Baby? What… oh, the baby.

Francesca shook her head slightly. Her sense of equilibrium returned enough for her to realize she was standing amazingly close to Sam. Close enough to see the surprisingly dark lashes framing his eyes. Speaking of which-she stared more intently-seen from such a close range, his eyes were the most unusual color. Light brown, shot with gold. Otherworldly eyes. Cat eyes.

Cat eyes on a powerful man. She felt both the heat of him and the strength. Somehow she’d always assumed that executives in expensive suits were sort of wimpy under all that designer wool. She had been seriously wrong.

“Ms. Marcelli?”

Tension filled his voice. She shook her head again and tried to shrug free of his hold. When he didn’t release her, she gave him a quick smile.

“I’m fine.”

“You nearly fainted.”

“I know. I haven’t eaten today. I do that sometimes. Work distracts me. Then I get low blood sugar.”

“That can’t be good for the child.”

As there was no child, his concern made her feel a little guilty.

“I’m fine,” she repeated. “Really.”

He slowly removed his arm from around her waist. “Jack, bring Ms. Marcelli some herb tea. There’s a selection in the coffee room. Nothing with caffeine. Also, check to see if there are any sandwiches left from the lunch meeting.”

Francesca thought about protesting again, but before she could figure out what to say without blowing her cover, she found herself being ushered into an office the size of Utah.

Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a view of Santa Barbara and mountains from one wall and Santa Barbara and a hint of ocean from the other. Tasteful paintings decorated the remaining walls. Two large leather sofas formed a conversational area in a corner. Between them and the desk was enough room to hold a kickboxing class.

Sam settled her on the sofa, then sat next to her. Before she knew what was going on, he had her hand resting in his and his fingers on the inside of her wrist.