His Secret Baby

by Black, Natasha L.

  “Is she okay? What did the walk-in clinic give her?”

  “She’s got antibiotics now. She’s just blowing up my phone to thank you for covering her shift,” Tara said.

  “Tell her it’s no big deal. Like I told her three times already. She just needs to rest and feel better,” I said.

  “I’ll message her.”

  “Do you know if Max went over there?”

  “Last I heard he didn’t answer her call, and it went to voicemail again,” Tara said.

  “I really hoped he was gonna be better than this. Once he found out she was pregnant, I thought there was a chance he might step up.”

  “A baby never fixed a relationship, Jess,” Tara said, “I got three at home to prove it. Wouldn’t trade them for anything. Sadly the truth is, having a baby just makes everything harder. She better get some rest. She won’t sleep for another three years after that baby’s born,” she chuckled with a certain fatigue.

  “You know I love to babysit,” I offered.

  “You watched them all day last Sunday! I love you for offering, but you take a break, girl. You don’t have to solve everybody’s problems,” Tara said.

  “Oh my God,” I whispered.

  “What?”

  “Look who’s here,” I said. I tried to say it lightly, like it was amusing. But my pulse started beating rapidly and color heated my cheeks.

  “Uh oh. It’s Man Crush Monday showing up on a Wednesday. You do realize he doesn’t eat here only when you’re working, right? The guy has to feed his kid other times, too,” Tara teased.

  “Don’t you have burgers to fry?” I said, and she laughed, “I know they eat when I’m not here. I just like to imagine they only come here when I’m working. David, that’s the little boy, he’s adorable. We have this ongoing game of hangman.”

  “What is he four years old?”

  “He’s five. But he’s really smart. So I kept giving him farm animals like pig and cow, stuff I figured he could read, and when it was his turn to make the word, the kid hits me with giraffe. He can spell giraffe.”

  “I’m not sure I can spell giraffe,” Tara deadpanned, and we laughed.

  “I’ve got to get out there.”

  ‘Turn around, okay, let your hair down.”

  “That’s unsanitary,” I said.

  “It’s just for the one table. You have gorgeous hair, and it needs to be down.”

  “You know what’s not sexy? Finding someone’s hair in your food!” I argued. I tightened my ponytail rebelliously and hurried to their table.

  To William’s table. I’d been serving them for two years now, since the little boy was three years old and too stubborn to use a booster seat in the booth. His dad, William, was so obviously out of place in a diner in the city. He looked every inch the man who should be at the head of a conference table in a board meeting or tipping back vintage Scotch in a wood-paneled room with leather chairs and a crackling fire in the fireplace. He looked like he should have been a British duke, a powerful, landed man of means—terrifyingly smart and intimidating and handsome as sin. I knew for a fact that he wasn’t a duke or any kind of royalty. He was a businessman, and way too rich to be eating in a place like this.

  Don’t get me wrong. I loved Retro Red’s and the people who worked there, and their bacon cheeseburgers. But I wasn’t the CEO of anything. I was a waitress who was saving her tips to open her own restaurant. The owner let me use the commercial kitchen for little catering jobs sometimes, and the money’s better than any other job I’d had. But it wasn’t not exactly high-class atmosphere with gourmet cuisine.

  William’s little boy, David, always got the pancakes with apples and whipped cream. That was what had sealed my fate on the worst crush in the world. Because a highly successful guy who could eat anywhere he wanted, ate in the same place all the time because his kid liked the pancakes there. How could that not melt my heart?

  2

  William

  How was she there on a Wednesday? I thought it would be safe to duck in while I worked out how to handle the unexpected drama.

  My day had begun normally, but then then the nanny had called. She never phoned. She merely turned up at the appointed time as she should and carried out her duties with competence and kindness and was paid handsomely for doing so. I seldom had to speak to her beyond greetings and remarks about how David was doing in school. So seeing Martha’s number on my smartwatch was a red flag in itself.

  I vaguely recalled her saying something about her knee hurting last week, and I had said I hoped she felt better soon. I’d even offered to take off half a day of work if she needed to consult a doctor. I did provide her with an excellent insurance plan. She had declined.

  She was at the hospital. Martha had stayed at her sister’s the night before, had fallen when she got up in the middle of the night. She was going to have to have surgery. There were torn tendons and a couple of broken bones. I assured her that everything would be fine, to take care of herself and not worry about a thing. I’d messaged my assistant to send flowers to her hospital room. Then I’d called the agency.

  Well, the damned agency was worthless. Apparently, Martha had been a lucky find, because they didn’t have anyone available for temporary or long-term work who met our needs. Meaning, someone to be there from six-thirty in the morning until I came home from work at six-thirty or seven at night. To take care of my son before and after school, to accompany him during his chauffeured car ride to and from school and watch over him. Essentially, I was willing to pay a qualified candidate to work for a total of six hours, with six hours free to do whatever they liked. The per diem was generous even if the nanny had to work the entire twelve-hour shift. Still, it didn’t seem to help me find a replacement. And I needed a replacement by tomorrow.

  I worked remotely a couple of days a week to spend more time with my son, but three days a week I had to be in the office. It should not be so difficult to secure reputable childcare. Frustrated, I looked up at the server. I was startled to see Jessica that day. I had told myself firmly that she was just a waitress who was good with my son. She was not an incredibly attractive woman whose warmth and playfulness made my body stir to life. I scolded myself, as it wasn’t an appropriate thought to have right now. She was an employee at a restaurant I patronized. And I didn’t have time for any indulgences.

  So I didn’t manage to soften my frown when my eyes met hers. I gave her a stern nod, as unfriendly as it was possible to look thanks to the breakdown of our morning routine. I watched her lean down to talk to David, who animatedly told her about what his pancakes should look like today. She pulled some paper out of her apron pocket and he clapped his hands.

  “Course I have it! I always carry our hangman game around because I hope you might come in here,” she said warmly.

  It was just too warm in the diner. I felt uncomfortably hot and looked around quickly for a nearby heat vent to blame. There was no hot air blowing on us, so the heat that crept along my skin must have been from something else. Not from proximity to the attractive waitress or the whiff of vanilla from her skin so sharp and sweet it cut through the greasy smell of the diner and hit me in the chest. Would she taste like vanilla in that soft hollow below her ear? The thought raced through my mind before I could stop it, and I cleared my throat, stated my order briskly.

  “We’re in a hurry today,” I lied.

  She stood, gave an apologetic look to David and said she’d put the order in right away. I felt like an ass, but I was overwhelmed with the nanny crisis. David drove his fork tines-down across the paper placemat, making a vroom sound. I returned to my search.

  Moments later, Jessica appeared and set a plate down in front of David, a banana sliced up, the plate drizzled with luscious chocolate syrup.

  “He won’t eat that,” I said, “he ordered pancakes.”

  “I know. But he said he was hungry, so I thought this might help,” she said, “I made it special for you,” she said, not even look
ing at me.

  He smiled up at her, dipped a banana slice in the thin trail of chocolate syrup and ate it. The kid who never ate banana without spitting it back out, even as a toddler, was gobbling healthy slices of his least favorite fruit to please this woman. I wanted to groan. Way to make a liar out of me, David, I thought. I tried not to chuckle to myself. My son was a source of wonder to me—always amazing me by how clever and silly and brave he could be.

  “Thanks,” I said and returned to the app I was combing for any properly vetted nanny who might be available on short notice.

  “Martha’s okay, right?” David asked for the tenth time.

  “Yeah, buddy. She’s got her sister there and good doctors. All she was worried about was you. And you’re gonna get to go visit her as soon as she can have visitors. They’re super careful about that in the hospital because people have to get rest to feel better.”

  David nodded, seeming to accept this answer until he felt the need to ask again and be reassured. He ate a few more pieces of banana, and I told him I was proud of him for trying it again. He shrugged.

  “Jess made it for me. I don’t wanna hurt her feelings. And it’s pretty good with the chocolate,” he said.

  “So do I need Jess to come make your carrots for you so you’ll eat those?” I teased him.

  “Maybe put chocolate on them?” he said slyly and I laughed.

  The waitress returned with our orders just as my phone rang. I saw the nanny agency’s number and answered immediately.

  “Yes? What? You genuinely can’t find a single nanny on your roster who will fill in temporarily for one child before an after school? Seriously? I’m offering forty dollars an hour, three days a week. Two weeks? No, I can’t wait two weeks. I need someone to take care of my son now.” I waited, “No, I will not consider three separate people filling the job. My son has just lost the consistent presence of his beloved nanny. He needs comfort and routine, not a revolving door of fly by night sitters.” I hung up in frustration.

  As I unrolled my silverware from the paper napkin, I looked up and saw that Jessica was still standing at our table.

  “So, can I get you anything else?” she asked, her bright smile never slipping. I had to admire that professionalism, since any normal person would have witnessed that phone call and gaped at me.

  “Not unless you have a reputable, CPR certified nanny lying around here,” I said sarcastically.

  “Actually,” she began, cutting a look at my son. “I could fill in with David for a couple of weeks.”

  “I beg your pardon?” I said.

  “Well, you’re in a pinch, right? I can swing three days a week for a couple of weeks by shuffling my schedule here. David and I already get along, right?” she said.

  David’s face lit up, “Oh, can we, Daddy? Please?”

  I shook my head. I’d do almost anything to make him happy, but I’d truly do anything to keep him safe. Just because the waitress was nice to him didn’t mean I could trust her with his care.

  “Do you have experience? References? CPR certification? Because what I’m seeking is a capable professional to entrust with my son while I’m at work.”

  “Not a waitress who plays hangman with him?” she quipped, a spark igniting in her eyes.

  “I’m great with kids, I’m a terrific cook, very responsible, and I can provide all the references you want, including Harvey who owns the diner and whose kids I took care of for an entire weekend because of a family funeral.”

  “I didn’t mean to insult you. I simply need assurances that you’re a viable candidate,” I said, a little frustrated that she called me out on my attitude.

  “As far as I can see, I’m the only candidate. Unless you have somebody else eager to help you out,” she said a little mischievously.

  “As a matter of fact, I don’t have anyone eager to help. David’s nanny of the last three years has fallen and requires surgery. She’s a very accomplished and patient woman in her sixties. There are no readily available replacements for two weeks. So we are in a bind,” I said smoothly.

  “I have to take table five their check. I’ll be back in a minute,” she said.

  As soon as Jessica was gone, David turned the adorable blue eyes and his pleading smile on me, “Please, Daddy! Jess is really nice. She’s not a stranger, and you were gonna hire a stranger to watch me. She’s fun, and I like her. Please!”

  “David, the number one qualification I look for in a nanny isn’t that she’s fun,” I said, a warning in my voice. A warning that had less to do with her being fun and more to do with my attraction to her. The nanny, in my opinion, should not be a person I was the least bit tempted by. Not some adorable, smart-mouthed waitress who called me out for being a dick but still wanted to take care of my kid. Because she cares about him, despite the fact that I’ve been less than polite to her. On her side is the fact that David adores her, she’s patient and kind with him, and that she isn’t easily intimidated. Not even by me.

  We took a few bites of our food before David renewed his begging. I knew he was comfortable with her. I knew he missed Martha. I wanted him to have a nurturing and safe female presence in his life; something I’d always worked to give him considering how his mother had behaved. So I relented, and said I’d check her references.

  When Jessica returned to the table, I took down the numbers she gave me and promised to check them out and get back with her. I even thanked her for her generous offer to help and left her a good tip as usual. When David ran back and hugged her, throwing his arms around her waist as we left, my heart threatened to melt a little. I reminded myself that if she was what was best for my little boy, I would keep things completely professional.

  Successful.

  Devoted father.

  Divorced.

  Immune to the charms of women.

  That’s what my resume would say at this point. It didn’t bear thinking of what hers might say. Because I would never risk getting involved again. It wasn’t worth the cost. I’d learned that the hard way.

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  A Note from the Author

  Thank for you taking the time to read my latest release.

  I hope you loved reading my story, as much as I enjoyed writing it.

  It would mean the world to me if you could take some time to leave a quick review for this book. Reviews allow me to understand how my readers truly feel, and they keep me improving.

  I appreciate you supporting me, thank you so much.

  - Natasha L. Black

  About the Author

  Secret Baby & More:

  CEO’s Secret Baby|Boss's Secret Baby for Christmas|Daddy’s Secret Baby|My Ex’s Secret Baby| Bad Boy’s Secret Baby

  Brother’s Best Friend| Forbidden Protector| Sweet Tooth|

  * * *

  Alpha Male Collection:

  Forbidden Daddy| Redemption| Protecting Her

  Saving Sky| Protecting Sasha

  Complete box set here: Men in Charge

  * * *

  Reverse Harem/Ménage Collection:

  Double Dirty| The Cabin| Double Trouble

  Training the Rookie| Cuffed to my Roomies

  Complete box set here: One Lucky Girl

  * * *

  Fake Marriage Collection:

  Pretend You’re Mine| Pretend I’m Yours| Let’s Pretend

  Faking It

  Complete box set here: Playing Pretend

  * * *

  Want to contact me? Please e-mail me at: contact@natashablackpublishing.com

  Follow me on Bookbub, Goodreads, AMZN, and Facebook by clicking the icons below!

 

 

 
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