Yvonne Lindsay - Expecting the CEO's Child

“I’m sure you would,” Jenna answered as quellingly as she could. “But Millie is available to help you with your inquiry. I am not.”

Her heart rate skipped up a beat as a hint of annoyance dulled his eyes.

“Scared, Jenna?”

His low tones were laced with challenge. Jenna stiffened her spine.

“Not at all, just very busy.”

“Not too busy, I’m sure, to catch up with an old friend.”

Hot color stained her cheeks. They weren’t anything near approaching friends. She barely knew him any better now than she had the day they’d met—the day they were so drawn to one another that flirtation had turned to touching, and touching had turned to impassioned, frenzied lovemaking in the nearest available private space.

A butterfly whisper of movement rippled across her lower belly, shocking her into gasping aloud. Of course—the moment she’d been awaiting for weeks, her baby’s first perceptible motion, would have to happen with its father standing right here in front of her.

Dylan’s fingers tightened on her wrist. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said hurriedly. “Just very busy.”

“Then I’ll only take a few minutes of your time.” He gave her a searching look. “Your office?”

Her body wilted in defeat. “Through here.”

He released her wrist and she felt the cool air of the showroom swirl around her sensitized skin, as if her body instantly mourned the loss of contact, his touch. She found herself rubbing at the spot where he’d held her, as if she could somehow rub away the invisible imprint he’d left upon her.

Stop being ridiculous, she growled silently. He was nothing to you before, aside from an out of character dalliance, and he’s nothing to you now. Logically she knew she couldn’t avoid him forever. Despite the fact he was based in L.A., with the new restaurant opening here in town they were bound to cross paths again sometime. It might as well be now.

The tiny fluttering sensation rippled through her belly again, reminding her that there was a great deal more to consider than just her own feelings about seeing Dylan Lassiter. Thankfully, he hadn’t noticed that her petite frame carried a new softness about it now. That her figure, rather than being taut and flat, was gently rounded as the baby’s presence had suddenly become more visible at thirteen weeks.

She hadn’t shared news of her pregnancy with anyone yet, and had no plans to start right now. Instead, she’d sought to hide it by changing from her usual style of figure-hugging attire to longer, more flowing lines.

As they entered the tiny office she used for administration, she gestured to the chair opposite her desk and sank, gratefully, into her own on the other side. Instead of taking the seat offered to him, Dylan sat on the edge of her desk. She couldn’t help but notice the way the fine wool of his trousers skimmed his long powerful thighs, or how the fabric now stretched across his groin.

Her mouth suddenly felt parched and she turned to reach for the water jug and glasses that she kept on a credenza behind her desk.

“Water?” she offered with a croak.

“No, I’m fine, thank you.”

She hastily splashed a measure of clear liquid into a glass for herself and lifted it to her lips, relishing the cooling and hydrating sensation as the drink slid over her tongue. After putting the glass down on the desk, she pulled a pad toward her and picked up a pen.

“So,” she said, looking up at him. “What is it you want?”

He reached out and took the pen from her hand, laying it very deliberately down on the notepad. “I thought we could talk. You know, reminisce about old times.”

Heat pooled at the apex of her thighs and she pushed her chair back from her desk. Anything to increase the distance between them.

“Look, you said a few minutes, and frankly, that’s all I had. Your time’s up. If there’s nothing business related you need to discuss...?” She hesitated a moment, her temper snapping now at the humor reflected in his eyes. “Then you’ll have to excuse me so I can attend to my work.”

Dylan’s sinfully sensuous lips curved into a half smile. “You’re different, Jenna. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I’ll figure it out.”

She fought back a groan. The man was all about detail. She knew that intimately. If she didn’t get him out of here soon he was bound to notice exactly what it was that was different about her. She wasn’t ready for that, not right now, anyway. She needed more time.

Before she could respond, he continued, “I want you to do the flowers for the opening. Wildflowers, grasses, rustic—that kind of thing. Can you do it?”

“I’ll get my staff on to preparing some samples for you on Monday. I take it you’ll be around?”

His smile widened. “Oh, yes, I’ll be around. And your staff won’t be handling this for me. You will.”

“My staff are well trained and efficient—”

“But they’re not you—and I want you.”

His words hung in the air between them. She could feel them as if he’d actually reached out and touched her.

“You can’t have me,” she whispered.

“Can’t I? Hmm, that’s a darn shame,” he said. “Because then I’d have to take my business elsewhere.”

His words, so gently spoken, sent a spear of ice straight through her. It would take only a day for the news that she’d turned his business away to get through town. Less than that again before more people would follow his cue and take their business to other florists, as well. She’d fought long and hard to get a reputation as the leading florist in town and she wasn’t going to lose it just like that.

She bit the inside of her cheek as she swiftly considered her options. Well, option. She really had no other choice but to take his business. Refusing it, with the associated fallout when word got around that she’d turned down a Lassiter—well, it didn’t bear thinking about. However, the benefits would roll in pretty quickly when it was known that she’d done the flowers for the opening. There was nothing some of the better-heeled members of Cheyenne society loved more than following a trend set by the Lassiter family.

“I may be able to carve out a little time,” she hedged, not wanting him to see how easily he’d forced her to capitulate. “Do you have particular designs in mind?”

“Tell you what. Why don’t we discuss this further over dinner tonight.”

“I’m sorry, I have plans for tonight.” Plans that included a long soak with her feet in a tub filled with warm water and Epsom salts, followed by a home pedicure while she could still bend down and reach her toes. “Perhaps you could give me your contact number for while you’re here. I’ll call you when I’m free.”

He gave her a narrow-eyed glance, then lazily got to his feet, reached into his back pocket for his wallet and slid out a card. She went to take it, but he didn’t immediately let it go. Instead, he tugged it closer to his body, thereby tugging her a little closer, too.

“You’ll call me?”

“Of course. We’re closed tomorrow, but I’ll check my schedule on Monday and call you then.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” he said with a lazy wink and released the card.

She followed him from the office into the showroom. Even though she’d worked here since she was a teenager, she was still attuned to the sweet, luscious fragrance of the blooms she had on display. The various layers of scent filled the air with a strong feminine presence. A complete contrast to the powerful masculinity that was Dylan Lassiter.

Jenna held the front door to the store open for him.

“Thanks for stopping by,” she said as he stepped past her and onto the sidewalk.