The Tycoon's Temporary Baby(8)

For a long moment, she merely stared at him, her blue-violet eyes wide, her perfect bow mouth gaping open in surprise.

She wasn’t just surprised. She was disconcerted. His proposal had shocked her. Maybe even offended her. On some deeply intimate level, the thought of marriage to him horrified her.

Not that he could really blame her. Despite his wealth, he was no prize.

She was going to say no, and he couldn’t let her do it.

He needed her. Quite desperately, if the past seven days had been any indication.

“I’m not proposing a romantic relationship,” he reassured her, hoping to make his proposal seem as benign as possible.

“Obviously,” she muttered. Still holding the baby in her arms, she sank to the edge of the desk. She dipped her head, nuzzling the tuft of dark hair on Peyton’s head.

“This would be strictly a business arrangement.” He argued more vehemently as he felt her slipping away. “We’ll stay married as long as it takes to convince your family that we’re suitable parents. We won’t even have to live together. I’ll grant you an annulment as soon as we’ve convinced them.”

“No,” she said softly.

He felt a pang in his chest at her response. Then he saw it. Her letter of resignation. Signed, dated and ready to be handed over. As official as an order for his execution.

This past week had been a premonition of his future without her. He could envision an endless parade of incompetent temps. Countless hours of interviewing assistants, all of whom would fail to live up to the precedent set by Wendy. This government contract would slip through his fingers, just as the Olson deal had. FMJ had lost millions on that one. Which was nothing compared to what they’d miss if they didn’t secure this contract. He could feel the stepping-stone slipping out from under him, the future he’d planned out for the company dissolving before his very eyes.

Panic mounting, he kept talking. “If you’re worried about sex, don’t be. I certainly wouldn’t expect to sleep with you.”

Her gaze darted to his as she bolted to her feet. “No.” Then she squeezed her eyes closed for an instant. “What I meant was…” She drew in a deep breath. “…a fast annulment wouldn’t work.”

Just as quickly, her eyes shifted away from his. In that moment, a powerful, unspoken message passed between them.

Not once in all the years they’d worked together had they talked about sex. They had shared countless other intimacies. Eaten meals late at night. Sat beside each other on long plane flights. He’d had her fall asleep with her head on his shoulder somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean. They had slept in hotel rooms with walls so thin he’d heard the sound of her rolling over in her bed. And yet despite all that, neither of them had ever broached the subject of sex.

But now that the word had been said aloud, it was there between them. The image of her, sprawled naked on a bed before him, was permanently lodged in his brain.

He found himself oddly pleased by the faint blush that crept into her cheeks as she couldn’t quite meet his gaze.

“If we’re going to do this—” she shot him a look from under her lashes as if she were trying to assess his commitment “—then we have to go all in.”

He raised his eyebrows, speculatively. She wasn’t saying no. She was making a counteroffer. He felt a grin split his face. Just when he thought he knew her, she always managed to surprise him.

“We can’t get an annulment in three or even six months,” she said. “My family will see right through that. In a year, maybe two, we’ll have to get divorced. Simply pretend the marriage didn’t work out.”

“I see.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think you do. I’m committed to fighting for Peyton. I’ll do whatever I have to. But I can’t ask you to do the same.”

“You’re not asking,” he pointed out. “I’m offering. And just so we’re clear, I’m not doing this out of the goodness of my heart.” The last thing he needed right now was her developing some starry-eyed notion about his motives. “I’m doing this to keep you working for FMJ. You’re the best damn assistant I’ve ever had.”

She threw up her hand to interrupt him. “This is ridiculous. Just hire another assistant. I’ll even help you find one. There are plenty of other competent people in the city.”

“But none of them are you. I need you,” he argued. “None of them know the company the way you do. None of them would care about what FMJ does the way you do.”

She seemed to be considering for a moment, then admitted, “Well, that’s true.”