Waking Up Pregnant
ONE
Within the fast closing walls of his downtown L.A. executive office—a modern, stylized space reflective of his personal tastes, professional achievements and global priorities—Jeff Norton watched the limitless sky of his future crack and crumble as the woman in front of him doubled over, one arm clutching his trash can, while the other shot straight. Her hand alternating between a traffic cop’s stop signal and a single finger indicating it was going to be a minute before she got to him.
“Not a problem, Darcy,” he managed in a voice barely recognizable even to himself. “Really. Take all the time you need.”
The sounds of distress emanating from the depths of his violated wastebasket ceased and the Vegas cocktail waitress he’d found too tempting to resist three months ago pinned him with a watery stare before rolling her you-did-this-to-me eyes in disgust.
Which was almost enough to pull a laugh from him, except, yeah, that look said it all. This was the end of days.
Probably.
Because while it wasn’t any great mystery as to why this woman was seeking him out now, months after those fateful few hours they’d spent together that ended with him staring down in abject horror at what could best be described as an epic latex fail, whether the hormone-wreaking miracle behind this reunion was, in fact, his, or whether his portfolio simply made him the most obvious solution to a problem which might be laid at the feet of any number of other candidates, was still yet to be seen.
Though even as he thought it, something inside him rebelled at the idea.
Three months.
If she’d been here after one... Hell, if she’d still been there that first night when he came back from the bathroom...
He swallowed. Sucked a deep breath, only to realize what a monumental mistake he’d made when the smell permeating his office—his sanctuary, his power position, his godforsaken happy-place-no-more—had his stomach contracting in some kind of sympathetic reflex.
Darcy looked over the plastic liner at him and, seeming to catch the wayward direction of his stomach, tightened her hold in a move very obviously saying, Get your own can, buddy.
Nice.
His molars ground together. This was the mother of his child.
Maybe.
Crossing to his desk, he dialed his assistant’s extension. “Charlie, I need a bottle of mouthwash, a toothbrush and paste and a dozen trash liners. And if you can get it all in here in the next five minutes I’ll cut you a check for a thousand dollars today.”
Darcy pinched her eyes shut a moment and when she looked back at him, it was with reluctant gratitude. “Thank you.”
“Suppose it’s the least I can do....” Considering what he’d maybe, probably done already.
He watched the rise and fall of her shoulders as she struggled for her composure.
“I’m sorry—”
He waved her off, but her eyes narrowed so he let her go on. “About springing...this on you. It must...be a shock.”
More so now than it would have been two months ago. “We can talk about it after you’ve had a minute to yourself. There’s a private bathroom back this way. Charlie’s freakishly efficient—”