever.

This was what he wanted.

There had to be a way.

Finally, after another hour of lying in her arms, he managed to tear himself away from Serena’s bed. He put on his tuxedo pants and shirt and headed for the car after a series of long kisses goodbye. How amazing did Serena look, standing in the doorway in her little robe, a coffee cup in her hand as she waved him off? It almost felt like a wife kissing her husband goodbye as he went off to work.

He was over-romanticizing things. For starters, Serena wouldn’t be happy as a stay-at-home wife. It would probably leave her feeling too much like she wasn’t bringing home that bacon. He knew now how very important that was to her. But they couldn’t carry on like this at work. The office gossips would notice something sooner or later—and once she began to show, things would go viral in a heartbeat. He didn’t want to subject her to the rumor mill.

There had to be a way. The variables ran through his mind as he drove home. He was about to lose the company. She worked for him. A relationship was against company policy. But if he lost the company...

If he lost the company, he wouldn’t be her boss anymore. She might be out of a job, too, but at least they wouldn’t be violating any policy.

But then what? What was next? What did he want to do? That was what she’d asked him. Told him, in fact. Do what he wanted.

What was that?

Make beer, he realized. That was the best time he’d had at Beaumont Brewery—the year he’d spent making beer with the brewmasters. He liked beer. He knew a lot about it and had played a big role in selecting the seasonal drafts for the Percheron Drafts line of craft beers. What if...

What if he sold the brewery, but kept Percheron Drafts for himself, running it as a small private business? Beaumont would be dead, but the family history of brewing would live on in Percheron Drafts. He could be rid of his father’s legacy and run this new company the way he wanted to. It wouldn’t be Hardwick’s. It would be Chadwick’s.

He could hire Serena. She knew as much about what he did as anyone. And if they formed a new company, well, they could have a different company policy.