Son of Scandal

by Dani Wade

  He felt so good, warm and solid. Though she knew the security was an illusion, she couldn’t resist it.

  “You did not make that decision alone,” he insisted. “You will not carry the consequences alone.”

  Paxton backed up to look down at her face, hands on her shoulders. “I know how capable you are. How driven. You’re excellent at your job. That’s why we work so well together.” He shook his head. “But your work right now involves something you can’t really see. Growing the baby inside of you—getting this pregnancy off on the right foot. It’s a very special project—which means your other work has to be delegated for right now.” He squeezed her shoulders gently. “Do you understand?”

  For the first time, she really did. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you still have other responsibilities, and family...” One she really did not want to know anything about her at the moment.

  “You’re right. I do.” He paced away, leaving her feeling chilled without his touch. After a moment he swiveled back to face her.

  “What if I could take care of you and the baby and still do all of those things, too?”

  “And run yourself ragged?” She shook her head. “I don’t understand how that would work for either of us.”

  He turned to face her squarely, with that familiar posture she’d seen in the office many times. Arms crossed firmly over his chest. Legs wide and braced. She felt like she was being warned.

  “It wouldn’t require nearly as much effort...if you moved into my place.”

  Eight

  Paxton took a deep breath as he circled the car to open Ivy’s door. At least this was one part of their normal interactions that had stayed the same. Though she’d worked for him, any time they’d left the office together, he’d always made a point to treat her like a valued person and a lady. In the South, men opened doors for women as a courtesy. Though in truth, he’d often had women do the same for him.

  But whenever possible, Paxton had always held the door for Ivy. Today the gesture felt familiar, a touchstone in a sea of constant changes. Paxton knew he was swimming out of his depth, even if he was convinced this was the right move.

  He held out his hand, steadying her as she stood up. Luckily there’d only been a small hint of nausea on the ride over to his house. He hadn’t been sure how she’d do in the car, even as smoothly as his car drove. But she seemed to be having a good day.

  He smiled as he thought about the little ginger lozenges she was never without these days. At least he’d gotten that right.

  She stared up at the stone facade and white trim of his two-story custom-built house as if dazzled.

  “You’ve been here a couple of times before, right?” he asked.

  Ivy glanced sharply in his direction before dropping her gaze. “Just once during the day. I dropped off some papers about a year ago, I believe.”

  And her other visit had been in the dark of night. That one, at least, Paxton wasn’t likely to forget.

  “We’ll need to show you around when you’re feeling up to it. I want to make sure you feel as at home as possible.”

  Her small smile was a weak concession. Her every hesitation, every refusal to meet his gaze broadcast her nerves. Paxton wished he knew how to break the ice better than this. Then again, he’d never brought a woman who was pregnant with his child home to live with him.

  What could be more awkward under these circumstances?

  He tried to view the surroundings from her perspective. The house was impressive, yes, but he’d bought it with the idea of raising a family in it. Not as a showcase of his wealth. It had lots of bedrooms and he’d ensured there was plenty of comfortable space. The gray stone blended perfectly with the wooded acres the house was situated on. A good many mature trees surrounded it for climbing and tree houses.

  He’d imagined the pitter-patter of little feet on the antique maple-wood floors. Thanksgiving dinner in the dining room, which overlooked the pond. He wasn’t set up for kids yet, so his family rarely visited him here. It was easier to meet at their houses. But he would still dream about it. Just not like this...

  So why did it feel so right when he took Ivy’s hand and led her into the house and around the lower floor? He tried to tell himself the gesture was necessary in case she was tired or feeling sick. But the truth was that he had an overwhelming urge to touch her once more.

  Especially in this moment. Inside his house.

  Attempting to pull his mind away from their one night in this house and back to the consequences, Paxton led Ivy down a short hallway to the one downstairs bedroom. “I thought we’d put you in here.”

  It wasn’t until he noticed her staring at the bed that Paxton realized what he’d done. He was thinking of her comfort...not the fact that this was the room where they’d spent the night together.

  Bluff it out.

  “I figured this would be more comfortable for you than having to climb the stairs to the other bedrooms.”

  “I’m not disabled, Paxton,” she murmured.

  He couldn’t tell if her tone held hurt or pain or maybe even relief.

  “I realize that,” he conceded. “I just wanted to make things easier.”

  Where was that ready charm that usually came so easily to him? Normally he was in and out of an embarrassing moment quick as a wink. Today he felt as paralyzed and awkward as a schoolboy.

  So he might as well get the other awkward conversation out of the way. “I also want you to know...you don’t have to worry.”

  “About what?”

  “I haven’t told anyone you’re here, per your request. Including my family.”

  He’d been surprised when she’d made that a condition of her decision to move in with him, but upon reflection he could understand. It was for the best, for now. The last thing this volatile situation needed was his grandmother’s involvement. And her demand was easily accommodated, since his family didn’t usually come to his house.

  “Do you regret having me here already?”

  The unexpected question pulled his gaze to her. Something in her still, small voice compelled him. But he couldn’t see any condemnation in her eyes...just genuine concern. For him.

  “No...” he said. “I should, but I don’t.”

  As soon as the words were out, he regretted them. Honesty wasn’t always the best policy. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he was also leery of giving away too much. There were reasons he needed her at arm’s length...in another room...on another floor. He needed to remember that.

  “Besides, keeping quiet makes my life—with my family—a lot less complicated. As long as we both agree to keep it that way.” Why he felt the need to add that caveat right at this moment, he wasn’t sure. But he knew immediately he’d given too much away.

  “Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?” she asked, startling him.

  He didn’t like the idea that she could read what he was thinking. “No, of course not,” he answered readily. “Well, until you disappeared without telling me.”

  “I told you I was leaving. I just didn’t tell you where I was going. But I have a feeling that’s not all that’s going on here.”

  Paxton looked away. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep the past where it belonged. Under lock and key. The last thing he wanted to talk to Ivy about was how gullible and vulnerable he’d been as a young man. He’d taken many steps to protect himself since then.

  Lessons learned.

  She went on, “Well, I think maybe we need to come up with a plan. Don’t you?”

  As if his body recognized the way out, his muscles relaxed. Now she was talking his language. Paxton grinned. At the office, he asked about “the plan” first thing every morning. Every meeting ended with a review of “the plan” going forward.

  They’d certainly jumped into this situation without one. Maybe a mo
re businesslike approach would get them both back on track.

  “What is the purpose here?” she murmured. “We’re in this for the long haul, I guess.” She glanced at him before her eyes widened. “I mean, not this.” She gestured to the bedroom before them. “But this.” Her slim hand then motioned between the two of them. “Oh dear.” Her cheeks were now beet red. “I mean—”

  “It’s okay,” Paxton reassured her, though he couldn’t hold in a smile. “I know what you mean. A goal would make it easier to know when we’ve arrived, right?”

  Her glance flickered back toward the bed before she averted her gaze. “Definitely. And I think if we focus on getting to know each other, building a strong base so that when the baby comes, we can make decisions together.”

  He nodded. That’s where the focus needed to be...not on the bed they’d spent the night in, or any bed at all. “No matter what, we’ll be working together. This is just a different arena than it was before. This is personal, not professional.”

  Just not too personal.

  * * *

  “So, how are you feeling today?”

  The awkward question was not at all how Ivy had imagined starting off dinner tonight. She’d hoped to serve something really nice to celebrate Paxton’s first full day back at work and her ability to actually handle raw food without feeling sick. Instead they were sitting down to dinner two hours late to dried-out fettuccine Alfredo and grilled chicken that had gone from raw to the consistency of cardboard.

  “Well, I was able to handle raw meat today,” she said hesitantly, grabbing the first thing that came to mind.

  “That’s a plus.” He seemed happy, but his smile was strained around the edges.

  She hadn’t cooked since right before she found out she was pregnant. The smells were simply more than her queasy stomach could handle. But she was fast approaching the threshold that the doctor had told her about, and with each day the nausea retreated. She was actually close to having true morning sickness, instead of all-day sickness.

  Miracle of miracles.

  “Your kitchen is incredible,” she said, searching for a new topic of conversation.

  When Paxton had finally come through the door, Ivy wasn’t sure what to think. Instead of the easygoing boss she was used to seeing in the office, or the laid-back caretaker she’d dealt with over the last couple of weeks, Paxton seemed highly stressed and irritated at the moment. Even though he didn’t show it much beyond his tightened mouth and overly bland expression, Ivy could somehow sense it in the vibrations coming off him.

  But he seemed to relax a little more with the compliment. “It sure makes cooking a pleasure,” he said with his trademark grin.

  Ivy had marveled over the difference between their dated but charming kitchen at Auntie’s and the miles of stainless-steel appliances and natural Italian tile in Paxton’s.

  She’d been afraid of messing something up, but quickly pushed the fear aside because she wanted to do something nice for Paxton. He’d been extremely attentive when he’d been home, and had waited to go back to work full-time for over a week. He hadn’t had to do that, but she was more than grateful for the chance to get back on her feet.

  Her family had been, too, when they’d returned from their trip. Ivy and Paxton had gone over there for a slightly awkward lunch, during which stories of her family’s travels distracted them from thoughts that none of them said out loud... Too bad it was written in almost every expression. They’d been surprised to find Ivy staying with Paxton, and even more surprised when he mentioned packing some of her stuff. But other than a few quietly whispered questions to make sure she was okay, they hadn’t meddled.

  Which was kind of shocking, in and of itself.

  Still, even after the intimacy they had shared at Auntie’s, and upon their arrival here, Ivy couldn’t handle tonight’s unspoken conflict. The stiff, arm’s-length business. As though they had regressed to strangers who had never worked together, never slept together. He’d been like this since yesterday. Maybe that’s what she’d been trying to break through with this dinner.

  Which was a complete disaster.

  Paxton’s phone dinged, and he rose to retrieve it from the bar countertop. He glanced at the screen, then sighed, running fingers through his blond hair as he stomped back to his chair. The careful mask slipped, and Ivy could more clearly see the frustration in his expression.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked, unable to ignore his distress.

  “What?” He glanced up as if just remembering she was there. “Oh, sure.” He picked at his food again.

  Well, this wasn’t going according to plan. But then again, nothing in Ivy’s life in the last three months had gone the way she’d wanted it to.

  As she watched him shuffle his food around on his plate, Ivy remembered all of the wonderful meals he’d cooked for her. Guilt reared its ugly head. “I’m sorry,” she blurted out.

  Paxton froze, glancing around the table as if trying to find the source of her regret. “About what?”

  “That dinner isn’t very good.” She shook her head. “I can cook, I promise. I just don’t know how to fix it when it dries out.”

  Paxton shot her a sad grin. “After several hours, I don’t think there’s much you can do. Don’t worry. I didn’t bring you here to cook for me.” He held her gaze, as if trying to convey a meaning he didn’t know how to say out loud. “But, Ivy, I do appreciate the thought.”

  His weariness truly registered. The stress that had seemed to build under the surface the last few days was out in the open. And he was checking his phone during a meal when he would normally have left it until later. Maybe this wasn’t really about her?

  “Is work going okay?” She wasn’t sure if it was her place to ask, since she wasn’t his wife or his secretary, but she couldn’t not ask.

  He rubbed at his forehead. “Honestly, no.” Another ping from his phone. She couldn’t imagine who would be texting him from the office at this hour, unless there was a major incident. After-hours communication, outside of emergencies, wasn’t a habit that Paxton had ever developed.

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake!” Paxton dropped his phone onto the table, then got up to pace.

  Watching his trek back and forth increased her worry. She fiddled with her cloth napkin. What could’ve gone so wrong?

  “Is there anything I can help with?” she asked.

  He froze midstep. “Not unless you’re willing to come back to work for me.”

  Her eyes widened, and she shifted back in her chair in surprise. Was he kidding? Or serious?

  But before he could follow up, his phone rang. He swiped to connect the call, his expression tense. His lips were tight as he said, “Hello?”

  His grip on the top of the kitchen chair grew tighter and tighter as the minutes passed, until Ivy could see the strain in his knuckles from across the table.

  “Yes, Mrs. Holden. Yes, we probably need to get that straightened out.”

  Realizing that his new assistant might be the source of his irritation was actually a relief to Ivy, though she wouldn’t be petty enough to admit it. She quickly retrieved the bottle of wine and refilled his glass while he finished the call. He gave lots of clipped responses before he signed off, none of them seeming to relate to an accident or emergency. Just some kind of mix-up. Then Paxton sank into his chair and took a large swallow of wine before letting his gaze meet hers.

  “This is not going to work,” he said.

  “But she did so well when I was training her,” Ivy said. “What went wrong?”

  “It’s the scheduling. She’s great with most of the paperwork and greeting people and all of that stuff, but she can’t keep my calendar for anything. And I end up with texts like this—” he lifted his cell phone so she could see the displayed lists of texts from tonight “—at the end of the day because things didn’t appear
in my calendar. And even though I now know it’s for tomorrow, I can’t plan at the last minute. Everything I’ve already put in place for the next day has to be rearranged. It’s just a mess.”

  Knowing how important it was to Paxton that he be in places on time and prepared, and add to that the set amount of hours he dedicated to working in the office every day, told her just how annoying this would be to him.

  “I feel like I should fix this,” she said.

  “Why?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. “It’s not your fault.”

  “Well, I am the one who helped put her in that position. I even gave a recommendation to HR.”

  Paxton studied Ivy from across the length of the table. It wasn’t huge, but it wasn’t small either; there was just enough distance between them that she couldn’t read his expression in detail. Mostly she saw curiosity. Concern.

  “I’m serious,” he said.

  She swallowed hard, feeling like some of the dried pasta was stuck in her throat. “About what?”

  “Would you consider coming back to work for me?”

  Ivy was surprised by how much she wanted to do just that. During her time as his assistant, she had excelled. She felt far from excellent at the moment.

  But she shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Someone could find out...” Not to mention her own personal pull toward her boss. Though she didn’t want to talk about sexual attraction with him, she knew for a fact it was alive and kicking...for her, at least.

  “We don’t have to advertise anything at the office,” he said, enthusiasm growing in his expression. “I promise not to make any casual personal comments. Heck, I would even be happy with you working from home. Part-time. Full-time. I’ll take whatever you want to give me.”

  He couldn’t know how good those words sounded. If only he meant them in a different way.

  “But as things become more obvious,” she said with a gesture toward her still flat tummy, “what will you tell people?”