Carrying Her Boss's Christmas Baby Read online

  Roman gazed back watchfully. “Drugs, Violet?”

  “Not drugs.” Her voice came out horribly husky.

  He didn’t respond. Didn’t help her out at all. He just waited.

  “Apparently they also test for...for...” She couldn’t actually utter the word.

  He still stared at her. Waiting.

  “Pregnancy.”

  His eyes widened. “What?”

  She couldn’t cope with talking about it. Not yet. She needed confirmation of other things. She needed time to think about what the heck she was going to do. “Why did Colson leave when you asked him to? Are you his boss? Why are you even here?”

  “You’re pregnant?”

  Her throat tightened and then she couldn’t speak at all.

  He ran his hand through his hair and suddenly stepped closer. “You’re pregnant with my baby.”

  His savage certainty shouldn’t have made her shiver, but shiver she did. A trembling head-to-toe shudder in response to the raw possessiveness in his tone.

  Billion-Dollar Christmas Confessions

  Desire uncovered, secrets unearthed!

  Nineteen years ago, a car accident in the remote Scottish Highlands killed a wealthy American couple and injured their twelve-year-old son, Roman Fraser. But their baby daughter? She was never found...

  Now Roman has made a name for himself in New York. The billionaire and his best friend, Alex Costa, are hosting their annual ball for the cream of Manhattan society. Only this year, the festivities will lead to passionate encounters and the uncovering of shocking secrets. And Christmas will never be the same again!

  Book 1: Unwrapping His New York Innocent

  by Heidi Rice

  Ellie MacGregor grew up on a dull, remote Scottish island—and is thrilled her first waitressing job in New York ends with her getting close to scorching-hot billionaire Alex Costa! An affair that leads to her discovering a long-lost truth...

  Book 2: Carrying Her Boss’s Christmas Baby

  by Natalie Anderson

  Roman Fraser can’t forget the sinfully hot night he spent with Violet Summers... He didn’t know whether he’d ever see her again. But one thing is for sure—he never thought the next time to be on his luxury train and with her expecting his baby!

  Both available now!

  Natalie Anderson

  Carrying Her Boss’s Christmas Baby

  USA TODAY bestselling author Natalie Anderson writes emotional contemporary romance full of sparkling banter, sizzling heat and uplifting endings—perfect for readers who love to escape with empowered heroines and arrogant alphas who are too sexy for their own good. When she’s not writing, you’ll find Natalie wrangling her four children, three cats, two goldfish and one dog...and snuggled in a heap on the sofa with her husband at the end of the day. Follow her at natalie-anderson.com.

  Books by Natalie Anderson

  Harlequin Presents

  The Greek’s One-Night Heir

  Secrets Made in Paradise

  The Night the King Claimed Her

  Once Upon a Temptation

  Shy Queen in the Royal Spotlight

  Rebels, Brothers, Billionaires

  Stranded for One Scandalous Week

  Nine Months to Claim Her

  Jet-Set Billionaires

  Revealing Her Nine-Month Secret

  The Christmas Princess Swap

  The Queen’s Impossible Boss

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

  For my dreamers and adventurers.

  Go for it.

  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

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  EXCERPT FROM PREGNANT PRINCESS IN MANHATTAN BY CLARE CONNELLY

  CHAPTER ONE

  Halloween

  ROMAN FRASER STRODE through the deserted atrium, struggling to avoid the Halloween decorations strewn across the floor. The party had clearly been a success. He should be heading to another party himself now—one more wild than the one in his company headquarters. But he’d avoided this one and he was probably going to skip the next as well.

  As CEO of Fraser Holdings, he was too busy overseeing a wide assortment of companies and interests. The merchant-banking arm was insanely busy, the group’s hotels were at the highest occupancy rates they’d been in years while the luxury goods and accessories arm was growing at a phenomenal rate. Built upon the legacy of his great-grandparents, the Fraser name was synonymous with finance, luxury travel and now had the global success Roman had long sought.

  Tomorrow he’d head overseas to check in on the subsidiary companies and some of the hotels, but right now an enormous pair of wings lay in his path. They were snowy-white and sparkling, though one wing was broken. Frowning, he hoisted them up from the floor and slung the harness over his shoulder. It wasn’t fair for the cleaners to have to lug them out. It was tough enough, having to work through the small hours, let alone having to deal with this extra mess, especially when they were so heavy. He wasn’t surprised the angel who’d worn them had decided to ditch them. Not that there were angels, of course. Demons, on the other hand? Roman knew there were plenty of those. He had more in his head than were running around Manhattan tonight.

  Lost in thought, he walked out to the pavement outside. He’d given his driver the night off. The dude had a girlfriend now and he’d wanted to celebrate Halloween with her. Which meant Roman would have to get a cab or walk—neither option appealed. He’d avoided several calls this week from women wanting him to secure them entry to his friend Alex Costa’s exclusive event tonight. There’d be unlimited champagne, food, beautiful women. If Roman wanted company, that’d be the place to go. But he didn’t want company. Frankly, he could get company any time he wanted. He wasn’t hungry for that. He wasn’t hungry at all.

  Halloween heralded the slide into the festive season. Upbeat, jingling songs would soon be on endless repeat. The expectation to socialise would skyrocket even higher than normal. It was the start of the sharing season—the time to give and receive, to eat, drink and be merry. To kiss beneath mistletoe and again at the stroke of midnight. None of which Roman wanted to do.

  He was bored. Jaded. Ready to retreat into work. Not even the prospect of beauties in skimpy witch or nymph costumes tempted him. This time of year simply sucked. So he was out of here. On a plane first thing tomorrow. Yeah, he was a grumpy Grinch who wanted to be alone. He wanted to be alone always. Most especially now.

  * * *

  Violet Summers was late locking up. She’d been enjoying the vibe of people walking past, dressed up to party—the costumes were something else. Halloween wasn’t as huge at home in New Zealand as it was in the US and here in Manhattan—like everything else in the city—it was next level. Some of the sizzling costumes and special effects make-up on people going past the window were stunning.

  She was working alone late at night in a teeny-tiny macaron store in the heart of Corporateville—the store being small, that was, not the macarons. She giggled to herself. If only her over-protective parents could see her now. She’d even m
anaged to engage the alarm without accidentally setting it off. She turned back from securing the door, stopped and stared. While she’d had her back to the street, an angel had fallen and landed just five feet away. A tall, broad-shouldered, beautiful angel.

  He paused on the pavement, looking as though he didn’t know where to head next. He had an enormous set of wings. One of them was broken. Honestly, it only added to his not-of-this-world look. He was the most classically handsome man she’d ever seen and, since arriving in New York a fortnight ago, she’d seen a lot of stylish, good-looking people. They walked past the shop all the time. But this guy? Maybe it was just the lighting—the harsh streetlights overhead hollowed and highlighted the planes and edges of his face, giving him a sharply sculpted look and his skin an unearthly pallor. He’d be perfect inspiration for an animé artist. He was perfect—attractive to anyone with a pulse.

  She froze, afraid he’d disappear if she blinked. She wanted to enjoy the magic for as long as possible. But she laughed at herself again. Was she really ogling a guy in the street? She was used to men—four brothers and all their friends had done that. But this guy should have been in a superhero, supernatural mash-up movie. Vaguely she acknowledged that moments like these were rare. Mostly she just enjoyed the view.

  He still didn’t move. He just gazed into the middle distance as if he wasn’t really present—was he lost in troubling thoughts? Her appreciation gave way to curiosity and then concern. He looked as if he was bowed beneath a burden far bigger than the enormous wings he was shouldering.

  She stepped forward into the middle of the footpath and softly called to him. ‘Do you need some help?’

  He turned. The distant look evaporated, instantly replaced with alertness. He didn’t smile but his all-encompassing gaze grew mildly incredulous. ‘Are you talking to me?’

  The sharpness in his tone shaved an edge off his handsomeness. It was a shame. Not just a fallen angel but a bitter one.

  She swallowed. ‘Yes.’

  ‘What makes you think I need help?’

  ‘You looked...’ She was embarrassed but at the same time his lack of grace fired her spirit. There was no reason for him to be rude to someone simply reaching out. ‘You looked like you were lost.’

  ‘Lost?’ he echoed sardonically.

  ‘Yeah. Like you’ve landed in a place you don’t belong.’ She winced inwardly.

  ‘A place I don’t belong?’

  Well, okay, it was obvious she wasn’t from around here. But still. ‘And your costume is—’

  ‘Costume?’ His eyes widened.

  ‘The wings are great, by the way. The broken one works really well with your whole...’ She trailed off, realising too late as she took in the fine black suit. ‘You’re not in costume, are you?’

  He shook his head and there was a softening at the edges of his mouth.

  ‘Holding the wings for someone else?’ she asked.

  He was probably waiting for his date to emerge from that swanky building next door. In moments, a car with a chauffeur would arrive to take them both to some exclusive Halloween party.

  ‘No. I found them.’

  ‘So you’re out here looking for the owner?’

  He stepped closer and Violet simply stared. His vibrant eyes weren’t quite perfectly blue—one had a patch of another colour. She’d have to get closer to determine it. Part of Violet really wanted to get closer.

  ‘It isn’t you, is it?’ he asked.

  ‘Do they look like they’d fit me?’ She’d topple over if she tried to wear those wings. ‘I’m more elf than angel.’

  His gaze dropped and he slowly scrutinised her scarlet velvet dress. She was suddenly so engulfed in heat, she had to look down. Which meant she was faced with his stunningly muscular physique.

  ‘Alternatively,’ he said huskily. ‘You’re a sweet-looking but inherently dangerous demon.’

  ‘Demon?’ Her gaze shot back to him.

  But his attention was gone. He glanced behind her and his frown suddenly returned ten-fold. ‘Watch—’

  She was abruptly jostled from behind. ‘Oh!’

  As she was almost knocked off-balance, he swooped. Violet gasped. There was such strength in his hold as he lifted her and turned them both. He pressed her back against the glass store-front and stood in front of her, sheltering her from the... She didn’t even know what. Instead she gazed up, fascinated by the glower in his angel eyes. The angle of his jaw was even more defined as he gritted his teeth. There was literally a stampede of people rushing past them. Actually, they were not really people.

  ‘What the...?’ Violet was shocked. More shockingly, he was pressed against her. Those wings were lifted above him like a protective umbrella and she didn’t want to move. Ever.

  She would have giggled at the ridiculousness of it, only adrenalin surged as if she were in real danger. As if this really were serious. The crowd ran past them in a groaning, amorphous mess of limbs, body paint and excitement. She’d not even heard them until they were upon her.

  ‘Zombies.’ He shook his head slightly.

  There had to be a hundred if not more. A zombie rampage.

  Violet didn’t care if they were zombies, vampires or werewolves. Her attention was sucked straight ahead of her. It wasn’t just his heat but the pulsing strength of his muscles. He was bodyguard-built and, shockingly, she was more than melting. She was almost purring like a kitten curled up on a lap feeling all safe and cared for. She should wriggle a little, step aside, because this proximity was too intimate. Yet she didn’t move. She didn’t want to breathe and break the spell.

  ‘Zombies?’ She’d been so focused on figuring out the peculiarity in his eyes that she’d not heard the noise rising behind her. ‘I didn’t think they were supposed to move so fast. I thought they were supposed to be slow and fall over their feet.’

  ‘Maybe they’re vampire zombies,’ he muttered. ‘Either way...you okay?’ He stared into her eyes and his annoyance morphed into something else. ‘Sorry if I crushed you.’

  But he didn’t step back, even if he too had realised that they were in a clinch that was no longer necessary. It was an incredibly comfortable clinch. Their bodies moulded together, fitting snugly, as her size and his strength matched somehow. It ought to have been impossible, given he was huge and she was petite, but it worked—dangerously well.

  And now she knew that patch in his left eye was brown. Topaz, really. It almost had a glow to it. It was uneven, imperfect, intriguing. Mesmerised, she couldn’t stop staring.

  ‘You moved fast,’ she muttered, dissolving just like that into a breathless female.

  ‘Instinct.’

  Yeah. He was naturally protective. She’d been around protective people her whole life and she wasn’t supposed to want to sink against someone and simply...stay. Only that was exactly what she wanted this second—to take shelter in his arms. But in a swoop of his lashes that sentiment changed—to take even more appreciation of his strength, of the spark between them. She lowered her gaze, almost dazed. She couldn’t take the heat in those gorgeous, striking eyes.

  But then she saw it. Instinctively, she put a hand on his chest where the crisp white shirt was now stained. ‘You’re bleeding.’

  ‘It’s fake. And it’s not mine. Don’t worry, I’m fine.’

  She looked back up to his eyes. She didn’t believe him. She’d lied in the exact same way so many times.

  I’m fine.

  The blood was fake but there was a real wound there. A deep one. She could feel his strong heart beat beneath her palm. His solid, hot muscles had flinched at her first touch. Not a zombie. Not an angel either. He was all man and she simply couldn’t lift her hand away from him.

  This should have been too intimate but those wings were like a barrier from the rest of the world, enclosing them both in a safe haven. Her back was ag
ainst the glass and with him pressed against her she felt a whisper of temptation. The urge was so out of character for her, it should be shocking. But if he lowered his head now she would kiss him.

  ‘The wings have lost more feathers,’ she said breathlessly, distracting herself, because this was a total random stranger. ‘It’s a shame. It would’ve taken someone a lot of time to make them.’ They were cardboard, glue, feathers and a few million diamantes to make them sparkle.

  ‘Except they discarded them before midnight,’ he pointed out.

  ‘Did they, though? What if they weren’t left? Maybe someone was going to come back for them. You’ve effectively stolen them.’

  ‘Good point.’ He stilled, then the slowest of smiles spread across his face. ‘My bad.’

  There should have been a clap of thunder...lightning should have lit the sky ablaze—at the very least a wolf should have howled in the distance. This moment was portentous—a blink in which life irrevocably changed. Just like that, Violet Summers became a different woman. A tsunami of sensual awareness swamped her, wreaking changes deep within—softening, heating, as hunger stirred. All because of one gorgeous smile.

  ‘Maybe you should put a sign up on the building,’ she suggested desperately. ‘“Broken wings found—apply within”.’

  He nodded. ‘They’re actually pretty heavy.’

  ‘Do you think being an angel was too much hard work and that’s why they ditched the wings?’

  ‘Must be pretty burdensome. Always having to be good.’ There was an edge to the word. A wicked glint in his eye.

  She smiled. ‘You get sick of that?’

  ‘I get sick of everything.’ He gave a rasp.

  Honesty that time. Yeah, the guy was not ‘fine’.

  ‘What do you do, then?’ She breathed. ‘When you’re sick of everything...?’

  His gaze held hers. ‘Not angelic things.’

  Another low admission that shot an electrical pulse along her veins. ‘Oh?’

  There was a tilt to his lips now and her brain wasn’t working at all any more.