LITMIR.BIZ

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else.”

      Brock finished off his dinner with a final bite. “You’re definitely on Prentice’s radar. Keep your nose clean and you’ll go far with his influence. Landing Prentice’s clothing line couldn’t be better timed, especially with Golden Gate Promotions breathing down our necks.”

      Golden Gate was their main rival, another family-owned advertising agency with quite a pedigree and still helmed by its original founder, Athos Koteas. Jason understood well the specter that rival cast. This job at Maddox—this chance in California—was everything to him. He wouldn’t let anything screw it up.

      His BlackBerry buzzed again from inside his jacket. More pictures? Was the guy sending him an ultrasound photo, for crying out loud? His gut pitched. He liked kids, sure, wanted some of his own.

      Someday.

      Flynn ducked in closer. “We consider it quite a coup, you charging in with a winning pitch after that lame ass was fired.”

      Brock smiled sardonically. “Lame ass? Sunburned ass maybe, after hanging out on that beach au naturel.”

      Low laughter rumbled up from the clustered bunch of MC employees. Jason slid his finger along the neck of his shirt. What a time to remember that Walter Prentice had reportedly disowned his own granddaughter for refusing to marry the father of her kid. Prentice lived by his motto Family Is Everything.

      Performance on the job should be all that mattered, damn it. He’d already been dubbed the golden boy at Maddox Communications, a title he’d worked hard to achieve and would do anything to keep. The key word? Worked. He’d earned his way to the top, determined to shed the trust-fund label that had dogged him growing up. He wouldn’t allow an impulsive move from four months ago to wreck his chances for the success he’d damn well paid for.

      He’d walked away from the carrot of joining his old man’s advertising company and took a Navy ROTC scholarship to college instead. After serving his six years, he’d launched out on his own in the ad world. While he’d tackled the New York City job, he could still feel his father’s influence breathing down his neck. The offer from San Francisco–based MC had put a whole country between him and the old man’s farreaching shadow.

      And just that fast, inspiration hit.

      As soon as he finished up here at Rosa Lounge, Jason would be on the red-eye to New York. By morning, he would be on Lauren Presley’s doorstep for a face-to-face with her. If that baby was his, she would simply have to come to California.

      Any possible rumors would be taken care of when he introduced her as his fiancée.

      The icy January wind kept most people indoors. Normally Lauren would have been in her apartment in warm wooly socks, tending her plants. But the cold helped calm her nausea. So she worked on the roof, checking the winterizing on the community garden she’d started a couple of years ago.

      Kneeling, she tucked the plastic tighter along the edges of the rooftop planter while roaring engines and horns announced that the Big Apple was waking up. The city in winter wore the neutral palette of an Andrew Wyeth painting, a world reduced to blacks and whites, grays and browns. Icy-cold concrete stung through her jeans as she knelt, a bitter breeze whipping off the East River. She huddled deeper into her wool coat. She flexed her numbed fingers inside her gardening gloves.

      Her stomach fluttered from more than the baby.

      She’d gotten a panicked call from her friend Stephanie informing her that her husband had let Jason know about the pregnancy via a photo taken at last week’s New Year’s party.

      And now Jason was on his way to NYC.

      No amount of cold air or gardening would stem the tide of nausea this time. Her world was totally falling apart. Jason was on his way to confront her about the baby she hadn’t gotten around to informing him was due in five months, and oh, by the way, her business was all but in ruins.

      Lauren sagged back against the concrete fountain, water frozen in the base, icicles dripping from the stone lion’s mane. A week ago she’d learned her bookkeeper, Dave, had used her sick leave as an opportunity to embezzle half a million dollars from her fledgling graphic-design business. She’d only found out when she hired a temp bookkeeper to take over while Dave went “on vacation.” Now they all knew he wouldn’t be returning from whatever island haven he’d taken up residence at using her money. Authorities didn’t hold out much hope of finding him—or her funds.

      She rubbed a hand over the growing curve of her belly. A child completely dependent on her and she’d royally screwed up her life. What kind of mother would she make? A total coward, up here hiding.

      Things had changed so much in a few months. She missed the color palette of spring and summer, but her artistic eye still appreciated the monochromatic starkness of a winter landscape.

      The rooftop door creaked a second before a long shadow stretched over her. She knew before she looked. Jason had found her anyway. There was no more delaying this confrontation.

      Lauren glanced over her shoulder and… She felt a shiver of awareness.

      Jason’s lean, looming presence added the final touch to the stark skyline, his swimmer’s build, dark hair cut short, thicker along the top and just lifting in the harsh wind. He stood tall, immovable, uncompromising—physically and emotionally.

      She turned away and tucked her gardening tools back in her bag. “Hello, Jason.”

      His footsteps grew louder, closer, and still he didn’t speak.

      “I guess the doorman told you I was up here,” she babbled, her hands frantically busy.

      He knelt beside her. “You should be more careful.”

      She inched away. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people.”

      “What if it hadn’t been me coming up here? That door creaks mighty damn loud and you were in another world.”

      “Okay, you’re right. I was, uh, distracted.” By his impending arrival, the baby on the way, and oh, yeah, she had an embezzler on her payroll. So much for her insistence she was ready to take on the world.

      She could almost hear her parents’ disapproval about everything in her life. Except for Jason. He was exactly the sort of man her socialite mother would pick for her, with his blue-blood lineage, fat bank account and good looks.

      Hell, most any mom would be happy to have Jason Reagert as a son-in-law. But he was also stubborn and controlling and she’d fought too hard for her independence to risk it in a relationship with this man. No doubt that was why she’d succeeded in ignoring the attraction for the past months.

      She clutched her bag to her chest. “What are you doing here? You could have just called.”

      “And you could have called.” He looked at her stomach and back up again. “When I spoke with a friend of mine back here last night, he told me you’ve been working from home because you’re not feeling well. Are you all right? Is the baby all right?”

      And there it was. Her pregnancy news out there with a simple statement. No huge confrontation or shouting match like her parents would have had before—and after—their divorce. All the same, her fingers shook, so she hitched her bag over her shoulder and stood.

      “Only morning sickness.” She stuffed her hands in her pockets. “The doctor says I’m fine. I’m just more productive if I work from home. The worst is past.”

      “I’m glad to hear that.”

      The nausea had been debilitating for a couple of months. Entrusting so much of the office routine to others had been nerve-racking, but there hadn’t been any other choice. Too bad it had cost her so much. “I made it back up to half days in the office last week.”

      “Are you sure you’re ready? You look like you’ve lost weight.” A protective gleam lit his eyes. He grabbed an iron chair and hauled it over to her.

      Lauren glanced at

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