Pregnant By The Ceo: Sensible Housekeeper, Scandalously Pregnant / She's Having the Boss's Baby / The Baby Who Saved Dr Cynical

His gray eyes gleamed at her in the shadowy light. “An accident,” he bit out. “It was…careless of me.” Turning away, he set his jaw. “Give the girl the rest of the day off.”

She lifted her chin. “You already did, sir. In fact, you just gave her a week’s vacation with full pay.”

There was a pause in the darkness. “Miss Grey.” His voice sounded suddenly odd, almost wistful. “You seem to always know what I need. Sometimes even before I do.”

The look he gave her made her heart catch in her throat. As if he needed something very much right now and wished she knew what, without him saying a word.

She felt his look with a flood of heat. Against her will, she was reminded of how it had felt when he’d kissed her…No. She wouldn’t think about that night. Couldn’t!

“It’s my job to know what you’ll want,” she said evenly, folding her arms. “You pay me to know.”

The words you pay me hung between them, dividing them.

“Yes,” he said in a low voice. “I do.”

He turned away, but not before she caught the stark look in his eyes. The same look she’d seen on his face when he’d first come through the garden gate. It wasn’t anguish, exactly, but a flash of vulnerability. Of weariness. Loneliness. But that was ridiculous. How could the most ruthless playboy in Europe ever be lonely?

“You never should have sent the maid,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. “I told you specifically I wished for you to bring me dinner. Not some maid. You.”

He wanted to be alone with her?

Exhilaration flooded through her. Then fear overwhelmed everything. She couldn’t allow herself to be seduced again, couldn’t!

She kept her expression unmoved, hiding her emotions behind layers of her training as she’d been taught. Formality was her strongest weapon. Her only weapon.

“I regret I did not correctly understand your request, sir,” she said stiffly. “I have brought up a newly prepared sandwich for your dinner.” She gave him a little bow. “Now, if you please, I will leave you to the peace and tranquility of your own company.”

“Stop.”

Something in his voice made her obey. Slowly she turned back to face him.

His face was dark. He came close to her, almost touching. “I never should have done it.”

“Thrown the tray?” she agreed.

His dark eyes seared through hers. “Made love to you in Paris.”

For a moment, she couldn’t breathe.

Her desire for her boss threatened everything she held dear. Her career. Her self-respect. Her soul.

She forced herself to straighten. “I don’t remember any such incident, sir.”

“Don’t you?” he said in a low voice. He reached down to stroke her cheek. His fingertips were featherlight as he turned her chin to meet his gaze, and she shivered at his touch, at the intensity of his dark eyes. “If you cannot remember it, then I must have been mistaken,” he whispered. “I didn’t kiss you, then. I didn’t feel your body trembling against mine.”

“No, you didn’t.” She could hear the rasp of her own breath, was choked by the frantic beating of her heart. “It never happened.”

He leaned forward. “Then why,” he said, “have I thought of nothing else?”

Her knees shook. She was so close to surrender. So close to acting like all the others, to flinging herself at him. But there could be only one end to that. She’d seen it played out too many times.

Rafael Cruz was ruthless. He broke women’s hearts with careless pleasure.

If she let herself want him—he would be the poison that killed her.

She shook her head desperately. “I don’t remember you so much as kissing me.”

“Perhaps,” he said softly, “this will remind you.”

Lowering his head, he kissed her.

His lips seared hers, scorching her entire body with that one point of contact. She felt his arms around her, pulling her close, closer still until his large, muscular body seemed to surround her on all sides. She was lost, lost in him. His tongue swept hers, causing every nerve ending from her nipples to her earlobes to her toes to sizzle and contract.

He kissed her, and against her will, she surrendered.

Chapter Two (#ulink_fd81dc29-106c-5ef9-a1f6-3628c709ef66)

RAFAEL CRUZ had broken many hearts, and he did not feel particularly bad about it.

He wasn’t being arrogant. It was simply a fact.

Every woman he’d ever taken to his bed had objected when he’d inevitably ended the affair. They always wanted more. They turned from flirtatious, seductive, powerful women into clingy shrews sobbing for another chance. No wonder he so rarely slept with a woman more than once or twice. Because once he’d possessed them, the women inevitably changed and lost every quality that had originally attracted him in the first place.

He never lied to any of them. He always told them the truth—that their affair would not last long or be based on anything but physical attraction. If women surrendered their bodies and hearts in a way that ultimately caused them pain, well, that was not his fault. They were adults. They made their own choices. He was not to blame.

But he’d sworn long ago never to seduce an employee. Not out of any concern over a workplace harassment suit—he laughed at that idea—but because the fallout would have made his life inconvenient. And Rafael Cruz must never be inconvenienced.

The world was full of beautiful women to fill his bed. But good employees were hard to find.

Louisa Grey was not merely a competent employee; she was exceptional. She’d become indispensable in his life. She made all his homes run smoothly. After five years, he couldn’t imagine his life without her.

She’d never once tried to lure him. Unlike the often clumsy attempts of every woman from his elderly secretary to the cocktail waitress at the bar to gain his notice. Louisa had barely seemed to notice he was a man. That made him want her most of all. She was so mysterious. She never spoke of her feelings; never spoke of her past. She had a cool reserve, and hid her beauty beneath glasses and awful clothes.

Still, he’d promised himself he’d never seduce an employee, and he never had once been tempted to break that vow.

Until a month ago.

A mistake. His seduction of Miss Grey had been momentary lapse of willpower. From now on, he had promised himself he would have some self-control.

She was his lead house manager. She coordinated between all his homes around the world. He could not afford to lose her. And women always fell apart when he ended affairs—even previously independent, strong women always turned clingy, whining and desperate in the end. If their night together turned into a full-blown affair, the only end would be the termination of Louisa’s employment. Either she would quit, or he would be forced to fire her.

His only hope of keeping her where she belonged—directing his home and satisfying his needs before he was even half-aware of them—was to keep her at a distance.

But his resolve had disappeared from the moment he saw her today.

He’d had a horrible day. Arriving in Istanbul—too late, too late!—his whole body had been knotted up in tension and grief and fury.

Returning from his father’s funeral, the father he’d never known, he’d felt so tense his muscles had ached with his rage and failure. His chauffeur had opened the door, and as Rafael had gotten out beneath the drizzling rain, he’d loosened his tie and headed for his house, intending to seek a tall glass of whiskey and perhaps to send his private jet to Paris to collect his latest French flirtation and deliver her to Istanbul. He’d told himself his one-night-stand with his housekeeper had been a mistake that must never be repeated. It must be forgotten.