Little Secrets--His Pregnant Secretary

by Joanne Rock

  He’d been close to saying more about that night. She was sure of it.

  “I’m sorry.” Jager’s simple reply stole away her anger. She might not be able to read him all the time, but she recognized the remorse in his voice now, the obvious sincerity in his eyes. “I didn’t know.”

  Behind them, a young family emerged from the doctor’s office. The husband held the door for his wife as she pushed a toddler in a stroller. The woman’s pregnant belly filled the front of a floral maternity dress.

  Delia touched her own stomach, still flat. But she could see that ultrasound image so strongly in her mind. Would her child ever have a sibling? If she didn’t accept Jager’s offer of marriage—and she would not accept a business proposal—how soon would he move on with someone else?

  “Come on.” Jager wrapped an arm around her waist and guided her toward the convertible. “Let me apologize by taking you out for dinner.”

  “That’s not necessary,” she assured him, ready to retreat from the world. And the temptation he posed. “Thank you. But I’m tired.”

  Discouraged.

  She strode ahead toward his car, hearing his steady steps behind her even as he seemed to take the hint and respect her need for silence. She needed to be stronger and smarter tomorrow. To be a worthy advocate for her unborn baby and weigh her options moving forward. If she was indeed a high-risk pregnancy, what did that mean for her? For her father? Would she have to quit working? Would she and her father lose the family lands after all she’d done to try to protect it?

  The plot of Rickard acreage felt like one small offering she had to bring to her baby that was all hers, separate from the McNeill wealth. Perhaps because she had nothing of her mother’s, Delia felt the need to be able to give her child something tangible. Something beyond the love she would bear this baby.

  Opening the passenger-side door of the bright white vehicle, Jager helped her inside, passing her the seat belt buckle while she tucked her dress around her legs for the breezy ride with the top down. After he closed her door and came around and settled into the driver’s seat beside her, he paused before switching on the ignition.

  “Can I ask you something, or are we still not talking?” Jager rattled the car key lightly against the gearshift.

  “Not funny. But say what you need to.” Delia pressed deeper into the leather seat, tipping her neck back into the molded headrest.

  “What else were you hoping to learn from Pascal?” He lowered his voice even though there was no one else parked nearby. The family they’d seen earlier was packing into a minivan on the other side of the lot.

  She figured she might as well tell Jager the truth since they would be sharing parenting one day and this was very relevant. “It might sound juvenile, but my father has never once said he loved me.” She forced a shrug so the words didn’t come across as pathetic as they sounded. “I thought today might be the day.”

  In the moment of silence that followed, she appreciated Jager’s restraint. If his response had hinted at any form of pity, she wasn’t sure how she could have handled it on such an emotional afternoon.

  “Our fathers are very different from one another,” he observed finally. “Yours is stoic and undemonstrative even though he was with you throughout your childhood. Mine was fun and fully engaged when he was around, but for the vast majority of time, he was absent.” His hand slid over her forearm where it rested on the leather console between them. “I guarantee you I’m not going to be like that with our child. I will be a presence. And I’ll do whatever it takes to be a welcome one.”

  For a moment, she allowed herself to be comforted by the words. This man had been a good friend, after all, before she’d given in to her attraction to him. She could still admire his desire to be a better person.

  “We have nine months to figure out a way to be good parents.” She had no role model for motherhood, but if she could figure out how to manage and grow McNeill Meadows, which included the historic McNeill mansion and a successful farm-to-table community garden, she would learn about parenting too.

  “Less than eight, according to your due date.” Jager’s hand slid away from her forearm as he moved to start the car. “Since we have a limited amount of time and a lot to accomplish, I’m going to suggest we schedule a trip to New York as soon as possible.”

  “New York?” The warmth she’d been feeling for him chilled. “Didn’t we go over this in the doctor’s office? I’m not going to see a specialist or be stressed about a possible high-risk pregnancy until we have some concrete reason to be concerned.”

  “I completely understand.” He backed the car out of the spot. “But you’ve been adamant that I meet the rest of the McNeills and establish ties with my half brothers.” He shot her a sideways glance as he shifted into first, his hand grazing her knee through the thin cotton of her dress. “My relations are going to be our child’s relatives too. It makes sense that you visit New York with me and get acquainted with the extended McNeill family.”

  His words stunned her silent.

  Six weeks ago, she had lobbied hard for him to meet his grandfather, Malcolm McNeill. That didn’t mean she wanted to be introduced to one of the wealthiest men in the world as Jager’s baby mama.

  Holding up a trembling hand, she searched for an excuse, any excuse. “I have a lot of arrangements to make here. Things to do to get ready for the baby. And I can’t afford to quit my job—”

  “Delia.” He shook his head. “As the mother of a McNeill, you can afford to do as you please. We’ll close up the house in Martinique and spend some time in Manhattan getting to know the rest of the McNeills. If you thought it was a good idea for me to foster those relationships, you must think it’s a good idea for our child.”

  How neatly he’d turned that argument around to maneuver her now. She couldn’t think of an appropriate retort as Jager turned the vehicle back onto the westbound road toward Le François. As much as she wanted to retreat into her fairy-tale-painted cottage with her books and dreams, she knew her life would never be the same again. She needed to think like a mother.

  Jager slipped his hand over hers, threading their fingers together now that he’d reached a cruising speed and didn’t need to shift for a while.

  He continued to speak, undeterred by her surprised silence. “If it turns out you need the added care of a specialized facility, we’ll already be in New York. If not, you can dictate where you want to be when it comes time to give birth.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “You don’t want to be traveling anywhere near the due date.”

  His words sent a chill through her. Her mother had been out on a boat the night she’d delivered prematurely and had paid the ultimate price. Delia felt sure that she wasn’t going to be a high-risk pregnancy. But if she was thinking like a mother—putting her child first—she conceded that Jager had a point.

  Accepting his help was in the best interest of their child.

  She took a deep breath and let the wind whip through her hair as she tipped her head up to the blue sky. “When do we leave?”

  Eight

  Stepping off his grandfather’s private jet onto the snowy tarmac of Teterboro Airport outside New York City eight days later, Jager wondered if he’d made a deal with the devil to coax Delia out of Martinique.

  Jager hadn’t wanted any of the McNeill red carpet treatment, and would have damned well preferred making his own travel arrangements, but wily old Malcolm had pulled strings to ensure the trip was exceptionally easy. With his connections, Malcolm had found a way to fast-track Delia as a trusted traveler, a designation Jager already had for himself. That streamlined their arrival process so efficiently that they didn’t even need to clear customs in the airport. The minute they got off the plane and went into the terminal, the limo driver was already visible with his white sign bearing the family name.

 
Jager hadn’t been able to refuse his grandfather’s help when it made things easier for Delia. No matter what her doctor said about her pregnancy being normal, he would continue to worry about her health and the health of their baby until they found out more about her mother’s medical history. So far, Dr. Ruiz hadn’t had any more luck unearthing facts about Celine’s first pregnancy than Jager had, but the Martinique physician anticipated speaking to one of Celine’s former doctors this week.

  “What about our luggage?” Delia asked, shivering slightly as she peered back over her shoulder to stare up at the sleek Cessna, where the two crew members lingered.

  Jager tugged her red plaid scarf up higher. He’d bought her warm clothes for the trip, including the long blue wool coat she wore belted tight. At seven weeks pregnant, she looked thinner to him, even in the coat. She insisted she hadn’t experienced any morning sickness, but he’d checked it out online to make sure that was normal.

  “The driver will make sure they’re loaded in the car,” Jager assured her, grateful for the cold so he had an excuse to wrap an arm around her and pull her to his side.

  The past few days had been busy with preparations to spend Christmas in New York, and he’d tried to give her room to breathe. But he missed her now even more than he had after they’d spent those six weeks apart when he’d been searching Europe for Damon. Seeing her every day, knowing she was carrying his child, only made him want her more. He hoped spending the holidays together would bring them closer.

  “Do you always travel like this?” She ducked her head toward his chest, her silky blond hair brushing the lapel of his gray overcoat that hadn’t been out of his closet in two years.

  “Definitely not.” He’d traveled around the world on his own dime—an experience he’d been fortunate to afford—but never with an army of personal staff members. “The added luxury is courtesy of my grandfather.”

  Did Malcolm think he could bribe him to come into the family fold? Pay him off to accept his father back into his life?

  Not happening.

  “I know you’re only having this meeting with him for our child’s sake.” She matched her pace to his while the driver hurried over to greet them and send two skycaps out to take their bags.

  “And for yours.” Jager couldn’t help but point that out since he was doing everything in his power to convince Delia he would make a good partner. A good husband. “I wouldn’t be in New York right now if it wasn’t for you.” It was something Delia had really encouraged since she wanted their child to have a bigger family than she’d known growing up.

  They walked quickly through the terminal. Christmas trees decorated the crowded lobby, filling the soaring space with the scent of pine. With just a few days left until Christmas, Jager needed to move up his timetable to convince Delia to marry him. Ideally, he’d have a Christmas Eve proposal—one that she’d accept—and a New Year’s wedding. Once that was settled, he’d be able to turn his attention back to the sale of Transparent and finding Damon, both of which needed to happen before he could have any kind of meaningful conversation with Malcolm McNeill about their position within the family. Jager couldn’t make those decisions without Damon’s input. But for now, he could at least meet his grandfather.

  “I hope one day you’ll be glad you made this concession to come here.” Her cheeks were flushed from the cold as they stepped back outside again toward the waiting Mercedes sedan.

  The driver, Paolo, directed the loading of their bags while Jager helped Delia into the passenger area in back. Her high-heeled black boots were visible beneath the hem of her coat, the soft suede molded to slim calves. For nearly two weeks, he’d been attuned to small details like that, from the way she tipped her head back when she laughed, to the delicate habit she had of brushing her fingers over her flat belly when she thought no one noticed. As if reassuring herself there was life inside her.

  He looked forward to the day she was cleared for intimacy by her doctor, and to the day she trusted him enough to welcome him back into her bed, so he too could lay his palm on the soft expanse of skin between her hips.

  Once she was safely inside the vehicle, Jager took Paolo aside.

  “We’re staying at The Plaza,” he informed him. “That’s our first stop.”

  The tall, athletically built driver looked like he could serve double duty as private security on the side with his dark coat and sunglasses. “But Mr. McNeill said to bring you directly to the house.”

  “Miss Rickard has had a long journey.” Jager moved closer to the vehicle. “I’ll call my grandfather to explain personally.”

  The driver’s bronzed forehead furrowed, but he nodded. “As you wish.”

  They had been invited to stay at the McNeill home, a private fourteen-thousand-square-foot townhouse on the Upper East Side. It was a historic piece of local architecture that Jager would normally look forward to seeing, but he had no intention of taking up residence under the family roof. He had tried explaining that to Cameron without much luck. Jager had yet to converse with Malcolm directly.

  Inside the limousine, he realized Delia was listening intently to her cell phone.

  “Dr. Ruiz?” she said into the mouthpiece as her eyes lifted to meet Jager’s gaze. “I’m going to put you on speakerphone. Could you repeat that last part for Jager’s sake?”

  The obstetrician must have news. About Delia’s health? Or about the mystery of Celine’s medical history?

  “Yes. Hello.” The lightly accented voice of the doctor came through the phone. The sound quality was tinny and diminished, but Jager was so glad to hear from her. “Mr. McNeill, I was just explaining to Delia that her mother suffered from lupus. She didn’t see a doctor regularly for the condition, and was unaware of the disease with her first pregnancy.”

  Jager sat knee to knee with Delia in the wide leather seat. At some point, he’d taken her hand, and he squeezed it now. A smile kicked up one side of her mouth, reminding him that it had been too long since he’d seen her happy. They’d both been so worried about this.

  “What about Delia? Could she have the condition and be unaware?” His heart lodged in his throat.

  “No.” Dr. Ruiz sounded certain. “We did a complete blood workup when she was here and I had enough to run additional tests once we received the news about her mother. The test for lupus is one of the most sensitive diagnostic indicators for the disease, clearing Delia with 98% certainty. And since she has virtually no other symptoms—”

  Relief coursed through him with a whoosh in his ears that drowned out whatever else the obstetrician had to say. He’d been concerned for Delia’s health, and for their child’s, but he hadn’t fully understood how truly scared he was until that moment. His chest constricted. He wrapped his arms around Delia and held her tight. To hell with giving her space.

  Inhaling the warm vanilla fragrance of her hair, he smoothed his cheek along the silky strands. Even through the layers of their coats, he could feel the gentle swell of her curves. He traced circles on her back with one hand, soothing himself even as he offered her comfort. Connection.

  “Mr. McNeill?” Dr. Ruiz’s tinny voice echoed in the limo. “If you have any other questions for me—”

  “Just one,” he answered, turning his head to be better heard since he wasn’t ready to release Delia yet. “I want to be sure I understand. You’re saying that Delia is healthy enough for all normal activity?”

  Delia turned her face up and peered into his eyes. Her gaze was quizzical for only a moment. And then she must have read his mind, because her cheeks colored with a heat he remembered well. It occurred to him how much he enjoyed her pale complexion that betrayed her so easily.

  “Absolutely.” Dr. Ruiz’s smile was evident in the tone of her voice. “Congratulations to you both. You have all the signs of a healthy pregnancy.”

  Delia’s forehea
d tipped onto his shoulder, but she didn’t move away from him as Jager thanked the doctor for the good news and disconnected the call.

  As the Mercedes sped south on I-95, Jager stroked Delia’s hair, the strands clinging from static. When she lifted her face to look at him, her hazel eyes were greener than usual—bright with a mix of emotions he couldn’t read.

  “Looks like Manhattan is good luck for us.” He couldn’t help the heated edge in his voice as he unfastened the belt on her bright blue coat and slid a hand over her waist.

  Her long gray sweater dress skimmed her subtle curves. If they weren’t riding in a car, he would have slid a hand under her knees and tugged her onto his lap.

  “Because I’m healthy enough to carry a baby to term, or because I just had the green light for intimacy?” She arched an eyebrow at him, but the rapid tattoo of her pulse at her neck gave away how much the idea intrigued her too.

  “My concern is for you and our baby. You know that.” He had battled bad dreams for the last week and a half. Every time Delia was in a boat out to sea where he couldn’t reach her. Each time, he’d awoken sweating and tangled in his sheets. “But I won’t deny that I’ve thought about being with you again.”

  She tensed beneath his touch as the limo jockeyed for position on the way into the Lincoln Tunnel. The last rays of afternoon sun disappeared when they descended. Shadows played over her face between flashes of the tunnel’s fluorescent lighting.

  “I’ve thought about being with you too.” She didn’t sound happy about it, and he noticed how she was nervously twisting a button on his coat cuff with her fingers. “But I can’t afford to lose perspective where you’re concerned. Not when our relationship is already so convoluted and I can’t trust my judgment with men.”

  He hated that her ex had made her doubt herself so much. Jager willed himself to find the right words that would make her see his point of view.