The Baby Proposal

Gabe’s laserlike gaze might as well have pinned her to a wall. “What’s this all about, Andrea?”

It’s about you.

“I once told you that my parents run a gift shop in Scarsdale. They’ve always wanted me to work in the family business. I told them I would when the time was right. Now that they’re getting older and tire more easily, I can see that day has come.”

“Like hell it has,” he bit out with uncharacteristic violence though he never raised his voice. “You came in here asking for sick leave and ended up telling me you’re going to quit. I’ll fire Bret before I let that happen.”

“No—you mustn’t do that!” Her blue eyes implored him. “The truth is, I turned him down when he asked me to move in with him. I’m not in love with him. He’s only been trying to save face in front of you and everyone else.”

A strange look realigned the expression of Gabe’s striking features, one she couldn’t read. He sat back in the chair, eyeing her with disturbing scrutiny. “I didn’t realize.”

“You can’t hold that against him.”

“I won’t.”

“Thank you,” she whispered in relief.

“You’re welcome. I have to say your concern for him is admirable. Too bad more people don’t have your decency.”

Her head lowered. “Don’t make me out to be a saint. I should have known better than to get involved with a colleague. It’s a plan for disaster.”

Andrea was so in love with Gabe, she hadn’t been aware of Bret’s deepest feelings. Not until a lot of damage had been done. But no other man could compete with the one seated in front of her. His brilliant intellect and sheer male appeal made it impossible for her to see anyone else.

Though she’d been vehement in her denial, Bret had figured out she was in love with her boss and had accused her of it. Still, she had no idea his jealousy had driven him to tell Gabe something that wasn’t true.

The whole situation had become untenable.

She took a calming breath and said, “Since I’ll be recuperating at my parents’ home, it will be the perfect time for me to resign. Darrell can consult with me over the phone during my recovery period. Your company won’t feel a ripple.”

“Have you considered your other option?”

His question tried her patience. “If you’re talking in vitro fertilization from an unknown sperm donor, that holds no appeal whatsoever. I want the father around to help me raise our baby. A child deserves both parents.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” He rubbed his thumb across his bottom lip. “If having the surgery right away is what you really want, I can’t stop you of course.”

The doctor had given her six months at the most, then she would have to undergo the surgery. But by then she would be in unbearable physical pain. The decision whether to do it sooner than later was an excruciating one. However if she had the operation now, she would be in better shape to go into the hospital and handle the impending ordeal.

Still, Andrea was devastated her boss didn’t put up more of a fight to keep her with the company longer. “I—I’m glad you understand.”

“Are you free of pain right now?”

“Yes.”

“Then we’ll fly to Paris this morning instead of next week as previously scheduled. I’d like Emile and his team to work with my expert software engineer before you’re no longer available,” he explained while she wrestled with her tortured thoughts.

Paris? Maybe that plan had been written in on Gabe’s calendar, but this was the first Andrea had heard of it.

Since her promotion she’d been to Rio and Singapore on business with him, but never to Europe, the place she’d always wanted to go for a honeymoon. It was another pipe dream, just like the one where she gave birth to Gabe’s child.

“We’ll be staying through the weekend,” he added. “How soon can you be ready to leave for the airport?”

Her last trip with him… She couldn’t bear to think about it.

“I’ll need a half hour to pack.” Today was Thursday, which meant she would require four days worth of outfits. Knowing how Gabe operated, he would keep the team working through to Sunday afternoon when it was time to fly home.

“Benny will drive you to your apartment and wait for you. I’ll see you at the plane. Don’t forget your passport.” He picked up the receiver and told his driver to meet her in front of the building.

Andrea left his office feeling like someone who’d been knocked unconscious and was starting to come to, yet everything remained fuzzy. She hurried past his private secretary Karen to her own office for her briefcase.

Corbin PC’s corporate headquarters took up the twenty-ninth and thirtieth floors of the Saxbee building in downtown Manhattan. While she waited for an elevator to take her to the lobby, she said hi to a couple of the girls who’d just reported for work.

After a few minutes another elevator arrived going down. When the doors opened, Bret emerged in shirt-sleeves, carrying a file. The sales office was on the floor above.

“Andrea—”

“Hello, Bret.” She entered the elevator, hoping he wouldn’t join her. Thankfully he only stood there staring at her with wounded eyes until the doors closed.

That image of him stayed with her all the way out of the building to the waiting limo. It convinced her she was doing the right thing for herself and Bret by resigning. Gabe would never be able to replace him with anyone who could do a better job.

As for Andrea, her operation and recovery would take her out of Gabe’s orbit for good. It was something that needed to happen for her own preservation, but his memory would haunt her forever.

Seven hours later a limo from Gabe’s Parisian based company whisked them from De Gaulle airport to a suburb called Champigny. Soon Andrea found herself being escorted off the little rope and pully-operated raft on the swirling waters of the Marne River. Gabe explained they were staying on an island.

Somehow she’d assumed he would take her to a world-famous hotel like the Ritz, a favorite place for sheiks and millionaires. To her surprise and secret delight, he’d brought her to an isolated section of old-world charm.

The ambience, a combination of leafy trees and lush June foliage lining the riverbanks where there were a few fishermen in their berets, had transported her to another world so far removed from New York she could scarcely take it in.

The scene before her reminded her of a certain Renoir painting she loved. It depicted a group of local field hands in work clothes, gathered around a table enjoying a bottle of wine at the end of a long day. The concierge of the Vieux Pecheur Hotel could have been one of them.

He smiled when they entered the quaint little foyer. Andrea didn’t think the two-story building contained more than half a dozen rooms for guests.

“Bonsoir, Madame, Monsieur.”

“Bonsoir.” Gabe set their suitcases on the floor. “Je m’appelle Gabriel Corbin. Vous m’avez reservé deux chambres, n’est-ce pas?”

“Oui oui. Remplissez l’affiche, s’il vous plaît.”

Andrea blinked as Gabe started to register. She didn’t know he could speak fluent French. He sounded like a native. If his parents were French, that would explain his dark, attractive features.

As soon as keys exchanged hands, Gabe picked up their cases and they climbed the tiny circular staircase to the next floor. He stopped at the first door on the left and opened it.

Andrea let out a soft gasp of delight.

Inside were two twin beds with green coverlets, a nineteenth-century armoire and dresser, plus a window that looked out on the quiet street. Checked gingham curtains in green and white adorned the frame. With a tiny fleur-de-lis print wallpaper on the walls and ceiling, the room was perfectly charming.

No phone. No TV.

This was the real France. A slice of life. That’s what her college art teacher would have said about this incredible place.