The Secretary's Secret

He looked down at the clock. “It’s after three.”

All the more reason not to let him drive her home. In the middle of the night she felt less…accountable. What if, when they got there, she invited him in? She didn’t want him getting the wrong idea, and she wasn’t sure if she could trust herself.

Astonishing what a night of incredible sex could do to cloud a girl’s judgment. “I’d really rather you didn’t. I’ll be fine, honest.”

“Then take my truck,” he said, taking her hand and pressing his keys into it. “I’ll catch a cab in the morning.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

He gestured toward the bedroom door and followed her into the dark sitting room. When they got to the door she turned to face him. The light from the bedroom illuminated the right side of his face. The side with the dimple.

But he wasn’t smiling. He looked almost sad.

Well, duh, he’d just split up with his fiancée. Of course he was sad.

“I’m really sorry about what happened with Lynn. You’ll meet someone else, I promise.” Someone unlike fiancée number one, who informed him on their wedding day that she’d decided to put off having kids for ten years so she could focus on her career. Or fiancée number two who’d been a real prize. Lynn had obviously been after Nick’s money, but he’d been so desperate to satisfy his driving need to procreate, he’d been blind to what he was getting himself into. Thank goodness he’d come to his senses, let himself see her for what she was.

“I know I will,” he said.

“This probably goes without saying, but it would be best if we kept what happened to ourselves. Things could get weird around the office if anyone found out.”

“Okay,” he agreed. “Not a word.”

Huh. That was easy.

Almost too easy.

“Well, I should go.” She hooked her purse over her shoulder and reached for the doorknob. “I guess I’ll see you at work Monday.”

He leaned forward and propped a hand above her head on the door, so she couldn’t pull it open. “Since this isn’t going to happen again, how about one last kiss?”

Oh no, bad idea. Nick’s kiss is what had gotten them into this mess in the first place. The man could work miracles with his mouth. Had he been a lousy kisser, she never would have slept with him. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

He was giving her that look again, that heavy-lidded hungry look he’d had just before they had attacked each other the first time. And suddenly he seemed to be standing a lot closer. And he smelled so good, looked so good in the pale light that her head felt a little swimmy.

“Come on,” he coaxed, “one little kiss.”

Like a magnet she felt drawn to him. She could feel herself leaning forward even as she told him, “That would be a bad idea.”

“Probably,” he agreed, easing in to meet her halfway. He caressed her cheek with the tips of his fingers, combed them gently through her hair. The hair band pulled loose and a riot of blond curls sprang free, hanging in damp ringlets around her face.

“Nick, don’t,” she said. But she didn’t do anything to stop him. “We agreed this wouldn’t happen again.”

“Did we?” His hand slipped down to her shoulder. She felt a tug, and heard the snap of her other spaghetti strap being torn. Her dress was now officially strapless. And in another second it would be lying on the floor.

Oh God, here we go again.

Nick pushed the strap of her purse off the opposite shoulder and it landed with a soft thump on the floor at their feet and his truck keys landed beside it. “We’re already here, the damage has been done. Is one more time really going to make that much of a difference?”

It was hard to argue with logic like that, especially when he was nibbling her ear. And he was right. The damage had already been done.

What difference could one more time possibly make?

“Just a quick one,” she said, reaching for the fastener on his slacks. She tugged it free and shoved them down his hips. “As long as we agree that what goes on in this room stays in this room.”

His lips brushed her shoulder and her knees went weak. “Agreed.”

Then he kissed her and she melted.

One more time, she promised herself as he bunched the skirt of her dress up around her waist and lifted her off the floor.

“One more time,” she murmured as she locked her legs around his hips and he pinned her body to the wall, entered her with one deep, penetrating thrust.

One more time and they would forget this ever happened…

Two

What difference could one more time possibly make? Apparently, more than either she or Nick had anticipated.

Zoë glanced up at the clock above her desk, then down to the bottom drawer of the file cabinet where she’d stashed the bag from the pharmacy behind the employment records. The bag that had been sitting there for four days now because she conveniently kept forgetting to bring it home every night after work. Mostly because she’d been trying to convince herself that she was probably overreacting. She was most likely suffering some funky virus that would clear up on its own. A virus that just happened to zap all of her energy, made her queasy every morning when she rolled out of bed and made her breasts swollen and sore.

And, oh yeah, made her period late.

She was sure there had to be a virus like that, because there was no chance in hell this condition was actually something that would require 2 a.m. feedings and diapers.

She would have a much easier time explaining this away if she wasn’t ninety-nine percent sure Nick hadn’t been wearing a condom that last time up against the hotel room wall.

It’s not as if she could come right out and ask him. Not without him freaking out and things getting really complicated. It had taken several weeks to get past the post-coital weirdness. At first, it had been hard to look him in the eye, knowing he’d seen her naked, had touched her intimately.

Every time she looked at his hands, she remembered the way they felt against her skin. Rough and calloused, but oh so tender. And so big they seemed to swallow up every part of her that he touched.

His slim hips reminded her of the way she’d locked her legs around him as he’d pinned her to the wall. The way he’d entered her, swift and deep. How she’d come apart in his arms.

And his mouth. That wonderfully sinful mouth that melted her like butter in a hot skillet…

No. No. No.

Bad Zoë.

She shook away the lingering memory of his lean, muscular body, of his weight sinking her into the mattress, her body shuddering with pleasure. She’d promised herself at least a hundred times a day that she wasn’t going to think about that anymore. Finally things seemed to be getting back to normal. She and Nick could have a conversation without that undertone of awkwardness.

Zoë didn’t want to risk rocking the boat.

She hadn’t even told her sister Faith, and they told each other almost everything. Although, after their last phone conversation Zoë was under the distinct impression Faith knew something was up. It wouldn’t be unlike her sister to drop everything and show up unannounced if she thought there was something that Zoë wasn’t telling her.

She took a deep, fortifying breath. She was being ridiculous. She should just take the damned test and get it over with. She’d spent the ten bucks, after all. She might as well get her money’s worth. Waiting yet another week wouldn’t change the final outcome. Either she was or she wasn’t. It would be good to know now, so she could decide what to do.