His Secretary's Little Secret

by Catherine Mann

  Rose’s bright eyes lit up when she noticed Easton. She bounced in her sunset-yellow smock dress, blond curls catching in the light summer breeze, twisting over the green wreath crown in her hair.

  Rose looked over at her uncle and blew a kiss. Easton caught it in the air and pressed it into his heart. And in that moment he knew he would continue the ritual with his own daughter one day. Because yes, while he couldn’t explain why, he knew without question that his and Portia’s child was a girl.

  A daughter. A son would be great, too. But he already could envision his and Portia’s little girl in his heart’s eye. And she was incredible.

  The pianist and jazz singer faded, their set coming to an end. Elle Viento, a famous singer-songwriter, was up next. The brothers had flown her in from her vacation house in Destin, Florida, to sing.

  Her guitar and soft vocals rippled through the crowd, giving the guests a small pause. Even Harvey Fink the movie star stopped to watch Elle play.

  The gorgeous night needed to stay this way. Just a bit longer. Just until Easton could make his way to Portia.

  Don interrupted Easton’s thoughts. “I’ll bring you another drink, dear,” he told his wife, kissing her on the cheek before disappearing to the bar. Jessie looked like a schoolgirl, her eyes glowing.

  “So, Easton, how is Portia? Things settling between you two?” Jessie asked in her matter-of-fact way.

  He exchanged a glance with Maureen. “She’s fine. And we’re pregnant.”

  Easton wasn’t concerned with hiding that truth. He loved Portia, and didn’t care who knew what anymore. All that mattered was proving himself to her.

  Jessie’s hand went to her chest, eyes wide. “Pregnant?” Her tone questioning, prying.

  Maureen nodded, saving Easton from answering every single nosy question. “Yes and she is doing well. Glowing and excited.”

  But Easton wasn’t going to let Jessie think he needed shielding from the invasive questions. He was more than ready to declare himself.

  “And I have every intention of romancing her for a very, very long time. I love that woman.” Every fiber of his being sung that revelation.

  Maureen’s grin spread like wildfire to Xander and Jessie. She playfully shoved his arm. “Now, there’s the magic word. Go get her, Doctor.”

  Easton winked, setting out to find Portia. He strode over to her, resting a hand on the cocktail table.

  Marshall welcomed Easton with a big, toothy grin. The young man’s square features contrasting with Portia’s slender, angled ones. The sibling resemblance came in their slender height and inquisitive brown eyes. Easton had learned to size people up quickly after all the moving around he’d done in his childhood, and Marshall was a good kid, really bright. Easton understood why Portia sacrificed so much for him.

  Easton cupped Marshall’s shoulder.

  “Do you mind if I steal your sister for a while?”

  Marshall smiled, but pinned Easton with a serious look far beyond his years. “As long as you take good care of her.”

  “I promise, on my honor.” He thrust out his hand for the young man to shake. He hoped Marshall would soon be his brother if all went according to plan.

  Marshall nodded, his dirty blond hair flopping on his forehead. He turned his attention to a young soap opera star in a bright green dress with a vee neck open to her navel.

  Laughing, Easton turned away, focusing his full attention on the only woman at this event who mattered to him. Portia. He ducked his head to whisper in her ear. “I think it’s time we talk.”

  “Right now?” She glanced up at him, her eyes scanning his as if she were looking for something.

  “We’ve put it off long enough, don’t you think?” He touched her elbow. “Come on, I have something in the barn I would really like you to see.”

  She chewed her glossy bottom lip for an instant before nodding. “Yes, of course. I’d thought perhaps we should talk after the property cleanup and celebration, but there’s no need delaying.”

  He took her hand in his, leading them beneath the twinkling paper lanterns toward the barn. The rustle of music and cocktail conversation faded the closer they got to the newly rebuilt structure, repainted teal just like the old one.

  Easton placed his hands over Portia’s eyes. “No peeking,” he teased, nudging the door open with his foot.

  They crossed the threshold, lights activated by their movement.

  “And now.” He took his hands back, letting her see the barn.

  Framed pieces of her salvaged art work decorated the barn. Some paintings hung from the rafters and were surrounded with shimmery lights. Billowing flower stalks in sunset-colored pots lined the barn, leading toward a stall at the end of the row.

  Ginger Snap poked her head out, ears moving. Portia stepped forward, eyes going from piece to piece and then to the fawn Cinnamon who stood tall beside her mother on spindly legs.

  Atop a pile of fresh hay, Easton had laid a brilliant white-and-gold quilt at the far end of the barn. Then he’d covered the blanket with a tray of bright, tropical fruit and crackers. Two champagne glasses flanked an ornate bottle of sparkling water.

  Easels lined the path to the blanket. He took her hand, led her to the picnic.

  Bright pink calligraphy scrawled across the first canvas: You’re Beautiful.

  She moved on to the second, a smile lighting her eyes as brightly as the strands of twinkling bulbs illuminating the barn: You Drive Me Crazy—And I Like it.

  At the next canvas, her fingers went to her lips, her gaze wide: Easton Loves Portia More Than Life.

  Her hand slid away from her mouth, her fingers trembling as she traced the two words on the final message: Marry me.

  Tears filled her eyes, one, then another sliding down her cheeks.

  “Hormones?” he asked.

  “So much more,” she answered. “Easton, you are...so charming. And so ridiculously handsome.”

  Delicate hands stroked his tuxedo lapel, moved to his face. His heart was barely contained in his chest as he looked at her, reading the supreme tug of emotions in her eyes.

  He needed that emotion to be love. His whole soul sang his love for her. If she left...he couldn’t even finish the thought. Her absence would devastate him.

  Easton dropped to one knee and pulled out a ring box from his back pocket. He popped it open, letting the lights bring the solitaire diamond to life.

  Portia’s hands went to her mouth, tears streaming down her face.

  “I love you. I never thought I would find a woman who would make me want to settle down and figure out how to really be in a relationship. But then I met you and everything changed. Portia, you are the kindest, most self-sacrificing person I’ve ever known. I want to spend the rest of my life deserving you. Will you marry me?”

  She clasped her hands to her chest. “Yes. Yes. Yes, Easton.”

  Relief swept away the buzz of nervousness he’d refused to acknowledge until that moment.

  He stood up sweeping her into a hug, kissing her deeply.

  “I love you so much, too.” She said as he slipped the ring onto her finger. A perfect fit—as they were for each other.

  “No worries about me being Peter Pan and Tarzan combined?” he half joked, unable to keep from worrying. He needed her to believe in him.

  “I’m thinking I may have prejudged you. You’re more like Dr. Dolittle and Louis Pasteur. A doctor, scientist, tenderhearted veterinarian and amazing man.”

  He pulled her into him, touching her cheek. “God, I do love you, Portia, and while you’ve mentioned my dating history, I’ve never said those words to any woman before. I mean it.”

  “I know you do. You’re a man of honor.” She pressed her hand to his cheek, the facets in her diamond engagement ring refracting all those
little lights into a prism around them.

  “So you know I mean every word of this. I love you, with everything that’s inside me. I wish I could explain why. I just know that I do—”

  She pressed her fingertips to his mouth. “You don’t have to explain. I get it.”

  “You do?”

  “I understand what it means to feel something completely irrational and yet very real. Because I’m in love with you, too. In my head I understand we complement each other, our strengths play well to each other. Yet that doesn’t matter because I’ve met other people who fit that criteria and they didn’t come close to moving me the way you do with just a look.”

  “A look?” He eye-stroked her, taking his time.

  “Yes, a look.” She sidled closer, her body pressed to his. “But I have a little secret for you.”

  “What would that be?”

  “A touch is even better,” she whispered in his ear.

  He prided himself on being an intelligent man, her very own Louis Pasteur, after all. Although a hint of Tarzan could come in handy every now and again.

  He swept an arm behind her knees and lifted her against his chest, sinking with her onto the thick quilt he’d placed there with just this hope in mind.

  The hope of celebrating their engagement, their future and their love.

  * * * * *

  Pick up the first book in the LOURDES BROTHERS OF KEY LARGO series from USA TODAY bestselling author Catherine Mann

  THE BOSS’S BABY ARRANGEMENT

  Available now!

  And be sure to pick up these other pregnancy and passion books from USA TODAY bestselling author Catherine Mann!

  HIS HEIR, HER HONOR

  FOR THE SAKE OF THEIR SON

  PREGNANT BY THE COWBOY CEO

  HIS PREGNANT PRINCESS BRIDE

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  Holiday Baby Scandal

  by Jules Bennett

  One

  With one hand clutching the forgotten cuff links and one hand firmly over her still-flat stomach, Laney pulled in a deep breath and willed courage to make an appearance.

  She was an O’Shea, damn it. She didn’t back down in the face of fear. Fear was nothing but a lie. A bold-faced lie capable of defeating most people. Laney wasn’t most people.

  She’d come this far, all she had to do was knock...and make a life-changing confession to a man she’d been in love with since she was old enough to notice boys. Forget the fact he’d been ten years older. Age meant about as much to her as fear did.

  Tears clogged her throat as emotions threatened to overwhelm her. Whatever his reaction, she owed him the truth. But if he rejected her, the pain would slice deep.

  Laney pushed aside the hurt, the fear and the nausea, and pounded on Ryker Barrett’s front door.

  No turning back now.

  Ryker had been part of her life since she was a child. He’d worked for her father, was best friends with her brothers. Her family had taken him in when his own had turned him away. He was mysterious, intriguing and frustrating.

  And for the past five weeks he’d been pretending nothing had happened. He gave no hint that he even recalled tearing her Chanel dress from her body before holding her against her hotel room wall and bringing her every desire to life.

  Nope. It was business as usual. When she’d had to feed him information via email or text for O’Shea’s auctions, he’d never given any indication that their one heated night had made an impact on his life whatsoever. Was he that emotionally detached?

  Well, he was about to sustain one hell of an impact. He may try to ignore her, but there was no way he could ignore the consequences of their night.

  The door swung open and the entire speech she’d rehearsed all morning vanished from her mind. Ryker stood before her wearing only a pair of running shorts, a tatted chest and glorious muscle tone.

  She’d never seen him this way. The man who traveled the globe in designer suits, the man who donned a leather jacket and worn jeans to blend in when necessary, had never presented himself in such a beautiful, natural manner. He should do this more often.

  Casual as you please, Ryker rested a forearm on the edge of the door and quirked a brow as if she’d disturbed him. Yeah, well, he deserved to be put out. She’d been fighting her feelings for him for years.

  Rage bubbled from within as she slapped his cuff links against his bare chest and pushed past him. In all the years she’d known him, Laney had never come to his house in Boston. When they met, it was always on neutral ground, usually at the O’Shea family home her brother Braden now lived in.

  As infuriating as Ryker could be, Laney was the first to admit that her family would crumble without him. He may be the “enforcer,” the guy who kept them protected and took the brunt of any backlash they ever faced, but he could easily cut ties and leave. This billionaire never threw his money around like most men she knew. Loyalty meant much more to Ryker than finances ever would...one of the many reasons she was drawn to him.

  The door closed at her back. Laney shut her eyes and tried to forget the intensity of their complicated relationship, tried to ignore the way her body instantly responded to this man. She was here for one reason. And the fact that he worked for her family, was practically part of her family, wasn’t making this confession any easier.

  “If you’re here regarding the painting in L.A. that you emailed me about last week, I’ve already—”

  Laney whirled. “I’m not here about work.”

  Crossing his arms over his broad chest, Ryker widened his stance and gave a brief nod. “I can’t believe it took you this long to come to me.”

  Laney’s heart kicked up. So he knew she would bring up that night, and he’d what? Been waiting on her? Jerk. Uncaring, unfeeling, stupid, sexy jerk. Why couldn’t he put a shirt on? She was trying to keep her anger going, but lust was creeping into the mix.

  “You could’ve come to me,” she threw back. “Or, I don’t know,
actually talked to me when we were exchanging work information.”

  The O’Sheas were a force all their own, known around the globe for their prestigious auction houses. Laney had ignored the whispered “mafia” or “mob” rumors her entire life. She knew full well what her family was, and she was a proud member. They remained on the right side of the law thanks to the connections her late father had made and the ones her brother Braden, who was now in charge, and her other brother Mac continued to work at.

  And Ryker Barrett, other than starring in her every fantasy for years, was the family’s right-hand man, security detail and any other job they needed him for. He did the dirty work and lay low, staying out of the limelight and behind the scenes.

  Laney waited for him to say something, anything, but he stood there staring at her, which only made her nerves worse. How could he have so much power over her? She was an O’Shea, for crying out loud, and he was just standing there.

  Standing there looking all half-naked, sexy and perfect.

  Focus, Laney.

  Ryker held up the cuff links. “Was this all?”

  Laney narrowed her eyes. “Am I interrupting something?”

  Or someone? It hadn’t even occurred to her that he may be entertaining. A sick feeling in the pit of her stomach grew, and she hated the spear of jealousy that ripped through her.

  “Yeah, my morning session with the punching bag.”

  Which explained those perfectly sculpted arms, shoulders and pecs, though Laney figured he used a punching bag as a means of releasing his emotions rather than to stay in shape. Ryker was the epitome of keeping to himself and never letting anyone get too close. So what did that say about that night they shared? Clearly he’d thrown all of his rules out the window because they’d been as close as two people could get.

  Nausea pushed its way to the front of the line, bypassing her worry, her fear. Laney closed her eyes, waiting to see if she needed to find the bathroom or take a seat and let the wave pass. Please, please, just pass. Of all times to appear vulnerable, this was not the one.