"Don't tell me you’re burnt out on your career already? You've only been doing it a few years and you act like you really love it. Some days when you come home from work, you're smiling so big, I wonder if I shouldn't be jealous that you love your career more than you love me."
It was a joke and she giggled. Tickling my chest again, she said with a smile, "Don't worry, I don't love anything more than you. It's just that I'm pregnant."
"What?" I sat up straight so suddenly, I nearly knocked her off my lap. "I don't think I heard you right. S
ay that again."
"I'm pregnant." She was absolutely beaming as she smiled at me. I'd never seen her looking more radiantly beautiful.
"Are you sure? I thought you were on the pill." I gaped like a moron.
"I was, but it's not a hundred percent effective. I went to see my doctor when I had the flu last month, and she told me that it was morning sickness. I was six-weeks pregnant."
"Why didn't you tell me?" I was still in shock and didn't know how to feel.
"Because I knew you would worry and make me quit my job."
"Damn right, I would. You can't be on your feet all day in harsh weather conditions with nothing on but a bikini, keeping your weight down by starving yourself. My baby needs good nutrition, and his mother needs to pamper herself and relax." I was instantly protective and felt a glow in my heart I knew was pride and pure love.
"So, I told my agent, and he got my clients to compact their photo shoots into a one-month period of time. I was able to complete all the work I had committed to for the rest of the season in just four, short weeks, and now I'm officially on hiatus. I won't be accepting any new modeling jobs until after the baby is born, and maybe not at all."
"You're really doing this?" I could hardly believe how rapidly our lives had changed, and she nodded her head. I could see from the smile in her eyes and the glow in her cheeks that she was really happy, and I was, too.
Just over two, short years ago, I'd thought I was living the dream life with my secretary blowing me under my mahogany desk in my billion-dollar company offices, but I'd never been more wrong.
True happiness wasn't money, empty affairs, or even success. True happiness was this right here: having found someone you love who loves you, too, and turning that passion into a baby to raise and love together.
As I kissed Kayla with the tropical beach behind us and felt the love we had for each other envelop us, I knew that at long last, I had healed the wounds of my youth and was truly living the dream every man wanted, and I was going to enjoy every moment of it.
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BOSS’S VIRGIN
By Claire Adams
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 Claire Adams
Chapter One
Ian
This is what happens when you do favors for friends.
Jonathan asked if I’d do him a solid and give his friend an interview since we needed to hire a new secretary. What were the words he’d used? Smokin’ hot AND intelligent? I looked over my steepled fingers at the girl sitting nervously on one of the two chairs on the other side of my desk. The chairs were maple, straight-backed, very fine craftsmanship but no cushions, so whoever was sitting there would have to perched upright, slightly uncomfortable. At attention, if you will. My own ass was luxuriating in an ergonomic leather executive chair—Tuscan leather, mahogany accents, ability to recline, retractable footrest. I was reclining now, as a matter of fact, wishing that I had not agreed to do this favor for Jonathan. I mean, this girl, Daisy, was attractive, sure, but she dressed in such a way that was trying to disguise it, with her black A-line skirt that went past her knees, her blouse buttoned all the way up, those black, school marm oxfords. This girl didn’t need a job; she needed a goddamn crash course in fashion.
But we’d just sat down, and if I didn’t at least go through the formalities, I’d have to endure Jonathan’s bitching, and I already heard enough of that as it was.
“So,” I said. “You’re friends with Jonathan?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. She cleared her throat. “Yes,” she said again, a little more loudly. “We met at the gym.”
“And you were previously employed at . . . where?” I leaned forward and rifled through some papers on the desk, though there was nothing there that would give me any clues about her previous work experience.