McClellan Billionaires: The Complete Series

by North, Leslie

  Until she'd met Connor.

  After suffering through a morning-long PowerPoint on growth mindsets, her co-workers were openly yawning. Her only friend Anna had her sunglasses on and was periodically emitting a cute little snuffle as she snored next to Rosalie.

  Until a ripple of electricity had gone through the room. Sitting up, people whispered in excitement, bringing the energy from coma-inducing to heart-stopping. "What's happening?" Rosalie had whispered to Anna.

  "Connor is here," Anna replied. Like his name meant something.

  Rosalie would never forget when he’d walked into the room. More than his good looks—though his rumpled, untamed dark hair and lean, toned physique were definitely good—his energy drew everyone’s attention. Like sunflowers tracking the path of the sun across the sky, their eyes tracked him across the room.

  And when he’d looked at her?

  Rosalie swore he’d only seen her.

  It had been every teenaged crush times ten. When he looked at her, smiled, and asked her name, welcoming her on board, she’d sworn every moment in her life had led to this place, this moment—with her hand in his and his powerful gaze trained on hers.

  The force of his eye contact had knocked the breath from her lungs in a decidedly un-professional gasp.

  And then he'd let her hand go, moving to the next person.

  When she'd left the retreat, she thought she'd left him—and that pathetic, stupid crush—behind. After all, what kind of professional, career driven woman went all gooey-eyed whenever she saw her boss? Sure, he looked at you like you were the most interesting thing in the world, she told herself on the plane home. But it didn't mean anything.

  She'd tried believing that. Really. She'd resolved not to fall for a man who'd never notice her.

  Only her resolve had gone out the window the first time he’d asked her to pose as his girlfriend. She'd gone home that night feeling like she was walking on air.

  He'd gone back to New York, and weeks passed without her hearing from him.

  Not until he needed her to play that role again.

  And again.

  And again.

  After a year, Rosalie had begun wondering if she was one of those old posters that had frequented the mall in her childhood, the ones where you could only see the picture clearly when you focused your eyes just the right way. When Connor focused on her, she felt like he saw straight through to her heart. But when he focused elsewhere, she didn't even exist.

  Her fingers moved to her belly again. She could handle his fleeting attention. But not her child.

  "So?" Anna asked, once they'd made their escape. "Three things. You went home sick yesterday, you show up late today looking like you're trying to burn the building down with laser eyes, and you head right up to McClellan's office and shut the door behind you. What gives?"

  "Wait, how do you know I shut the door?"

  Anna grinned and drew an expansive circle in the air. "Don't make me reveal my sources."

  Rosalie rolled her eyes and laughed. "You followed me? Did you put your ear to the door and listen while you were up there?"

  "Hey, I have some dignity!" She pulled a face. "Not a lot, but some."

  Rosalie sighed. "More than me, I think." She sobered, and Anna's teasing laugh died away. "So, some stuff happened."

  "Obviously."

  "Serious stuff."

  "Go on."

  Rosalie hesitated before touching her belly. "Super serious, life-changing stuff."

  Anna followed her hand. Her eyes widened, her mouth falling open. "Holy shit, Rosie. Pregnant?"

  "Appears that way."

  "How far along?"

  "Six weeks." She nodded as Anna counted on her fingers. "Right. Whatever you're thinking, you're right."

  "Holy shit, McClellan's the dad?"

  Rosalie bit her lip as Anna whooped. "Hot damn, was he good? He looks like he'd be a total daddy in bed. Oh my god … " Anna's eyes glazed over.

  Rosalie snapped her fingers. "Hey. Come back. Not the point."

  "It's always the point." Anna nodded thoughtfully. "So you fucked your boss and got knocked up."

  "Don't try to sugarcoat it or anything."

  "I'm sorry, you know I'm bad at that. But is that why you went up there? To tell him?"

  "He already knew. He came by my place yesterday afternoon. Right after I peed on the stick." Rosalie patted her cheeks to confirm that they were flaming hot.

  "Oh god," Anna groaned in sympathy. "What did you do?"

  "We fought and then he rubbed my back while I puked."

  "You've had an eventful twenty-four hours."

  "But that's not even all of it." Rosalie rolled her shoulders back and stretched her neck from side to side. "I went up there to ask for Dean's job when he retires."

  Anna's eyes popped wide. "And?"

  "And he made a counter offer." She took a deep breath. "You know how I told you that sometimes we pretend to be a couple? At these client things?"

  "You told me to forget you ever told me that."

  "And did you?"

  "Not a chance." Anna grinned.

  Rosalie laughed. "Well, good, because now I need your advice. I told him I wanted a promotion. He said this Coney deal would be my ‘audition’ for the position."

  "Ugh, not necessary."

  "I know. Thank you. But, he said in return for considering me for regional outreach manager, I have to consider him for a position too."

  Anna froze. "And that position would be … "

  "My boyfriend."

  Anna's squeal pitched so high, it sent the crows aloft, cawing angrily.

  "Shush!" Rosalie clapped her hand over her friend's mouth, laughing. "I don't want anyone to know yet! Not until I have a plan!"

  "A plan?" Anna mumbled around Rosalie's fingers. "What's there to plan? A hot-as-hell rich dude asks to be your boyfriend. You say yes. How is this a question?"

  "But in exchange for a promotion? Isn't that … I don't know … icky?"

  "You were going to get that promotion, no matter what." Anna encouraged her. "You're the only one qualified; everyone knows."

  "They do?" Rosalie wished she didn't so badly need to hear that.

  "So think of this as the hot-as-hell, rich dude icing on an already delicious cake." Anna's eyes went glassy again. "Is he the silent, intense type or a dirty talker? Please tell me he's a dirty talker."

  Rosalie's cheeks flamed as she remembered just how dirty his talk was. "I don't know if I can do this, Anna. It seems wrong."

  "So wrong." Anna nodded, her eyes twinkling. "And yet, so right." Another curl sprang free from her bun. She shoved it back with an impatient huff. "So you've got one full week to win the Coney contract and Connor's heart. Don't roll your eyes!" she chided as Rosalie did just that. "I say we need a plan."

  "Didn't I just say that?"

  Anna waved her off. "Hush. I'm thinking." She dramatically stared off into the distance before grabbing Rosalie's arm. "Okay, pretty mama, I've got it. We're gonna get you the job and get you your man all at the same time. You ready?"

  "No?" Rosalie protested weakly. But Anna was already dragging her to her car.

  * * *

  As she counted the appetizers the catering company had arranged on rustic tree-trunk trays, Rosalie chuckled to herself. Anna had chattered non-stop all afternoon, detailing her plan as the two of them drove from florist to caterers to car company in preparation for the night's event with the Coney’s.

  Only now, as she double-checked the deliveries in the small living area of the upscale chalet they'd rented, Rosalie could barely remember any of Anna's intricate plotting. She only remembered Anna’s serious face as she’d gripped Rosalie's shoulder. "This is yours," her friend had bellowed. "Now take it."

  Hell yeah, Anna, Rosalie mouthed. She would take what was hers.

  First, however, she'd take one of those artisanal fig appetizers before it slid off the tray, throwing off the whole presentation. What else was
there to do?

  She popped the appetizer into her mouth and moaned in appreciation—

  Right as Connor walked into the room.

  "Caught you," he chided with a smile.

  Rosalie chewed and swallowed. "Caught me with what?" She smiled innocently.

  His dark eyes flicked to the tray. "It looks good. You can barely tell one is missing." Reaching over, he grabbed a fig from the middle with an impish grin. "Now you can!"

  "Hey!" She smacked his arm as he laughed and chewed. "Now the balance is all off."

  "I'll blame it on you," Connor teased. "After all, you usually do such a good job on presentation." His tongue flicked out to catch a lingering trace of fig.

  Rosalie forced herself to drag her eyes away from his lips. They had nothing to do with the plan—only, what was the plan again? She remembered telling Anna how soft his lips were when they'd kissed ….

  She squared her shoulders. "You'd better not be deliberately sabotaging my audition, Connor McClellan."

  The glint left his eyes. "Not at all, Rosalie." He took in the set-up over which she'd agonized, arranging cocktails under the window, with a view of the mountains, and designing trays of cold appetizers in an artful buffet to keep the crowd flowing and the conversation moving. An array of hot dishes stood at the ready for the guests’ arrival. All with discreet staff trained to be invisible until needed.

  "You did a hell of a job." He lifted two fluted glasses, extending one to her. "Cheers."

  Rosalie eyed the bubbling liquid. "Connor, uh—"

  "It's ginger ale. With extra ginger." His eyes flicked down to her stomach. "Ginger is supposed to help with nausea."

  "How do you know that?"

  He looked her in the eye. "I spent some time on a new parent message board today." He shook his head. "I'm going to have to learn a whole other language. L.O. and tummy time and D.H.? Why can't they just speak English?"

  "I have no idea," she said faintly.

  "Are you okay? You look a little woozy."

  Rosalie shook her head. She was dizzy. But not for the reason he’d thought. Connor frowning as he waded through new mommy chatrooms, searching for a cure for her nausea was—well, it was distracting, to say the least.

  He held up his glass and they clinked in a quiet toast. "That is ginger-y." Rosalie laughed.

  "You're turning red."

  "It's spicy!" She held out the glass. "My tongue is burning!"

  "You're being dramatic." After taking a giant gulp, he started coughing.

  Rosalie laughed as he turned beet red. "See? I'm not a wuss and you know it."

  "My mouth is on fire," he wheezed, making her laugh harder.

  "Poor baby."

  When his eyes met hers, they were dark with promise. "Kiss it all better?"

  Rosalie ran her tongue along her bottom lip, hoping like hell he wouldn't see how tempted she was. "It's good to have, though." She deliberately ignored his flirting. "Something to have on hand to warm me up when you're all having cocktails after skiing."

  Connor blinked, but to his credit, allowed her the subject change. "You ski?"

  She laughed but grew serious when she saw his frown. "Wait, you don't know? I grew up here, Connor. My parents put me on skis before I could walk. I've got medals."

  "For skiing?" He looked like he was seeing her for the first time. "How come I didn't know this?" He waved his hand when she opened her mouth to lay in to him. "Fine, fine, I know. I'm the worst. But the auditioning boyfriend wants to know how soon we can fix the fact that we've never skied together."

  He looked so adorably ruffled, Rosalie let go of her irritation. "Now it's my turn to ask. You ski?"

  He waved his hand. "More surface area to lessen friction plus gravity. How hard can it be?"

  She burst out laughing, ready to challenge him to a downhill race, before clamping her mouth shut.

  At her change in her expression, Connor turned. "Ed Coney!" He strode across the room with his hand extended. "So good to see you again!"

  The sudden shift in his attention left Rosalie feeling like she'd suffered whiplash. She shivered, as if the sun had gone behind a cloud, despite the room’s ambient temperature, before putting a smile on her face and joining Connor.

  Ed was exactly as she remembered, all booming laughs and his gleaming bald head reflecting light like a mirror. She'd once checked her teeth for spinach on his forehead.

  But Mrs. Coney was not at all who she remembered. Mainly because she was a new Mrs. Coney.

  "Welcome!" She extended her hand to the elfin woman. Mrs. Coney—version 2.0—was the precise opposite of the Amazonian blonde from the last year. Small and delicate, with almond eyes, this woman eagerly smiled as she shook Rosalie's hand. "I'm so glad to meet you."

  "Yes, yes, this is my Dora." Ed crushed his wife to his side, making her squeak with laughter. "My better half. Worth two of me but only takes up a third of the room." He grinned, waiting for a reaction to a joke he'd clearly been making since first meeting his wife.

  Connor glanced at Rosalie as if searching for the right reaction.

  She decided on laughter. He joined her. "Anyone who can handle Ed here is worth her weight in gold." Connor shook Dora's hand. Rosalie smiled, pleased he was remembering to chat with Ed's wife this time. That had been their downfall the last time they'd met.

  "But look at this! You're just in time for the food!" Connor swept his hand towards the dining area, where two staff members had appeared bearing trays of hot appetizers. One lifted the cover with a flourish.

  Rosalie involuntarily clapped her hand over her mouth to hide her sudden urge to vomit. Looking around wildly, she hoped no one had noticed her distress at the smell of the shrimp assaulting her nostrils.

  Only Dora was equally distressed. "Ed!" she whimpered.

  The venture capitalist took one look at his wife before springing into action. "Can we skip the seafood?" He patted Dora's flat abdomen with a look of pure love. "Our little bun in the oven is really beating up its mama."

  Dora moaned.

  Connor blinked, his gaze bouncing helplessly between the two gagging women before he snapped into action. "Of course." He waved at the staff to dismiss them and moved to the window. "Fresh air." When he cranked open the casement, pure mountain air spilled into the room. Dora yelped with relief.

  Rosalie held herself back. As much as she yearned to quell her queasiness and banish the stench of shellfish—and she loved shrimp!—from her nostrils, she stayed back, wavering.

  She and Dora were both pregnant, hence their reactions. Only Ed was clearly over the moon. What would Connor say? Did he expect her discretion? Would admitting the reason for her nausea embarrass him?

  As if he reading her thoughts, Connor met her eyes from across the room. Without breaking eye contact, he touched Dora's shoulder. "There, are you feeling better? I'm sorry about that; we should have known." He inclined his head. "My girlfriend is pregnant too."

  6

  He'd claimed her right in front of the guests.

  Now how would Rosalie react?

  Connor wished she'd move closer. Though watching her from across the room as his words hit her was almost as nice.

  A flush had crept across her face, spreading from her cheeks and down to her neck, spilling prettily across the top of her cleavage. Do her breasts look fuller already? Her lips parted in a perfect 'o' of shock before she caught herself and snapped them shut again.

  Her eyes darted away from his, looking around wildly before landing on the floor. The corner of her lip tilted upwards in the ghost of a pleased smile.

  Connor wanted to pump his fist in triumph. Oh yeah. I got you. You don't realize it yet, but I got you, Rosalie.

  From the look of pride on Ed Coney's face, Connor was getting to him as well. "Well!" the balding businessman crowed, clapping Connor on the back with the most enthusiasm he'd ever shown. "Congratu-freaking-lations my man! There's no better title than Daddy. Not President, not CEO, not nothing."
He grabbed Dora's slim hand and brought it to his lips. "I'm so grateful to this lady here lettin' me get another chance to hear a tiny little voice call me that."

  Connor coughed at the unexpected tightness in his throat. He glanced at Rosalie, who was watching with amusement. "Thanks."

  "Yes, congratulations." Rosalie stepped in, extending her arms, and Connor watched the two new mothers embrace.

  For once in his life, he wasn't calculating what this would mean for the deal. An excitement that had nothing to do with winning over Ed had taken root, and he eagerly watched Rosalie debate with Dora over nursery color schemes and the impossibility of picking a name this early. As they chatted, they drifted into the dining area, where a platter of hummus and pita had replaced the offending seafood.

  Ed tore a careful triangle from one of the pitas and pressed it into Dora's hand. "If you don't eat every fifteen minutes, you feel sick," he warned. A soft beeping emanated from his pocket. "And it's been fifteen."

  "You set an alarm to feed her?" Rosalie looked charmed.

  "Should I be doing that?" Connor asked Rosalie. "Is this something fathers are supposed to do? I have no clue. This is the closest I've come to a baby"—he flattened his palm over Rosalie's stomach—"since … well, since I was one. I'm never around children. Do they require alarms?" His heart beat in a staccato rhythm at finding himself the least knowledgeable in the room.

  "When you're Ed, they do. He has alarms for everything." Dora chuckled, gamely accepting the snack. "My vitamins, my snacks, my water intake."

  "Is it fair to say you're excited?" Rosalie asked Ed.

  Ed finished chewing with a thoughtful expression. "I have two already," he explained. "From my first marriage. They're older now, don't need me as much as they did when they were small. I'm excited to have a little person be my entire universe again." He met Connor's eyes.

  "I'm very family-oriented." The emphasis hung in the air.