His Secretary's Little Secret

“About the night of the tropical storm six weeks ago—” A hungry smile pushed along his mouth.

Damn him for being so intuitive. He had a knack for that. All the more reason for her to be carefully guarded around him.

“Let’s not speak about that now.”

“You haven’t wanted to speak of it since the storm. When are we ever going to talk about it? You’re a determined woman, that’s for certain.”

She knew she couldn’t delay the conversation forever, but right now her stomach was still in turmoil over his fall. And she wanted to go to her first doctor’s appointment to confirm that the pregnancy was on track before turning her whole world upside down.

And yes, she was trying to think of any reason she could to delay, because once she told Easton about his baby, she would lose control of her life forever.

* * *

Dr. Easton Lourdes leaned his seat halfway back, his head still spinning. Partly from the fall, but mostly from the woman beside him and the memory of those moments he’d kept his eyes closed and just absorbed the feel of her against him. Since she’d come to work with him two years ago, he’d suspected there were fires burning behind her uptight demeanor. But hell, he’d had no idea how hot they’d blaze until that one night with her during the storm.

Portia Soto. The most organized secretary on the planet. The woman who—until recently—had kept his eccentric spirit in line. Until their night of passion during a tropical storm showed him just how wild she could be once she let down that tightly upswept hair.

But the next day, she’d gathered her long caramel-brown hair back as fiercely as ever. Tighter even.

He needed his secretary. The Lourdes Family Wildlife Refuge was fast becoming an internationally renowned animal research and rescue center, and he was the man in charge of the science. To make the impact he wanted to make on the world, he needed his secretary. But he wanted Portia. And he wasn’t sure how to have both.

If only he understood humans as well as he did animals. His childhood spent with rich, globe-trotting parents had exposed him to creatures around the world. He’d paid attention and taken in an understanding of animals’ unspoken language. But even though he’d had the best of everything money could buy, he’d lacked much in the way of learning how to make connections with people other than his parents and his older brother. No sooner than he’d make a friend, his family would pack up and jet off to another exotic locale.

Easton cracked his neck, a crescendo of echoing pops responded in his back, the tension finally unwinding. With his neck less contracted, he positioned himself so he could watch her. Portia’s gel manicured nails were still quite perfect as she gripped the pickup truck’s steering wheel at a “nine and three” position that would make any driver’s ed teacher proud. Her doe-brown eyes were focused, attentive to the road.

Intentional. That was how he’d describe Portia. Intentional and proper.

With all her wildness contained.

Despite her manicured look, she fit in well at the wildlife preserve his family owned and funded. Easton brought his world-renowned skills as a veterinarian/scientist specializing in exotic animals. His brother, Xander, ran the family business and fund-raising.

And there sure as hell was a lot of fund-raising and political maneuvering involved in saving animals. Portia’s calm organizational skills were an immeasurable asset on that front too, according to his brother, Xander. Easton only had to show up in a tux every few months and talk about the research he loved.

For the most part, he spent his time handling the hands-on rescue and research efforts, and Portia’s efficiency helped him make that happen. He was lucky his family’s wealth meant he could leave the fund-raising to his brother and get his hands dirty doing what he enjoyed most.

And he tried his damnedest to entice Portia to play in the dirt with him.

Easton’s eyes slid from her face to the soft, yellow lights on the road back to the clinic. The preserve stretched for a few acres on Key Largo, a small island in the archipelago south of Florida. A necessary answer to urbanization and tourist development, Easton believed, as did his new board of directors, apparently.

He was damn lucky. He lived his dream every day. Sure, some people were able to turn passion into a paycheck, but Easton was a veterinarian at his preserve solely for passion. He recognized that he’d been blessed by his family’s money. It had enabled him to follow his vocation without worrying about compensation. He didn’t advertise his lack of salary because, for Easton, it didn’t matter. He felt honored to work for the sole purpose of helping the animals. To do some good in this world. Money had never been a big concern for him personally, but the reality of a small refuge accountable to a board of directors meant he had to worry about things like that on occasion.

As a secretary, Portia was brilliant—organized, dedicated—exactly what a free-spirited guy like him needed. But he also wanted her, as a man, and that made working with Portia increasingly challenging.

Since he’d hired her, he’d noticed her—and then he’d immediately move his attention back to business. But now, he caught himself distracted by the pinkness of her lips, the way she straightened her ponytail when she was thinking. Over and over, he’d replayed that night in his head. In a perfect world, he could have both. His kick-ass secretary and his sexy lover, too. But Portia had made it damn clear he wasn’t welcome in her bed again. She’d sent him a brief morning-after text and then ignored his messages unless they were work related.

His heart pounded as he thought of the last—and only—time they’d been together. The memory ramped him up—before he deliberately pushed it aside.

Regaining focus on the present, he surveyed her tight smile. Portia hadn’t said much in the past few minutes, but as if she needed to fill the space with words, she sliced through his thoughts. “So do you think the bird broke a wing?”

He blinked, troubled at the formality of her tone. “Perhaps. I’ll have to x-ray it to be certain.”

“Good. I’m glad we were able to help him.” Matter-of-fact as ever. All business. No hint, no trace of anything more.

She pulled the truck into the driveway of the clinic, parking it. As she turned to face him, he saw concern pass through her eyes. Had she been that worried about his fall?

His fingers ached to touch her bare skin, to explore her gentle curves. Although her breasts were more generous than he remembered. What else had he remembered wrong from their dimly lit, rushed lovemaking? The space between them dwindled, electricity sparking in the air there.

Her eyes danced, and he saw that spark take hold in her, too. The same spark from the night of the storm.

He wanted to nurture that spark into a flame.

He kissed her. God, he kissed her. Tried to rein himself in so he could savor the moment rather than risking another fast and furious encounter. He didn’t want to send her running as he had before. But damn, she tasted good. Felt good. He slid his hands up to cup her face.

For an incredible moment, she seemed to kiss him back. Then everything shifted. She pulled away, her skin sickly pale.

And then she opened the door and ran. More than ran. She flat-out bolted before he could even form a syllable.

* * *

This man had a way of flipping her stomach upside down on a regular day, and now that she was pregnant, her stomach didn’t seem to know which way was up.

Her ballet flats slammed, skidded against the ground. Her stomach rumbled a protesting gurgle, bile rising in the back of her throat.

She ran inside the clinic, through the side entrance and toward her office off the main reception space. She sagged back against the wall, sliding down to the floor while trying to decide if she needed to race the rest of the way to the restroom or simply stay put, calm, unmoving.

Yes, staying still was best. She drew in one deep breath after another. With each breath, she tried to focus on her immediate surroundings. At least the normally bustling clinic lacked people at this hour. All the staff and volunteers had gone home after settling the animals in for the night. Good, she’d hate to have an audience for this. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light, and she heard the creak of the door that lead to the supply closet.

Portia swallowed again, feeling unease and nausea reclaim her stomach.

A light flicked on in an adjoining office with the door open. Maureen. Easton’s research assistant and sister-in-law. Like Easton, Maureen put in long hours, sacrificing sleep for the animals’ sake.

She had a clipboard in her hand, and a pen tucked in her hair. Maureen must’ve been doing inventory. While keeping a meticulous inventory made life at the clinic run smoothly during all seasons, hurricane season made this task rise to a new level of importance. If the intensity of the tropical storm a few weeks ago was any indication of the hurricanes to come, Portia knew how vital it would be to the survival of the refuge for them to maintain plans and supplies.

But what of her own plans?

Portia took a steadying breath as Maureen noticed her and came over. Her bright red hair bouncing in curls, Maureen crouched next to Portia, green eyes searching.

“Are you okay?” Maureen’s slight Irish brogue lilted.

“I’m fine. I just forgot to eat dinner and I’m lightheaded. Low blood sugar. I’ll be fine.”

Standing, Maureen opened a drawer in the supply room, the one where she’d stashed other sorts of emergency supplies—saltines, PowerBars and gum. “You work too hard.”

Maureen tossed her a packet of crackers. To Portia’s surprise, she actually caught the wrapped package, shaking hands and all. Tearing open the wrapper, Portia stood and took her time nibbling while she searched for the right words to deflect Maureen’s comment.

“I enjoy my work.” Not completely true.

She was grateful for her well-paying job and the adorable one-bedroom cabana that came with it. She had a dream of becoming a teacher one day, but she needed to pay for her brother’s education and save enough to finance her own—