His Convenient Virgin Bride / Seduction on the CEO’s Terms: His Convenient Virgin Bride

She followed him out, but Amber came on her heels, followed by Royce and the rest of the family. Alec was stuck with asking Stephanie some inane business questions, to which he already had answers, as he packed the papers away in his briefcase.

In no time, they were heading out the door to Jared’s SUV. Alec hung back, but he only managed the briefest of goodbyes and apologies to Stephanie before he had to leave.

Stephanie spent the next few weeks training hard with Rosie-Jo for the Brighton competition. At first, she’d been angry with Alec for his abrupt departure. Then she’d been grateful. After all, there was no sense in prolonging it.

They’d had a one-night stand, no big deal. She couldn’t have asked for a better lover. And, though it was short, it had been wonderful, physically, at least.

But then the gratitude wore off, and she felt inexplicably sad and lonely. She found herself remembering details about him—the sound of his laugh, how his gray eyes twinkled when he teased her, his confident stride, his gentle touch, the heat of his lips and the taste of his skin.

She knew she was pining away for something that couldn’t be, for something that had never existed in the first place, except in her own imagination.

She didn’t think she felt guilty about making love to him. But maybe she did. Maybe that was why she was pretending their relationship was something more than a fling.

Cold fact was, she’d given her virginity to a man she didn’t love, a man who was little more than a stranger.

It was the end of another long training day. She stabled Rosie-Jo and double-checked the feeding schedule. Leading up to Brighton, everything about Rosie’s regime had to be perfect, as did Stephanie’s.

She pressed her hands against the small of her back, arching as she sighed. Her period was a few days late, and she was getting frustrated with the wait. It was only a small difference, but competing at the most favorable hormonal point in her cycle could be the edge she needed to win. If she didn’t get it by the weekend, she could be jumping with PMS.

She pulled her ponytail loose, finger-combed her hair and refastened the rubber band as she made her way to the barn door. She was exhausted, almost dizzy with fatigue today. And she was famished.

She took that as a good sign. It wasn’t uncommon for her to polish off a pint of ice cream and a bag of potato chips the day before her period started. Not that she’d indulge in either this close to a competition. She’d have some grilled chicken and a big salad instead.

The thought of the food had her picking up her pace across the yard. But by the time she got to the front porch, she’d changed her mind. Chicken didn’t really appeal to her. Maybe she’d do a steak instead.

Then she opened the door and caught the aroma of one of her housekeeper Rosalind’s stews. She gripped the door frame for a split second. Okay, definitely not stew. She’d sit out on the back veranda and grill that steak.

The next morning, Stephanie blinked open her eyes, surprised to find it was nine-fifteen. The training schedule was obviously wearing her out. Fair enough. Her body was telling her something. She’d make sure she incorporated an extra hour sleep in her routine for the next two weeks.

She sat up quickly, and a wave of nausea had her dropping right back down on the pillow.

Damn it. She could not get sick.

Not now.

She absolutely refused to let a flu bug ruin the competition.

She gritted her teeth, sitting up more slowly. There. That was better. Wasn’t it?

She gripped the brass post of her bed, willing her stomach to calm down.

It wasn’t fair. First her period screwup, and now this. She needed to do well at Brighton. She’d trained her entire life for this year of all years. But it was as if the stars were lining up against her.

She started for the en suite, telling herself it was mind over matter. She was young and healthy. And she had a strong immune system. She was confident she’d quickly fight off whatever it was she’d picked up.

She stopped in front of the sink, pushing her messy hair back from her face, groping for her toothbrush and unscrewing the toothpaste cap.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her face was pale. Her eyes looked too big today, and the smell of the toothpaste had her rushing to retch into the toilet.

There was little in her stomach, but she immediately felt better. What the heck was wrong—

She froze.

“No.” The hoarse exclamation was torn from her.

Her hand tightened on the counter edge and she shook her head in denial. She could not be pregnant.

They’d only done it once. And they’d used a condom.

Okay. She breathed. She had to calm down. She was only scaring herself. How many crazy thoughts had popped into her head since Alec left? This was simply one more in the series.

She drew another deep breath. The nausea had subsided.

It had to be psychosomatic. Her period would start today, maybe tomorrow. Her hormones would get back on track. She’d stick to her training regime, and she’d kick butt in Brighton.

Anything else was unthinkable.

On morning four of the nausea and exhaustion, Stephanie dragged her feet to the bathroom, staring with dread at the home pregnancy test she’d picked up the afternoon before. Even before she followed the directions, she knew what the answer would show.

Sure enough, the two blue stripes were vivid in the center of the viewing window. She was pregnant.

She plunked the plastic stick in the trash bin and moved woodenly to the shower.

As the warm water cascaded over her body, she let a tear escape from her eye. Then another, and another.

What oh what had she done? This was her year, first the nationals, then the European championships and finally tryouts for the Olympic team.

The moment she’d trained for, longed for, prayed for her entire life was upon her, and she was going to have a baby instead, without a father. Her brothers would be furious on both counts. They’d be so disappointed in her.

Her mind searched hopelessly for a way to keep it secret.

Maybe she could fake an injury and take herself out of competition. Then she would find an excuse to stay in Europe for six months. And, then … And, then …

She whacked the end of her fist against the shower wall in frustration.

What would she do? Come back to Montana with a baby in tow? Tell them she adopted some poor orphan in Romania?

It was a stupid plan.

Defeated, she slowly slid her way down the wall, water drizzling over her as she came to rest on the bottom of the tub. She wrapped her arms around her knees, staring blankly into space as the water turned from hot to tepid.

“Stephanie?” Amber’s voice surprised her. It was followed by a rap on the bathroom door.

“Just a sec,” Stephanie called out, rising to her feet, swiftly spinning off the now-cold water.

“You okay?” Amber asked.

“Fine.” Stephanie flipped back the curtain and grabbed a towel, scrubbing it over her puffy cheeks and burning eyes.