The Billionaire’s Pregnant Employee (Preston Brothers Book 3) Read online

  He tugged her back by the elbow, lengthening the gap between the two parties. “Awkwardness?”

  “I passed the Lis on the way in,” Claire whispered. “Mr. Li the elder didn’t want to take the hard line and ask for more profits, but his son did. I only added that you wouldn’t budge on the split.”

  “They seemed surprised by that.” They’d jumped back an inch in their seats.

  “They were surprised that I was...taking an active role, probably.” Claire shot him a smile then that was so determined and unapologetic that it stole the breath from his lungs. “Sorry about that.”

  “No apologies necessary.”

  2

  Archer Preston was hot.

  And maybe Claire had spent a few minutes focusing on just how hot he was back in the meeting room, but she was a professional—nobody was going to catch her mooning over a guy in the middle of a work engagement. Technically, this was still a work engagement, but the mood was significantly different from the tension back at the Preston building.

  By the time Archer pulled out her chair at a long rectangular table in the private dining area of Magellan’s, a steakhouse in one of the fanciest hotels in town, the party had multiplied. He’d stopped on the way out to invite a couple more people from his team—“They helped facilitate all the meetings, and Crystal arranges for the air travel”—and the Lis turned out to have brought three other people from the company with them. All in all, ten of them sat down together—Claire on Archer’s right, and the Lis across the table.

  Archer leaned over while two waiters handed out the night’s menus. “Thank you for coming.”

  Whew. It was hard to look at him. He was, in fact, so perfect that it made her blush to look into his blue eyes. Claire didn’t know if he could tell she was blushing, but she could feel it under her skin like the embers of a fire. His eyes might be the color of the sea, but they didn’t make her feel cool—not at all. And then there was the way he looked in his suit. Archer wore a crisp white shirt with the collar open under his unbuttoned jacket. On anyone else, it would look sloppy. On Archer, it looked...delicious.

  Claire’s stomach growled. “I couldn’t leave you in the lurch for your big celebration.”

  “You could have.” His eyes danced. “It would be well within your rights.”

  “Steak is within my rights, too.” She scanned the menu. It all looked good. And expensive. It was hard to say just how expensive it was, because there were no prices on the menu, but if there were no prices...it was going to be very, very pricey. Claire’s pulse raced, each beat of her heart feather-light and fluttering like a hummingbird. It was fine. She wouldn’t be the one getting the bill. She was on the clock.

  “Is everything all right?” Archer’s breath brushed against the shell of her ear.

  Claire stole a glance across the table at the Lis. They had their heads close together, discussing something she couldn’t quite hear—the menu, probably—and looked back at unbearably hot Archer, flashing him a smile that she used as a reset whenever she felt out of her depth.

  “More than okay. Just a little hungry. Why?”

  “You had a look on your face like something was wrong.”

  He’d been studying her. Another wash of heat colored her cheeks, and she thanked her lucky stars for the dim mood lighting of the restaurant. Getting flustered over every attractive man she came across would not endear her to clients. Interpreting required a kind of stoic attitude. Looking at Archer made her want to fan herself.

  “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just overwhelmed by all the different cuts of meat.”

  He choked out a laugh, swallowing it before it could boom across the table. “Order two, if you must.”

  “But which two? A petite filet? A tenderloin?” She kept her face absolutely even.

  Archer leaned back in his chair and rubbed a palm over his mouth. She could tell from the crinkles around his eyes that he was trying not to laugh. “Whatever your heart desires.”

  My heart desires more than steak. “In that case...I’ll have a steak and soup.”

  He arched one eyebrow. “Soup? When you could have two cuts of meat?”

  If it’s thick enough, one’s good enough for me. She pinched her lips shut to keep from saying the words out loud. It was one thing to allude to humor with the word tenderloin. That was farther than she should really go in front of her client.

  “Yep,” she said, and closed the menu with a definitive snap.

  The silence was thick between them. “So,” Archer said, finally. “Where did you go to school?”

  She opened her mouth to answer, but the elder Li spoke up. She swallowed her own reply and put his words in her mouth instead. “I’d like to propose that we have our teams meet this coming Monday to begin setting up the framework for the partnership. I predict we’ll have good results if we get our people together early on.”

  Archer kept his eyes on Claire’s for a beat too long. Mr. Li was sure to notice it. “We can set up some meetings, of course,” Archer said. “I have the perfect man to take the lead. He’ll get everyone else in line.”

  The conversation tumbled onward, her mind focusing on translating, and the minutes whipped by. She ordered a petite filet steak and inhaled it between translations. Claire had just put down her fork when the Lis exchanged a look, then got up from their seats.

  “Thank you for the wonderful dinner,” the younger Mr. Li said. “We won’t forget it.” They left the table with such smooth ease that Claire’s heart plummeted to the floor. This was her cue.

  “I should thank you again,” she said to Archer, feeling as awkward and disappointed as she ever had in her life. “It was a lovely dinner. And don’t forget to call the agency if you need a good translator again. I’ll be certified soon.” She had her purse on her shoulder, ready to tear off the Band-Aid and take a bus back to her apartment. “Goodbye, Mr. Preston.”

  He caught her by the elbow the moment she turned away. “Goodbye, Mr. Preston? That’s how you want this night to end?”

  She shrugged, excitement making her breath feel cool, like the edges had been tinged with snowflakes. “That’s not how I want the night to end,” she admitted. “But my translation work is over.”

  “Yes, but dinner isn’t.” Archer gestured to the table. The rest of his team sat there, with two of the remaining members of the Lis’ team. “Celebrate with us.”

  She should say no. “Gladly,” Claire said, and sat back down next to Archer.

  The champagne had gone to her head in the most delightful way imaginable.

  She felt bubbly, on top of the world, and even more so because Archer couldn’t take his eyes off her. “Come on,” he wheedled, another hour into the celebration. “Tell me your secrets.”

  “They’re not my secrets,” she insisted. “I’ve just spent time in that region of China. Things are a certain way there.”

  “Like how?”

  “Like...” She tried to clear the hazy fog of looking at him from her mind. “There’s a focus on cooperation. You don’t want your guy to strongarm everybody into the right place. The Lis will be focused on how everyone on the team can work as one unit.”

  “Anything else?”

  “You never want to put them in a position where they might be embarrassed.” She took the last sip of her champagne. “It’s a priority for them to save face.”

  Archer said nothing.

  “Did you...hear me?”

  “I’m too busy looking at your face,” he said matter-of-factly. “I have to make a toast.”

  “To my face?”

  “To my team.” His smile was as striking as his eyes, and his eyes were like an eighth wonder of the world. Or ninth, if you put his gorgeous body first, which Claire was considering. Archer stood up, called for the table’s attention, and toasted them all on a job well done. “And to Claire,” he finished. “For being here when we needed her the most.”

  Archer’s eyes caught Claire’s as he took his seat, and
she couldn’t look away from their dancing depths. “Speaking of teams,” Archer said, taking another sip of champagne. “How did you come to be on mine?”

  The conversation came easily. They talked about colleges. They talked about study abroad. “After my first trip, I just wanted to go back for more.” Claire came out of reminiscing about Spain to find Archer’s eyes filled with laughter...and heat.

  “Who wouldn’t want more?”

  She wanted more of Archer’s voice. The low curl of it started in her ears and worked its way down her spine. It possessed her attention. One by one, the other people at the table said their goodbyes and headed out, and finally Claire became aware of a waiter standing just off her elbow.

  “Mr. Preston. Miss.” The lanky young man smiled down at them. “We’re going to be closing shortly. Can I have the kitchen whip up anything else?”

  Archer started, as if he hadn’t noticed the time. “No, no. I’ll take the bill. Thank you.”

  He paid, and then it was time to go. Claire felt that same sinking feeling as they strolled out to the deserted lobby. “You don’t have to wait with me,” she said. “I’m just going to call a cab.”

  Archer laughed and caught her hand in his, so casually she nearly swooned. “I’m not putting you in a cab. I’ve got my driver bringing the car around.”

  “You really don’t have to.”

  They went through the revolving doors at the front of the hotel and into the cool night air. “I do have to,” Archer said. “I invited you to dinner, and I’m going to make sure you get home safely.” He was still holding her hand. Claire was gripped by the sudden fear that if she looked down and saw it for herself, he would let go, and that would be the end of all of this. Whatever this was. A casual not-casual date but not date with a client.

  He was close—so close. The breeze whipped the scent of him into her nose. “I don’t want to go home,” she blurted, feeling the impending arrival of his car and driver the way Cinderella must have felt the stroke of midnight. “I’d rather stay with you. I’d rather—”

  “I’d rather kiss you. May I?”

  “Yes,” she breathed. The next moment, Archer’s mouth was on hers, his hand at the small of her back, pulling her close. “This is against the rules,” she murmured against his lips.

  “This is a celebration,” he said, finality in his tone.

  Then he was kissing her again, tongue searching for hers and finding, searching and finding, and she thought she’d never draw another breath. It was that good. When they finally separated, she put her fingertips to her lips. They had to be different somehow, after that kiss.

  “I’d like to keep celebrating,” she said boldly. “But my apartment is no good.”

  Archer pulled his phone from his pocket. “Mine’s no good, either.”

  She laughed out loud, voice echoing off the front of the hotel. “You’re Archer Preston. I know you don’t have three roommates, like I do.”

  He glanced up at her, tapping something out quickly on his phone. “I don’t have any roommates. But I try to keep my dates and my private life very separate.” When he looked back at her, his eyes were serious. “Is that all right with you?”

  Relief lifted from her shoulders like a cape flying behind her. “More than all right. I—have other plans. I don’t want anything heavy.” She was too busy relishing the weight of his hand against the small of her back. “No strings.”

  “No strings,” he agreed. “Let’s go inside.”

  “Are we still waiting for your driver?” She peered down the street but saw no telltale headlights coming down the road.

  Archer steered her toward the door. “You’re funny. Do you know that?”

  “I’m not being funny, I’m just asking.” But she smiled nonetheless.

  “I just offered to take you inside a five-star hotel, and you’re wondering when the car will be here to pick you up.” Archer shook his head. “A five-star hotel. And the penthouse suite has my name on it.”

  “Does it really?”

  Archer laughed, the sound surrounding them in the close confines of the revolving door. “For tonight it does.”

  “And whose name is on your bed? For tonight, I mean.”

  “Just tonight,” he said and pushed the call button for the elevator. “I like an adventurous woman, but I won’t waver from my goals. I don’t have time for a relationship.”

  “Neither do I,” Claire said. And, no matter how sexy he was, there were risks when it came to wealthy men who liked to be in control.

  “We’re going to be working together a lot in the coming weeks. We can’t get attached in a way that would—”

  “Jeopardize anything,” she said. “We’re on the same page. Wait—you’re hiring me for a long-term project?”

  Archer took out his phone and held it up so she could see. “The Lis have rearranged their schedule so they can set up the partnership in person. I’ll need you.”

  Her heart hung up on I need you, but she let it go, quicker than she’d drop a hot pan. “Now that’s something to celebrate.” Claire followed Archer into the elevator. As soon as the doors shut behind them, she leapt, throwing herself onto him. He caught her easily, as if he’d been waiting all his life for it to happen, and backed her up against the wall.

  “Are you sure you’re up for more celebration?” He dragged a hot kiss down the side of her neck. “I’d understand if you’re not.”

  She hooked her arms around his neck and kissed him hard, every cell of her lighting up to be pressed against him. Harder, hotter, the kiss went deeper and deeper until—

  Ding. “I’m up for it,” she said fiercely, looking him in the eye. “Take me to bed.”

  3

  “I can’t believe you’re hiding in the bathroom at a time like this.” Tracy, one of Claire’s roommates, rapped her knuckles against the door for the third time. “Come on. Your rich boyfriend is going to be here any minute, and I have to pee.”

  Claire stared at herself in the mirror. “I’ll be out in a minute,” she watched herself say. “But he’s not my boyfriend.”

  “You’ve been saying that for the past month.” Tracy snorted. “Since when does a guy who’s not your boyfriend take you out to the most expensive restaurants in town multiple times per week—and then there was the highly romantic hot air balloon ride. And don’t forget the boat party.”

  “It was a yacht party,” Claire said, not bothering to process the words. “On a yacht.”

  That much, at least, made sense. At least—a kind of sense that worked for her reality. One night, it turned out, hadn’t been quite enough for Claire...or Archer, no matter how much he insisted he was a man who needed his freedom and didn’t want relationship commitments. It even made sense that Archer had never taken Claire to his house, only the most luxurious suites in the city.

  Nothing else made sense. How could it?

  Claire rubbed the back of her hand over her eyes and went through the details for the hundredth time. For the thousandth. The night at the steakhouse had turned into a hot one-night stand. And that had turned into a several-night stand. Or at least a several date stand. Archer had taken her out twice a week since then, but they were not dating. They were only...going on dates. They were only having fun with no strings attached.

  Except now there was one massive string attached. Claire took a deep breath, held it for a count of four, then let it out for a count of four. She’d learned about the absolutely free technique of square breathing when her mom had been laid off from the best job she’d ever had, which had been an admin assistant position at the local community college. As a kid, she’d believed that the breathing had made things magically better. She knew better now.

  But at least it had some calming effect.

  All right. Well, the test result explained things. It explained why she’d been so tired last night at dinner. The food had been so savory, the spices so balanced, that it had brought actual tears to her eyes. And then, right in th
e middle of dessert, her eyelids had grown heavy. The tiredness spread down her back in the form of an ache that went through her legs. She tried to stretch them under the table, hiding her yawn behind her hand, but Archer had noticed.

  “Tired?” His eyes had glinted in the candlelight, and she’d seen concern and maybe a flash of disappointment?

  “Exhausted.” She was too tired to lie. “I could put my head down on the table.”

  He’d whisked her to the same hotel they’d stayed in that first night and tucked her into bed. The last thing she remembered saying was I’ll feel better in the morning.

  She’d felt less tired when she woke up, but then her stomach had lurched, an awful tension around her neck, and she’d had to run to the bathroom to throw up.

  The missed period from last week should have raised a red flag. But the positive pregnancy test was an enormous red banner waving right in her face.

  Claire stared down at the stick perched on the edge of the sink. She hadn’t messed around with the ones that used blue lines—this test had words. And the word was PREGNANT.

  With Archer Preston’s baby.

  Tracy knocked on the door again. “Claire?”

  “Just a minute,” she shouted.

  Outside the door, Tracy laughed. “You’re in a mood today. But also, your boyfriend’s here.”

  He was not her boyfriend, and he wasn’t going to be her boyfriend. They’d both been clear about that. Careers came first, and that was that. But Claire swallowed a lump in her throat. Fear curled in a small corner of her soul. She was keeping the baby—that much she knew, instinctively and wholly. But what about her job? What about her life?

  She slipped the pregnancy test into her purse and hitched the strap over her shoulder.

  Tracy was waiting in the hall. “Finally.” She patted her roommate’s shoulder. “My bladder was about to explode.”

  Archer waited at the front door, leaning against the doorframe like a model out of a magazine. His blue shirt made his eyes stand out more than they usually did. He straightened up when he saw her, offering his arm. Her hand trembled on his elbow. Get it together, hand. Get it together, self.