One Night...with Her Boss

by Annie O'Neil

  “I’m sorry, Aidan. Will you excuse me?”

  “No time for a drink with a colleague?”

  It was unbearable to see the disappointment in his face. She felt it too. But she had to get out of there—and fast.

  “It’s not that. Sorry... I’m just not feeling very well.”

  “Anything I can do?” He reached toward her and she pulled away, tucking her laptop in front of her chest as if it would protect her heart from any more pain.

  Oh, blimey. She really wasn’t feeling well at all.

  “No, no. I’ll be all right. Sorry about the drink.”

  She winced as she said the words, but knew time wasn’t on her side. If she didn’t get to her room... Too late. Ali grabbed hold of the doorframe to the bar and, despite her best efforts, returned her lunch to the world.

  Talk about mortifying!

  “Ali! Are you all right?”

  “What do you think?” She didn’t have the wherewithal to pull her elbow away from Aidan’s supportive hold.

  “Don’t worry, madam. We’ll get it cleaned up for you.” The bartender had arrived with several cloths and handed her a dampened serviette. “Would you like me to call a doctor?”

  “I am a doctor.”

  “I am a doctor.” Aidan’s voice was stronger than hers.

  She glared at him, as if that would help take away the relief she felt that he was there by her side. But having him as her support system wasn’t her destiny.

  “I’d just like to go to my room, if that’s all right.”

  “I’ll walk you there.”

  “No.” She gritted her teeth together, then forced herself to offer Aidan a polite smile. They were in public, after all. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. My room is next to yours anyway, so it’s not like it’s out of my way.”

  “Would you like your drinks sent to your room? Rooms...?” the bartender asked, obviously unsure how to wrap up a situation of this nature.

  “No!” They each answered definitively.

  “Right you are, then. I’ll just call Housekeeping.” He turned away on his heel, obviously annoyed at their collective terseness.

  Aidan started to giggle first. Ali couldn’t help but join him. By the time they hit the elevator and its doors had firmly shut they were in the throes of a full-on belly laugh.

  It felt nice. To be laughing with Aidan. She chanced a glance up at him and saw he felt the same thing. It would’ve been so easy to step right back into his arms, feel the warmth of his chest. Nestle into that perfect little spot that made it so easy for him to rest his cheek on her head while she listened to his heartbeat.

  The elevator lurched to a halt, instantly reminding Ali of why they were headed to their rooms in the first place. Another wave of nausea was threatening to defeat her ability to retain control over her stomach. What on earth was going on? She hadn’t eaten anything suspect for lunch. It couldn’t be food poisoning.

  “Are you all right? You look awfully pale.”

  “I’ll be fine. I think a good lie-down is all I need.”

  Ali slipped her key into the door and pushed it open before turning to face Aidan. C’mon, girl, be nice. He’s trying to help.

  “Maybe this is the other team’s attempt to take us all out with food poisoning!”

  “Great hypothesis—except you’re the only one being sick.”

  “It’s a working theory. I’m willing to explore more options.”

  Aidan looked down at her with an expression that was anything but amused. “I’m right next door if you need anything.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  She tucked herself behind the door, making it clear she was going solo. He was too close. And, no matter how much she could do with an Aidan-shaped pillow in bed, right now she needed him elsewhere. Now.

  “Honestly.” She gave him what she hoped looked like a nonchalant smile. “I’ll be fine.”

  * * *

  Two hours later, “fine” was the last thing Ali felt. She’d forced herself to lie in bed after Aidan had left and had gone through a medical checklist as to what could have caused her to be sick so suddenly.

  One panicked trip to a nearby chemists later and feeling “fine” was something she knew would be unbelievably hard to come by.

  Excited, confused, terrified...

  Those she could do.

  She stared at the plastic stick in her hand again as if it might have been lying to her. Then she stared at the other one.

  Nope. Two stripes on each, and she hadn’t got a concussion.

  She was pregnant.

  And the only man who could be the father was one very thin wall away.

  CHAPTER NINE

  AIDAN STOOD IN the airport Arrivals hall, a stream of speeches already going through his head. None of them were particularly fair. His father hadn’t been the bad guy in his first marriage, and if he’d found happiness at long last the only thing Aidan should be feeling was happiness.

  His dad was an amazing guy. Social, laser-smart, professionally still at the fore of his game. He was a great catch. And yet he couldn’t help but think, Why him and not me?

  It wasn’t jealousy. It was pure frustration that his dad had managed to move beyond his unhappy past and he hadn’t. He just hadn’t reconciled a way to move forward after Mary had died.

  Ah! There he was. Richard Tate. Definitely a contender for the “silver-haired fox” category. He’d recognize that head of hair anywhere and—

  Oh, my word.

  Is that...?

  Did he...?

  Aidan didn’t know whether to be happy or mystified at the strangeness of humankind. It appeared, from the beaming faces of the happy couple, that his father had gone and married his divorce lawyer. How on earth...?

  “Hello, son!”

  “Hey, Dad. And it’s Marianne, isn’t it?”

  “Well, I’m not going to start making you call me ‘Mother,’ if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  Marianne gave him a warm smile and much to his amazement he felt himself returning it. He was genuinely happy for his father. After the tightness in his heart these past few days it was a relief to let the clamps loosen—if only just a bit.

  “I take it you approve?” His father gave him a knowing look.

  “Father! What on earth do you mean?” Aidan took charge of their luggage trolley and began guiding them toward the car park, a big grin playing on his lips. “I approve of all your wise decisions.”

  “Oh, don’t be coy with me, son.” He made an unsuccessful attempt to commandeer the luggage trolley and then opted to swing an arm over his wife’s shoulders instead. “I think you’ll be happy to know I have finally—after some rather extensive and heavily faulty experimentation—found ‘The One.’”

  Aidan had to work hard not to give him a dubious look.

  Marianne gave a happy laugh at her new husband’s declaration of love and smiled knowingly at Aidan. “At least you can be sure if it doesn’t work out I know how to really put the screws in when it comes to the divorce.”

  The couple began to absolutely crease themselves with laughter, as if she’d just said the funniest thing in the entire world. Divorce didn’t seem on the immediate horizon from the looks of things.

  Aidan shook his head and smiled. You could’ve knocked him over with a feather right now. What was it they said? There was nowt so queer as folk...

  Too bad life hadn’t been as generous to him and Ali. His lips settled into a straight line. They’d hardly exchanged a word since they’d left that away game, and he could hardly blame her.

  What was he doing, anyway? Keeping her at arm’s length for exactly what benefit? Closing down what had been a perfect fit? She was sma
rt, sexy as hell and she had no quarrel with standing up to him—there was definitely a bit of “like father, like son” in that department. Was he carving his own history into something he had predetermined it to be? An unhappy one?

  Aidan began to unload their luggage into the trunk of his car as Marianne and his father play-bickered over who would get the front seat. They looked happy. Genuinely happy. Which was exactly how he felt when he was with Ali. Excepting these past torturous seventy-two hours, when he’d most likely ruined any chance of getting back into her good books.

  He hoped she was all right. Leaving her on her own after she had been unwell at the hotel hadn’t sat right—but he was trying to respect her wishes. It was the least he could do after unceremoniously dumping her. Because that was what he’d done. Just like he’d done to every other woman he’d dated. Only this time it had been different. This time he hadn’t meant a single word. Seeing his father so happy, so content, was a glaring confirmation that he’d done the wrong thing when it came to Ali.

  And the chances of fixing it? Making things right with her?

  An image of her closing the door in his face flickered through his mind’s eye.

  Nil.

  She’d accepted the terms of their deal. And he didn’t blame her. She would think herself a fool to fly back into the arms of a man who played hot and cold. Unless he were to tell her that he loved her.

  The thought unsettled him. He didn’t do love. He did casual.

  This was all just sentiment, right? He was letting surprise at his father’s choice of bride soften his resolve. Sure, they were happy now—but that was how relationships were in the beginning. All giggly and fun in the first few months.

  Even as the words flowed through his mind they felt wrong. He’d known about Ali from the moment he’d laid eyes on her. Getting to know her had only cemented in stone what he hadn’t been brave enough to put into words then: he loved her. Heart and soul.

  He raked a hand through his hair and slammed the lid of the trunk down with a satisfying clang. He’d blown it with Ali and it was just as well. He’d just have to find a way to live with the consequences.

  “Son! You’ve got human beings in the car here!” His father stuck his head out the window. “What gives?”

  “Sorry, Dad... Marianne. Forgot about your old jangling bones!” he joked, not feeling the remotest bit cheery. “Just a bit distracted by work.” He slipped into the car and started the engine.

  “Anything we can do to help?” Marianne asked from the back seat.

  Apart from winning back the heart of the woman I love and proving true love can last? No. Not really.

  “How about you magically heal our flanker’s clavicle and pray for no more groin injuries?”

  Marianne made a youch face in the rearview mirror.

  “What about we take you out to dinner tonight after work, son? Then you won’t have to worry about cooking or anything.

  “Sounds good, Dad.”

  And for the first time in a very, very long time a night with his father and his new wife sounded like something he would genuinely look forward to.

  * * *

  Ali looked up from her desk at the sound of Aidan’s knock on her office doorframe. Her tummy did a flip as their eyes caught. Was it the baby or her who was reacting to seeing him? Surely the baby was too small? And it wasn’t as if she was unaware of the effect Aidan had on her.

  As if to press the point, her fingers began to tingle. So she sat on them. “How’d it go at the airport?”

  “Good! They’re sleeping off their jetlag and we’re meeting up for dinner later. But it went well! She’s really nice.”

  “You look surprised.”

  “It seems my father has gone and done something wise.”

  Aidan leaned against the doorframe, all lean-sexy-man-style. Oh, she really wished he wouldn’t do that. This was what he would do in the mornings when he brought her coffee. Stand in the doorframe and watch her for a moment, before coming into the room and giving her a long, slow kiss.

  Her hand snuck out from under her leg and began to trace her lips. She couldn’t help it. They were missing his touch. All of her was missing his touch.

  Didn’t he have work to do? As long as he was out of sight she’d have more time to think up the right combination of words to tell him he was going to be a father. He had a right to know. Then she’d tell him he didn’t have to worry. That she and the baby would be all right on their own.

  She blinked up at Aidan and realized he was looking at her expectantly. Was she meant to have said something?

  “Sorry—what was that?”

  “My father...”

  Aidan peered at her curiously. She guessed she hadn’t hidden the thoughts racing round her mind all that well.

  “He’s married quite a wonderful woman.”

  “That’s great!” Ali enthused, using every bit of strength she had to maintain a bright smile.

  Now what? Should she say, Give them my best, and while you’re at it you may as well let them know they’re going to be grandparents in about seven months’ time!

  “Yeah. You should meet her. You’d like her.”

  “Sure. Absolutely! That’d be great!”

  Lordy. She sounded like a wind-up fairy on a sugar high.

  “Um...” She pointed at the paperwork on her desk. “I’ve just got to go through these stats. Shall we catch up later?”

  “No problem.”

  Aidan gave her a sideways glance. One that told her in an instant that he knew something was up but wasn’t going to push it. For which she was grateful. She still needed time. Time to formulate a Big Picture plan before dropping her bombshell.

  Her little, tiny, baby-shaped bombshell.

  * * *

  Ali had to face facts. There were only so many cotton buds a person could fit into the plastic container she was twirling round and round, trying to divine a small spot for just one more teeny-tiny bud. Was that so much to ask? A bit more room to make things fit? Ditto cotton swabs, knee braces, ankle braces, crepe bandages, sock tape, grip enhancers and zinc oxide tapes. Her run bag was officially full to bursting.

  She sat back in her chair with a huff.

  She had to face facts. No amount of tidying was going to change the reality that she still hadn’t told Aidan she was pregnant with his baby. And that instead of feeling absolutely horrified she felt abuzz with a myriad of sensations.

  The sensation she felt most of all was happy. Really, truly, fire-burning-in-her-belly happy. Not a literal fire, of course, because that would hurt the baby, and already—just one attack of nausea and a few early nights in—she felt a fierce need to protect the microscopic little creature.

  By her estimation the baby would be eight weeks, one day and—she glanced up at the wall clock—thirteen or so hours old. Not that she’d been racking her brains trying to figure out the moment of conception or anything. There had been that “incident” with a condom on the first night they’d shared, so it looked as if she was living proof that nothing was foolproof.

  It wasn’t too strange that she’d missed the signs. She’d had a period after “The Great Airport Liaison,” so hadn’t thought twice about the protection malfunction.

  Ali stared at the tip of the cotton bud. Was this how big it was? The baby? A little four-and-a-half-millimeter being, busy developing a circulatory system, buds for arms and legs, all of its teeny-tiny internal organs taking shape.

  If she was eight weeks along it would already be forming itsy-bitsy ears, eyes, and a little-bitty upper lip. One that, when it was fully developed and she was holding their—her—baby in her arms, she would trace with her finger as if it was the most amazing thing in the world. Which it was, considering she was using all sorts of gooey baby talk in her head.


  She was a scientist, for heaven’s sake. Someone who always retained her cool.

  A memory of raking her nails down Aidan’s back as he teased first his fingers and then his—stop!

  Almost always retained her cool.

  When she hadn’t had her period last month she’d just written it off to a combination of adrenaline, a new level of fitness because she’d been working out so much and...well...honestly...? Who wanted a monthly visitor when you were having such a great time mattress-testing? Besides, her periods had never been regular.

  She’d been too busy sliding down rainbows and twirling round pots of gold, thinking how happy she was with her life up here. A dreamy little life, way up here on Cloud Nine. Until Aidan had yanked away the fluffy cloud and abruptly plonked her back down to planet earth.

  Jerk.

  Perfectly perfect jerk.

  How on earth was she going to tell him? It ate at her heart that he couldn’t see beyond his past, but that was the way their cookie crumbled. She’d certainly let her lack of a future in dance maul her soul for a while. She understood how disappointment could eat away at you.

  Apart from which, if the baby had been conceived on that night at the airport there really would have been every chance she’d never have seen him again. Two people put together by a heavy snowfall to make a baby. Her baby. If she thought of it that way—took away the Aidan she had fallen in love with—it was easier to bear. By a smidge.

  So... She drew in a deep breath. This was how it would be: Ali and her very own little baby, creating a brand-new family. The Lockhart Duo! Just like she and her mother had been. She’d never dreamed of being anything but on her own after her mother died—so this was good. Just different than what she’d planned.

  Ali leaned back in her chair, using her toes to push herself back and forth. She’d known for about five days and seventeen hours and she wasn’t sure the news had sunk in with her—let alone given her enough time to calmly tell Aidan he was going to be a father. Each time she’d opened her mouth to say something there had either been an interruption or she’d lost the courage.