Little Secrets: Secretly Pregnant. Andrea Laurence
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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