Little Secrets: Secretly Pregnant

Her mother had pounded that much into her head as a teenager. Never say or do anything you wouldn’t want printed on the front page of the newspaper, she was always saying.

Before her sister, Cynthia, died in a plane crash, she’d been engaged to the owner of the New York Observer, Will Taylor. He was also the business partner of their father, George. That newspaper was delivered to her childhood home every morning, and to this day, Emma lived in fear that something she did might actually turn up there. The scandals of the remaining socialite daughter of the Dempsey family were news worth printing.

So far, so good.

With a quick glance at the clock, Emma left her closet and started getting ready. She had to be at FlynnSoft at two to meet with Mr. Flynn at his insistence.

Normally, she would’ve simply worn what she’d put on to go to work that morning, but she came home at lunch to change. It was nerves. Her outfit that morning was more than suitable, but she felt this need to put on something else before she went over there. To get every hair in place.

After thirty minutes of primping, Emma gave herself one last inspection. Her brown hair was twisted into a tight bun. After David moved out, she chopped it off at her shoulders in typical female defiance, but it was still long enough to pull up. Her makeup was flawless—fresh looking, not too heavy. She could still see the faint specks of freckles across her nose, which she hated, but could do nothing about.

The suit was loose because of her recent stress-induced weight loss, allowing it to hide any unfortunate bumps she didn’t want to share. The blouse she wore under the coat was a flattering shade of blue and more importantly, the neckline was high enough to hide her tattoo.

The half of a heart that was inked into her chest above the swell of her left breast wasn’t the only evidence of the night she’d made the mistake of letting herself go, but at the moment, it was the hardest to hide. That wouldn’t be the case much longer.

Like a little devil sitting on her shoulder, Harper told her to have fun that night. And she certainly did. She hadn’t intended to take it that far, but there was something about her masked hero that she couldn’t resist. Before she knew it, they were having fantastic sex in the laundry room and walking down the streets of New York in the middle of the night in search of adventure.

Every time Emma washed her clothes and felt the cold metal of the washing machine against her skin, a flush of embarrassment would light her cheeks on fire. She had done her best to forget about it and the tequila had done a good job turning the experience into a fuzzy, dreamlike memory, but still, it crept into her mind from time to time. If it hadn’t been for the bandage on her chest when she awoke the next morning, she might’ve convinced herself it had never happened.

But it had. She’d allowed herself to do anything and everything she wanted to do. She’d let David’s words strike too deeply and questioned everything about her life, when in truth there was nothing wrong with the way she lived. She did everything a proper Upper East Side woman was supposed to do. She was educated, well-spoken, polished and elegant. She took pride in her work as a CPA. It was true that no one would ever describe her as the life of the party, but her escapades would never show up on the front page of the local paper, either.

In retrospect, it took one uninhibited night to prove that she was okay with being that kind of woman. There was no glory in being like her older sister, who followed each pleasurable impulse and left her family mired in scandal after her death. Then again, that one night was enough for the repercussions to echo through her entire life. She could keep it under wraps for now, but eventually everyone would find out.

And of course, the tattoo remained. Emma had considered getting it removed, but it had become her personal reminder of how dangerous the wrong choices could be. Every time she even thought about breaking out of her shell, she could look at her tattoo and remember what a bad idea it was. It was a slippery slope she was determined not to go down again. She would not become her sister and shame her family. It didn’t matter how good or right it might feel in the moment.

But in keeping it, she had to work hard to ensure it stayed covered, especially in a professional setting. Or near her mother, who felt tattoos were only for bikers and inmates. Emma had tripled her ownership of high-collared tops the last few weeks. She worried about the challenge of her summer wardrobe as the temperature climbed, but she had to deal with the FlynnSoft job first.

Emma was just thankful she’d gotten hers in a place she could hide easily, unlike her hero with his tattooed hand. There was no way he could disguise his half of the heart, although she wondered how he would explain it. He was at a FlynnSoft party, so he was potentially an employee, like Harper was. She supposed that in the laid-back corporate environment, a tattoo was no big deal. Might even be a requirement.

It was just another reason to be nervous about her assignment.

At any moment, he could appear. An engineer, a programmer, hell, even the janitor. She didn’t know a thing about him and had no real way to find him other than the tattoo. She’d shared a few choice details of the night with Harper, and her friend had been on high alert to discover the man’s identity since then. She hadn’t been as willing to let the romantic fantasy go, especially when Emma confided in her about her predicament.

A few weeks after the party, at the family Easter dinner, Emma took one look at the spiral ham and went running down the hallway to the powder room. After two more weeks of denial and antacids, she realized she had more than a tattoo to show for her wild night—she was having her anonymous hero’s baby! And had no way to contact the father and tell him.

In the last three months, there were no tattooed hands to report at FlynnSoft, at least in the marketing or accounting departments, where Harper spent most her time. The odds were that even if the man worked at FlynnSoft last February, he was gone now if Harper hadn’t found him. That meant Emma was on her own with this baby, whether she liked it or not. She would tell her family soon. Eventually. When she couldn’t hide her belly any longer.

Another glance at the clock proved that she couldn’t delay any longer, as much as she might want to. She brushed her fingers over her hair and grabbed her purse from the table by the front door. With a fleeting look down her blouse, she opted to button her shirt one notch higher.

Just in case.

Two (#u4b2f0c97-ec50-5b79-a511-51b95a024ec5)

It was an easy trip down to the FlynnSoft building, as she’d been there several times meeting Harper for a lunch date. They occupied the top five floors of one of the high-rises a few blocks from her apartment. The lobby was like many others with sleek, modern furniture and large LCD screens playing video clips about the company and scenes from the various video games they produced. The only difference, really, was the receptionist, who was wearing khaki shorts and a tank top. Her brown hair was pulled up into a ponytail that highlighted the multiple piercings in her ears.

If this was the first face of the company, she had no doubt things would go downhill from here. After checking her in, the woman gave her a temporary access badge and walked her back to the elevators. She showed her how to wave her badge over the sensor, allowing her to select the twenty-fifth floor, where the executive offices were located.

Emma considered stopping on the twenty-fourth-floor business wing to see Harper, but she didn’t have time. They’d see each other plenty over the next few weeks, she was certain. Instead, she pushed the button that read 25 and closed her eyes. As the elevator rose, Emma could feel her anxiety rising, as well. She wished she knew why. She was more than capable of doing this job and being successful. She was an excellent auditor and accountant. Harper had done nothing but praise the company and everyone she worked with. Everything would be fine.

Exiting onto the twenty-fifth and top floor of the building, Emma headed down the hallway to the right as she’d been directed. Pausing in one of the doorways with a placard that read Gaming Lounge, she watched a couple of employees playing foosball. In any other company, the large space would be a conference room, but here, there was a pool table, a Ms. Pac-Man machine and some beanbag chairs arranged around a big-screen television.

The players stopped their game to look over at her, staring as though she were wearing a clown suit instead of well-tailored gray separates. Emma quickly started back down the hallway to avoid their gazes. As though they had room to judge with their Converse and baseball caps.

She finally came to a large desk at the end of the hallway. A woman in a spring sundress with reddish-blond hair sat at it, talking into a headset and typing at her computer. She gave a quick glance to Emma and ended her call.

“You must be the auditor sent by Game Town.” She stood and grinned, offering her hand over the desk.

Emma accepted it with a self-conscious smile. “Yes, I’m Emma Dempsey. How did you guess?”

The woman laughed, her eyes running over Emma’s professional outfit a second time. “I’m Pam, Jonah’s assistant. He stepped down the hall, but he should be back any second. Can I get you a drink while you wait? A latte or a soda or something?”

Emma arched a confused eyebrow and shook her head. She didn’t want any of the staff going to any trouble on her behalf. Some companies went to great lengths to kiss up to auditors and she didn’t want to start out setting that kind of precedent. “No, thank you.”

“Okay, but if you change your mind just let me know. We have a coffee bar on the twenty-third floor in addition to a Starbucks on the ground level. I’m sure you’ll get the full tour, but while you’re here, we hope you’ll make use of all our employee amenities. We also have a gym, several game rooms and a pretty decent cafeteria with a salad bar where employees can eat at no charge. All the vending machines are also free to keep our programmers awake and productive.”

“Wow.” There wasn’t really a better word for it. Emma had read in magazines about how Jonah Flynn was some sort of modern business pioneer who was changing everything. That he strived to create a workplace where people wanted to go so that staff would be happier and more productive. A casual work environment was only one piece. Apparently, a foosball table and free caffeinated beverages were another.

“This is a great place to work. Hopefully you’ll enjoy your time with us.” Pam walked out from behind her station and Emma noticed she was barefoot with sparkly, hot pink nail polish. At this point, that detail was no longer a surprise. Padding softly across the plush carpet, she escorted Emma to a set of double doors a few feet away. She pushed one of the heavy oak panels open, and then stepped back and gestured for her to go inside. “Have a seat and Jonah will be with you shortly.”

The door closed silently behind her, and Pam and her toes disappeared, leaving Emma alone in Jonah Flynn’s office.

As instructed, she quickly settled into one of the black leather guest chairs, crossing her ankles and holding her portfolio across her lap. She couldn’t help but look around as her fingers nervously drummed against the notebook.

The office was massive with impersonal executive-type furniture that was very similar to the decor of the lobby. Glass and chrome, black leather, bookshelves with awards and books he’d probably never read. There was a large conference table that ran along the length of the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking an amazing view of Manhattan.

She wasn’t quite sure what she was expecting to find in the notorious CEO’s office—perhaps a stripper pole and a Donkey Kong machine—but it all seemed to fit the space in a generic way aside from the giant cardboard cutout of what must be one of his video game characters. Emma was unfamiliar with it, but it looked like some kind of blue troll in battle armor.

There were only a few unexpected details. A photograph of a butterfly on his desk. A world’s greatest boss trophy on the shelf behind his chair. A child’s crayon drawing addressed to “Mr. Jonah” pinned to his corkboard. She was pretty certain he didn’t have children, but she only knew what the gossip bloggers reported, which could be far from the truth.

“Miss Dempsey. Sorry to keep you waiting,” a man’s voice called out to her from over her shoulder.

With a nervous smile, Emma got up from her chair and turned to face him. He was standing in the doorway, taking up most of the space with his broad shoulders. Shoulders that were covered in a clingy brown T-shirt with what looked like some cartoon knights on the front. He was wearing loose-fitted jeans with a torn-up knee and well-broken-in high-top Converse sneakers. And a Rolex. She could see the large diamonds on the face from across the room as he held his drink.

What a contradiction. Software. Foosball. Jeans. Diamonds. You didn’t run into this kind of CEO every day.

As he came closer, she only had a moment to register the face she’d seen in so many magazines: the distinctive dark brown hair with the undercut shaved on the sides, the deep blue eyes that seemed to leap from the glossy pages, the crooked smile that was endearing and arousing all at once. All of it was coming at her, full speed ahead.

Letting her business training kick into gear, she held out her hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Flynn,” she said.

Jonah reached out to her, gripping her with a warm, firm shake. His dark eyes seemed to be appraising her somehow, a faint smile curling the corners of his mouth. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he looked pleased about something.

“Call me Jonah. And the pleasure is all mine,” he said, his voice as deep and smooth as melted dark chocolate with the hint of a British accent curling his words.

“Emma,” she reciprocated, although the word barely made it across her tongue. Emma suddenly felt very aware of herself. Of him. Of the newly uncomfortable temperature of the room that made tiny beads of perspiration gather at the nape of her neck. His cologne tickled her nose, a spicy male scent that was infinitely appealing and somewhat familiar.

She tried to swallow, but a thick lump had formed in her throat. She couldn’t even speak while he continued to touch her. Did he have this effect on every woman or was she just that desperate after three months of celibacy and her pregnancy hormones conspiring against her?

Jonah Flynn was everything she expected him to be and then some. The magazines truly hadn’t done the man justice. He was handsome without being too pretty, with hard angles and powerful, lean muscles flexing beneath the cotton of his shirt as he reached out to her. His every move was smooth and deliberate, exuding power and confidence even in a T-shirt and jeans. You just couldn’t capture that in a picture.