Pregnant With The Boss's Baby

‘Here.’ Conor removed a brown paper bag from a cupboard and placed it on the bench. ‘Cheese scone from the café. Get it down you.’ Then he reached for the coffee.

A warning rose from her tense gut. No way. Food would have to wait. ‘Th-thanks. Tea for me.’ And this was the woman who had taken control of her life and refused to let anyone or anything tip her off track again? Tamara reached for the bag, tore it open and broke off a tiny corner of the scone. Shut up, stomach. Whose side are you on, anyway? And she popped the morsel into her mouth and chewed. And chewed. Swallowed. Take that. She took another small bite, and locked eyes with Conor. ‘Just what I needed,’ she agreed around a wave of relief that her stomach was supporting her. However briefly. For now she was back on track.

‘I’ll hand that asthma over to one of the junior doctors, then we’ll take our drinks to my office and have that talk you asked for.’

‘What? Now?’ She tipped sideways, grabbed at the bench. ‘It can wait.’ I’m not ready.

‘Something’s up and it’s affecting you. Best we sort it and get on with the day. Finish making those drinks, will you?’ Conor shot out the door, leaving her shaking.

On autopilot she spooned coffee into one mug, dropped a tea bag into another, added sugar and boiling water to both. Stirred. It’s too late to do a runner. Time to face the facts.

‘Ready? Good.’ Conor swooped back into the small space, picked up both full mugs in one hand and took her elbow in the other. ‘Let’s go.’

And then they were there, Conor’s office door clicking shut behind her, and the air all hot and heavy. Tamara sank onto the closest chair, gripped her hands between her knees and stared at the floor. She should’ve dug into the back of her wardrobe and found something half-decent to wear for this, instead of looking like the frump she hid behind. But then he’d have known something was up.

She heard the mugs being placed on the desk, Conor’s chair being pulled out, his knee clicking as he sat down. She felt his eyes on her, his bewilderment boring into her. Her skin chilled, and the moisture evaporated from her mouth.

Slowly lifting her head, she nearly leapt up and ran. There was so much concern radiating out at her from across the desk it undermined all the lessons on men she’d learned from her ex. Could Conor care about her that much?

‘Start at the beginning.’ Conor’s soft voice flowed over her, tightening already tight muscles and jangling nerve endings.

There was no beginning. No ending. Only the facts. Her spine couldn’t straighten to ramrod straight. Her tongue felt too big for her mouth. Her heart squeezed in on itself so hard pain shot out in all directions. ‘I’m pregnant.’

He rocked backwards in his chair, those beautiful eyes widening with disbelief. Or was it shock? She couldn’t read him clearly. Gone was the open-faced, cheerful, friendly man everyone adored.

Might as well go for broke, put it all out there. In a strangled whisper, she told him, ‘You’re the baby’s father.’

Then she waited for the axe to fall. And waited and waited. The silence was stifling. The walls came closer, squeezing the heavy air around her, suffocating her.

Say something, Conor.

CHAPTER TWO (#u9ef96a1b-6d56-5d0a-a577-2d4f82691340)

‘I’M PREGNANT.’ The words ricocheted from wall to wall.

Conor slammed back in his seat as all the air in his lungs spewed into the room. The silence was deafening. As if everyone in the hospital was holding their collective breath.

‘You’re the baby’s father.’

Tell me this isn’t true. But Tamara looked certain. Apprehensive, but definitely sure. There was no colour in her cheeks, no warmth in her eyes, and her hands were rubbing her arms like they were cold. ‘You can’t be. I used condoms.’ Rule number one: when indulging in sex, use protection. No exceptions.

‘I am, and you did.’

No, no, no. He leapt to his feet, an oath spilling across his lips. ‘You’re saying one was faulty?’ He saw his disbelief drill into her, wanted to regret his words, but couldn’t quite. She mustn’t be pregnant. Not with his child.

Tamara pulled back, her eyes locked on him. ‘Faulty, torn in use, I have no idea. I only know that I haven’t had a period since that weekend, and there was a blue line on the test stick.’ She gulped. ‘On both sticks.’

‘Making certain, were you? Crossing the “t”s and dotting the “i”s?’ So like Tamara, he’d laugh if there was anything humorous about this. A chill was spreading through him. She wasn’t lying. It wasn’t a sick joke. Not that she’d ever do that. It was just that... It was impossible to believe.

Because he didn’t want to. He’d been running from getting involved for the last fourteen years. Hell, he’d come all the way down to New Zealand to keep the yearning for love and family at bay. To stand alone, not get close to anyone. Showed how much he knew. Seemed life had always been going to catch up with him, regardless of what he did.

‘There’s a lot at stake.’ There was a quiver in Tamara’s voice that rattled him.

And pricked his heart. Don’t go there. He wasn’t available. Conor opened up to the chill ramping through him, let it into his voice box. ‘Sure is. When did you do the tests?’

‘Friday. Then Saturday.’

Conor felt his face tighten, worked at softening his facial muscles. Failed. ‘You could’ve said something sooner. You’ve got my phone number.’ Genuine anger was moving in, heating his cheeks, deflecting the chill.

‘I could have, yes.’ Tamara swallowed, started again. ‘But I didn’t want to believe it. Telling you makes it irrefutably real.’

‘You were in denial.’ That he could understand. About where he was right now.

‘Totally. I have—’ Gasp. Her hands clenched tight on her elbows. ‘I had plans, and being pregnant is upending everything. Again. I’ve worked so hard to be in charge of my future.’

What did she mean by again? And being in charge of herself? Wasn’t everybody? ‘You don’t want the baby?’ he snapped. How did that make him feel? Relieved? Not at all. Really? Who the hell knew? Not him. He charged for the door, reached for the handle to haul it open. Stopped. Spun around to face her, rose up and down on his toes as he waited for her reply to his telling question.

‘I never said that,’ she said sharply. ‘Or implied it.’

‘Just checking.’ Sounding like a heel, boyo. Now, there was a surprise. His head was full to the brim with questions, denials, longings, anger—every blasted emotion under the sun. Name it, it was there. ‘I don’t know you well enough to read your mind.’

Tamara fixed him with a glare. ‘Then take this on board. I won’t be going to university next year after all, and I so wanted to become a doctor. Instead I’m having a baby. Then I’m going to be a mother, something I know next to nothing about.’ She stared at him, imploring him to understand. ‘I don’t want to be like my mother. She believed nannies were put on earth so she could go to charity meetings and play mediocre golf.’

The bitterness colouring those words was almost tangible and Conor wanted to wipe it away, make her feel better. So he remained by the door. Start doing that and who knew what would happen next. They had a lot to get through over the coming weeks and any out-of-the-ordinary moves like that would only turn everything murky. He had to be aloof, separate. ‘I’d have said she did a great job with you.’ There, honest but uninvolved.

Tamara snarled, ‘Don’t talk about something you know nothing about.’

Ouch. He’d hit a painful point, for sure. ‘Fair enough.’ He strode back to his chair, dropped into it and banged his feet on the desktop. His hands gripped together under his chin as he studied Tamara. Looking for what? He wasn’t sure.

‘There’s nothing fair about any of this,’ she retorted.

He couldn’t agree more. But what he said was, ‘You have no idea.’

‘About what?’ she asked in a rare belligerent tone.

‘I can’t have children.’

‘Wrong. You are having one next year. In April, I reckon. It’s no one else’s.’

‘I am not accusing you of lying to me, Tamara.’

She lurched, as though stabbed by pain. Her hands clenched even tighter. But she kept her head high and those cocoa-coloured eyes fixed on him. ‘Then I don’t understand.’

‘I can’t have children. It’s as simple as that.’

Someone knocking on the door had Conor hauling his feet off the table quick fast. ‘Go away. I’m busy,’ he yelled in frustration.

They both held their breaths until it became apparent whoever was out there had taken his advice.