Expecting the Boss’s Baby (13 page)

He fit right in with the family. Zoe had pretty much expected he would. He was smart and funny and he was interested in other people, in how they saw the world, in what they thought and how they felt. That was part of what made him such a fine writer.

With Caleb, the family's top salesman, Dax talked cars. Caleb loved nothing so much as a fast, gorgeous automobile—well, except for his wife, Irina, who was tall and graceful and quietly regal. Caleb loved Irina more than anything, even a fast car.

With Luke, who ran the family ranch, Dax talked horses. With Gabe's wife, Mary, he talked writing. Mary
wrote freelance for a number of different magazines, mostly articles on home life and ranching.

Abilene and Dax discussed architecture. He knew Donovan McRae, the world-famous architect who had offered Abilene that fellowship and then dropped completely out of sight, leaving Abilene frustrated, waiting for the “great man” to follow through.

Dax promised he would pull a few strings for her, try to find out what was up with Donovan.

“I read he was in some kind of ice climbing accident,” Abilene said. “But then I heard he was all right. And whatever the problem is, well, I would be more understanding if I knew what was going on with him.”

“I hear you,” Dax agreed. “And this isn't like Donovan, to just drop off the radar like this—not with commitments hanging. I'll find out what I can and let you know.”

He even listened with interest when six-year-old Kira cornered him and told him all about Rosie, the new puppy.

Zoe's mom said how pleased she was that he'd been able to come out to the ranch for the day. Aleta fairly glowed. At the dinner table, when Dax put his arm on the back of Zoe's chair and leaned close, Zoe caught sight of her mother's face. Aleta noticed. She arched a brow and glowed all the brighter.

Apparently, Zoe's mom fully approved of what was going on. But then, what proud mama wouldn't want her baby girl getting romantic with the most eligible man in Texas?

Still, it was common knowledge that Dax dated a lot of different women, that he showed no inclination to settle down. Aleta had to know that. Yet the gleam in her eyes seemed to hint that she heard wedding bells.

Zoe made a mental note to disabuse her of that notion the next time they had lunch together—which should be soon.

She got her mother alone for a moment after the meal. They agreed to meet for lunch Thursday.

When Zoe and Dax left to return to SA early that evening, Kira sidled up and tugged on his hand. “Goodbye, Dax.”

“Goodbye, Kira. Nice to meet you.”

She grinned shyly at that, revealing a new gap in front where she'd lost her first baby tooth. “I hope you come back soon.”

Aleta beamed as she'd been beaming all night. “He will, honey. Very soon.”

They were on the highway, headed home, when he announced in a thoroughly annoying offhanded tone, “We'll stop at the condo. You can get what you need for overnight.”

She answered in a patient voice. “Dax, we need to keep at least a little perspective on this situation.”

“You. Me. My bed. All night. That's the perspective I'm talking about.”

“You are blowing me off.”

“The last thing I'm doing is blowing you off. I want the whole night with you. Then in the morning, we can just go in to work together.”

“No, we're not getting into that. I want to go to work by myself. I don't want to waltz in with you tomorrow morning and have Lin and the rest of them start thinking how sad it is. That they like me, but the writing's on the wall. Soon enough, I'll be out of there and they'll have to break in a new assistant.”

“It's none of their business. Ignore them.”

“Of course it's their business. They have to work with me—
and
whoever you hire when I'm gone.”

“Didn't we say we weren't going to predict the future when it comes to you and me?”

“No, Dax. You said that. And I'm not predicting the future.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“No, I'm talking about my working relationship with my colleagues. I don't want to lose their respect because I'm just like every other assistant you ever had and can't keep my hands off the boss.”

“But you
can't
keep your hands off the boss—and the boss is really happy about that.”

“God, you are so smug.”

That shut him up. For maybe thirty seconds. Then he sent her a conciliatory glance. “So, how about
your
bed? Just for an hour or two? Then I will get up, put my clothes on and go. You can sleep alone and drive to work all by yourself.”

She reached over and touched his hand. “Thank you.”

By way of an answer, he caught her fingers and raised them to his lips.

She held his gaze for a moment, spoke softly, “Weekends, we can sleep together. Whenever we don't have to go into the office the next day.”

“Got it.”

“And that was rude of me. I shouldn't have called you smug.”

“We'll be at your place in about seven minutes. You can show me how sorry you are then.”

He was as good as his word. He made beautiful love to her and then he got up and went back to his house.

Monday night, she went to him. And Tuesday, as well.

By Wednesday, yawning at her desk, she admitted to herself that some other arrangement would have to be made.

That night, he brought a suitcase to her house with the essentials and they enjoyed the luxury of falling asleep in each other's arms. The next day, they went to work in separate cars, though. And she left for the office before he did.

That was Thursday. She met her mom for lunch in a quiet Olmos Park restaurant Aleta liked.

Aleta asked about the magazine. Zoe told her how happy she was to be working there.

“We all enjoyed getting to know Dax a little better last Sunday….” Delicately, Aleta dabbed the corner of her lip with her snowy napkin.

Zoe said, “I'm glad that you invited him.”

“And your sister tells me he called her Tuesday. About Donovan McRae.”

“He told me he wasn't able to find out much.” Zoe tasted her blackened catfish. Perfect. “McRae's at his retreat in the desert, pretty much on lockdown. Nobody knows what's up with him.”

“True, Dax didn't have much information for Abilene. Still, it was thoughtful of him, kind of him, to try.” Her mother sipped her glass of sauvignon blanc. “I like Dax, Zoe. I like him very much.”

Zoe set her fork on the edge of her plate. “Yes, Mom. We
are
seeing each other, dating each other.”

A flush stained Aleta's still-smooth cheeks. “Oh. Well. I thought so—and I'm pleased to have my guess confirmed.”

“I care for him. A lot. And he cares for me. But…well, you shouldn't get your mind moving in the direction of a wedding or anything. That's not going to happen.”

Aleta made a low sound, both disbelieving and slightly distressed. “But, honey, how do you know that?”

“We've talked about it. We…understand each other.”

“Well, you never know what might happen in the end, though, do you? I realize he…enjoys pretty women. But then, you're special. I think he sees that. I think he knows what a prize you are.”

“Mom, of course you think I'm special. You're my mother.”

“I think you're special because you
are
special.”

“And I love that about you. Thank you. Having a mother like you is definitely confidence-building. But my having all the confidence in the world is not going to make Dax Girard into someone he isn't.”

“But…” Aleta started to say something, and then seemed to think better of it. She drew a slow breath, gave a gracious nod. “I only want you to be happy, that's all.”

“And I am, Mom. Very happy. I love my job. I'm crazy about Dax. And he's crazy about me, too. I plan to live every moment to the fullest and not waste time or precious energy on second-guessing or regrets.”

 

And Zoe did live in the moment.

In the weeks that followed, she and Dax managed to spend most nights together.

In the daytime, at work, they kept it strictly professional. It wasn't that difficult, since they both knew
that when nighttime came, they would be sharing the same bed.

In September, they went to Greece for the February Spotlight. There, they relaxed the rules a little and allowed themselves to be truly together round-the-clock. It was a lovely time. They spent most of it on the world-famous island of Mykonos, enjoying the sun and sand, the jewel-blue Aegean, the laid-back, wide-open nightlife.

Ramón Esquevar took the pictures for that story. So Zoe got to meet him at last. He was kind to her, discussing their mutual love of photography with her, giving her pointers but never talking down to her.

They stayed for a week. And returned tanned and rested, only to have to work extra hard to catch up again.

Zoe loved that about her job. There was always the next trip to plan, always more to do than there were hours in the day.

On the first Monday in October, they went to the South of France for Dax's last Spotlight trip of the year. In November and December, he would use contributing editors for the corresponding publication months of April and May. The trip to France lasted five memorable days.

And then it was back home and the mad rush to get on top of the workload once again.

After business hours, Dax seemed as taken with her as ever. He wanted to be with her every chance he got. She felt the same about him. Sometimes they would make love for hours, and sometimes they would lie together in the dark, talking about any- and everything, late into the night.

She was, she realized, truly happy. Excited to get up
and face each day. And yet content, too. Her life, finally, seemed to be on-track.

Well, except for that one nagging worry, the one that moved from the back of her mind to the forefront as the weeks passed.

She hadn't had a period since the last week of July.

A
leta Bravo had given birth to nine children.

In her fifties now, she prided herself on her slim figure. She always said that she knew it was a false pride, that she was just one of those women who didn't gain a lot of weight with a baby—and then, without really having to work for it, got her flat stomach back again within a few months of the baby's birth.

Simple genetics, Aleta always said. She had easy pregnancies and relatively easy labors, as well.

By mid-October, when almost three months had passed since Zoe's last period, she was reasonably sure she was pregnant, that she had been since Mexico. And that she took after her mother.

Zoe's stomach remained flat. She suffered no signs of morning sickness. True, the smell of certain foods made her vaguely nauseated. Liquor, too. But that was
easily handled. She stopped drinking alcohol and she avoided the foods that didn't agree with her.

She had told no one of her suspicions. And since she hadn't put on weight and never had to run for the restroom, no one seemed to guess.

Zoe had found it easy enough to ignore the obvious for all those weeks. She'd told herself she was just late. Her cycle had been knocked out of whack by the stress of the life-and-death experience in Chiapas, by all the changes in her world in recent months: her wonderful, demanding job. And her sexy lover who also happened to be her boss.

But by the third week in October, she knew that she had to face the truth. She bought a home test, a digital one with a high rating for accuracy and ease of use.

Then she waited.

For a night when Dax had an editorial to finish and didn't come home with her.

When that finally happened, on the last Tuesday in October, she took the test in her own bathroom, by herself, the next morning.

The result window read
Pregnant.

Suddenly, she wanted to throw up, but not really from morning sickness. More from pure shock to have her months-long, nagging suspicion confirmed.

Still, the test's instructions said to retest a week later, just to make sure. And then to see a doctor for a final confirmation if the second test came out positive.

She decided to skip the second home test and cut to the chase. When she called her doctor's office, they told her they could fit her in that day, during her lunch hour. Did she want to make the appointment for then?

Did she want to? Not on your life. But she did it anyway. “Yes. Please. I'll be there.”

During their morning huddle, Dax asked her if something was wrong. “You okay? You seem…I don't know, distracted.”

She lied, she said everything was fine.

And that afternoon at quarter of one, she got the doctor's diagnosis.

She was officially pregnant. About twelve weeks, with a projected due date of May seventh.

Twelve weeks along. That meant she'd gotten pregnant in the rainforest, way back at the beginning. Even though they had always been careful to use a condom every single time. According to various sources—yes, she had looked it up during those weeks and weeks she was in denial—condoms were ninety-eight-percent effective in preventing pregnancy if used every single time, with zero breakage.

Wouldn't you know she'd fall in the inevitable two percent? Her mom used to joke that she only had to
look
at her dad to end up pregnant. So maybe that was just another way Zoe took after her mother.

She couldn't face going back to the office, seeing Dax, talking to him, trying to pretend her whole world hadn't just tipped on its axis—or
not
to pretend. To simply tell him what she'd finally found out for sure.

Oh, yeah. That was going to go over well. Tell the man who carried condoms with him wherever he went—and used them every time, even when his plane went down in the jungle—that he might have to revise his stance on having kids.

Uh-uh.

Not that.

No, thank you.

Not today.

Zoe went home.

Next step: notify Dax that she wouldn't be back in that day.

She considered calling HR or maybe Lin. Getting someone else to relay the message would have been so much easier than having to talk to him, to hear his voice.

To lie to him.

Or to tell him the truth.

But if she didn't talk to him personally, he would only end up calling her anyway to find out what was going on with her.

She dithered over whether a text would do it—and knew that it wouldn't. He would only call her as soon as he received it. So she made herself autodial his cell.

He answered instantly. “There you are.”

“Hey.”

He pretended to scold her. “I'll have you know you're half an hour late back from lunch.” And then he grew concerned. “Really, though. Everything okay?”

“I'm…I think I might be coming down with something.”
Like, you know, your baby?

“You did seem a little out of it this morning.”

“I'm fine, really.”

“Fine?”

“Yes, that's what I said.”

“So why don't I believe you?”

“Well, okay. Not
that
fine. I came on home.”

“Good idea. Fever?”

“Uh…no. A killer headache. And I, well, I feel sick.” She did feel sick, so she hadn't just told him a
total
lie.

“Take a Tylenol. Drink liquids. Go to bed.”

“I plan to. Thanks.”

“I'll be over to check on you as soon as I can get out of here.”

“No!” She said it too fast—and too loud. Too late, she clapped her hand over her mouth.

“Zoe? What the hell is up with you?”

“Nothing.”

“You're scaring me.” His sounded gruff. And honestly concerned for her welfare.

“Sorry, really. I just…no need for both of us to get this bug.” The nine-month bug. Hah!

“I'll stop by for only a few minutes. I promise not to get too close to you, no matter how you try and tempt me.”

“Dax, I—”

“Go to bed. I mean it. See you soon.”

And he hung up.

She went to her bedroom, shut the blinds, took off her shoes, stretched out on the bed and stared blindly at the ceiling.
Soon,
he'd said.
See you soon.

When, exactly, was soon?

He had a key. Just as she had one to his place. She didn't really need his key. He always had staff at his house to answer the door if she should show up when he wasn't around. He'd given a key to her anyway. “I want you to have it,” he'd said. “So no matter what, if you need to get in there, you can.”

And she'd given him her key for the same reason.

And since he thought she was sick, he would probably just let himself in. He wouldn't want to wake her if she was getting some asleep.

She closed her eyes with a long sigh. No way would she sleep. She was too edgy, too weirded out by the whole situation.

On the other hand, it did help. To lie here in the quiet of her darkened bedroom, to let her thoughts drift away…

 

What seemed like a minute or two after she shut her eyes, Zoe woke up. She lay there for a moment, unmoving, surprised that she had fallen asleep after all. The bedside clock said it was now after four.

And Dax was sitting in the chair in the corner. “Hey, sleepyhead.” He looked at her so fondly, a warm smile curving those lips she loved to kiss.

She sat up, raked her tangled hair back off her face. “Ugh. How long have you been here?”

“Not long. Ten minutes maybe.”

“You should have woken me.”

“Why? You need your sleep to get well.”

She almost laughed. As if sleep was going to make everything better.

His dark brows drew together. “Zoe, what's going on?”

She stalled, rubbing at her eyes, not even caring that she was smearing her mascara.

When she finally looked at him again and saw he was still watching her, waiting for some kind of reasonable answer, she realized that she wasn't up for any more deception. She'd been lying to herself for months. And she wasn't going to lie anymore—not to herself.

And not to him.

He needed to know.

She raked her fingers through her hair a second time. “I went to the doctor on my lunch hour.”

He stiffened in the chair. “My God. Is it something serious?”

“Serious enough. I'm pregnant.”

It wasn't all that easy to shock Dax Girard, but her announcement had done it. His mouth dropped open. Slowly, he shut it. “That's…not possible. We used a condom. We used one every time.”

She blew out a breath. “I did a little research on the effectiveness of condoms. Let me share what I learned.”

“Please. Do.”

“Two percent per year, Dax. With perfect, every-time use of a condom, two women in a hundred will still end up getting pregnant. As it has turned out, I'm one of those. One in fifty. I feel really special.”

“And the pill? I thought you mentioned you were going on the pill, too?”

“I did say that. And I was. The way that works is you start taking the pills the first day of your period. But I never had my period. So I never started on the pills.”

He considered the ramifications of that. “You mean you haven't had a period since…?”

“The week before the Chiapas trip.”

“Three months.” He said it in a wondering tone.

“Yeah, I know. I've been pregnant since the beginning. Maybe even since the very first time we were together, on the night of the day I got up close and personal with that boa constrictor. My doctor confirms it. He says I'm twelve weeks along.”

Dax just sat there. He stared into the middle distance.

She said what she had to say. “Look, I understand, given how you feel about being a dad—which is that you don't want to be one, ever—and given that you've always taken precautions to protect against pregnancy…well, given all that, I get that you might doubt me, doubt my word that this is your baby and—”

“Don't.” He glared at her. “Do not put words in my mouth. I don't doubt you. I know you. I know you wouldn't lie about something like this. I know it's…mine. Now, I'm just trying to process, okay? I'm acting like a jerk and I realize that. It's only… It's a big surprise, that's all.”

She wrapped her arms around herself, sucked in a slow breath. “Yes. All right. I get that. I do.”

“You want this baby.”

It wasn't a question, but she answered him as if it had been. “The timing is not so great, I know. But yeah. I want this baby. I'm going to have this baby, be…this baby's mom.”

He focused directly on her then. For the longest time. He sat there in the chair across the rug from her and he studied her. Was he judging her and finding her a liar, in spite of what he'd said a few moments before?

Or did he actually understand and sympathize?

She wished she knew.

He got up. She watched him as he came to her. He stood above her, touched her upturned face with a gentle hand, brushed a curl of hair back from her forehead, tracing the line of it, along her temple, down her cheek.

She searched his eyes, whispered, “Dax. What…?”

He sat down beside her and put his arm around her, gathering her near to him.

She knew such sweet relief then, just to feel his sheltering touch. To discover that he wasn't going to hate her, to blame her. She sagged against him.

He guided her head down onto his shoulder. “It's all going to work out. Don't worry. It will be fine.”

She gave a sad little chuckle. “
I
say I'm fine.
You
say it will be fine. I guess that's what people do in a situation like this.”

“Guess so.” He tipped her chin up so she met his eyes again. His gaze was so tender. So fond. And very much present, very much with her in that quiet bedroom. The faraway look was gone. “It could be a lot worse. You could be some stranger. Or someone boring. But I know you to the core of you. And you are smart and beautiful and strong. And always exciting to me, even now, when you look so worried, so sad.”

His words did warm her. She gave him a wobbly smile. “I'm so relieved at how you're taking this.”

He squeezed her shoulder in reassurance. “It's going to be—”

She made a low sound. “Fine?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.” He kissed her temple. “I'm thirty-five years old,” he said.

“Right. Just ancient. I realize that.”

“I've been with a lot of women.”

“No need to rub it in.”

“May I finish?”

“Oops. Sorry. Yes.”

“There's never been any woman in my life like you. You joke about being one in fifty, being special. To me it's no joke. You
are
special, Zoe.”

“Oh, Dax.” She swallowed down the tightness in her throat. “Please don't make me cry, okay? I'm too exhausted for a crying jag right now.”

“Just don't worry. Please. I will take care of you and the baby. We'll get married and—”

She jumped back as if he'd slapped her. “What did you say? Tell me you didn't just say that.”

He frowned, puzzled. “What? What did I do?”

“I could have sworn you just mentioned marriage.”

“Well.” He actually looked kind of pleased with himself. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

“But…” She struggled to find the words. “You don't want to get married. You're never getting married again, remember?”

He frowned. And then he stood, paced to the chair where he'd been sitting when she woke up, and turned on his heel to face her again. “That was before.”

“Before…what?”

“Before you and me. And the baby. Everything's different now. We'll get married. It will work out. You'll see.”

She was shaking her head. “Dax, it's not what you want. You know it. I know it. There's no reason to go getting into something you don't even want, especially something as important as marriage.”