Keeping the Boss's Baby: A Secret Baby Romance

by Ava Storm

  “Madelyn will be fine,” I said. “And this plane will be fine. And maybe even the planet, if Shelly has anything to say about it.”

  She cracked a small smile, and for a minute, we were just staring into each other’s eyes. There was just the barest simmer of heat beneath that strange connection I felt every time I let myself get too close to her. I wasn’t touching her just to get her in bed. I wasn’t talking to her just to look at her mouth. It was all that, but it was more.

  It was too much.

  Abruptly, I pulled back. “So stop worrying so much,” I said, my voice suddenly rough and disinterested. “Unless it’s about the conference.”

  21

  Paige

  It was the whiskey, I told myself the next morning. That’s why you don’t drink hard liquor anymore. He wasn’t being kind and thoughtful. There was no invisible connection. You were drunk, and worse, you were extremely unprofessional.

  I’d woken up early like I always did after I drank too much. The usual sense of embarrassment was co-mingled with some well-deserved shame. Ford was my boss. He was trying to give me information about the conference, and I started rambling about Madelyn. He must have thought I was insane.

  I dragged myself into the bathroom to get ready, but even the soothing rainfall shower didn’t drown my regret. I’d said so many things I never planned to say to anyone. But he was so kind for a while there. It had felt genuine. It had felt good. I’d never wanted to talk about Madelyn like that with anyone else, even Shelly and Amanda. I knew I was a typical neurotic first-time mother. I’d wondered if she’d ever crawl, and now she ran down the street to get away from her coat. I’d worried about whether she’d ever eat solids and now she scarfed down pizza. I’d worried about her language development and her fine motor skills and a half dozen other things, but I’d never done so out loud until last night.

  It must be biology, I told myself. My body knows he’s her father, and it created this false sense of trust. And then you pour whiskey on top of that—it was a wonder I didn’t tell him everything. I shuddered to think of what I might have said. How easy the whiskey would have made it. I wasn’t going to drink again on this trip, that was for sure. I had no idea how I’d get home on that plane without alcohol, but I’d manage. Maybe someone would have a Valium prescription to share. Maybe I could get a Valium prescription.

  As I got out of the shower and towel-dried my hair, I mentally ran over the schedule for the first three days. No, not a spare minute to see a doctor. We were busy from seven am to seven pm every single night, and I’d heard from others who had gone in years past that there were after parties.

  Not for you though, my pounding head reminded me. It wasn’t pleased about being turned upside down, and it really didn’t appreciate the roar of the hair dryer. When I finally straightened up, a headache was beginning to form behind my eyes. I knew the feeling. I needed coffee immediately.

  The room had a small coffee maker, the kind that came with the grounds in what looked like flat, round tea bags. I brewed both bags and made a mental note to ask the front desk for more. Then I got dressed and went out to face the day.

  And Ford.

  “Hi Champ,” Griffin said when I walked into the small cafe that served breakfast. He was holding a bagel in one hand and a coffee that was almost as large as I needed in the other.

  “Where’d you get that?” I demanded, looking around for a coffee machine. I didn’t want anything fancy. The thought of the syrups and creamers turned my stomach. If I could have, I’d have taken one of the rental cars to the nearest gas station and gotten a half gallon of cheap original blend.

  Griffin turned me to face the back corner where a row of self-serve coffee machines were lined up. “I recommend the hazelnut.”

  I was so focused on locating the largest cup that I didn’t see Ford until I bumped into him. His cup sloshed. I watched in horror as the steaming black liquid washed up right to the rim, and then splattered his wrist. God I hoped that wasn’t a Rolex.

  He bared his teeth in a grimace of a smile as he reached past me for a napkin. “Good morning, Paige.”

  “Good morning, Ford.” I handed him a lid. “Should I resign?”

  “Maybe after the conference.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll hire you,” Griffin assured me when I got in line with my coffee.

  “The fuck you will,” Ford growled, getting in line behind me.

  Something unspoken passed between them. Griffin grinned a little. Ford didn’t.

  Suddenly, Griffin pivoted to me. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Am I getting a raise?”

  Ford snorted. “Fat chance.”

  “I meant for the, um,” Griffin gestured vaguely toward my stomach. “The kid. Congratulations.”

  I looked down, like she might still be in there. “Oh, thanks.” I felt uncomfortable, like I was lying by omission to Griffin, too. He would have been like an uncle to Madelyn, maybe, if things were different. If I’d told Ford. If Ford had wanted her. For the first time, I wondered if I’d made the wrong decision.

  “She’s fifteen months old,” Ford said. “Isn’t there a statute of limitations on congratulating people for having kids?”

  “Only if you’re a dick,” Griffin countered. “Congratulations are never out of order.”

  Ford looked at me, and I nodded. “Always appreciated.”

  He rolled his eyes upward. “Then congratulations.”

  “Too late.”

  I got to the register. Ford put his coffee down next to mine, and I raised my eyebrows again. “Oh, is it on me?”

  “Actually, it’s on me,” he said, glancing down at me sideways. “Your per diem, remember?”

  There was nothing particularly hot in the way he looked at me, but I felt tingling warmth all the way through me, nonetheless. It made my heart pound harder and I felt breathless as I looked back at him.

  Stop it, I ordered myself. I really would have to resign if I couldn’t even stand next to him without my knees going weak. And if I resigned, goodbye nice apartment. Goodbye fancy daycare.

  “And me,” Griffin said.

  We both looked at him, startled.

  “The coffee,” he explained. “It’s also on me.”

  When neither of us said a word, he continued, “Because I’m a co-founder of Blip. I’m—”

  “I know,” Ford said, staring at him. “So?”

  “So the coffee is also on me.” He shrugged. “That’s all.”

  “Thanks, Griffin,” I said, trying not to laugh with relief. He’d broken the spell once again. I grabbed my coffee from the counter and toasted him. “To you.”

  The three of us left the cafe together and headed for the largest conference room where everyone was gathering to strategize for the day. Most of the team would be coming in over the next eight hours, and the first challenge for me was making sure everyone got into their rental cars and checked into their rooms in time for the welcome dinner that evening. Thursday and Friday would be back-to-back workshops and one-on-one mentoring sessions. Saturday would be a half day where each of the founders gave a speech, and then my challenge for that evening would be making sure our team all got checked out on time and boarded their flights. Then we would fly home Sunday morning. I was supposed to be on the nine forty am direct flight to O’Hare, but now I wasn’t sure.

  Someone had brought a few boxes of bagels from the cafe. Kai looked pointedly at the one Griffin had gotten just for himself and made a show of thanking the guy who’d thought of everyone. Griffin finished his bagel, unbothered. After the coffee had had time to settle my stomach, I wandered over to the table to pick one out.

  When I turned around, Ford was standing behind me.

  “Only sesame seed left,” I said, trying to ignore the ever-present tug I felt when he was within reach.

  He glanced at the box disinterestedly. “I just wanted to make sure you’re clear on everything that needs to ge
t done this morning.”

  “Perfectly,” I assured him. I knew I’d torn my best-executive-assistant act to shreds on the flight, but I didn’t want him to worry. Or have any reason at all to fire me. I was going to make the conference run so smoothly that by the time the weekend was over, he wouldn’t even remember how it began. “Is there anything you need before I start?”

  His eyes flickered with grim amusement. “No.”

  “Great,” I gave him my brightest smile. “Practice your presentation. I just sent you the revised slides. Call me if anything comes up.”

  Again, that hint of grim amusement. “I’ll do that, Miss Stafford.”

  So we were back to that. I rolled my eyes. “Have a good day, Mr. Cavanaugh.”

  The day flew by in a whirl of near disasters. An international flight had been so delayed that four people missed their connection in Amsterdam, and the airline was trying to rebook them on a flight that didn’t leave until Thursday morning. The sound system for the main stage was flickery, and it took threatening to move the whole conference to another hotel to get management to fix it. I was exhausted by the time I went back to my room to change for dinner.

  I showered again because I’d dragged my hands through my hair so many times it looked greasy. When it was dry, I hesitated before the closet, unsure of what to wear. I had three dresses, all equally nice, but one was just slightly sexier. I hadn’t been sure about it, but Shelly had forced me to include it. My hand hesitated over the hanger, then moved over to the safer option. Things were just starting to feel natural with Ford. There were those undercurrents, but we’d found higher ground. I didn’t want to confuse anything.

  When I looked in the mirror though, I wondered. I’d tried it on at the store, but there hadn’t been a flush in my cheeks then, nor a hungry look in my eyes. A higher neckline wasn’t going to hide my desire for Ford, not when it was written all over my face.

  I’d have to avoid him, I decided. I wasn’t sitting with him at dinner—none of the nights actually. It didn’t seem appropriate when there were so many people from all over the country coming to see him and the others. He’d be so busy with them, pulled in so many directions I probably wouldn’t even have to go out of my way to stay out of his.

  I told myself all the way to dinner, and then of course he was the first person I saw. He was standing near the entrance of the ballroom, Jameson at his side. They were talking to a group of two men and one woman. Jameson looked like he was selling them on something. Ford looked politely bored. Our eyes caught. He lifted his chin in acknowledgment, but not so much as a facial muscle twitched before his eyes shifted back to the group.

  So much for tempting him. I rolled my eyes at myself and went past him into the ballroom. There was light classical music playing, chairs were scraping in and out as people sat down and rose again to greet each other. Waiters were already circling with water pitchers and bottles of wine. I surveyed it with satisfaction, my eyes roaming over the scene in search of my table.

  “You forgot your name badge,” Ford said, appearing at my elbow.

  “So did you,” I said, glancing at his chest.

  “Yes, but everyone knows me.”

  “And no one needs to know me.”

  We stood in comfortable silence for a moment, watching the crowd. Now that he was beside me, people were watching back. Some smiling, half raising their hands to wave him over, but something in his face must have stopped them. Then their eyes shifted curiously to me. More than one woman had an appraising gleam in her eye when she looked at him, and a narrow one when she looked at me. I didn’t blame them. Even in this room full of men—some just as rich and important—Ford was still the best looking one I’d ever seen.

  “People want to talk to you,” I observed. “I’m in their way.”

  “Then I’d better keep you close,” he said.

  I looked over, expecting to see a familiar gleam in his eye, but he still wasn’t looking at me. In fact, he looked tired, as though we were at the end of the conference instead of the beginning. “Do you need more coffee?”

  A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “That’s still not your job, Miss Stafford.”

  “If that’s what it takes to get you through this dinner, it is my job,” I pointed out.

  “Coffee won’t help,” he shrugged. “It’s all these people. They all want something. My brain goes into overdrive trying to figure out what, how to provide it, how to make it part of the business. I can’t turn it off and it’s fucking exhausting.”

  “That sounds awful,” I said. “You’re like a compulsive people pleaser. Which is weird because you can be really unpleasant.”

  He laughed without humor. “Ironically enough, I guess that’s true. Fortunately, I’ve been able to monetize it to the point I don’t need to please anyone but myself. Still, it’s hard to turn off an instinct.”

  “Impossible,” I murmured in agreement. “Well if coffee won’t help, what about a drink?”

  We walked over to the elegant bar that I’d made sure was stocked with an extensive beer selection. He noticed and nodded approvingly. “Your work, I assume.”

  I shrugged modestly. “It was a team effort.”

  “The team doesn’t know how I feel about New England IPAs,” he said, tipping the bartender who poured the cloudy citrus beer into a mug. “What are you drinking?”

  “Nothing, ever again.” I smiled at the bartender.

  Ford shook his head. “You seem to think last night was some sort of debacle. It wasn’t.”

  “My head said differently this morning,” I disagreed. “When you gave me this job despite our past, I know it was against your better instincts. I wanted to make sure you never regretted it.”

  “I didn’t give you this job,” he corrected. “You earned it through excellent qualifications and references. Our past was irrelevant to the decision, and my regrets regarding you have nothing to do with employment.”

  For a minute, I felt breathless. The undercurrent had quickened, heated. His eyes were smoldering in the darkness.

  “Ford!” A hand clapped down on his shoulder. A ruddy face appeared over it, glancing at me curiously but holding onto Ford with determination.

  Ford swallowed his mouthful of beer and bared his teeth in his worst imitation of a smile. “Bob Moss. Great to see you.”

  “Great to see you,” Bob said, a touch competitively. “Listen, I’ve been trying to get in touch with you. You’re a hard man to reach. I have an idea I want to run by you.”

  Something on Ford’s face told me that he’d been dodging this idea for a while and would like to continue doing so.

  Before I thought about what I was doing, I stepped forward and held out my hand. Bob Moss had to let go of Ford’s shoulder to shake it. While he was doing so, Ford took a half step back that took him out of easy reach.

  “That was my fault,” I told Bob Moss earnestly. “I’m Ford’s executive assistant, and all messages go through me. I must have lost yours. Would you like to tell me about the idea, and I’ll make sure it gets back to him?”

  It was clear that Bob Moss didn’t want to tell me anything, but he didn’t have a choice. Ford was already murmuring something about getting my notes later and gracefully disappearing into the crowd.

  “It’s not an idea that translates well,” Bob Moss said, eyeing me as though he thought I couldn’t possibly have the brainpower to comprehend his genius idea.

  I listened anyway, and maybe it was a deficiency in intelligence, but it sounded like something that a half dozen other companies were already doing. If Blip wanted to incorporate it, they’d do better to buy out one of those rather than commissioning Bob Moss to build it from scratch.

  “I’ll make sure he hears about it,” I promised anyway. He looked like he wanted to say more, but it was time to go to our tables, and thankfully, his was across the room from mine.

  I took my seat with seven other people from the Chicago office, grateful to be off my feet and
away from Bob Moss.

  “You’ve been moved,” Priya informed me.

  I scowled. “No, that’s impossible. I made the table assignments myself.”

  She shrugged. “Tell it to the boss. He’s the one that made the switch. Calvin sits there now. He’s on his way back from the bar.”

  I looked over to see Calvin approaching with two dirty martinis. Reluctantly, I stood up.

  He gave me an apologetic smile as he set one of the drinks down in front of Priya. “Sorry to kick you out of your seat, Paige. You at Table One now.”

  “She also flew here in the private jet,” Priya murmured, her eyes flicking me over as though trying to figure out what exactly merited these promotions. She was still mad about the convertible, I surmised.

  Feeling disoriented, I made my way to the center of the room—the last place I wanted to be. I half expected the table to be full, but there was an empty chair next to Ford, and when I got close enough, I could see my name tag on the salad plate.

  He stood up when he saw me coming and drew out the chair.

  “You moved me,” I said as I lowered into it. “I shouldn’t be at this table.”

  “I need you,” he said, reseating himself. “The waters are teeming with Bob Mosses.”

  “The Bob Mosses are why we have this conference,” I reminded him. “It’s to inspire entrepreneurs, and he’s an entrepreneur.”

  “He is a hack,” Ford said, leaning in so that his voice only reached my ears. “His ideas are either recycled or garbage. And besides—I want you here.”

  “You and I could eat together anytime,” I whispered back. “People are going to be upset if they don’t get time with you.”

  “But we don’t.”

  I thought back over the last two months. It was true. We hadn’t shared so much as a cup of coffee together. Not really. Occasionally I’d bring him a cup when we were meeting about something, but that was work. “We will.”

  “We are,” he said, pulling back. “This weekend, I want you with me. As much as possible.”