Jacqueline Diamond - The Improperly Pregnant Princess

On the nineteenth floor, CeCe burst through double glass doors labeled Executive Vice President. Her secretary, Linzy Lamar, jumped up from the computer. A pleasant-looking divorcee´e in her thirties, she blended seamlessly into her role.

“Mr. O’Connell is waiting in your office,” she said. “Also, your mother stopped by.”

That was hardly big news, since Charlotte’s even larger office suite lay at the opposite end of the corridor. “Did she say why?”

“No, Miss Carradigne.” The secretary, although a reserved woman, talked fast because she’d learned that otherwise she’d never get to finish her spiel. “She said she’ll drop by again when she has time. I put the new traffic study on your desk.” That was a compilation of data by DeLacey executives regarding potential problem areas, including trade routes and competitors.

“Thank you,” CeCe said as she breezed past.

She flung open the broad, polished-wood door into her office. Even in February, light flooded the expansive room overlooking the harbor.

A large silhouette blocked one window. “I’ll get back to you,” Shane said into his cell phone, and clicked off. Frowning, he turned to face CeCe.

Time stopped. Even the adrenaline rushing through her arteries slammed to a halt as their gazes met.

The man’s fierce brown eyes pinned her with such force that CeCe could hardly breathe. In the two months since they’d seen each other, she’d forgotten the impact of Shane’s presence.

His husky build and broad shoulders made most other men look scrawny. Even more impressive was the masculine confidence that showed in every movement.

He tapped his watch. “You’re five minutes late. I have a busy schedule.”

She rejected the idea of blaming her tardiness on traffic. “I was unavoidably delayed,” she said, and clapped her briefcase onto her broad desk.

That was a mistake, because it forced out some air. Shane caught a whiff. “You stopped for lunch, I gather.”

“I didn’t stop. I ate on the run.” CeCe grabbed the hot dog wrappers and dumped them in a wastebasket.

“You’ll get indigestion.”

I’m going to have indigestion for about seven more months, so what the heck? No, she scolded herself, that was not the best way to break her earth-shattering news. “That’s my problem.”

Shane gave her a crooked grin, revealing a devastating dent in one cheek that sent heat flooding through CeCe’s body. Annoyed with herself, she unbuttoned her coat and tossed it onto a chair.

“If you don’t want to discuss your eating habits, let’s get down to work.” He set his laptop computer on her conference table and flipped it open. “To date, Wuhan Novelty has cobbled together a variety of carriers to transport toys down the Yangtze River, across the Pacific and on to warehouses and stores. Add the fact that they’ve also begun selling directly on-line, and you’ve got a complicated mess.”

“Which we can uncomplicate,” CeCe said.

“Absolutely.” Swiftly, he outlined his plan for combining DeLacey’s shipping capacity with his fleet of trucks and planes to provide door-to-door service to North America.

Sitting beside him at the conference table, CeCe felt the energy pulsing through Shane as he talked. If there were a bed in her office, she might be tempted to fall into it.

Hadn’t she learned anything?

“Your eyes are glazing over,” he said. “Am I boring you?”

“Not at all,” CeCe said. “It’s a brilliant plan.”

What she needed, she realized abruptly, was a brilliant plan of her own. Not to win the contract with Wuhan, but to introduce the subject of children.

“Do you have anything to add?” Shane asked.

“Toys!” she said.

“Excuse me?”

“They make toys.” It was the perfect lead-in.

“I’m aware of that,” he said.

As usual when CeCe’s mind was racing a mile a minute, an idea popped into it. “We’re going to do more than transport their product,” she said. “We’re going to give them free publicity and get some for ourselves.”

“How do you propose to do that?” From the glint in his eye and the way he leaned forward, it was clear she’d engaged Shane’s interest.

“As you know, if we get the contract, DeLacey will be buying a couple of new container ships,” CeCe said. “We’ll paint them—what are Wuhan’s corporate colors?”

“Yellow and red,” Shane said.

She should have known that, CeCe thought, hating to be caught short in even the smallest detail. “Great. Also, we’ll put their logo alongside ours and fly their flag right below ours. We’ll paint some of your planes and trucks, too. We want everybody to notice that DeLacey and O’Connell are bringing them toys.”

“Like Santa Claus,” he suggested.

“Yes!” The more she expanded on it, the more CeCe loved her idea. “We’ll design an ad campaign. Not just for trade publications, but TV commercials and billboards.”

“We don’t ship for the general public. We only serve corporate customers,” Shane pointed out.

“Corporations are run by people who have children,” CeCe said. “We’ll make them love us. When we pitch them our services, it’ll give us an edge over our competitors.”

“It could work,” Shane agreed. “Personality is one thing most freight companies lack.”

“Speaking of children,” CeCe said, and stopped, unable to figure out how to finish the sentence.

“Yes?” His face, close to hers, was manly. A strong jaw. An expressive mouth…

“Do you like them?” she asked.

“Do I like kids?” he echoed. “I’m not sure I follow your point.”

“You might…act as a spokesman. In the ads,” she improvised. “You could talk about how having children humanizes corporate executives. About how you can’t wait to have children yourself.”

“Me?” he said.

“Who better?” CeCe asked. “I mean, I’m a woman, so it wouldn’t make people sit up and pay attention if they heard me talking about children.” Unless they knew me, of course. “But if you said a few words about how much fatherhood meant—or might mean—to you, or was something you looked forward to…”

He leaned back, disconnecting. “Sorry, CeCe, but I’m not the type.”

“What type is that?” She hoped her sinking feelings didn’t show on her face.

“I’m not cut out to have kids.” Shane’s voice had a tight quality that hadn’t been there before. “I don’t have the time or the interest. I don’t even like them.”

“We’re talking theoretically,” CeCe said. “About how you might feel someday, not right now.”

“Children make me feel trapped,” he said. “My childhood was pretty miserable. Not that I use that as an excuse for anything. The whole family thing just doesn’t work for me.”

“That’s so—so—1980s of you!” she flared, hopping up because she couldn’t bear to sit next to this man for another instant. “You’ve heard of the ‘me generation’? We’re supposed to be past that! Men today march in picket lines for fathers’ rights. How’d you get stuck in the past?”

“Wait a minute.” Shane, too, got to his feet, apparently unwilling to have CeCe tower over him. In this position, his six-feet-one-inch frame would have dwarfed hers had she not been wearing three-inch heels. “We’re talking about an ad campaign, for heaven’s sake. Don’t take it personally.”

“It’s a great ad campaign!” CeCe could hear her tone rising. “Or it was until you loused it up!”

“I never claimed to be an actor.” He regarded her thoughtfully. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing! Everything! Isn’t it obvious?”

“I guess we should talk about what happened between us,” Shane said.