Boardroom Kings: Bossman's Baby Scandal

He, on the other hand, was wide-awake on their wedding night. Jason adjusted his pants, not that it helped ease the pinch of erection straining at his fly. Not much he could do about that now. He’d been so focused on working that wedding band onto her finger and getting her into bed, he hadn’t realized the tougher part was still ahead of him.

Keeping the ring in place.

Seven (#ulink_4740e595-3616-55b3-8631-d59ff985c689)

How would she just pick up her old life in a couple of weeks?

Lauren sagged onto the edge of the bed, alone on her wedding night. What was left of it, anyway. By the time the chartered flight had landed and Jason drove them back to the house, the sun was already fighting to break over the horizon, oranges and yellows painting a hazy glow in the distance. She would have liked to watch the dawn with him, but he was already showering before he left for the office—some unmissable meeting, he said, but he vowed to come home early. She’d assured him she had business calls and work on her computer.

Strange wedding day. Strange honeymoon. Yet neither of them could afford to take time off. They were both struggling to launch careers. It was silly to want something more.

Too restless to go back to sleep just yet, she kicked off her shoes and wandered back into the upstairs hall. She didn’t dare go near where Jason showered. She wasn’t sure she could resist the temptation to slide under the spray with him in his luxuriously remodeled bathroom. Everything she’d seen in the house thus far was top-of-the-line, from the kitchen to the three bathrooms, to the master suite with a sitting area. She hadn’t checked out the other bedrooms, but suspected they were just as sleek.

She creaked open the room to the door next to the master suite. Empty. Just hardwood floors, intricate crown molding and a few packing boxes. The view would make it a lovely guest room.

The next room—equally as empty—had a domed ceiling that called to her fingers to create a little Sistine Chapel with angels for a nursery. Swallowing hard, she closed the door behind her.

One bedroom left. She opened the door and found he actually had furniture here. Not much. Just a cherry table with an elaborate computer, printer and fax machine set up. A tangle of wires led to a power bar on the floor.

A nautical scene scrolled across the screen. Jason had talked about being near recreation, but the only personal items she saw in his house were business suits and work materials. As much as she understood the satisfaction work could bring, a part of her itched to fill his house—his world—with more. Furniture. Plants.

Lazy mornings watching a sunrise.

Sunbeams eased thicker and stronger through the sheers in the window. She needed sleep, for the baby if not herself. She pivoted on her heel—

And stopped short when a frame on the wall snagged her attention. It couldn’t be. She stepped back into the room, closer until she saw clearly. Her stomach tightened. Framed on the wall across from the desk…

… the pen-and-ink drawing of a sailboat for a cologne campaign, a drawing created by her.

Her hand shaking, she traced the edges of the image and thought back to how he’d left her office without any argument, hadn’t called in four months. Yes, she’d told him to leave, she’d pushed him away.

But could he have been thinking about her just as often as she’d dreamed of him?

Later that day in the MC boardroom, Jason wasn’t any closer to figuring out how to keep Lauren in San Francisco. He seesawed his pen on the large oval acrylic table, turning the red leather chair ever so slightly from side to side.

Fellow ad exec Gavin Spencer eyed his rocking pen and raised an eyebrow.

Jason stilled. Damn. He felt like a kid hyped up on a pack of Pixy Stix, all because he wanted to be home with his new wife.

Instead, he was stuck at a mandatory meeting at work. Located in the center of the sixth floor, the boardroom was a huge space, with all four walls made of clear glass that turned opaque with the touch of a button. One wall was currently lit up as a huge screen for the computer-generated presentation of the day.

Brock clicked away the final image on his PowerPoint presentation before turning to the table again. “That’s all for now.” He turned to his assistant, Elle Linton. “You’ll forward the specs from my presentation to everyone?”

She nodded efficiently, her brown hair clasped back smoothly and unpretentiously. “Will do, Mr. Maddox.”

Brock tapped the button, transforming the opaque walls back into clear windows. “Jason?”

He forced his attention front and hoped like hell the CEO wasn’t about to ask what the last slide was about. “Yes?”

“Let me be the first to officially congratulate you on your wedding. On behalf of everyone here at Maddox Communications, we wish you and Lauren a long and happy life together.” Brock started a round of applause.

As the cheers and clapping subsided, Flynn stood. “Everyone here at Madd Comm is looking forward to getting to know your new bride better at the company dinner party.”

“Absolutely, we’ll be there.” The dinner gathering would be more formal than their get-togethers at Rosa Lounge. Wives were expected to attend. Rumor had it that Flynn’s estranged wife had chaffed under all the pressure that came from the hours demanded by MC to stay ahead of Golden Gate Promotions.

Jason cricked his neck from side to side, not sure how anyone managed to balance it all, especially in today’s competitive market where there were plenty of hungry dogs ready to take his portion. Success had an added edge for him now that he had a wife and baby depending on him.

Gavin clapped him on the shoulder. “What the hell are you doing here leaving that pretty new bride of yours alone?”

“Don’t be eyeing my accounts while I’m away,” Jason answered, only half joking.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Gavin said, his own competitiveness shining through. But that edge would keep MC on top, which was good for both of them.

Jason rolled his large leather chair back, his feet itching to hit the road. He couldn’t afford to take his eye off the ball at work, but an afternoon away the day after his wedding seemed more than reasonable. In fact, it would look strange otherwise. And he did need to make inroads with Lauren to keep her and the baby in San Francisco. “I’m knocking off early today. Lauren and I are planning our honeymoon for later. She understands I have the Prentice account to contend with right now. In fact, she’s looking forward to meeting Walter Prentice at the big bash.”

Brock studied him through narrowed eyes, assessing. “Perhaps we’ll have a chance to get to know your bride in a more informal setting, maybe for an after-work drink at Rosa Lounge sometime this week.”

“I’ll speak with Lauren and let you know.”

Brock nodded shortly. “Sounds like you have a real keeper there, sharp business lady, to boot.”

“Thank you. Lauren’s a special lady. I’m happy she’s willing to follow me out here to California, especially given she has a company of her own back East.” There. He’d laid the groundwork for her returning to NewYork as he’d promised her he would do, but damned if he would give her up that easily.

Her?

It was about their baby, right? About being a full-time father to his kid in a way his father had never been for him and his sister. Hell, time to stop lying to himself. He wanted Lauren here. He wanted her in his bed and in his life. She fit. They’d already proved they got along well as friends and at work.

They definitely were in synch sexually.

California was the right place for her to stay. He could ease the stress for her at work and in her family. They could have it all here in San Francisco. He just had to convince Lauren.

Now that he thought about it, she knew as well as he did that they had chemistry. He’d put all his effort into seducing her when he should work on convincing her on a practical level, showing her the ways their lives could fit together. He needed to think less about returning to his wife’s bed and more about persuading her they could make a real family here together in San Francisco.

So for now, he would keep his hands to himself while he romanced his wife.

Lauren tugged her bathrobe tie tighter as her foot hit the last step leading into the hall. Supper with Jason had left her edgy, the carry-in Latin cuisine amazing, their legs brushing against each other at the kitchen island frustrating. She’d hoped a shower would help ease the tension, but no luck. She’d spent the whole time under the spray imagining inviting him to sit on the seat opposite her.

Then joining him to straddle his lap, instead.

A trickle of water slipped from her hair down the V of the robe, between her breasts, heavy and achy with desire. She stared through the carved archway into the living room. A fire crackled in the fireplace. Jason knelt in front, jabbing at the logs with a poker. Jeans pulled taut across his lean hips, the muscles in his thighs rippling against the faded denim and calling to her fingers to explore his strength up close and personal. The blaze in the hearth and between her legs both beckoned. She walked closer, the wood floor chilly beneath her bare feet.

His back still to her, Jason stood. He reached into a cardboard packing box and pulled out a thick striped comforter. With a snap of his wrists, he whipped the spread out and let it rest on the floor in front of the crackling fire.

“Did you finally give up on the chair and opt for the floor?”

He smiled back over his shoulder. “You seemed pretty awake at supper, so I thought you might want to hang out and talk.”

“Talk. You want to talk?”