Bossman's Baby Scandal / Executive's Pregnancy Ultimatum: Bossman's Baby Scandal / Executive's Pregnancy Ultimatum

Nice. He restrained the urge to laugh. Especially since it really wasn’t all that funny.

Lauren tore her eyes from the ring. “What will I say if someone asks when we’re getting married?”

He cricked his neck from side to side, working out the stress already knotting its way up and it wasn’t even seven o’clock yet. “Tell them your mother is planning the wedding. Tell them we’re looking for a date that fits in with our work schedules. Tell them we’re thinking about bolting to Vegas and will keep them posted.”

She scooped up the box and held the ring so it reflected the morning light streaming through the stained-glass window. “You’re really, really good at lying.”

Lying? He prided himself on being a man who stuck to the truth, even if he did his best to make that truth something others would buy into. “I’m just an ad man spinning the product.”

She stayed silent, but her eyes said loud and clear she thought he was lying to himself.

Steam from the shower still coating the air, Lauren tucked the towel more snugly around her body and raced to the telephone. God, she felt like a teenager rushing to catch a call from a guy.

Gasping, she snatched up her cell phone from the bedside table, her wet hair a dripping rope over her shoulder. “Hello?”

Her mother’s voice popped through the airwaves, loud, high-pitched and frantic. “Lauren, I got a call from the lawyer for Aunt Eliza’s estate today.”

Lauren dropped to the edge of the bed, her stomach knotting as she mentally kicked herself for not checking caller ID. “Why is he speaking with you, instead of phoning me directly?”

Could something actually be wrong? The money from Aunt Eliza’s estate had already been transferred to her—and stolen by the crooked accountant.

“He said he’s looking for you and can’t find you. Where are you?”

“I’m on a business trip, but I have my cell phone and am checking e-mail. I’ll give him a call. Thank you for the heads-up,” she said quickly, hoping to end the conversation.

“Dear, he says you’re having financial troubles.”

Lauren measured her words carefully. Her parents had plenty of money and didn’t hesitate to share it with her, which was generous. Except that money came with big strings attached. And quite frankly, she didn’t want to be a trust-fund kid, living her entire life off Mom and Dad’s hard work, never accomplishing anything on her own. “Things are tight at work, but I’m settling that out.”

“Tight? Most businesses fail in their first year, you know, dear.” Her mom’s jeweled glasses chain clicked in the background as she fidgeted.

“Yes, Mother. I know the statistics.” And she prayed her business wouldn’t add to the failed numbers on that list. “Thank you for passing along the message.”

Jacqueline pressed ahead. “You know, I’m going to call my accountant to talk to you. Make sure to keep your cell phone with you.”

“Thank you, Mom, but I can handle it.” And she would. She hugged her towel closer, shivering.

“You’ve never been good with money, dear.”

Staying silent, she bit her lip. Hard. The barb dug deeper than her teeth.

Her mother continued. “Remember when you blew your entire savings on that watch?”

“Mom—” the words bubbled up in spite of the fact she knew better than to argue with her mom on a rant “—I was in the third grade. My savings fit in a piggy bank.”

Her mother’s voice cracked on the start of a sob. “Of course. What do I know? I only care about you.” Jacqueline gasped again and again between words, her voice bobbling. “There’s no need to attack me. You’re just like your father, always picking, picking, picking at everything I do.”

“Mom, I’m sorry—”

“Yes, well, at least I have somewhere to go to relieve the stress. Did I tell you about my new vacation home?”

Lauren closed her eyes. Already weary and it wasn’t even lunchtime. Her mother’s mood swings were nothing new, but exhausting all the same. She just listened and hmmmed when her mother shared the details of the latest perfect place to get away to.

Which actually meant a new place to start over, since she’d alienated the people in her old vacation community. Lauren had seen it play out time and time again. While she half listened to her mother, she stared at the little velvet box.

Jason had been so calmly helpful in dealing with her mother. He’d helped her with her business troubles and her mother. He was certainly trying to understand what she needed, as well, even down to small details like the flowers in her office and the toast for the morning.

His reasons for becoming engaged might feel calculated, but what did she really have to lose by simply wearing his ring? Just by sliding that diamond on her finger, she could help him secure his job, which made for a more secure future for their baby. He was already doing everything he could to help stabilize her business, too.

She slipped the velvet box from the side table. The ring winked suggestively from the bed of velvet.

It was just a formality, really. She was here, in his house, pregnant with his child. What did it matter if she wore the ring?

Phone tucked under her chin, Lauren slid the ring in place and closed her fist. She knew this was the right thing to do, but the thought of sitting around here all day staring at that ring and second-guessing herself made her nerves churn so fast she feared losing her toast.

Jason wanted his office to know about their engagement. He’d given her time to gain her footing even though the delay could cost him. So why bother waiting? She could meet the people he worked with and even surprise Jason with a casual meal out where they could start on their path of a smoother relationship for the baby’s sake.

Decision made, she stood. “Mom, it’s been great talking to you, but I have a lunch date I just can’t miss.”

Staring out the taxi window, Lauren took in the towering white buildings of Union Square’s posh shopping district. Somewhere in that concrete jungle with palm trees waited Maddox Communications. She’d done more research on the Internet about MC before leaving Jason’s house. She was a businesswoman in her own right and knew to arm herself as well as possible before entering any new camp.

The Maddox patriarch, James, had founded Maddox Communications more than fifty years ago. He’d married Carol Flynn and they’d had two sons: Brock and Flynn, who each went into the family business. When James died eight years ago, Brock took over the helm, with his brother acting as vice president.

Lauren leaned forward, reading signs, watching for Powell Street, and, more important, the building referred to as The Maddox. Finally the cab cruised to a stop in front of the seven-story, Beaux Arts–style building constructed in 1910. The article she’d found said the building had been set for demolition when James Maddox saved it from the wrecking ball and had it lovingly restored in the late seventies.

Now the building was reputed to be worth ten times his purchase price.

She tipped the cabbie and stepped out of the taxi. Automatic doors whooshed wide. The first floor was home to the trendy New American cuisine restaurant Iron Grille and several retail stores. At the elevator, she consulted the building legend and found the second and third floors were rented out to other businesses.

Floors five and six were the corporate offices. Directions indicated that clients and visitors to Maddox Communications should enter the offices on the sixth floor.

Elevator Muzak piped jazz horns, floors chiming smoothly and quickly. The elevator opened directly to a reception desk and total opulence and edginess, from the black-stained oak floors to the stark white walls with original art. Two seventy-inch plasma screens sat on either side of the large reception desk, showing videos/commercials with a small scroll of words along the bottom proclaiming they’d been produced by Maddox Communications.

Jason had landed well in his new job. A sense of pride in his accomplishment beyond his parents’ wealth stirred. She sure understood how tough it could be to step out of the shadow of influential parents to make your own mark in the world.

Lauren’s low heels clicked along the high-sheened floors.

The receptionist smiled. “Welcome to Maddox Communications.” Her short brown hair swished with every perky twitch of her head. “How can I help you?”

Lauren glanced down at the woman’s name plate—Shelby—and smiled. “Hello, Shelby, I’m here to see Jason Reagert. My name’s Lauren Presley.”

“Yes, ma’am, if you’ll wait over there?” She gestured to the large white leather sofas.

Lauren flickered her thumb over the engagement ring nervously as butterflies stirred. Shelby eyed her with undisguised curiosity. Lauren’s stomach flipped again.

Suddenly Lauren wasn’t so sure this had been a good idea, after all. What kind of game had she been expecting to play? She’d wanted to show Jason she was in charge and had only succeeded in looking erratic.

She cringed inside. Maybe she should just leave. She inched her purse around to cover her stomach, starting to stand.