by Chloe Lane
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
Her Boss’s Baby
An Office Romance
Chloe Lane
Contents
Her Boss’s Baby
Mailing List
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
Filthy Flirt
Books by Chloe Lane
About Chloe Lane
Her Boss’s Baby
I need a baby…and my secretary needs me.
I’ve got more money than I could ever need coming my way, and I’m going to use it for a noble purpose…but my a***hole father has put an impossible condition on the trust—I need an heir.
I could use a surrogate and a turkey baster, but why do that when I’ve got an unbelievably f*ckable secretary? Skye’s got lips like pillows and enough curves to drive any man wild, so when she overhears my problem and suggests we fake a pregnancy, I’m all ears.
Only bending her over my desk and barebacking her isn’t fake. Pushing her up against my office window and claiming her isn’t fake.
And neither is this baby.
Her Boss’s Baby is a quick, dirty, steamy standalone romance with a commanding hero and a heroine who’s head over heels, no matter how off-limits he is. A dash of angst, a generous helping of dirty talk, and a sweet-like-candy HEA can be found inside!
Mailing List
Join my mailing list and get two free short stories in a mini collection called Billionaire Boss! Just click the link below or paste it into your browser and tell me where to send them:
http://list.chloelanewrites.com/exclusive
You’ll also be the first to know when my new titles drop and get access to exclusive subscriber giveaways! See you there!
xoxo Chloe
Chapter 1
Skye
The phone on my desk rings—just one time—and I snatch it from its cradle as fast and effortlessly as I can without it looking like I’m simply trying to stop it from ringing a second time.
“Hello?”
“He's on his way up.” It's Kristen from the main lobby, and those five words send a shiver streaking down my spine.
“Thank you,” I say, focusing on keeping my voice smooth and low.
It's not my job to be frazzled when my boss comes into the office. It's my job to be presentable, professional, cool.
So even though my heart is racing and I can feel the pink rising to my cheeks, I do what I always do whenever Mr. Hunter is on his way up. I have exactly forty-five seconds before he steps off the elevator at the other end of the hallway, and another fifteen before he arrives at the door to his office suite.
That's enough time to take a compact mirror out of one of the drawers of my desk and make sure I'm as flawless as can be. Lipstick? Check. Hair? I squint into the mirror. There are some stray flyaways, and I tuck each one into place. Now, check. Teeth? All good. I even spritz a little mouthwash from the travel-size bottle I keep stashed in the desk onto my tongue.
He demands perfection, and I've been rising to the occasion every day for the last month.
I only wish this job had solved all of my problems, like I thought it would.
But I don't have time to dwell on that now. He's almost here.
I stash the mirror and the mouthwash back in their places and close the desk drawer with as much grace as I can muster, even though there's no one here to see me. Mr. Hunter only uses one secretary to man the desk in his main office, so when he's out, I'm on my own. But when he's here—
When he's here, I'd better be on.
I tug at the hem of my blazer, making sure it’s snugged right down into the right place, and then I sit up straight, hands posed at the keyboard, as if I’m running through the afternoon’s appointments. I don’t have to run through them again because I can recite them from the top of my head. My dad always said that paying attention to detail would get me the job of my dreams.
Maybe it will.
But in the meantime...
His footsteps are muted on the high-end industrial carpet, but I hear every one. Three, two, one...
He appears in the doorway, and my face goes hot.
Damn it.
I thought I'd be over him by now. The first time I met him, thirty-one days ago, I felt the same heat overtake my cheeks by storm. I still don't know why he gave me the job—I stammered through the entire final interview—and he makes me feel exactly the same way: like I’m flubbing and falling all over myself.. It makes no difference that I've seen him five days a week for the last four weeks. My stomach still does a flip when he walks in the door...and more than that, it causes my panties to become soaked between my legs, every time.
And I haven't even been fantasizing. I save that for late at night in the privacy of my own apartment.
Can you really blame me? The sight of him would be enough to make any woman weak in the knees. Tall, handsome, and rock-hard abs built solid like a wall from his days in the Army...
I snap myself out of it just in time. “Hello, Mr. Hunter. Do you need a rundown of the afternoon's meetings?”
He fixes his steely blue gaze on me, and another shiver, this one like the softest fingertips, trails its way down my spine. “No, Ms. Dawson.” The words he speaks are clipped—more clipped than usual. He doesn't let much show on his face, but I spend so much time staring at him that I can tell. Something is pissing him off. I'd better not add to it if I want to keep this job.
I need this job. Actually, I need more than this job, if I’m ever going to dig myself out of the hole I’m in. It’s a hole that keeps me up at night. I should buy stock in under-eye concealer.
I smile at him. Hopefully, he considers my smile as strictly professional, but I can still sense the tension rolling off him in waves. His muscles look so tightly coiled under his perfectly tailored suit that he could be on the battlefield, ready to attack the enemy at a moment’s notice.
It's really not fair that my boss is this attractive. I can't touch him, ever. I can't jeopardize my chances at being promoted to a better job at his company, or any other one for that matter, by becoming the woman who sleeps her way to the top.
I wish knowing that would make me want him
less. There's only so much work my vibrator can handle, and last night I think I almost pushed it to its limit, thinking of Mr. Hunter's eyes on mine, his strong and powerful hands touching me, his lips caressing every inch of my curves.
He's never touched me. Not once. But it still feels like jolts of electricity when he looks at me like he is now, a glancing gaze, like he's waiting for something.
Oh, shit. He is waiting—for me to say something. “No problem, Mr. Hunter. Is there anything else I can get for you?”
“You can connect me with my father on any available line. I'll take the call in my office.”
I swallow hard. He's been having hushed conversations lately behind his closed office door, and maybe all the energy crackling through the room right now is because things—whatever things are—have reached a boiling point.
“Yes, sir,” I say, as coolly as I can, and then reach for the phone.
He steps quickly around my desk, heading for his inner office, and I pick up the phone and dial. I know this number by heart, along with most of the others he needs on a daily basis. That has to count for something.
The call connects. “Mr. Hunter?”
The senior Mr. Hunter's voice is gruff. “Hello?”
“This is Skye Dawson. I have Mr. Hunter on the line for you.” Before he can say anything else, I connect the two lines and place the phone into its cradle.
Fifteen seconds later, the sound of my boss's voice explodes from behind his closed office door. It scares the shit out of me to hear him raising his voice like that…
It also turns me on.
Chapter 2
Matthew
I'm beside myself with rage, but I try not to let it show in front of the new secretary.
New—she's been here a month, sitting outside my door at her desk, in those little skirt suits she wears every day like they're not taunting me with the way the jackets run smoothly over the swell of her breasts or the skirts hug her ass. Skye—I always, always call her Ms. Dawson—is either totally oblivious, or angling to get into my pants, and I don't know which is worse.
I can hardly look at her.
If I look at her too long, I start to think about how I'd like to bend her over that desk of hers, yank her skirt to the floor, and tease her, take her, fuck her, until she's trembling with jelly legs from how many times I've made her come.
But she's my secretary. And I have to fucking behave myself.
My cock ignores that I’m furious enough right now to destroy this entire office. As I’m just about past her desk, it pulses shamelessly against the confines of my boxers when I catch a glimpse of her biting at her lip as she’s reaching for the phone.
As soon as I’m behind my desk, waiting for the line to light up, I take one deep breath, then another. This is the last attempt I'm going to make with my father today. And maybe forever.
That bastard has found every way possible to stop me from gaining access to my trust fund, and now he's laying down a real gauntlet—at least according to the new stipulations I heard about this morning. Fucking news to me, but I shouldn't have been surprised. He's been trying to screw up my life ever since I was a kid.
If I didn't have serious plans for the money, I'd cut all contact with him. But I need it. There's so much I want to do with this company, and a cash infusion is what's standing between me and a bigger, better version of my life's work. My father hates what I do—there's no doubt about that. He thinks it's stupid that I'm trying to provide a place for people to live, for God's sake.
It's just turned out that affordable housing isn't always that affordable. Not for everyone involved, anyway.
But even more than he hates affordable housing, my dad hates the military. Even though I'm out, he can't get over it. I never should have told him that making sure veterans have a place to live when they return home from deployment or when they’ve fallen on hard times is one of my top priorities with this business, but I opened my big mouth, and now, suddenly, the money is out of reach.
Which is fucking unfortunate because I’m supposed to break ground on a new building in three months. The city needs it—it’s an area that’s been struggling to revitalize since the economy crashed, and the development I’ve planned has everything a community would need to pull itself out of the trenches.
The phone lights up then, and I snatch the handset out of the cradle, struggling to keep my anger under control, to keep it from erupting like a volcano the moment I hear his voice.
“Matthew, this just isn’t worth your time.”
Those are the first words out of his mouth. It’s been a long morning. It’s been a long week. It’s been a long life. And I just don’t have the reserves to keep myself under control. Not this time.
But the outbursts are never physical—never. Things got physical in the Army. I broke up more fights in my unit than I can count. But that would never work with my dad. For one, he brings security with him everywhere he goes.
I don’t want that kind of life; the coddled, protected life. I want to create safety for my fellow brothers in arms, fuck yes, but the day I’m the kind of man who needs armed guards to attend a meeting with his own son is the day I should give it all up.
Once again, I can’t keep my mouth shut.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” My voice is way too loud, but I can’t control it. Not in this moment. “This isn’t just my life you’re screwing around with. When are the lies going to end?”
“Lies?” He has the balls to sound hurt. “I’ve never lied to you about the trust, son.”
I laugh, bitter and sharp. “Then how has this never come up? In twenty-eight years, you’ve never once mentioned anything about having an heir. Not once. You want me to believe this was always part of the deal?”
“It was.”
I take a deep breath, struggling to swallow the sickening feeling that I never should have trusted him. If I hadn’t poured everything I have into this business already, I wouldn’t be in this situation, but I did. I stuck my neck out, and now I’m reaping the rewards of my wasted efforts. Calculated risk? Fuck. I didn’t calculate for this scheming bastard, or for the housing market suddenly shooting sky-high.
And there are guys who need these places to live. Women, too. It’s a fucking disgrace how many of them are holed up indefinitely in shelters.
I take another big breath in, finally wrapping my fists around my own white-hot rage and wrestling it down to the floor, where I can at least stand with my boot on its neck, make it submit to my authority.
“Fine,” I say, through gritted teeth, keeping my tone as even as possible. “Let’s be perfectly clear. You won’t release the trust until I have an heir. “I want to say I don’t know where my father came up with this medieval idea, but it’s clear he’s an even bigger bastard than I originally thought.
“It’s not me,” he says, his voice gentle, disguising the viper coiled behind it, ready to strike. “It’s the conditions of the trust. There’s nothing I can do.”
It’s a lie. I’m caught between ripping into him again and just ending this call now, before things get any uglier.
“Understood.” I hang up on him before he can say another word.
Then I run my hands through my hair.
I need this money, so I have to find a way to play this game.
Fucking fine.
One thing is for sure. At least I’ll be a better father than he is.
Chapter 3
Skye
I can’t help overhearing most of the conversation. Even when Mr. Hunter finally reins in his voice, it’s still booming and powerful, the kind of voice that I want caressing my skin in the bedroom. But maybe not quite at that volume.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up when I hear him talking about an heir. At first, I don’t completely understand what he’s saying, but then it sinks in.
He needs a baby.
He needs a baby to get access to his trust fund. This is what the tension must be about—the
sheer emotion he’s barely keeping contained inside.
Hunter Housing, Inc. builds affordable housing developments and gives even better breaks to military veterans, and everybody knows it. I applied for this job because even if it’s not in my field—I graduated with a degree in journalism—it’s a reputable place that prides itself on its integrity, trying to do good work.
My boss, who makes me wet just walking in the door, might be rough around the edges. His carefully tailored suits might not quite hide the fact that he’s the kind of man who takes what he wants, who attacks with the same ferocity I bet he had on the battlefield. It must be killing him that his father holds the trump card in this situation. It would be killing me.
If I had a father who was pulling all the strings, anyway. My mother left when I was eight and Robin was six, and midway through college, Dad died of a heart attack. We’re on our own now, and lately things have been shitty, to say the least.
It’s why I have a constant tension headache brewing at the back of my skull. Between Robin’s migraines, my student loans, and the rising cost of rent, we’re barely making it.
We’re not making it, actually, which is why I’ve been searching for another solution.
My heart hammers against my rib cage. This could be it.
No. That’s stupid as hell. Who has a baby with her boss just to dig out of an ever-worsening financial mess?
