Yvonne Lindsay - Bedded By The Boss - The Boss's Demand / Something about the Boss... / Beguiling the Boss

“Of course, you must eat. Come with me.”

He held out his strong hand and reluctantly she took it. Heat coursed through her as his fingers closed around hers and his thickly muscled arm drew her gently to her feet. He gripped her hand, firm but gentle, as he led her across the cool stone.

As he guided her through the cavernous space of his house, emotions and sensations buzzed in her mind and body like a swarm of bees in a hive. There was massive relief that she’d finally let the proverbial cat out of the bag. She was grateful that he’d taken the news relatively calmly.

But not as calmly as she’d hoped. He wanted his child.

The situation paralleled that of her parents far too closely. She knew her mother had refused her father at first. She’d known he was a ladies’ man who didn’t love her. But he’d worn her down with his pleas that marriage to her child’s father was the “sensible thing” to do.

And in some ways it was sensible, at least initially. But in the long run it made for a bitter, hate-filled marriage that cast a pall of misery over their home life and her childhood.

She was fiercely attracted to Elan, but that was just one more reason to guard against him. No doubt he was aware of the power he had over her. To him she was just another of those lecherous women who couldn’t keep their eyes and hands off him.

He’d probably expected her to gleefully accept his proposal of marriage and rush into his arms, only to spend the rest of her life wrapped in a cocoon of regret as he grew to despise her more and more for each year he stayed in a marriage that sprang out of circumstance rather than love.

If Elan was anything like her father, he’d feel free to continue the lifestyle he’d pursued before marriage. He’d be out there under the desert moon, burning mesquite with another woman, while she stayed home taking care of the children.

Her heart squeezed at the thought of Elan with another woman. For all she knew, he did have a girlfriend, or a stable of them. She’d rather walk barefoot through the desert in the blazing midday heat than even catch a glimpse of him with someone else. Just one of the many reasons she’d prefer an oil rig on the open sea to a desk outside his office.

“The kitchen. Please, take a seat at the table. I’ll find something for you to eat.”

He released her hand and she breathed a sigh of relief as cool air replaced his warm grasp.

Commercial appliances gleamed amongst sheets of rare stone. The table she sat at was an extraordinary sliver of metal-flecked granite.

“Would you like some chicken salad?” Elan appeared relaxed and nonchalant as he moved about the large kitchen.

“That would be fine.”

He was acting as if nothing had happened. But wasn’t that what they did every day at the office? Elan went about the business at hand and she struggled to do her duties while her mind whirled with the torment of wanting to touch him.

And today was no different. The muscles of his powerful back flexed as he pulled open the heavy fridge door, causing an echoing ripple deep inside her. His jeans hugged and molded to the firm curves of his athletic backside and long, sturdy legs.

She drew in a silent breath and prayed to retain at least the appearance of dignity.

He stood in front of the fridge, examining the contents of the neatly stacked crocks inside. She couldn’t help but notice his hair was freshly cut, cropped close in back to reveal the thick muscles of his neck.

She started as he turned to her.

“You must be hungry now you’re eating for two.”

“Er, yes.” She was shocked that he could refer so casually to her pregnancy. She still struggled with the reality of it and had to remind herself constantly that she carried another being inside her. Apparently, Elan had no trouble accepting the idea.

He brought out two black ceramic containers and swung the heavy door closed with a denim-clad knee. His bare feet were silent on the stone tile as he moved toward her. Her heart skipped as his eyes met hers.

How could he take this so calmly? Did he really expect her to marry him?

She struggled to plaster a polite expression on her face while her body roiled with the usual mix of uncomfortable sensations that assailed her when Elan was in the room.

His broad hands moved with deft grace as he spooned two salads onto a large black stoneware platter. Even now she was haunted by the sensation of those hands on her, undressing her, roaming over her skin.

Get a grip . It was that kind of thinking that got her in this situation in the first place.

It wasn’t fair. They’d used a condom. But she’d discovered to her chagrin that condoms were only about 95 percent effective at preventing pregnancy. She’d fallen into the other five percent.

“My cook is a health nut so you can be sure these salads are packed with nutrients. But I can tell you already take excellent care of yourself.” His eyes dropped quickly to her body, then back up to meet hers. Their path left a smoking trail of heat that made her struggle to catch her breath.

She felt underdressed in her tight athletic clothes. She should accept the fact that she was a pregnant woman and start dressing differently. Clinging to her usual attire and habits was a form of denial she couldn’t seem to shake.

“I do try to eat healthily. But I haven’t gained as much weight as the doctor would like.” The confession slipped out as she reached for her fork. She worried that her tendency to deny was somehow depriving her baby.

Concern flashed across his face as his brows lowered. “How much are you supposed to gain?”

“She’d like me to have gained eight to ten pounds by now,” she mumbled as she dug her fork into Chinese chicken salad with a mouthwatering aroma of sesame oil. “Because I’m a little underweight.”

“And how much have you gained?”

She hesitated. “Only four pounds. But the doctor says the baby’s growing fine.” She forked the salad into her mouth and chastised herself for telling him.

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