Secret Identity. Secret Baby.

They’d worn masks! So after one wild night with a fellow Mardi Gras party guest, accountant Emma Dempsey never expects to see her mysterious seducer again. Her only reminders are a tattoo...and a positive pregnancy test.

CEO Jonah Flynn feels a strange connection to his beautiful new auditor. Her tattoo—identical to his own—explains why. They vow to keep things professional, even as desire tempts them away from their good intentions. But when everyone’s secrets are revealed, will Jonah have to choose between his business, his lover and his baby?

Their lips met with an unexpected spark.

She didn’t pull away. The old Emma would have. In her mask, she was someone else.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, her lips clinging to his as he probed and explored her with his tongue. It was deliciously naughty. In that moment, Emma wanted it more than anything else in her entire life.

“Come with me,” he whispered.

Emma knew what he was offering and every inch of her body urged her to take him up on it. She’d never done anything like this. Ever. And yet there was something about her hero that insisted she go with him.

So she did.

* * *

Little Secrets: Secretly Pregnant is part of Little Secrets series: Untamed passion, unexpected pregnancy…

Little Secrets: Secretly Pregnant

Andrea Laurence

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ANDREA LAURENCE is an award-winning author of contemporary romances filled with seduction and sass. She has been a lover of reading and writing stories since she was young. A dedicated West Coast girl transplanted into the Deep South, she is thrilled to share her special blend of sensuality and dry, sarcastic humor with readers.

To Dan

Thanks for the inspiration

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Extract

Copyright

Prologue

Fat Tuesday

Everyone was dancing and having a good time. Everyone except Emma. That wasn’t unusual, though. Emma Dempsey had forgotten how to have fun a long time ago.

After her recent breakup, she was beginning to wonder if something was wrong with her. Her ex, David, had said she was boring both in and out of bed. She made the mistake of telling that to her friend and former sorority sister, Harper Drake, and the next thing she knew, she was at a Mardi Gras party at a loft in Tribeca.

She’d tried. She wore a pretty butterfly mask and a tight skirt, but this just wasn’t her cup of tea. Perhaps she should just call a cab and go so she didn’t ruin Harper’s night. She nibbled absently on a carrot stick as her gaze fell upon a tequila bar that had been set up on the kitchen island beside her. That was always a second option.

Emma knew she had to make a choice. She could either go home and join a local Red Hat Society at the ripe age of twenty-seven or she could take this bull by the horns and have some fun for once.

Feeling brave, she abandoned her plate and moved down the island. There was an assortment of small paper cups, slices of lime, a salt shaker and several bottles of tequila laid out. She prepared a shot and held it there, knowing once she leaped off the cliff, there would be no turning back.

Being with you is like dating my grandma. The memory of David’s painful words pushed her over the edge.

Without further hesitation, she licked, drank and sucked the lime furiously to cover the flavor of the liquor. It burned her throat as it went down, splashing in her stomach and sending a scorching sensation almost immediately through her body that a beer couldn’t even come close to.

It tasted absolutely terrible, but within seconds, she could feel a pleasant change. Almost as though her spine had loosened. Slinky. Maybe feline. This wasn’t bad at all. With a smile of satisfaction, she poured a second shot as someone else came into the kitchen. A quick glance confirmed her worst fears.

“Hey there, beautiful,” a creepy guy in a Batman-like mask said, leaning against the counter.

The compliment fell flat considering 75 percent of her face was covered in an ornate Mardi Gras mask. Emma sighed and slammed back the second shot of tequila without salt or lime. She needed it. She started pouring a third, blatantly ignoring him.

“Would you like to dance? I’ve got some sweet moves.”

She doubted it. “I don’t dance, sorry.”

Batman frowned. “Well, then wanna blow this party off for someplace quiet and dark where we can...talk?”

A shudder ran down Emma’s spine. Being alone with him was bad enough. Alone in the dark was downright frightening. “No, I’m here with someone. Sorry.”

Batman straightened up, his body language projecting the anger his mask hid away. “Who?”

She opened her mouth to answer him when someone came up behind her and set heavy, warm hands on her shoulders. He leaned in, placing a kiss against her cheek, and Batman finally took a step back.

A deep male voice rumbled near her ear. “Hey, baby, sorry I’m late.”

Emma fought the urge to pull away from this second, undesired suitor, but the fingers pressing insistently in her shoulders begged for her cooperation. He wasn’t putting the moves on her; he was trying to save her from Batman. Relieved, she turned to face the man and moved without hesitation to say hello.

Whoa. He was taller than she expected, a few inches over six foot, but she couldn’t look surprised and convince Batman to bugger off. She strained on tiptoe to reach up and kiss the lips that were the only part of his face visible with a gold-and-green Venetian mask obscuring the rest.

The instant their lips touched, the simple greeting turned into something else. The electricity of the kiss nearly knocked her backward, but his firm, yet gentle grip on her arms wouldn’t let her fall away. Her senses were instantly overloaded by the scent of soap and a spicy men’s cologne, the soft brush of his lips against hers and the heat of his skin.

Emma wasn’t sure if it was the tequila or his kiss, but she was suddenly very aware of her body. The nearness of the man made her skin tingle and her breath quicken. She felt her body leaning into him without her consent. It had to be the tequila. No wonder people got into so much trouble with this stuff.

Regaining some of her senses, she pulled away to break the kiss, but he didn’t immediately let go. Batman must still be watching. “I’ve missed you,” she said, snuggling suggestively into him.

His arms wrapped around her and hugged her tightly against the solid wall of his chest. He leaned in, breathing the scent of her hair and whispered, “He left, but he’s watching us from the other side of the room. Keep it convincing if you don’t want him coming back.”

Emma nodded and pulled away. She reached up to affectionately rub a bit of lipstick from her white knight’s mouth. The gesture was intimate and quite convincing, she was sure. Once away from him, she had a better view. The mask obscured most of his face, so all she could really decipher was his tall, broad build, tightly fitting jeans and his attractive and bright smile.

“Are we doing tequila shots?” he asked.

“I was, but I think I’m done.” She’d had just enough to make this scene authentic, but too much more was trouble for sure.

“Don’t be a quitter.” He poured himself a shot, and then paused only for a moment to smile wickedly before leaning forward and licking a patch of exposed skin just above her cleavage. Emma sucked a ragged, surprised breath into her chest and held it there. She couldn’t respond. Every impulse in her brain was telling her to step back and stop him, but she just stood there, the tequila rendering her mute.

He hesitated, the salt shaker in his hand. His dark blue eyes connected with hers, awaiting her permission. Could she give it? She wanted to. This was what she’d set out for tonight, even if she hadn’t known it. Grandmas didn’t do body shots with strangers at parties. But the words still escaped her. All she could do was tip her head back to let him sprinkle the salt gently over the swell of her breasts and place the wedge of lime delicately between her lips.

He came closer, shot in hand. Her entire body ached with anticipation as his hot breath hovered over her skin. He licked slowly, taking longer than she ever expected to remove every grain from her chest. Surely Batman wasn’t watching that closely. When he tipped the glass back, swallowing the tequila in one sip, she was finally able to release the air she’d held painfully in her lungs. Then he set the cup down.

Emma tensed, not quite sure what to do aside from holding perfectly still as his hand slipped around her neck to cradle her head and tip her mouth up to him. He dipped his head, his lips brushing hers briefly before biting down and sucking the lime juice. A cool, tart stream of it flowed into her own mouth before his teeth tugged the rind away.

When he took a step back, Emma did the same. It had taken everything she had not to moan aloud when he’d touched her this time. The best thing she could do was to get out of this situation before she lost what little control he’d left her with. Never mind that her face had to be flushed with embarrassment and unexpected arousal.

Her hand self-consciously came to her face and brushed the rough, glittery surface of her mask. She’d forgotten he couldn’t see her. Even if she was beet red, he wouldn’t know it. She was anonymous tonight. Somehow the knowledge made her bolder and she fought her flight reflex to hold her position by the bar.

He picked up her full paper cup from the counter and held it up in a dangerous and silent offer. It was her turn.

A quick glance confirmed that Batman had disappeared and there was no reason to continue with the show. Aside from her not wanting to stop. “He’s gone,” she said, giving him the opportunity to stop if this was still just a ruse.

“I know,” he said, and handed her the salt shaker.

Given that he was wearing a long-sleeved button-down black shirt, the only real option she had was his neck. She stood on her toes, straining in her heels to reach him. Emma leaned in and left a moist trail from the hollow of his throat to just over his Adam’s apple, where her tongue ran across the rough stubble that had grown in since his morning shave. She could feel his pulse quicken as she hovered near to him. This time, she noticed his skin smelled more distinctly male. Salty and slightly musky. She couldn’t help lingering to take in a deep breath and commit the scent to memory. Her body’s reaction to it was almost primal, parts deep inside of her clenching with a building need.

“Here,” he offered as she pulled away to apply the salt. He lowered onto his knees and looked up at her with big blue eyes, his hands resting on the swell of her hips.

Emma could hardly see enough of his face to piece together an expression, but his intense gaze urged her on. As he knelt, it almost felt as though he were worshipping at her feet. She liked it.

She tried to focus on doing the shot properly before his skin dried and the salt wouldn’t adhere. She didn’t want to give away her inexperience with this. She’d never even dreamed of doing anything as blatantly sexual as body shots. She didn’t think she had it in her.

She sprinkled the salt on his throat and positioned the lime between his full, soft lips. Nervously gripping the tequila in one hand, Emma leaned in a second time to lick off the salt. She could feel the vibration of a growl in his throat as her tongue slid across his skin. Pulling away, she quickly threw back the drink and placed her hands on each side of his face. Just before she was able to bite into the fruit, he spat out the lime. Emma didn’t have time to stop and their lips met with another unexpected spark.

She didn’t pull away. The old Emma would have. In her mask, she was someone else.

The second kiss blew the first out of the water. His fingertips dug into the flesh of her hips as he tugged her close against him. She melted against his mouth, slowly slipping down until she, too, was on her knees in the kitchen. The island shielded them from the crowd only feet away. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her lips clinging to his as he probed and explored her with his tongue.

It was deliciously naughty. In that moment, Emma wanted his kiss more than anything else in her entire life.

Just when she’d convinced herself that the kiss might never end, they parted. His quick breath was hot on the skin of her neck as he pressed his cheek against hers and sat there for a moment to recover. Their arms were still tangled around one another, neither grip loosening. There was an intensity in him that excited and frightened her, but she matched it with her own.

“Come with me,” he whispered, then stood and offered his hand.

Emma wasn’t ignorant. She knew what he was offering and every inch of her body urged her to take him up on it. She’d never done anything like this. Ever. And yet there was something about her hero that insisted she go with him.

So she did.

One

Three Months Later

“Where the hell is Noah?” Jonah Flynn growled into his telephone and gripped his coffee mug fiercely in his free hand.

“He’s...n-not in, sir.”

His brother’s administrative assistant, Melody, was audibly startled by his tone and he immediately chose to correct it. Jonah didn’t raise his voice to his employees, ever. Honestly, the only person he ever shouted at was Noah. And he would direct his anger at his brother if he could find the bastard.

“I’m sorry for yelling, Melody. I didn’t think he would be there. He’s never in the office. What I really meant was do you know where he’s gone to? He isn’t answering his home phone and his cell phone goes directly to voice mail like he’s got it turned off.”

Melody hesitated on the line for a moment. Jonah could hear the clicking of her keyboard as she checked his calendar. “His calendar is wide-open, but he mentioned as he left that he was headed to Bangkok.”

Jonah nearly choked on his latte. He swallowed hard and moved the cup out of his reach. “As in Thailand?”

“Yes, sir.”

He took a deep breath to swallow his anger. He would not, could not, take this out on Melody. She’d already called him “sir” twice, which just felt wrong. Yes, he was the CEO, but he was also wearing jeans and a Monty Python T-shirt. Everyone just called him Jonah.

“Any idea when he’ll be back?”

“No, but he did send me the number of the hotel he’s staying at. You could probably reach him there.”

“That would be great, thanks, Melody.” She read off the number and he quickly scratched it on his desk blotter before hanging up. He dialed it, getting transferred to his brother’s suite without much trouble. Of course Noah didn’t answer. He was probably frolicking with some exotic beauty. Jonah forced himself to leave a voice mail message that didn’t betray the true reason for his call and hung up in disgust.

Thailand.

If he’d had any second thoughts about Noah being involved in his current mess, they immediately dissipated. If the preliminary accounting reports he was looking at were correct, his little brother had just taken off to Southeast Asia with three million dollars that didn’t belong to him.

Jonah leaned back in his leather chair and gently rubbed his temples. This was not good.

The timing was never good for embezzlement, really, but his brother had just royally screwed him over in more ways than one. Noah didn’t spend much time in the office; his role in the company was to please their mother and nothing else. But Noah knew—he knew—that they were close to wrapping up the deal with Game Town. The auditor they’d hired was showing up today. Today!

This could ruin everything. It wasn’t a huge amount in terms of the numbers that ran through the company, but his brother wasn’t smart and took it in one big chunk, transferring it to some offshore account he had in the Caribbean. Anyone with an interest would run across it eventually. Game Town was hiring FlynnSoft to manage their monthly game subscription service. Who would want the company handling their money to have issues like that? Jonah certainly wouldn’t do it if the roles were reversed.

This needed cleaning up and fast. As much as he didn’t want to, he could rearrange his assets for some cash and cover the loss. He would take it out of his brother’s hide later. Maybe make him sell his overpriced European sports car. Perhaps even make him do some actual work at FlynnSoft for free until he paid off the debt.

But Noah would pay for this. By the time Jonah was done with him, his little brother would wish he’d simply called the cops.

But he wouldn’t. Not on his brother. And not for any love he had for his useless sibling, but for concern for their mother. Angelica Flynn had a degenerative heart condition and couldn’t take much stress. If Noah, the baby and undoubtedly favorite child, ended up in jail, she’d have one hell of an attack. If she found out Noah was turned in by his own brother, he had no doubt she’d drop dead from the strain and embarrassment. In the end, it would all be Jonah’s fault and he refused to be the bad guy in this.

He would handle his brother without their mother ever finding out.

Publicly, Jonah could deal with this however he wished. As a privately owned gaming company he had that luxury. Thank heavens he hadn’t taken people’s advice to go public. The move could make him a fortune overnight, but he’d also have shareholders and a board of directors to answer to. He could even be fired, losing control of the empire he’d started in his college dorm room.

No way. FlynnSoft was his and Jonah didn’t answer to anyone, especially some pompous suits who thought they knew better than he did how to run his company. He’d bail FlynnSoft and his brother out one way or another. His employees deserved as much. And they deserved the money this new contract could bring in. If Noah hadn’t just blown it.

What a mess.

Jonah flopped back into his executive chair and let his gaze drift over to the framed photograph that sat on the edge of his desk. In it, a Blue Morpho butterfly sat sunning itself on a clump of bright yellow flowers.

He’d gotten more than a few odd looks since he’d brought the picture into the office. Jonah wasn’t exactly a nature buff. He’d spent his entire adolescence focused on video games and girls, both of which could be enjoyed in the climate-controlled comfort of his bedroom.

Of course, he couldn’t tell anyone why it was really there. How do you explain a night like that to people? You just couldn’t. They wouldn’t believe you. If it wasn’t for the proof inked into his skin, he might’ve believed she was a tequila induced hallucination. His gaze dropped to his right hand and the tattoo etched into the web of skin between his thumb and index finger. His fingertip grazed over the slightly raised design, tracing it as he’d done that night, only then it was across the silky skin of her chest. His half of the heart.

The other half had disappeared with the woman in the butterfly mask. He’d never anticipated a company Mardi Gras party at his loft would turn into an unforgettable night of body shots, anonymous sex and late-night tattoos. But for some reason, she, whoever she was, had gotten under his skin almost instantly. Everything from her soft gasp as he licked the salt from her throat to the way she’d begged for him to take her was etched into his mind.

Even with all the crap going on with Game Town, he couldn’t help but let his thoughts drift to her again. She’d asked him for one night. No names, no personal details. Pure fantasy. Her multicolored glitter butterfly mask had obscured everything but her sleek, brunette ponytail, the full pout of her lips and the bewitching emerald green of her eyes.

How, exactly, had he decided that letting her walk out of his life was a good idea?

Jonah had been an idiot. He could see it now. For years, he’d gone through a lineup of women. They were all beautiful. Many were successful or talented in one way or another. They were drawn to his business success and the glamorous lifestyle he could provide. Most men would be content with the kind of woman who would throw herself at them, but he never was. He would inevitably get bored and move on. He’d actually earned a reputation as one of Manhattan’s Most Eligible and Elusive Bachelors.

But his butterfly had kept his interest. Even three months later, he still found himself thinking about her. Wondering where she was. Who she was. Trying to figure out if the real woman could ever measure up to his memory of her. She’d insisted that the next morning he wouldn’t want her anymore, like she would turn into a pumpkin at the stroke of midnight. Was it just the fantasy he craved? If he’d seen her face and known her name, would she have been relegated to the list of women he’d loved and forgotten? He didn’t know.

Jonah ran his hand through the long strands of his dark brown hair and gripped the back of his skull. He needed to let this go. Let her go. If he kept looking down the blouse of every woman he met searching for that tattoo, eventually he’d get slapped. Or sued. Maybe arrested.

He simply couldn’t help it.

With a sigh, Jonah turned back to his computer. He needed to focus. Noah would eventually come home and suffer mightily, but until then, he needed to clean up the mess. He searched through his contact list for his accountant, Paul. He’d be able to move his assets around and get the cash he needed. He always made sure his money worked as hard for him as he did for it and invested heavily, unlike his brother, who burned through money buying silly toys.

He could get the cash; it just might take a few days for the wheels of finance to turn.

In the meantime, he’d have to find a way to stall the forensic accountant Game Town was sending over. Someone would be showing up this afternoon at two. No one had mentioned the auditor’s name, so he had no idea who, or what, to expect. His strategy would rely heavily on who showed up.

If the auditor was male, Jonah would drag his dusty golf clubs from the closet and take the guy out. He hated golf, but found it to be an important social tool in the business world. Few company honchos got together to play Madden on their Xbox. It was a pity. Instead, they would play eighteen holes; he’d buy the auditor some drinks. Steaks. Whatever. Perhaps if the guy was hung over enough, the numbers would take longer to crunch.

If the auditor was a woman, there would be a different tactic. The golf clubs would stay in the closet, but the charm would be on in full force. Regardless of whether she had three eyes and a hunchback or looked fresh from the Parisian runways, Jonah’s charisma would carry him through. Since the age of fifteen, he’d had a way with women. A gift, he supposed, and one he made good use of. Dinner and drinks would still be involved, but the ambience would improve greatly.

He wouldn’t have to lay a hand on her. The last thing he needed was the woman running back to Game Town with that tale. No, Jonah wouldn’t go there. The right smile, some intense eye contact and a few compliments would go far, especially with a mousy accountant who wasn’t used to the attention. If he planned this right, he’d have her so hot and bothered she wouldn’t be able to remember her own name, much less see the problems with the financial reports.

No matter what, Jonah would come out on top. If he had to sit down with Carl Bailey, the CEO of Game Town, and explain what was going on, he would, but if it could be avoided, he’d gladly play eighteen holes or take a lonely accountant to the theater.

He made a note to ask his assistant, Pam, what shows were playing on Broadway at the moment. He wasn’t a big fan of musicals, but he found most to be tolerable enough. Except Cats. He wasn’t making that mistake a second time. That was a phenomenal waste of four hundred dollars, which was saying a lot, given he’d easily spend that much in a week on supplies for the gourmet coffee bar they added on the twenty-third floor.

Speaking of which, he eyed his now-cold coffee with dismay. He’d get a refill and a bagel after he talked to Paul. Picking up the phone, he dialed his accountant and mentally cleared his calendar for the next week. He’d be busy courting the Game Town auditor.

Jonah just prayed it was a woman. He really hated golf.

* * *

Surely her boss was a closet sadist. There was no other explanation for why he’d send her to FlynnSoft for two to three weeks. Tim could’ve sent anyone. Mark. Dee. But no, he had to send Emma. She was the only one who could handle herself in that environment, he said.

Slipping her hand inside the doorway to her closet, she flipped on the light switch and stepped inside. Tim was full of it. He just wanted to see her squirm. She liked to think that she’d been hired for her top grades at Yale and her recommendations from professors, but she had a sneaking suspicion her father had gotten involved and made it happen.

Tim likely resented some rich kid getting dropped into his department against his will and enjoyed making her miserable as a result. It made her more determined than ever not to give him that satisfaction. She was going to do a good job. No—a great job. She would not get sucked into FlynnSoft’s corporate hippie attitude. She would not fall prey to Jonah Flynn, Golden God and his seductive smile.

Not that the notorious CEO would waste any of his smoldering looks on Emma. She wasn’t bad to look at, but the last gossip blog she’d seen had him coming out of a restaurant with a model she’d recognized from her lingerie catalog. She simply couldn’t compete with abs of steel and breasts of silicone. And she wouldn’t even try.

A man like Jonah Flynn was of no interest to her, anyway. He embodied everything her mother, Pauline, had warned her about. Don’t make the same mistakes as Cynthia did, she’d say. Her older sister hadn’t died because of poor choices—a plane crash had done that—but when those choices came to light after her death, the family had been scandalized. Emma had grown up as her sister’s polar opposite as a result.

If Tim was being absolutely honest with her, she’d bet that’s why she got the job. Dee, although competent, was a tall, thin and attractive woman easily distracted by men. If Flynn even looked at her sideways, she’d be a puddle at his feet. Forensic auditors could not puddle. Emma probably wouldn’t earn a second glance.

She eyed the neatly hung rows of clothing in her closet. Although FlynnSoft was a pioneer of the übercasual work environment, there was no way she was walking into that building while wearing jeans and flip-flops. Even if she stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the laid-back software designers, she was wearing one of her suits with high heels. Her sole concession to the casual environment would be leaving off the hosiery. Summer was just around the corner in New York and she preferred staying cooler in the heat.

She pulled a charcoal-gray suit and a light blue top from the rack and smiled in approval. There was just something about the crispness of a freshly starched blouse and a smartly tailored blazer that gave her a much-needed boost of confidence.

It was just the armor she needed to go into battle against Jonah Flynn.

Battle was the wrong word, really. He wasn’t the enemy. He was a potential contractor for Game Town. FlynnSoft had managed to build an extremely robust and efficient system for handling subscriptions and other in-game purchases for their addictive online game Infinity Warriors. Recently, they’d branched out offering the management of other online game system subscriptions to companies that needed help handling a high number of users or providing additional monetizing options. It allowed small software start-ups to focus on designing the game and let FlynnSoft manage the back end.

Before they went to contract, it was customary for the companies to have a forensic accountant review the vendor’s records to ensure everything was shipshape. Carl Bailey, the man who started Game Town twenty years earlier and now headed up the board of directors, hated surprises.

Although FlynnSoft had a sterling reputation, the old man had a general distrust of a company where a suit and tie were not standard issue. Bailey wasn’t getting into bed with any company he didn’t think was up to snuff, even if paying Flynn was cheaper than developing the capability in-house. She was to go over everything with a fine-tooth comb.

Emma would be welcomed and provided everything she needed to do the job, but at the same time, no one liked an auditor nosing around. She might as well wear a big red button that read I Can Ruin Your Life.

That was a pretty unfair generalization. She could only ruin their lives by calling to light their own misdeeds. If they were good boys and girls, she couldn’t get them into trouble.

Her mother had pounded that much into her head as a teenager. Never say or do anything you wouldn’t want printed on the front page of the newspaper, she was always saying.

Before her sister, Cynthia, died in a plane crash, she’d been engaged to the owner of the New York Observer, Will Taylor. He was also the business partner of their father, George. That newspaper was delivered to her childhood home every morning, and to this day, Emma lived in fear that something she did might actually turn up there. The scandals of the remaining socialite daughter of the Dempsey family were news worth printing.

So far, so good.

With a quick glance at the clock, Emma left her closet and started getting ready. She had to be at FlynnSoft at two to meet with Mr. Flynn at his insistence.

Normally, she would’ve simply worn what she’d put on to go to work that morning, but she came home at lunch to change. It was nerves. Her outfit that morning was more than suitable, but she felt this need to put on something else before she went over there. To get every hair in place.

After thirty minutes of primping, Emma gave herself one last inspection. Her brown hair was twisted into a tight bun. After David moved out, she chopped it off at her shoulders in typical female defiance, but it was still long enough to pull up. Her makeup was flawless—fresh looking, not too heavy. She could still see the faint specks of freckles across her nose, which she hated, but could do nothing about.

The suit was loose because of her recent stress-induced weight loss, allowing it to hide any unfortunate bumps she didn’t want to share. The blouse she wore under the coat was a flattering shade of blue and more importantly, the neckline was high enough to hide her tattoo.

The half of a heart that was inked into her chest above the swell of her left breast wasn’t the only evidence of the night she’d made the mistake of letting herself go, but at the moment, it was the hardest to hide. That wouldn’t be the case much longer.

Like a little devil sitting on her shoulder, Harper told her to have fun that night. And she certainly did. She hadn’t intended to take it that far, but there was something about her masked hero that she couldn’t resist. Before she knew it, they were having fantastic sex in the laundry room and walking down the streets of New York in the middle of the night in search of adventure.

Every time Emma washed her clothes and felt the cold metal of the washing machine against her skin, a flush of embarrassment would light her cheeks on fire. She had done her best to forget about it and the tequila had done a good job turning the experience into a fuzzy, dreamlike memory, but still, it crept into her mind from time to time. If it hadn’t been for the bandage on her chest when she awoke the next morning, she might’ve convinced herself it had never happened.

But it had. She’d allowed herself to do anything and everything she wanted to do. She’d let David’s words strike too deeply and questioned everything about her life, when in truth there was nothing wrong with the way she lived. She did everything a proper Upper East Side woman was supposed to do. She was educated, well-spoken, polished and elegant. She took pride in her work as a CPA. It was true that no one would ever describe her as the life of the party, but her escapades would never show up on the front page of the local paper, either.

In retrospect, it took one uninhibited night to prove that she was okay with being that kind of woman. There was no glory in being like her older sister, who followed each pleasurable impulse and left her family mired in scandal after her death. Then again, that one night was enough for the repercussions to echo through her entire life. She could keep it under wraps for now, but eventually everyone would find out.

And of course, the tattoo remained. Emma had considered getting it removed, but it had become her personal reminder of how dangerous the wrong choices could be. Every time she even thought about breaking out of her shell, she could look at her tattoo and remember what a bad idea it was. It was a slippery slope she was determined not to go down again. She would not become her sister and shame her family. It didn’t matter how good or right it might feel in the moment.

But in keeping it, she had to work hard to ensure it stayed covered, especially in a professional setting. Or near her mother, who felt tattoos were only for bikers and inmates. Emma had tripled her ownership of high-collared tops the last few weeks. She worried about the challenge of her summer wardrobe as the temperature climbed, but she had to deal with the FlynnSoft job first.

Emma was just thankful she’d gotten hers in a place she could hide easily, unlike her hero with his tattooed hand. There was no way he could disguise his half of the heart, although she wondered how he would explain it. He was at a FlynnSoft party, so he was potentially an employee, like Harper was. She supposed that in the laid-back corporate environment, a tattoo was no big deal. Might even be a requirement.

It was just another reason to be nervous about her assignment.

At any moment, he could appear. An engineer, a programmer, hell, even the janitor. She didn’t know a thing about him and had no real way to find him other than the tattoo. She’d shared a few choice details of the night with Harper, and her friend had been on high alert to discover the man’s identity since then. She hadn’t been as willing to let the romantic fantasy go, especially when Emma confided in her about her predicament.

A few weeks after the party, at the family Easter dinner, Emma took one look at the spiral ham and went running down the hallway to the powder room. After two more weeks of denial and antacids, she realized she had more than a tattoo to show for her wild night—she was having her anonymous hero’s baby! And had no way to contact the father and tell him.

In the last three months, there were no tattooed hands to report at FlynnSoft, at least in the marketing or accounting departments, where Harper spent most her time. The odds were that even if the man worked at FlynnSoft last February, he was gone now if Harper hadn’t found him. That meant Emma was on her own with this baby, whether she liked it or not. She would tell her family soon. Eventually. When she couldn’t hide her belly any longer.

Another glance at the clock proved that she couldn’t delay any longer, as much as she might want to. She brushed her fingers over her hair and grabbed her purse from the table by the front door. With a fleeting look down her blouse, she opted to button her shirt one notch higher.

Just in case.

Two

It was an easy trip down to the FlynnSoft building, as she’d been there several times meeting Harper for a lunch date. They occupied the top five floors of one of the high-rises a few blocks from her apartment. The lobby was like many others with sleek, modern furniture and large LCD screens playing video clips about the company and scenes from the various video games they produced. The only difference, really, was the receptionist, who was wearing khaki shorts and a tank top. Her brown hair was pulled up into a ponytail that highlighted the multiple piercings in her ears.

If this was the first face of the company, she had no doubt things would go downhill from here. After checking her in, the woman gave her a temporary access badge and walked her back to the elevators. She showed her how to wave her badge over the sensor, allowing her to select the twenty-fifth floor, where the executive offices were located.

Emma considered stopping on the twenty-fourth-floor business wing to see Harper, but she didn’t have time. They’d see each other plenty over the next few weeks, she was certain. Instead, she pushed the button that read 25 and closed her eyes. As the elevator rose, Emma could feel her anxiety rising, as well. She wished she knew why. She was more than capable of doing this job and being successful. She was an excellent auditor and accountant. Harper had done nothing but praise the company and everyone she worked with. Everything would be fine.

Exiting onto the twenty-fifth and top floor of the building, Emma headed down the hallway to the right as she’d been directed. Pausing in one of the doorways with a placard that read Gaming Lounge, she watched a couple of employees playing foosball. In any other company, the large space would be a conference room, but here, there was a pool table, a Ms. Pac-Man machine and some beanbag chairs arranged around a big-screen television.

The players stopped their game to look over at her, staring as though she were wearing a clown suit instead of well-tailored gray separates. Emma quickly started back down the hallway to avoid their gazes. As though they had room to judge with their Converse and baseball caps.

She finally came to a large desk at the end of the hallway. A woman in a spring sundress with reddish-blond hair sat at it, talking into a headset and typing at her computer. She gave a quick glance to Emma and ended her call.

“You must be the auditor sent by Game Town.” She stood and grinned, offering her hand over the desk.

Emma accepted it with a self-conscious smile. “Yes, I’m Emma Dempsey. How did you guess?”

The woman laughed, her eyes running over Emma’s professional outfit a second time. “I’m Pam, Jonah’s assistant. He stepped down the hall, but he should be back any second. Can I get you a drink while you wait? A latte or a soda or something?”

Emma arched a confused eyebrow and shook her head. She didn’t want any of the staff going to any trouble on her behalf. Some companies went to great lengths to kiss up to auditors and she didn’t want to start out setting that kind of precedent. “No, thank you.”

“Okay, but if you change your mind just let me know. We have a coffee bar on the twenty-third floor in addition to a Starbucks on the ground level. I’m sure you’ll get the full tour, but while you’re here, we hope you’ll make use of all our employee amenities. We also have a gym, several game rooms and a pretty decent cafeteria with a salad bar where employees can eat at no charge. All the vending machines are also free to keep our programmers awake and productive.”

“Wow.” There wasn’t really a better word for it. Emma had read in magazines about how Jonah Flynn was some sort of modern business pioneer who was changing everything. That he strived to create a workplace where people wanted to go so that staff would be happier and more productive. A casual work environment was only one piece. Apparently, a foosball table and free caffeinated beverages were another.

“This is a great place to work. Hopefully you’ll enjoy your time with us.” Pam walked out from behind her station and Emma noticed she was barefoot with sparkly, hot pink nail polish. At this point, that detail was no longer a surprise. Padding softly across the plush carpet, she escorted Emma to a set of double doors a few feet away. She pushed one of the heavy oak panels open, and then stepped back and gestured for her to go inside. “Have a seat and Jonah will be with you shortly.”

The door closed silently behind her, and Pam and her toes disappeared, leaving Emma alone in Jonah Flynn’s office.

As instructed, she quickly settled into one of the black leather guest chairs, crossing her ankles and holding her portfolio across her lap. She couldn’t help but look around as her fingers nervously drummed against the notebook.

The office was massive with impersonal executive-type furniture that was very similar to the decor of the lobby. Glass and chrome, black leather, bookshelves with awards and books he’d probably never read. There was a large conference table that ran along the length of the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking an amazing view of Manhattan.

She wasn’t quite sure what she was expecting to find in the notorious CEO’s office—perhaps a stripper pole and a Donkey Kong machine—but it all seemed to fit the space in a generic way aside from the giant cardboard cutout of what must be one of his video game characters. Emma was unfamiliar with it, but it looked like some kind of blue troll in battle armor.

There were only a few unexpected details. A photograph of a butterfly on his desk. A world’s greatest boss trophy on the shelf behind his chair. A child’s crayon drawing addressed to “Mr. Jonah” pinned to his corkboard. She was pretty certain he didn’t have children, but she only knew what the gossip bloggers reported, which could be far from the truth.

“Miss Dempsey. Sorry to keep you waiting,” a man’s voice called out to her from over her shoulder.

With a nervous smile, Emma got up from her chair and turned to face him. He was standing in the doorway, taking up most of the space with his broad shoulders. Shoulders that were covered in a clingy brown T-shirt with what looked like some cartoon knights on the front. He was wearing loose-fitted jeans with a torn-up knee and well-broken-in high-top Converse sneakers. And a Rolex. She could see the large diamonds on the face from across the room as he held his drink.

What a contradiction. Software. Foosball. Jeans. Diamonds. You didn’t run into this kind of CEO every day.

As he came closer, she only had a moment to register the face she’d seen in so many magazines: the distinctive dark brown hair with the undercut shaved on the sides, the deep blue eyes that seemed to leap from the glossy pages, the crooked smile that was endearing and arousing all at once. All of it was coming at her, full speed ahead.

Letting her business training kick into gear, she held out her hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Flynn,” she said.

Jonah reached out to her, gripping her with a warm, firm shake. His dark eyes seemed to be appraising her somehow, a faint smile curling the corners of his mouth. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he looked pleased about something.

“Call me Jonah. And the pleasure is all mine,” he said, his voice as deep and smooth as melted dark chocolate with the hint of a British accent curling his words.

“Emma,” she reciprocated, although the word barely made it across her tongue. Emma suddenly felt very aware of herself. Of him. Of the newly uncomfortable temperature of the room that made tiny beads of perspiration gather at the nape of her neck. His cologne tickled her nose, a spicy male scent that was infinitely appealing and somewhat familiar.

She tried to swallow, but a thick lump had formed in her throat. She couldn’t even speak while he continued to touch her. Did he have this effect on every woman or was she just that desperate after three months of celibacy and her pregnancy hormones conspiring against her?

Jonah Flynn was everything she expected him to be and then some. The magazines truly hadn’t done the man justice. He was handsome without being too pretty, with hard angles and powerful, lean muscles flexing beneath the cotton of his shirt as he reached out to her. His every move was smooth and deliberate, exuding power and confidence even in a T-shirt and jeans. You just couldn’t capture that in a picture.

She was blushing; she knew she had to be. How embarrassing. This was not going well at all. She had set out to prove to Tim that she could handle this assignment and here she was, practically mute and drooling after only a few seconds in the CEO’s presence. Her clothes should be too big, since she had instantly transformed back into an infatuated twelve-year-old girl.

She needed to pull it together—and now. Emma broke eye contact to collect herself. Casually gazing down, she caught a glimpse of red, then recognized the other half of her tattoo etched into Jonah Flynn’s hand.

Emma immediately began to choke.

* * *

Perfect. He’d never get the contract with Game Town if he killed the auditor on the first day.

Jonah quickly escorted the woman to a chair and buzzed Pam to bring her a bottle of water. He wasn’t quite sure what just happened. One minute, she was smiling and shaking his hand, the next she was hyperventilating and turning bright red. Maybe it was an allergic reaction. He’d have Pam take the flower arrangement on his conference table to her area just in case. Wasn’t there an EpiPen in the kitchen first aid kit? That would be his next move.

She’d calmed down a bit once she sat. Maybe she’d just swallowed her gum. No. She had pearl earrings and crossed ankles despite her inability to breathe. She definitely wasn’t the kind of woman who chewed bubble gum at work. If at all.

Pam breezed through the door with the water, which Emma gratefully accepted. Jonah held out his hand for Pam to stand by until he was certain the woman would recover.

Emma took a few breaths, a few sips and closed her eyes. Things were improving. He waved Pam off, but knew she’d be poised and ready if she were needed.

He knelt down in front of Emma, watching with concern as her breathing stabilized and her color began returning to normal. At least, he supposed it was normal. The woman was awfully pale, but his expectations were skewed by spray-tanned celebutantes who usually sported an orange undertone to their skin. No, he decided. Pale was normal.

Once she was no longer deprived of oxygen, he had to admit she was quite pretty. She had silky brown hair that begged to be hanging loose around her shoulders, but she’d forced it into submission in a knot-like bun. She had an interesting face, almost heart shaped, with full lips and creamy skin she didn’t hide under a ton of makeup.

From what he could see of her figure beneath that dowdy suit, she had ample curves in all the right places. Although he’d been photographed with the occasional model type, he gravitated toward the lingerie and swimsuit girls because they were equipped with the assets he was looking for.

Completing his inventory, he noticed her nicely manicured nails and naked ring finger. A single woman would be much easier to work his charms on.

This might not be the worst couple of weeks after all. Keeping Emma’s mind off the books could turn out to be a pleasurable experience for them both.

“Are you okay?” he asked once she’d drained half the water bottle and he was certain she could speak again.

Emma swallowed hard and nodded, although her eyes were glued to his hand as it rested on her knee. “Yes, I’m sorry about that.”

Following her gaze, he immediately removed his hand and stood up, allowing her some personal space. “Don’t apologize. Is there anything Pam or I can do? Move the flowers, perhaps?”

“Oh no,” she insisted. “I’m fine, really. Please don’t worry about me.”

She was the kind of woman who didn’t like to be fussed over. Jonah made a mental note. “Okay, well, back to business, then.” He rounded his desk and sank into the soft leather of his chair. “The Game Town people said it should take you a few weeks to go through everything.”

“Yes.” She nodded. “Perhaps less if the records are easily accessible and someone on staff can assist me with questions.”

“Of course. I’ll alert the finance people to have everything ready for you tomorrow. I’m sure they’ll be happy to assist you with anything you need. You have our full cooperation. Everyone is very excited about this potential partnership with Game Town.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I’m ready to get started.”

Jonah arched an eyebrow, but quickly dropped it back in line. What was the rush? He would get an auditor who was hell-bent on getting the job done when it was the last thing he wanted. “How about we go on a tour first?”

“That’s not necessary,” she said, her answer almost too quick. “I’m sure you have more important things on your agenda. If Pam can point me to my desk, I’m sure I can make do.”

If Jonah didn’t know better, it sounded like she was trying to dismiss him. Women never dismissed him. He wasn’t going to let this one buck the trend. “Nonsense,” he insisted, pushing out of his chair to end the argument. “I’ve got some time and I want to make sure you’re settled.”

Emma stood, somewhat reluctantly, and walked out of the office ahead of him. Despite her stiff manners, she moved fluidly and gracefully as a woman should. The curves of her rear swayed tantalizingly from left to right as she walked in her high heels to the door. Maybe that suit wasn’t so bad after all. It fit nicely, hugging her hips just tight enough. He’d prefer to see her in a pair of clingy jeans and a tight little T-shirt, but the suit was growing on him. As were other things.

He took a deep breath to stifle the thoughts and pulled up alongside her once they started down the hall. “I’m sure you saw our gaming lounge on your way in. Each floor has one.” They paused at the doorway and he couldn’t help but beam with pride. It was one of his favorite innovations. He probably spent as much time in these rooms as anyone. It was good for the spirit to break away for a while. It was refreshing and gave new enthusiasm to tackle the workload.

“That’s very nice.” Emma’s voice was cold and polite.

She seemed decidedly disinterested and it annoyed him. She should be impressed like everyone else. Forbes magazine had done an article on his game lounges and sky-high productivity levels. It was groundbreaking territory. Certainly it should evoke more interest than her watery, patronizing smile suggested. Perhaps if he made it more personal? “What’s your favorite video game? We have quite a collection here outside of the ones we produce in-house.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t play video games.”

Jonah tried not to frown. Surely in this day and age everyone had a favorite game. Even his grandmother played bridge on the computer. “Not even Super Mario Brothers when you were a kid? Sonic the Hedgehog? Tetris, even?”

She shook her head, sending a dark strand of hair down along the curve of her cheek. It gave her a softness he found quite a bit more attractive than the uptight accountant thing she had going with that bun. Wearing her hair down around her shoulders would be infinitely more appealing. Seeing the brown waves tousled across one of his pillowcases would be even better. Although that couldn’t be a part of his plan while the Game Town deal was pending and she worked under his roof, it didn’t mean he couldn’t continue to pursue her later.

Emma immediately tucked the rogue strand behind her ear and opened her mouth to ruin the fantasy he’d built in his head. “I was raised not to waste time in idle pursuits.”

This time he had to frown. Idle pursuits. Hmph. His video game obsession as a child had blossomed into a multimillion-dollar video game empire. Not exactly idle. He wondered what she did with her time that was so superior. She certainly couldn’t spend all her weekends feeding the hungry and knitting blankets for the homeless. Sweet ass or no, she was starting to work his nerves. “All work and no play can make for a dull girl.”

Emma turned to him with a blankly polite expression. “There’s no sin in being dull. Is it better to have scandal chasing your tail?”

“No, but it’s certainly more fun.” He couldn’t help the sarcastic retort. The tone of condescension coming from her full, soft peach lips was a contradiction that set his teeth on edge. It was public knowledge that Jonah had scandal chasing his tail on more than one occasion. If nothing else, it kept a man on his toes.

Emma turned away from the game room and continued down the hall.

This time, watching her walk away was not nearly as enticing, as he’d been dismissed again. Containing his aggravation, he moved quickly to pull alongside her. Taking a breath, he decided to start over. She might be grating his nerves, but Emma was his pet project for the next few weeks.

“You’ll be sitting on the twenty-fourth floor with the finance group while you’re here. Before we go down there, let’s stop by the twenty-third floor and I’ll show you the coffee bar. I know I always need something to perk me up midafternoon.”

“Mr. Flynn—”

“Jonah,” he pressed with the smile that always got him his way where women were concerned.

“Jonah, this really isn’t necessary. I’m sure someone other than the CEO can show me the coffee bar and the gym and the cafeteria. Right now, I really just want to get out of your hair and start to work.”

He mentally amended his prior statement—his smile usually got him his way. Emma seemed immune. He sighed in resignation and held out a hand to escort her to the elevators. How was he supposed to charm this woman when she wouldn’t let him? It was downright frustrating. “I’ll just show you the area where you’ll work, then.”

They were silent as they waited for the elevators, which were running slowly just to spite him today. He had to admit he preferred her quiet. When her mouth was closed, she was attractive and graceful with just a touch of mystery in the green eyes that appraised him. When she spoke, it became abundantly clear that they came from two very different schools of thought where business and pleasure were concerned.

Jonah didn’t know if it was better or worse that he found her perfume so appealing. Actually, as he anxiously watched the digital numbers of the elevator climb, he began to wonder if it was a perfume at all. The scent was more like a clean, fresh mix of shampoo and a lady’s hand cream. It suited her more than the heavy stink of the perfumes that made his nose twinge. Much more delicate. Like the line of her collarbone that was barely visible at the V of her blouse.

The reflex to glance down her top for a tattoo was stifled by the blue dress shirt she wore. One less woman to slap him with a harassment suit, he supposed. Besides, Miss Goody Two-shoes was the least likely candidate to be his butterfly that he’d run across yet.

The doors finally opened and they took the short trip to the twenty-fourth-floor finance department. As they walked, he noticed Emma’s gaze didn’t wander like so many other visitors. Normally people were interested in the untraditional workings of FlynnSoft. Emma’s vision was fixed like a laser in front of her. Her intensity was both intriguing and a touch disconcerting. Would she be this focused on the financial reports?

He stopped at a visitor’s office and opened the door. The small L-shaped desk took up much of the space with the computer setup and phone occupying one whole side. There was a corporate lithograph framed on one wall and a ficus shoved in the corner. It wasn’t intended for long-term occupancy, but certainly it would be adequate for the short time she required it.

“This will be your home for the next few weeks. The desk is full of supplies, the phone is activated and there’s a docking station for your laptop. If you need anything, the finance assistant, Angela, can help you. She’s down the hall and to the left.”

Emma watched him gesture, then nodded curtly. Another annoyingly dismissive gesture. The woman just couldn’t wait for him to go away. What exactly was her problem? She was tight as a drum, every muscle taut, and anxious as though she itched to brush past him into the office and shut the door in his face. Why would such an attractive woman be wound up so damn tightly? She needed a drink. Or a good lay. Both couldn’t hurt. He’d be happy to oblige if she’d give him the opportunity.

“Are you all right, Emma?”

Her head snapped toward him, a slight frown puckering the area between her eyebrows. Her green eyes searched his face for a moment before she spoke. “I’m fine.”

The hell she was. But pushing her probably wasn’t the best tactic this early on, so he let it slide. He didn’t have to claim victory on the first day. He’d do it soon enough.

“You just seem a little uncomfortable. I assure you none of us bite.” He planted his right hand on the door frame and leaned closer to her to emphasize his words. “You might even find you enjoy your time with us.”

Emma’s face went pale, her eyes focused on his hand and completely ignoring his persuasive charms. When she turned back to him, she flashed a saccharine smile. Sweetly artificial. “Of course. I’m just anxious to get settled in.”

His hand fell heavy at his side. This wasn’t going as well as he’d planned. He wasn’t sure if she was deliberately being difficult or she was just like this normally. Paul had better be rushing that transaction because his wine-and-dine plan might not pan out the way he hoped. He’d just been assigned the only woman in Manhattan who was immune to him. Possibly even annoyed by him.

Maybe it was just the work environment. It was possible she stuck to strict business protocol and the casual interactions he was used to made her uncomfortable. All the better to get her away from the office, then. Give her the chance to let her hair down, kick off those heels and relax. He’d drop the dinner invitation, then leave her alone for the rest of the afternoon to stew over the possibilities. The anticipation alone would do a great deal of the work for him.

He glanced at his watch to lay it on thick. “I’d love to talk to you some more about your assignment, but I’m afraid I have a meeting in a few minutes. Would you be interested in having dinner with me tomorrow night?”

“No.”

Jonah opened his mouth to suggest a restaurant and stopped cold. Had she just said no? That couldn’t be right. “What?”

Her pale skin flushed pink and her eyes grew wide for a moment as she seemed to realize her mistake. “I mean no, thank you,” she corrected, turning on her heel and disappearing into her new office with a swift click of the door.

Three

The following morning, Emma met Harper at the twenty-third-floor coffee bar before work. She’d barely slept the night before and was seriously in need of some caffeine.

“You look like hell,” Harper said, always the honest one. When they’d first met at the sorority house, Emma wasn’t quite sure what to think of her. Now she’d come to appreciate her candor. Most of the time.

“Thanks. Good morning to you, too.”

They got into line and waited to place their orders. “What’s wrong?” Harper asked.

“I just didn’t sleep well last night.”

Harper nodded and took a step forward to call out her customized coffee to the guy at the counter. Emma watched her, her brain trying to decide what she wanted to drink, but it simply refused to function like it should. She hadn’t slept. Of course, she hadn’t told Harper why.

She’d been in a nervous tizzy. Jonah Flynn. The playboy millionaire of the software world had the matching half to her tattoo. Fate had played a cruel joke. There was not a worse match on the planet for her, much less to father her child. It was just as well she’d kept her identity a secret. He most certainly would’ve been disappointed to see who she was beyond the tequila and the mask. And fatherhood for the most elusive bachelor in the five boroughs? Yeah, right.

And yet, as she lay in bed that night attempting to sleep, all she could think about was him. How he’d saved her from the creep. How a thrill of excitement had raced through her when he kissed her for the first time. She remembered his hands running over her body as though he couldn’t get enough of her. After everything with David, it had felt incredible to be desired like that. It was a feeling that could easily become addictive and that meant it was dangerous.

She’d tried to forget about that night and had been mostly successful, but her body remembered. Being in the same room, touching him and breathing in his familiar scent had brought it all back. With a vengeance. In the dark of her bedroom, she could easily recall the sensations he’d coaxed from her body. Not once, in two years with David, had she ever responded like that. It was something raw, primal.

“Ma’am?”

Emma turned to the man at the counter, who was patiently waiting on her drink order. “Hot tea,” she blurted. Although she probably needed the jolt of a black cup of coffee, she knew she wasn’t supposed to have too much caffeine. That was a cruel irony for pregnant women everywhere.

The area was as miserably crowded as any Starbucks, so when their drinks were ready, they took them and their pastries, and went on their way back to their offices.

Harper seemed quite pleased with her new work arrangement. “I can get used to having you working here. I’d finally have someone to talk to. Everyone here is pleasant and all, but most of them have their heads in the clouds or their noses in a computer.”

Emma had noticed that. Software designers were definitely different than most of the people she’d worked with. They were intensely focused, usually not even making eye contact or saying hello in the hallway. They were all on some mission, be it to fix a software bug or beat their nemesis at some video game. That or perhaps they just didn’t know how to speak to women.

“Then why do you stay?” Emma asked. “We both know you don’t need to work.”

Harper narrowed her gaze at Emma, then shrugged. “I get bored doing nothing.”

“You could always help Oliver. He might like having his sister there at the family business.”

“Oliver doesn’t need my help with anything. Besides, this place is fun. You’ll get spoiled quickly. I save so much money with the free food. I was able to drop my gym membership, too, which saved me a bundle. Now I can use that money for Louis Vuitton handbags and trips to Paris, instead. I enjoy having income I earned on my own, not because of my last name. You couldn’t get me to leave here and I hope you’ll feel the same. We do need to make some adjustments to your wardrobe, though.”

Emma looked at Harper’s khaki capris and silky, sleeveless top, then down at her conservative suit and frowned. It was her favorite. She’d always thought the dark green had complemented her coloring. “I can’t help it if everyone here dresses like college students. I refuse to assimilate. And don’t you get your heart set on me being here past a few weeks. The minute I can get out of here, I will.”

They paused at the elevator and Harper pushed the button. “Why are you so anxious to go? Is it that bad?”

It wasn’t, but staying here a moment longer than she had to was courting disaster. Emma wondered how much she should tell Harper about yesterday. Harper was one of her best friends, but she was lacking in social couth. Anything she told her would instantly be passed along to their friends Violet and Lucy, as well. From there, who knows who would find out. Emma wanted Jonah to stay in the dark about her identity for the time being and the best way to make that happen was to keep her friends out of the loop.

“I’m just not comfortable here.”

“You’re afraid of running into him.” The remark hit a little too close to home for her taste. Harper always had a way of seeing too much where Emma was concerned. It made her an excellent friend, but left Emma little privacy, even in her own head.

There was no sense in denying it. “Yes, I’ll admit it. It would be awkward, at best, to run into him. And at worst, a conflict of interest if anyone at Game Town found out. My entire report could be compromised if anyone thought I was personally involved with someone here.”

“Or it could be the most wonderful thing ever. I thought you wanted to find him. You know, for the sake of the B-A-B-Y.” She mouthed the last part silently.

Emma didn’t respond. Harper was too wrapped up in her romantic ideas to see the situation objectively and there was no sense in explaining herself any further. She just stepped onto the elevator when the doors opened and sipped her hot tea.

“You’ve already seen him!” Harper accused.

She snapped her head to the side to confirm they were alone in the elevator. “What? No, of course not.”

Harper was unconvinced by her response. “Who is it? Is he cute? What department does he work in?”

The doors opened to the twenty-fourth floor and Emma waved at her friend to be discreet as they stepped out. “Would you keep it down? I don’t want everyone to know.”

“Okay, but you’ve gotta tell me. I can keep it a secret.”

Emma eyed her with dismay. She loved her friend, but honestly... “No, you can’t.”

Harper frowned and planted a hand defiantly on her hip. “Oh, come on. Why not? I mean, it isn’t like it’s the CEO or something. Bagging Jonah would be quite gossipworthy, but anyone else is just run-of-the-mill office news. I don’t know what the big dea—”

Emma could feel the color drain from her face and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Harper halted in her tracks, forcing Emma to turn and look back at her. Her friend’s jaw had dropped open, her perpetual stream of words uncharacteristically on hold.

“Oh my God,” she finally managed.

“Shh! Harper, really. It doesn’t matter.”

“The hell it doesn’t!” Her voice dropped to a hushed whisper that was still too loud for Emma’s taste. “Jonah Flynn? Seriously?”

Emma nodded. “But he doesn’t know who I am or know anything about the baby. And I intend to keep it that way for now. You understand?”

Harper nodded, her mind visibly blown by her friend’s news. “Jonah Flynn is the hottest man I’ve ever seen in real life. He and my brother are friends, and it took everything I had not to throw myself at him every time he came to the house. I can’t believe you two... How did you not jump into his lap when you realized who he was?”

“Have we met?”

Harper frowned. “You’re right. A damn shame, though. What a prize to land. He was totally smitten with you.”

“He’s a player. I seriously doubt that.”

“If you believe the gossip, then yes, Jonah Flynn is a notorious womanizer. But that’s not the guy I’ve known over the years. And the guy you were with was willing to tattoo himself after one night together on the off chance it might reunite you someday. A playboy wouldn’t have an inch of skin unmarked if that was what he did with everyone. You were special to him. Special enough for a guy that goes through women like tissues to take serious notice.”

That was true. Emma hadn’t spied another tattoo on what she’d seen of his body, then or now. But she refused to believe there was any kind of future with him. Even if he was interested in starting something, he wanted the woman she was that night. Not regular old Emma. And she swore she’d never be that woman again. So what was the point? Telling him who she was would just torture them both and ruin the memory of that night.

And yet she had to. Or did she? Her hand dropped protectively to her belly. If Jonah rejected Emma and their child, it could scar the baby forever knowing its father didn’t want him or her. Would it be better to keep quiet? The idea was unsettling to her, but until she decided, not a word could get out. “You have to keep this a secret, Harper. No one can know. Not Violet, not Lucy, not your brother and especially not Jonah.”

“Cross my heart.” Harper sighed in disgust and Emma could see it was almost physically painful for her to say the words. “You’d better keep that tat of yours under wraps, though.”

Emma straightened her collar nervously and started back down the hallway. “I don’t make a habit of displaying my décolletage and have every intention of keeping it hidden. I’m here to do my job and get out.”

“But what about the baby?” Harper trailed behind her.

“I don’t know, Harper. What happened between us is over. Never to be repeated. Ancient history. I don’t know that the baby will change that.” Emma reached out and opened the door to her office. Sitting on her desk was a large crystal vase filled to overflowing with white lilies in full bloom. The warm scent of them was nearly overwhelming in the small space, making her happy that she was past her morning sickness. She’d never received a more beautiful bouquet of flowers in her life.

She stepped inside and plucked the card from the plastic prong. As she flipped open the envelope, she couldn’t decide if she wanted them to be from Jonah or not. His attentions, although flattering, were pointless and even dangerous if he knew who she really was. Yet her impractical, inner girl couldn’t help but wish they were from the handsome businessman.

“‘To Emma,’” she read, her stomach aflutter with nerves and excitement. “‘Welcome to FlynnSoft. I look forward to getting to know you better.’ It’s signed Jonah.”

“Ancient history, eh?” Harper said, leaning in to sniff one of the flowers. “Are you so sure about that?”

* * *

Jonah came down the hallway from the elevator, coffee in one hand, bagel in the other, and paused outside his office. There was a large and quite stunning crystal vase of white Casablanca lilies sitting on Pam’s desk. He frowned. He’d specifically ordered that type of lily for Emma because he felt they were a reflection of her: elegant, pure and refined. They didn’t make any flowers that were stuffy and aggravating.