Jennifer Greene - Prince Charming's Child

It only took a second to catalog her features head to toe—but at least this once, he had a judiciously altruistic motive. His pulse could rev from zero to sixty with a single glance at her, and had from the day they met. On the surface, nothing looked particularly different. Her silky cream blouse and mannish green suit were pretty typical office attire. Not much figure. On a scale of one to ten, the legs got a ten-plus, but the rest of the package maxed out at three. No boobs. No hips. She was built long on angles and short on curves...but the way she moved those angles had inspired his hormones to great feats of imagination from the beginning—and would now, if the look on her face wasn’t worrying him.

Her face had always been the killer. It started with a frame of vibrant auburn hair, chopped off at chin length with spiky bangs. He’d never seen it longer. About every four weeks, she zealously hit a stylist to ruthlessly tame the mop into a nice, sedate, businesswoman’s haircut. Waste of money, Mitch thought personally. Maybe you could beat the wicked out of a sinner, but nobody was gonna tame that thick, curly hair. It bounced around an oval face with all kinds of interesting lines. Sharp little nose. Chin with character. A slash of delicate cheekbones. A too-wide mouth that showed off gorgeous white teeth when she laughed, and could prim up into a straight line when she was serious—which was way too much of the time, as far as Mitch was concerned. But either way, the shape of those soft lips was always going to make a man wonder how she kissed.

Normally when he looked at her face, the way she moved, he saw sass. Spirit. Don’t-mess-with-me-buster character. Maybe she was a five-foot-five-inch welterweight, but he’d bet on her over a bruiser in a dark alley any day. She was a dirty infighter, something he’d always admired in a woman. Her loyalty to the staff was legend. She always stepped in front of staff if there was an aggravating client or a touchy problem, always taking the heat, charging in whenever she smelled trouble. Sometimes too much so. When Nik was on a full-speed charge, she had a tough time backing down. She’d probably take on Goliath—and God knew, lose—but Mitch didn’t doubt Goliath would suffer mightily first. Not from a punch. The blue silk walls in her office were a measure of her pure-female methods. She fought strictly girl fashion, almost never swore, rarely raised her voice—but if a guy crossed her, she went straight for the balls.

As far as Mitch had ever seen, she feared nothing. Which had always concerned and fascinated him both—he didn’t know her background, because she didn’t talk. Not to staff. Not about personal things. But she had to learn to fight that way somewhere. She had guts, will, strength.

But dammit, not today. She was shook up about something. The only real splash of color in that face were her eyes. They were blue-gray, almond shape, too big for that small face. Normal women tattletaled every emotion they were feeling in their eyes. Not her. Her expression just went flat when she was blocking something, and she was good at blocking any damn thing she wanted to. That those eyes revealed panic and vulnerability at the moment made Mitch inclined to call 911 and not waste time hearing the explanation.

“You said you wanted to talk about something,” she prompted him again.

“Yeah, but it’ll wait. Look, you’re real pale. You sure you’re okay? Did something happen this afternoon?”

“Yes. No. I...oh, God.” She sank in the office chair behind her desk, and produced another light smile as if to reassure him—but that smile was as weak as watered-down scotch. “I’m fine. It’s not your problem, Mitch. This just probably isn’t a real good time to talk business, if it’s something that’ll wait until morning.”

He heard voices chattering from the outer office, drawers slamming, Wilma’s throaty laughter. The staff was leaving for the day. So could he. She was obviously asking to be left alone. Only she really looked like a puff of wind could keel her over—and if he left, there’d be nobody in the office to even know she was in trouble.

“I take it whatever happened was personal, not business.”

“Yes. Which is exactly what I meant—it’s not your worry.”

“And you were gone for a couple hours this afternoon.” Wheels start clicking in his head. “You had a doc or dentist appointment? Heard some upsetting health news? Or something in a different direction, like your place was vandalized, or something happened to someone in your family—?”

“Good grief. I didn’t meant to give you the impression there was anything so dire. I was gone for a doctor’s appointment, that’s all. I’m fine, I’m telling you—or will be by tomorrow. It’s just right at this minute, I admit I’m not at my best—”

He received the m.y.o.b. message loud and clear. But her hands were shaky, her voice warbly and that priceless skin was too damn ghostly white. His boss wasn’t always cool in a crisis, but he’d never seen her near shambles. “So what’d the doc say to upset you?”

“Mitch. This just isn’t an appropriate conversation. There is absolutely nothing that should worry you or any of the team. Or the business.”

“Screw the business. We talking tumor, heart, cancer—?”

“Holy spit. Nothing like that.” As if his rapid-fire questions had finally nagged her over the edge, she blurted out, “I’m pregnant.”

Pregnant.

He couldn’t be the first man who’d been stunned silent by that particular word, but these circumstances were a tad unusual. His heart quit beating altogether, then seemed to change its mind and start slamming nonstop at a racehorse pace. He wasn’t positive he could budge from that blue silk chair if there’d been a fire.

“Damnation, Landers. I never meant to tell you that.” Nicole never used his last name unless she was ticked off with him—which, come to think of it, happened a couple times a week. But not for something like this. She pushed a hand through her hair in a gesture of impatience. “Since I opened my big mouth, I’m afraid I’m stuck saying a little more. First, I’d appreciate your not saying anything to the rest of the staff. It isn’t a matter of keeping a secret. The pregnancy will be obvious before long. But I just found this out, and I’d like some time to think about what I’m going to do and how I’m going to tell other people before being put on the spot.”

“Don’t be silly. You tell me a confidence, I’d take it to the grave.” He wanted to say something more, but there seemed to be a lump in his throat about the size of Alaska. Not to mention that his heart was pounding so loud in his ears that he could barely think.

She pushed out of her chair again. Up down, up down, like a yo-yo. But he understood. When anxiety was chasing your tail, the inclination was to try and outrun it by staying in motion. She paced over to the window and stared down at the pounding surf below, then yanked the shades to block the view. “I’m afraid there’s a little more to this. In this day and age, there’s nothing that odd about a thirty-two-year-old woman choosing to have a baby without a husband in sight. I mean, a woman can choose the best time for her in terms of biology and health. There’s no stigma about being a single parent anymore. And If I could just sell that story to the staff, I don’t think anyone would blink twice. Unfortunately, there’s no possibility of my selling that fib. Because of the circumstances, the real truth is going to come out whether I want it to or not.”

“You’re saying there’s some complication...like you don’t want the baby?”

“Oh, I want the baby.” Instinctively she pressed a hand on her heart. “I didn’t plan for this right now, and for sure I haven’t had two seconds to make plans about how I’m going to cope. But the baby...I’ll find a way. Whatever I have to do. It wasn’t really finding out I was pregnant that threw me into shock. It was the shame.”