His Christmas Baby: A Friends to Lovers Romance

by Sullivan, Piper

  His Christmas Baby

  A Friends to Lovers Romance

  Piper Sullivan

  C opyright © 2017 by Piper Sullivan

  All rights reserved .

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review .

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  Contents

  Also by Piper Sullivan

  1. Sylvie

  2. Brady

  3. Sylvie

  4. Brady

  5. Sylvie

  6. Brady

  7. Sylvie

  8. Brady

  9. Sylvie

  10. Brady

  11. Sylvie

  12. Brady

  13. Sylvie

  14. Brady

  15. Sylvie

  16. Brady

  17. Sylvie

  Epilogue

  Safeguarded

  A Family By Christmas

  Cowboy’s Baby

  Fighting Chance

  Traded To The Mob

  Nanny’s Aussie Billionaire

  Convicted

  Nanny’s Halloween Down Under

  Stolen Bride

  War Bride

  Bearly Desire

  Sneak Peek: Daddy’s Christmas Date

  Excerpt of Her Fake Fiancé Billionaire Boss

  My Other Books

  Also by Piper Sullivan

  D addy’s Christmas Date: A Single Dad Romance

  Cowboy's Fake Fiancée: A Single Dad & A Virgin Romance

  Cowboy's Barmaid: A Small Town Military Romance

  Seal'd to Her: A Second Chance Military

  Seal's Professor: A Military Roommate Romance

  Daddy’s Fiancée Nanny: A Single Dad & A Virgin Romance

  Dr. Daddy Next Door: A Single Dad & A Virgin Romance

  Sylvie

  “W e the jury,” the juror, in the khaki version of ‘mom jeans’ began, wringing every ounce of drama from the moment as cameras flashed, “in the above impaneled action.” Another long pause for dramatic effect. “Find Marcos Antoni not guilty on all counts.” She sent a kitten smile with a little side eye to the cameras located behind the defense and prosecution tables .

  I turned to Marco with a satisfied smile. He’d been skeptical of my courtroom skills due to my age and gender, and now he was grateful .

  “Congratulations.”

  He grinned wide and wrapped his arms around me, smothering me in expensive cologne. Too damn much of it. “Thank you, Sylvie. My assistant is wiring a retainer to your firm as we speak .”

  Of course he was. The man had been facing more than one hundred years in prison and now he was free. I was his best friend .

  “That’s good to hear, because I have some things I’d like to discuss with you. Not now though, I’ve got somewhere to be .”

  “Hot date ?”

  I laughed because Marcos had been flirting with me—outrageously so, I might add—since he brushed off the senior partner on his case in favor of the curvy redhead who’d nearly broken his finger in the elevator for grabbing her ass. Namely, moi .

  “Wouldn’t you like to know ?”

  “Most definitely. I’d love to learn what I need to do to get a date with you .”

  And that was my problem in a nutshell. Aside from the whole side job as a drug kingpin, Marcos was a catch. Handsome, rich and well-connected. Not to mention charming as hell. But even he didn’t get my motor running. “I’m off to catch up with my best friend.” After another lingering hug, he let me go and I practically skipped out of the courthouse .

  “Good job today, Porter .”

  Darn it! I was so close. Fixing a smile on my face, I turned to Paul Nelson. The senior partner Marcos skipped over for me .

  “Thank you, Paul. A win is a win .”

  “Right. Well don’t think this is going to let you skip the line to senior partner .”

  I didn’t bother telling him that I’d be making some big changes in my life very soon. Instead, I smiled. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Paul. I’m sure we’ll both do what we have to do for our careers. Have a good weekend.” What a pompous asshole. He was one of those guys who thought women belonged in the kitchen, in the secretarial pool, or on their knees .

  Never in my life did I think I would be happy driving down the I-10 East with the windows down on my brand new electric BMW i3, but I did. I felt relieved as the stress lifted off my shoulders in stages. I had been burning the candle at both ends for the past few months, preparing for the trial that ended today. Months of prep and then the trial had stolen pretty much all of my energy. But I won, and that’s what mattered to me, the client and the firm. The truth was, Marcos Antoni was both a businessman and a kingpin. But I’m a damn good attorney. He was able to go back to his wife and kids—or his mistress and kids—a free man .

  I should be happy about it. But truthfully, the buzz from the not guilty verdict had lasted about twenty minutes. Then I just felt…empty. It was a feeling I’d encountered a lot lately. Starting about fourteen months ago I began to feel restless. Unsatisfied, no dis satisfied with my life. I was ready for something more. But more of what exactly? That had eluded me .

  Until I figured it out .

  Family. That’s what I wanted more than anything. A baby. A child of my very own to hold and kiss, to love and teach. Since I had proven to be shit at relationships, I decided to skip the husband and marriage route to my happy ending, and jump right to the baby part. That was part of the reason I was dealing with rush hour traffic on a Friday afternoon to make it to Indian Wells in time to see my best friend defend his title for the fourth year in a row .

  Brady and I had grown up together in Almond Valley, our mothers still lived there. We spent our entire lives there, mostly unaware of each other and then, at the age of ten we became friends when he stepped in to save a smaller kid from a bully and got a fist to the belly for his efforts. I had rushed in and socked the bully, and Brady invited me over for cookies and milk. We were inseparable after that. While I was in law school, he had become the biggest thing in the world of tennis, and more than a decade later, he still was. And we were still best friends, though we didn’t get to spend as much time together as either of us liked. Long weekends like this one were a gift for both of us. I just hoped that my gigantic little favor didn’t ruin it .

  How did a girl ask her best friend to give her a baby, anyway ?

  Brady

  T hat semi-final match had kicked my ass, but the post-match press conference was not the place to say that. I had won, after all .

  “It was a long match and Dmitry gave a damn good fight, but sometimes experience trumps youth.” I smiled even though I wanted to fucking punch that guy in his throat. So what, Dmitry was a decade younger than me. Big fucking deal. But all the press wanted to talk about was how a guy my age could be such a competitor on the tour. Hell, Roger Federer was older than me and he was still the best .

  But I wore my trademark grin as I answered question after question, each one honing in on my age. “I don’t think age has much to do with it. Sure, he’s got great stamina, but I have a great serve and my drop shot was on point today. He played good, but tonight, I played better .”

  That’s what every match came down to and I worked hard to make sure I always played better .

  “And how do you plan to approach the final match against Sanchez? He beat you the last time you p
layed in Paris .”

  I grinned at the question, meant to goad me into a reaction. To become the bad boy of tennis they’d always tried to make me out to be. Okay so maybe I was a bit reckless. But only when I wanted to be. I was nobody’s damn circus monkey .

  “Yes, but I beat him the fourteen times before that.” They laughed as I meant them to. “His game has improved this year though, so I guess you’ll have to show up on Sunday if you want to know how it all plays out.” I stood and waved, the universal sign that the press conference was over .

  They were always required and they never got any easier, especially when you were supposed to be poised and calm just minutes after the match ended. But they were a necessary evil, and by the time I left the press room, it was all behind me. The long tunnel that led out of the gardens and to the parking lot was barely lit, but halfway to the end I spotted a figure. The person was tall, and as I drew closer I realized, female. She wore a silky top that hung loose except where it clung to a set of incredible tits. And when the woman turned and the light shone on her red hair, I sucked in a breath and stumbled .

  Sylvie. How in the hell had I not recognized my best girl? Hell, the best person I knew? I couldn’t believe it considering how much those curves had tempted me throughout high school. And beyond. We’d never gone there, but I knew we were aware of each other beyond the closeness of lifelong friends. But there was an unspoken agreement between us that our friendship was more important. But in that moment, when I hadn’t recognized her, the want and the need had been visceral. Instinctive .

  “Brady!”

  She drew closer and closer, finally crashing into me as she wrapped her arms tight around my neck and squeezed. Fuck she felt good in my arms, and not just because she was a hot woman, but because I hadn’t seen her since she’d surprised me in New York at the US Open. I always put her name on the list for my box, no matter where I went on the planet, and she often showed up .

  But when I’d looked up last September and saw her sitting there, sandwiched between Ma and my twin sisters, I’d smiled and waved. And then went on to win my eighth grand slam .

  “Looking good hot stuff!” She laughed her throaty laugh and pulled back, examining me carefully. “God, it is so good to see you in person.” She hugged me again, touched my face and shoulders and I flashed a sheepish smile at one of the passing coaches .

  “You too, Syl. You’re looking so hot, I almost hit on you.” She smacked my arm and rolled her eyes before pulling me close and looping her arm through mine. “I’m happy you’re here. Let’s go eat .”

  She drove while I directed her to a small seafood restaurant with good food and a quiet table where we were only bothered by a few autograph seekers. “You played well tonight. The crowd was out of control! Your drop shot is so soft now. Sanchez better watch out .”

  I grinned. You’d think I would be used to having women tell me how great I am, and I was. But it was always different with Sylvie, because she wasn’t blowing smoke. She was always a straight shooter. It was an honest assessment of my game .

  “Well, thanks babe .”

  Glittering green eyes rolled skyward, but her affectionate smile was still in place. “Yeah, you’re welcome. But your serve is drifting wide on the toss and you’re losing speed .”

  “Dammit, I felt it too! McEnnis and Rask said I was imagining it.” I knew I wasn’t imagining shit. As a lifelong athlete, I knew my body and I knew when something felt off. “Thanks Syl. So what’s new? Have you conquered the world yet ?”

  “No. But I did win a big case today. Marcos was acquitted.” She grinned, so proud of herself, but I could see the tension underneath her smile. She loved that she’d won, but these clients were slowly killing her spirit. “He put down a retainer for my services .”

  “That’s great, Syl. Now tell me what’s wrong ?”

  She blinked a look she always thought made her look innocent. It didn’t, but I didn’t have the heart to tell her. “What do you mean? Did you just hear what I said? I won .”

  Head cocked to the side with a bored expression on my face, I waited her out .

  “Fine, there is something, but I’m not ready to talk about it yet. Let’s enjoy the next twenty four hours and then we’ll talk.” Her hand went to her silky red curls, smoothing them down in a slow, calming motion .

  “Come on, Syl. Don’t make me drag it out of you. I’ll never focus if I’m worried about you .”

  “Maybe. But once the final is behind you and another trophy is in your hands, you’ll be ready to listen better .”

  “I’m a great listener .”

  “You are, but this is important and I need you to really listen and keep an open mind .”

  Now I was just plain intrigued. For years it felt like I got so much more out of our friendship than Sylvie did. She was the one who encouraged me to go to a smaller university with better coaches, and it was Sylvie who pushed me to take on a coach everyone else thought was washed up. But he had won four grand slams in the past, and she insisted his style was similar to my own. She’d been right. Just as she’d been right when she encouraged me to ask for more upfront money on my first endorsement deal from a startup that went belly up two years into a five-year contract .

  “Fine. Sunday night over dinner, we talk .”

  She flashed her killer smile. “Great. Now the question is, are we going to split that fudge cake or are you simply going to watch me eat it ?”

  I’d never been so glad that my internal thoughts didn’t appear in bubbles over my head, because somewhere deep down, a few dirty thoughts came to mind. About my best friend .

  “Just enough frosting to be worth it .”

  She grinned, thinking of the game we used to play when I was training. “I’ve missed you. Six months is too long. I hate only seeing you on TV .”

  “Even though I look so handsome?” I preened mockingly, and she laughed .

  “I don’t know, they say the camera ages you.” She could barely contain her laughter, it damn near bubbled out of her. The harder I glared, the harder she laughed. “I’m just kidding, you’re still the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen .”

  “That’s better .”

  With Sylvie here, everything did feel better .

  * * *

  “D amn Sylvie, take it easy on a guy .”

  She’d gone out early this morning while I was at practice to get a new dress for the reception tonight. She refused to show up, “looking like a hot mess on the arm of the number one tennis player in the world .”

  Her words, not mine .

  She laughed and twirled, doing her patented shake and shimmy as she did. The red dress clung beautifully, hugging all kinds of curves and showing off her shapely legs. Her red hair hung in sexy, touchable waves that shielded most of the flesh bared by her backless dress. And the shoes, well I wouldn’t even think about them because she was my best friend. But I am a man, and the whole outfit made it hard to remember who she was .

  “What fun would that be? I have to look like the kind of girl who could attract Bad Boy Brady.” She did another little hip shake and I grabbed her arm and pulled her along .

  We arrived at the reception fashionably late, which meant the bulk of the press attention was on us as we posed for photos and interviews. It was all part of the song and dance for the final of pretty much every tournament .

  “Put on your best smile .”

  She did and clasped my hand in hers, giving me a confident nod as we progressed on the line, answering questions about who she wore, who I wore and whether or not we were a couple. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” I joked to a well-known sports journalist. Everyone wanted to know about the bombshell on my arm but Sylvie just smiled, whispering jokes and smiling beside me to make sure I didn’t take any of this too seriously .

  “Is it serious?” The question came from a popular entertainment show host and I fought the urge to roll my eyes .

  “Deadly serious.” That much was true.
My relationship with Sylvie was serious. And permanent. “Now if you’ll excuse us, I promised to twirl my girl around the dance floor .”

  “You handled them smoothly .”

  “Not my first rodeo,” I said and pulled her into the big ballroom where the dinner and dancing were well under way. We said our hellos to all the important people in the room, Sylvie impressed a few of them with her fan girl stats .

  Tennis icon, Eric Gladden approached us before we made it onto the dance floor. “Brady, great match tonight and all week. If you’re ever ready to replace McEnnis, I’m interested .”

  “Thank you, Eric. It is something to consider before the Open.” I had been thinking of replacing McEnnis who was now what everyone thought he was a decade ago .

  Eric’s smart brown eyes flashed surprise. “Great. And Mira has been gushing all night about how adorable you are together,” he wrapped an arm around his wife, who’d famously won a Golden Slam which meant she won all four grand slams plus the Olympic gold in the same year .

  “Uh, thanks ?”

  Gladden shrugged. Men didn’t notice these things. “She said she’d never seen you so happy and in love, and to make sure I passed on the message .”

  “Thank you, Mr. Gladden. I am a huge fan of both you and your wife, so I’ll take whatever compliment you pass on.” Sylvie flashed a sweet smile that mesmerized Eric for a brief moment before he pulled back .