Christine Rimmer - His Executive Sweetheart

She put up a hand. “No. Really. I’m sorry, to be so vague about this. But I’d much rather we just kept it to business here in the office. I would honestly appreciate it if you’d just come to my rooms this evening. We’ll discuss it there.”

He looked at her for a long time. It was absolutely awful. What could he be thinking? Undoubtedly that she was inconveniencing him. Just possibly that he was going to have call down to human resources and get them to find him another PA.

Finally, he said in what seemed a half-hearted attempt at humor, “Well. Am I busy?”

She managed a pained smile. “Uh. No. Not at seven. Not as of now, anyway.”

“All right then,” he said. “Your rooms. At seven.” He turned from her and went through the door to his office, closing it quietly behind him.

O nce in his office, Aaron Bravo stood at the door for a moment, his hand on the doorknob, thinking, What the hell is up with Celia?

Then he smelled coffee.

She had it ready for him, as always, waiting on the credenza. He went over, poured himself a cup and drank it right there, staring out the glare-treated glass beyond his desk, not really seeing the city sprawled across the desert landscape below.

He still had Celia on his mind. She didn’t look well. Hadn’t for a week or two now.

So could she be ill? And if so, was it serious? Was she planning to tell him she needed some time off—or worse, that she’d have to give up her job?

Damn. She was young, too young to be dangerously ill. And he’d sure as hell hate to lose her. She was the next thing to a genius at what she did. Always there when he needed her—and yet never in the way.

Pregnant.

The word popped into his head. He frowned. No. Not Celia. Celia didn’t have time to get pregnant, not with the kind of demands he made on her. He kept her working hard—too hard, really. He knew that. He also paid her damn well. And he tried to remember to cut her a little slack now and then. Like this last weekend, when he’d let her off the hook for the trip back east, leaving instructions for her to take three days off.

He poured another cup of coffee.

Re the pregnancy angle—on the other hand, why not? How much opportunity did it take, anyway? One encounter could do it. If she hadn’t been careful.

Not careful? Celia?

Hard to believe. She was such a model of efficiency. He couldn’t see her not being careful, couldn’t imagine her slipping up on something so basic as birth control.

But then, he could hardly imagine Celia having sex, let alone dealing with what method of contraception to use. He just didn’t think sex when he thought of Celia.

Well, and why the hell should he? She was his secretary. And her sex life was her business.

However, accidents did happen. And if she now had a baby on the way…

Well, if she did, okay. It should be manageable.

He’d be willing to deal with a kid in the picture. They could work around it, if she wanted to stay with him. It might be tough. There’d be some serious inconveniences for both of them. But his mother had done it; raising three sons and running the Highgrade all on her own after his father, the notorious Blake Bravo, had supposedly died.

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