Her Millionaire Boss

by Jennie Adams

  He could put down roots for her. He wanted to believe he could do that. Wanted it all, suddenly and fiercely, with such strength that a soft gasp escaped him. The whole marriage, family, share-a-home-together thing danced in his head, enticed him.

  I have to let her go. Let her go, or stay with her and watch it all turn in on her, break down on her. Watch it hurt her.

  ‘Nate? What’s wrong?’ A sleepy question, the words slurred as she struggled to wake properly.

  ‘Nothing’s wrong.’ What a lie. It was all wrong, was all so out of control that it scared him. He had wanted her so desperately, so fiercely and with such primitive need, that he had taken her without remembering protection.

  If she conceived…‘Go back to sleep.’

  He stroked her arm, her hair, deliberately soothing her back to the comfort of sleep. Now wasn’t the time for talking. If he was honest, he wasn’t ready to face that. When she slept soundly again, clasped tight in his arms, he lay in the moon-limned night and faced how truly vulnerable this night had made him.

  And slowly, as morning approached, he pulled his defences back together and reminded himself of all the reasons that walking away was the best thing he could do for her.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ‘YOU should leave, Nate. Go back to your overseas work straight away. Get your replacement in and I’ll take care of Henry. It would probably be best for both of us if we didn’t have to see each other again.’

  Oh, brave words! But in truth, Chrissy spoke so that Nate wouldn’t have to. So that she didn’t have to hear him tell her that last night had been fun, but he was over it now, and hoped she was, too.

  His determination to leave was etched in every taut line of his face, in the tightness of his shoulders beneath the soft grey shirt. She couldn’t pretend it away.

  And it wasn’t as if she hadn’t known. The moment she had woken this morning and realised he wasn’t in the bed beside her, the whole thing was sealed. Later she would examine the hurt cascading through her.

  ‘Let me get you some coffee.’ His words were flat, careful, almost toneless. So different from the way he had spoken her name last night as he loved her.

  Don’t think of it. She sipped the coffee he handed to her. Glanced around the kitchen of Henry’s cottage and wondered why she had thought she would survive this. Would be able to spend a night in his arms then walk away unscathed.

  You thought it because your need for him obliterated everything else. You still need him. Need him and love him. That’s why you hurt so much.

  Nate had risen long before her. Had been dressed and waiting when she joined him in the kitchen after she showered. She felt foolish in last night’s dress, and vulnerable because she had buttoned his shirt over it.

  At the time, it had seemed a sensible idea. But that was before she entered the kitchen and memories of last night’s ecstasy melded with the look of harsh rejection on his face to torture her.

  ‘I’ll get a taxi back to the apartment.’ She set the coffee down and stood, unwilling and perhaps unable to prolong this. He mustn’t think her needy. Or desperate. She didn’t want him to think of her that way. Not ever. Pride told her to show her backbone and walk from this with her head high.

  Yet her heart begged her to wade even further into these feelings. To embrace them utterly, no matter how much it might hurt. To hope, to believe that there could be a future for them.

  She had entertained that thought last night. And had received the proof this morning that her imaginings had been just that. Fantasies. Groundlessly optimistic hopes that never had a chance of coming true.

  If she gave in to those hopes again she would never get over them. They would swallow her whole.

  ‘I’ll drive you to the apartment.’ For the first time, emotion showed. For just a tiny moment, he looked as devastated as she felt.

  Then he blinked and she decided she had imagined that desperate look. Had conjured it up because it would have pleased her to see it. Would have given her hope. She didn’t need hope right now. She needed strength. ‘I’d prefer to take a taxi, but thank you for the offer.’

  She forced her lips to relax. To turn up at the corners into some semblance of good cheer. ‘Don’t feel bad about last night, Nate. I wanted us to make love. You wanted it, too. We did, and I don’t regret the experience. I hope you don’t, either, but now it’s over. We both know that.’

  It was what he had to be thinking himself, so why wasn’t he smiling? Letting out a relieved breath and saying thanks, and I’ll call that taxi for you?

  ‘Just like that?’ His mouth was hard, flat, but his eyes burned. Seared her with some deep emotion. Some intense feeling that he clearly didn’t intend to share. ‘One night and that’s the end of it? We put it behind us and forget about it?’

  ‘I realise it’s…awkward.’ Heartbreaking, but she wasn’t about to admit that to him. ‘That’s why it would be better if you left Australia right away.’

  ‘I’m not going.’ Just that, said in the harshest of tones. His brows drew down. The mouth that had kissed her with such stark intent tightened. Then, ‘I won’t leave until the problems at Montbank’s are solved. You could still be in danger, and after last night you might be…’ He didn’t finish the thought.

  ‘Pregnant? I won’t be. It’s too late in my cycle.’ She refused to even consider a child that he wouldn’t want to know. She laughed, a harsh burst of sound that died as quickly as it came.

  Oh, she was in danger all right, but the danger was standing right before her. ‘I won’t be in any more danger than I would if you were still here.’

  In fact, she would be in less, because she wouldn’t have to struggle through the days in his company. It had been bad enough before last night. Now it was simply impossible.

  ‘It’s not just that.’ His fists clenched at his sides. ‘A lot has happened. I think we’re close to learning just what’s been going on in the company, and at the docks. Henry still needs to accept the idea of retirement. I can’t leave until all that is resolved, and I need to be sure…’ Again, he trailed to a stop.

  ‘I see.’ You need to be sure that I don’t carry your child. She tried one last time. ‘You could explain the situation to the new man. He could head up the investigations as you’ve been doing, work temporarily in the chair until Henry accepts the idea permanently—’

  ‘That wouldn’t be good enough.’ He turned sharply. Walked the few paces to the sink and spread his hands against the bench on either side of it. ‘Accept it. Accept it the way you’ve accepted that last night was all you wanted or needed.’

  Yes, Nate. Last night was all I wanted. It’s just that I still want it, and will go on wanting it while ever I have breath in me. I want a lifetime of last nights. Of being held in your arms and cherished, of feeling as though we’ve finally found some peace together. I need that, and I know I cannot have it.

  ‘There is no more for us than last night.’ She shrugged, a study in feigned nonchalance. ‘You made your feelings clear.’ An unsteady breath came and went. ‘Or are you saying that you’ve changed? That you want to stay—?’

  ‘I can’t.’ He swung around. Lifted his hands toward her, then stopped. Dropped them to his sides. ‘God knows, I can’t.’

  He had brought this topic up. Had forced the conversation until she lost control and sought the one answer she wanted above all others. Be damned if she would let it go now, without fully understanding his reasoning.

  ‘God may know, but I’m unfortunately not privy to the inner workings of your mind.’ She waited, watching him, demanding with her silence and her gaze that he reveal the truth.

  ‘You want your pound of flesh, don’t you?’

  Gritted words. Entirely the wrong images. She nodded. ‘I’m going to have to work at your side after this, until you deem it time that you leave. I think that earns me the right to the truth.’

  He didn’t respond immediately. If the turbulence on his face was any indication, he pr
obably wouldn’t. But then he muttered, ‘What the hell, anyway?’ and left the kitchen to stride purposefully toward his grandfather’s bedroom.

  A moment later he returned with a photo frame clasped in his hand. He thrust it at her and stepped back as though simply touching it brought pain, or anger, or maybe both.

  She dropped her gaze to the frame. Frowned at the unfamiliar face and, looking again, saw the likeness. ‘Your mother.’

  ‘My father left her—left us—when I was a baby.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Henry hadn’t spoken of his daughter. Why hadn’t she realised that until now? ‘Do you hear from your father now, or see him?’

  ‘No. I figure if he gave so little of a damn about us, what’s the point?’

  Chrissy understood those feelings. Understood his pain. ‘What happened to your mother?’

  ‘She committed suicide when I was eight years old. Put me in a taxi to Henry’s house, then filled herself with pills.’ A harsh, humourless laugh. ‘I guess I wasn’t enough to make it worth her sticking around, either.’

  ‘Oh, Nate, no.’ It couldn’t have been that. ‘I’m sure there must have been some other reason—’

  ‘No reason other than that I curse every relationship I’m in.’ His eyes bored into hers. ‘I hurt the people I care about. They’re better off when I stay away. That’s why last night was a mistake, Chrissy. We were both feeling raw, and we let things get out of control, but it can’t happen again.’

  It can’t happen again. That was the way Nate had summed up their night of lovemaking.

  The memory was no more palatable ten days later. Chrissy acknowledged the thought as she forced herself to re-enter the Montbank building. Ten days hadn’t been anywhere near enough time for her to come to terms with that one night of passion, and all it had done in her heart, her spirit, her soul.

  Every day she seemed to break a little more, yet the stubborn man would not leave until he got answers to the problems going on in the firm. How could she try to get over him if he wouldn’t go away?

  And what if some of her other feelings lately, some particular physical symptoms, for instance, were the result of more than stress?

  ‘It is just stress. Get over it.’ The lift lurched when it came to a stop, and her stomach lurched right along with it. Lunch, she acknowledged as she hurried toward her office, didn’t appear to be agreeing with her.

  Oh, God, please don’t let me be pregnant.

  Oh, God, please, yes. I want to be pregnant with his child.

  Nate had tried to apologise and explain. To assure her that he had never overlooked such a thing before. A part of her had rejoiced that he had lost control enough for that to happen, but she had brushed his explanations off. Had assured him again that it was too late in her cycle for anything to happen.

  Now she was late, late in her cycle. It’s just a few days. The typewriter went to the end of the page, and someone forgot to hit carriage return, that’s all.

  At two p.m. Nate threw down his pen and stalked to face her desk. ‘You don’t look well. Do you need to go home?’

  ‘I’m fine.’ After that, she mopped her clammy forehead when he wasn’t looking, took very small sips of water to ease the dryness in her mouth and watched the hands of the clock on the wall creep past each minute and hour in slow, miserly movement.

  She didn’t want to go home and crawl into her bed, with nothing to do but think of him and feel miserable. How would that help anything? Besides, she could manage this slight nauseous feeling. She was managing it just fine!

  At a little before five, Nate went into the kitchenette and made tea. Brought her cup to her and placed it on the desk. ‘Maybe this will help.’

  Instantly, an eddy of revolted reaction began deep in her stomach and quickly rose.

  ‘Thank you, I…’ She pushed to her feet, swayed as the room swirled and her stomach contracted in desperate urgency. With her fist pressed to her mouth, she ran for their private bathrooms. Shoved through the door of the ladies’ room.

  When the retching finished she leaned, shaken, tears streaming down her face, against the washbasin. Nate’s strong, tanned hand turned on the tap and rinsed the basin.

  She cleansed her mouth and his hand appeared in front of her again, a wad of paper towels held in his fist. He gently mopped the tears from her eyes and dried her face. Their gazes met in the mirror, and slowly he turned her toward him.

  ‘I can’t believe you saw that.’ She wanted to shrink into herself and stay there forever. She wanted to run to the nearest chemist’s and buy a pregnancy-testing kit! Or maybe go home and crawl into bed, after all. Yes. Act as if it wasn’t happening. That was a good choice right now.

  ‘Do you think it’s finished?’ His question was as grim as the expression on his face.

  She nodded. Grasped at straws. ‘It could have been lunch. I’ve been feeling off ever since I got back from my break, and I feel just fine now. Maybe I just needed to get rid of something that didn’t agree with me.’

  His silence didn’t exactly inspire further theorising. It didn’t surprise her when they stepped back into her office and he immediately closed and locked the outer door, and punched the button to divert their calls.

  Before she got anywhere near her desk, he took both their cups of tea and dumped them in the sink in the kitchenette. She heard the sound of running water.

  When he came back, she had eased herself into her chair. Her legs weren’t exactly steady, but she wished she didn’t have the disadvantage of looking up at him.

  Maybe he sensed that, because he sat on the corner of her desk before he took one of her chilled hands in his. ‘Was that the first time?’

  ‘Yes.’ And it still didn’t have to mean she was pregnant. If she had been feeling somewhat less than excited about anything other than bland porridge with a dash of lemon juice for the last couple of days, well, that could be some bizarre coincidence, too.

  Who eats porridge with lemon juice, let alone for every available meal?

  She had given in and eaten a sandwich at lunch today because it just seemed too ridiculous to pack a Thermos full of porridge for work. This was what she got for it.

  ‘You’re cold right through.’ He chafed her hand between his, examined her face, which no doubt looked hideously blotched.

  Why did throwing up always make you cry? She hoped fervently that she wasn’t about to get very familiar with the act.

  ‘Are you pregnant, Chrissy?’

  There it was. Out in the open. The simple question tore at her heart.

  With each day that passed without her period turning up, she had avoided thinking about it. She had avoided her sisters, too, because she was scared they might somehow figure out all that had happened, and what she now feared. Yet it wasn’t all fear.

  I want his baby. I want it more than anything, and I’ve only just now realised it.

  ‘I’m not sure if I’m pregnant or not.’ Simply saying it made it seem more real. More possible, instead of just some faraway thought with no link to reality. ‘I’m only a few days late.’ She was usually very regular, so maybe she really was—

  ‘What I want you to do is wait here.’ He spoke slowly, carefully, as though even a raised voice would break her. ‘Just rest in the chair. Don’t try to do anything.’

  ‘Where are you going?’ She had thought he would want to talk about it, although she didn’t want to think about what exactly he might say.

  ‘I’m going to get an early-pregnancy test kit.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s not exactly something I’ve bought before, but I’m sure I’ll be able to work it out.’

  And then he would expect her to use it. Just like that. Right now. Before she had adjusted to the possibility, had got her thoughts together. ‘I…um—’

  ‘Just wait.’ He turned for the door, strode toward it then looked back. ‘Quietly. I don’t want to come back and find that you’ve fainted on the floor or something.’

  His own words seemed to give hi
m pause. In fact, his face paled in a way it hadn’t even when he was in the bathroom with her, coping with her sickness. ‘Maybe leaving isn’t such a good idea.’

  And then, in an act that she could only believe was borne out of a complete if momentary lapse into utter insanity, he reached for the phone on her desk and began punching in numbers. ‘I’ll get Gloria to run out for the kit.’

  She got her finger over the disconnect button so fast that her head swam, but she made sure he didn’t get through with that call. ‘I really don’t think it would be a good idea to ask our floating Jill-of-all-trades to step out for a pregnancy test for us.’

  For a moment he simply blinked at her. Then he stared at the phone as if he had no idea how it had got into his hand.

  Last of all he replaced it in its cradle with the sensitivity a bomb-squad expert would use when choosing that oh-so-vital ‘right’ wire to snip. ‘I must have lost my mind.’

  ‘That was my theory.’ At another time, it would have been funny, but somehow, funny wasn’t a reaction she related to this situation. ‘Thank you for looking after me back there, Nate, but I can do the test myself. Buy the kit myself. Tomorrow will be soon enough—’

  ‘If that’s a joke, I’m not laughing.’

  ‘Well, I’m not going to faint.’ A hint of petulance crept into her tone. ‘I might die of thirst and I’d really kill for a bottle of orange juice right now, but I’m not going to fade onto the carpet. Trust me.’

  He looked her over, frowned at what he saw then pinched his mouth together and nodded. And then he strode out the door, almost knocking it off its hinges in his haste to get through it.

  Nate completely rattled was something new to her. She pondered it as she busied herself with a dictation tape not yet finished. Sit and wait for him to come back? She wouldn’t leave the building. That would be cowardly, but she saw no reason to count the seconds, either.

  She would rather keep her mind occupied. Her attempts weren’t entirely successful, but she had made good progress on the tape when a junior official from the stevedore company phoned.