Little Secrets--His Pregnant Secretary Read online

  The boss’s baby bargain...

  Becoming a father was never part of Jager McNeill’s plan, until the heat between him and his luscious assistant turned into searing passion. Now Delia Rickard is carrying his baby. After growing up without a father, Jager’s determined to be there for his child. And marriage would ensure that. But despite their chemistry, Delia’s unwilling to marry for anything less than love.

  A trip with Jager to Manhattan could change all that. For in this enchanting city ablaze with Christmas lights, romance begins to blossom. And a kiss under the mistletoe just might turn into lasting love.

  “Something happened in the water today. Something changed between us.”

  No, Delia wanted to protest. Yet Jager was right and they both knew it.

  “We can’t let that happen.” She needed to maintain the balance of power. Rebuild some guise of professionalism before it was too late. “This job is too important to me.”

  “And your professional skills are valuable to me, as well. But we can work around that. Besides, do you really believe ignoring it will make it go away, Delia?”

  “If we both make an effort, yes. Of course. We’re both adults with professional agendas. We can keep those work goals front and center when we’re together.”

  “Like we did today.”

  “Today was an aberration.” It had to be. “Emotions ran high. We were both scared for Emily.” She wanted it to be as simple as that. “Just an adrenaline moment.”

  “So what about this moment, right now?” he asked. “Adrenaline?”

  She willed a logical answer to explain the way the air simmered all around them.

  Any answer she might have given was a moot point, however, since Jager chose that moment to lower his lips to hers.

  * * *

  Little Secrets: His Pregnant Secretary is part of the Little Secrets series:

  Untamed passion, unexpected pregnancy...

  Dear Reader,

  I am having so much fun following the lives of the McNeills! I was as shocked as anyone when Dad announced his “other” family, and knew I needed to hunt down all the brothers. This family—abandoned young by their part-time father—has been through a lot and they are fiercely protective of one another.

  That’s a protectiveness Jager McNeill extends to his assistant, Delia, after an unexpected night of passion. He won’t abandon his child the way his father abandoned him. For Delia, her boss’s insistence on keeping her close wreaks havoc on her desire for independence. But resisting the passion of a McNeill isn’t easy. Especially when she finds herself falling in love...

  Don’t forget to visit joannerock.com for updates on The McNeill Magnates and sneak peeks at what’s up next!

  Happy Reading!

  Joanne Rock

  JOANNE ROCK

  Little Secrets: His Pregnant Secretary

  Four-time RITA® Award nominee Joanne Rock has penned over seventy stories for Harlequin. An optimist by nature and a perpetual seeker of silver linings, Joanne finds romance fits her life outlook perfectly—love is worth fighting for. A former Golden Heart® Award recipient, she has won numerous awards for her stories. Learn more about Joanne’s imaginative Muse by visiting her website, joannerock.com, or following @joannerock6 on Twitter.

  Books by Joanne Rock

  Harlequin Desire

  Little Secrets: His Pregnant Secretary

  Bayou Billionaires

  His Secretary’s Surprise Fiancé

  Secret Baby Scandal

  The McNeill Magnates

  The Magnate’s Mail-Order Bride

  The Magnate’s Marriage Merger

  His Accidental Heir

  Visit her Author Profile page at Harlequin.com, or joannerock.com, for more titles.

  Join Harlequin My Rewards today and earn a FREE ebook!

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  For my sister-in-law, Kate, thank you for joining our family!

  My brother is lucky to have you, and so are we. Wishing you much love and happiness.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from Snowed in with a Billionaire by Karen Booth

  One

  Sun glinted off the brilliant blue Atlantic, full of sailboats bobbing on the calm water. For Delia Rickard, the picturesque island scene meant only one thing. It was the perfect day to ask for a raise.

  Delia mentally gave herself a pep talk as she rushed around the marina in Le François, Martinique. She anticipated meeting her boss at any moment. Her father desperately needed her help and that meant forcing herself to push for that raise. Her quiet nature and organizational skills made her great at her job but sometimes posed a challenge when it came time to stand up for herself.

  She hadn’t seen Jager McNeill in the last six months. Would he be impressed with the changes she’d made both at his family’s marina and the nearby McNeill mansion where she’d taken over as on-site property manager a year ago, on top of her responsibilities assisting Jager?

  She’d worked tirelessly for months just to be worthy of Jager McNeill’s trust in her. He’d given her the job as a favor since she didn’t have a four-year degree—showing more faith in her than anyone else in her life. At first, it had been enough to work hard to repay Jager for giving her a chance. But now, considering the hours she put in to manage both properties and the effort she made to execute every facet to the best of her ability, she knew it was time to approach her employer about a bump up in her paycheck. Her father couldn’t afford his portion of the taxes on the Rickard family lands this year and Delia needed to help to keep the small plot in the family. Her former fiancé had tried to trick her out of her share of the land once and she wouldn’t give his greedy corporate backers any chance to swoop in now and take it from her or her dad. But unless she made more money, the Rickard home would be up for auction by springtime.

  Delia sidestepped a family loading their cooler onto a skippered sailboat as she hurried toward the dockmaster’s office for an update. Just as she got there, guests on one of the new superyachts dialed up its sound system far more than the noise regulations allowed, alerting Delia to a sunset party just getting underway.

  “Cyril?” she called into the small office, raising her voice to be heard. “Any word on Mr. McNeill’s arrival?”

  The sun-weathered dockmaster turned to her. “His seaplane just landed. The skiff picked him up a moment ago.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled quickly before turning to glare out toward the party boat, wishing the group would take their ten-decibel fun out to sea for a few hours. She wanted Jager’s arrival to be perfect. “I’ll go speak to our guest about the noise.”

  Cyril shouldered his way out of his office. He shaded his eyes to peer down the dock past the multimillion-dollar boat blasting house music, toward the open water. “Do you know why Jager wants to meet here?”

  Delia had been puzz
led about that too. Why would their boss want to step off a plane and go straight to work after being away from home for over six months?

  The McNeill family had been through a harrowing year. The three brothers, Jager, Damon and Gabriel, had all relocated to Los Altos Hills, California, a year ago to establish their tech company in the heart of Silicon Valley. The software start-up had been Damon’s brainchild, but both Jager and Gabriel played roles in managing the business as it grew. Shortly afterward, Damon had married. He planned to stay out West once the company took root, and Gabe and Jager would return to Martinique, where the family had a small hotel resort and the marina, in addition to the main house they sometimes rented out for upscale corporate retreats.

  But then their lives had been turned upside down when Damon’s new bride was kidnapped and held for ransom. All of Damon’s focus had turned to getting his wife back, leaving Jager and Gabe to run the fledgling business. Eight months after the kidnapping—even after ransom had been paid—Caroline McNeill had not been returned. Damon’s father-in-law insisted the ransom note had been a hoax and that Caroline had left of her own volition. Damon refused to accept that story even though police refused to investigate. Damon had left the country and hadn’t been heard from since. To save his brother’s company before the value dropped with rumors of instability in the leadership, Jager had quietly shopped the software start-up to potential buyers. He hoped to sell the business as soon as possible.

  “I’m not sure why he wants to visit the marina first,” Delia answered Cyril, her gaze trained on the water for signs of Jager’s arrival. “Maybe after the year his family has had, work is the only thing getting them through the days.”

  Someone had threatened her family once and Delia had never forgotten the bite of betrayal. She couldn’t imagine the pain the McNeills had been through.

  “I just hope he doesn’t decide to sell the marina too,” Cyril admitted before he retreated into the dockside office, leaving Delia with a new worry to add to her list.

  It was bad enough she needed to ask for a raise. What would she do if Jager unloaded his Martinique assets?

  Delia felt the thrum of bass in the repetitive techno-crap blaring from the deck speakers as she rushed up the long wooden dock as fast as her wedge-heeled sandals would allow. The superyacht had only been docked at Le François for three days and Cyril had already talked to them once about the noise and the parties.

  “Excuse me!” Delia called up to the bow, which was at least ten feet above her head. She waved her arms to try to catch someone’s attention. A handful of swimsuit-clad couples lounged on big built-in sofas or milled around the bar. A few kids ran around the deck, squealing and chasing each other. “Hello!”

  Delia backed up a step to make herself visible to the group. She could hardly hear herself shout; they were completely oblivious. She glanced behind her to make sure she had more clearance, well aware that the docks were narrow at the far end where the larger watercraft tied off.

  She peered back up at the party boat just in time to see one of the kids—a girl in a fluttery white bathing suit cover-up—lose her balance near the rail. Her scream pierced the air right before she pitched headlong into the water with a splash.

  Terrified and not sure if anyone else even saw the child go in, Delia scrambled to the edge of the dock. She toed off her shoes and tugged her phone out of the pocket of her simple sundress, never taking her eyes off the ring of rippling water where the girl had landed. Jumping in feetfirst to avoid hitting her head on any hidden debris, Delia rotated her arms to pull herself deeper.

  Salt water stung her eyes when she tried to open them. Her hair tangled in her face as she whipped her head from side to side. Scanning. Searching.

  Fear robbed her of breath too fast. Her lungs burned as she grew light-headed. Had anyone else even seen the girl fall? What if Delia was the only one looking for her, and what would happen now that even she’d lost sight of her?

  Breaking the surface, she hauled in a giant gulp of air, then forced herself to dive deeper. Legs kicking fast, she felt something tickle her outstretched hand. Forcing her body deeper, she couldn’t quite catch the blur of white she spotted in the water through burning eyes.

  And then another swimmer streaked past her as if powered by scuba fins. There was a rush of water as strong limbs sluiced by. Though her vision was distorted by the sting of salt, she could tell the new arrival was on target for the flash of white she’d spotted. Even as her chest threatened to explode from lack of air, she remained underwater long enough to be sure the diver retrieved the child.

  Thank you, God.

  The fear fueling her strokes leaked away. Relief kicked in along with a wave of weariness. By the time she got to the surface, she could barely drag in air, she was so woozy and exhausted, yet she could see through painful eyes as the victim was pulled to safety on the dock.

  But now it seemed that Delia was the one in trouble. Gagging, gasping, her arms flailing, she reached blindly for the side of the boat or anything, clawing for support...

  “Whoa!” A deep, masculine voice sounded in her ear at the same moment two arms wrapped around her midsection. “I’ve got you.”

  Only then did she realize she’d somehow clawed him too. The arm that held her was bleeding from three shallow scratches. Sense slowly returned as oxygen fed her brain again.

  The house music had been silenced. The only sound now was the murmur of voices drifting from the marina. She glimpsed the drenched little girl on the dock, already surrounded by family. A woman—a local with a houseboat who happened to be a retired RN—was on her knees at the victim’s side, lifting her gently as she coughed up water. The relief in the crowd was palpable. Delia felt the same overwhelming gratitude throughout her body. Her shoulders sagged.

  Bringing her breasts into intimate contact with the arm around her. She collapsed like a wet noodle against the slick, hot body of a man built like iron. Her dress floated like seaweed around her thighs, making her suddenly aware of the way her soaked bikini panties were all that separated her from him.

  “Are you okay, Delia?” The voice in her ear was familiar; she’d heard it nearly every day for the past year, even if she hadn’t seen the man in person for weeks on end.

  Her boss. Jager McNeill.

  “Fine,” she spluttered, the word ending in a cough.

  Of course, it was foolish to be embarrassed since she had dived in the water to save a child. And yet, it still felt terribly awkward to be caught with her dress up around her waist today of all days when she’d wanted to make the perfect professional impression.

  Also, she’d scratched him.

  Coughed all over him.

  If she hadn’t had a crush on him once upon a time, maybe she wouldn’t be tingling from head to toe right now in spite of everything. But she feared if she tried to swim away from him to escape all the feelings, she just might drown. She was surprised to notice how far she’d drifted from the dock in her search. Behind them, she noticed the transport skiff that Cyril had sent out to meet Jager’s seaplane. Jager must have been arriving at the same time she’d jumped into the water.

  “Hold on to my shoulders,” he told her, shifting their positions in the water so he faced her. “I’ll tow you to the dock.”

  Nose to nose with him, Delia stared up into his steel-blue eyes. She thought she’d gotten used to his good looks in the past two years that they’d known each other. His dark hair and sharp, shadowed jaw made for enticing contrasts to those incredibly blue eyes. His hair had grown longer in the past months, as if barber visits were the last thing on his mind. But the way the damp strands curled along the strong column of his neck only added to the appeal.

  This close, she had the benefit of sensing the wealth of muscle in his athletic body where he held her. Feeling the flush of heat course through her, she ducked deeper into t
he cold water to hide her reaction to him.

  “I can make it.” Shaking her head, she scattered droplets from her wet hair. “I just needed to catch my breath.”

  She attempted to paddle away, but Jager only gripped her tighter.

  Oh. My.

  Feeling the warmth of his chest through their clingy clothes roused an ache she should not be feeling for her boss. Adding to the problem, the strapless bra she’d been wearing had shifted lower on her rib cage, where it did absolutely no good.

  “Humor me,” he ordered her, his voice as controlled as his movements. “You’re exhausted and dry land is farther away than it looks.” He took one of her hands and placed it on his right shoulder. Then, turning away from her, he very deliberately set her other hand on his left shoulder.

  He began to swim toward the dock with measured strokes, towing her along behind him. Water lapped over them in light waves. She felt every ripple of his muscles under her palms as the light waves swished over them. She debated fishing one hand down her dress to haul up her bra before they reached land, but decided the potential scolding from Jager if she let go of him wasn’t worth it. So she clung to him and gritted her teeth against the friction of her pebbled breasts rubbing against his back. By now he had to be as keenly aware of her as she was of him.

  The only positive of this awkward reunion?

  Any anxiety she had about talking business with him was utterly eclipsed by physical awareness. So when they reached land, she clamped onto the dock, evenly met his blue gaze and said, “I definitely deserve a raise.”

  * * *

  Two hours later, when they were safely back at the McNeill family estate in Le François, Jager still couldn’t erase Delia Rickard from his mind. After pouring himself an aged whiskey from the cut crystal decanter on his desk and taking a sip, he stared out his office window through the slats of the open plantation shutters. His gaze kept returning to the guest cottage lit by white landscape lights. He was waiting for Delia to emerge. When he’d first asked her to manage the Martinique household for him, he’d offered her the cottage on the British Colonial style property for expediency’s sake.

 
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