by Sosie Frost
Everything.
Jack opened the door before I knocked. He hadn’t slept, and he looked as sick as me.
“Christ, Kiss. I was terrified! I thought something happened to you!”
Jack tried to hug me. I stopped him with a raised palm.
He took the hint, but he grabbed my luggage and tossed it inside. Then he nearly carried me to the couch. Tears prickled my eyes as he knelt at my feet.
I couldn’t tug my hands away. He kissed my fingers and dared to apologize.
“The fight wasn’t my fault. I just went out for an hour. It wasn’t…” His voice faded as he wiped a tear from my cheek I hadn’t meant to shed. “I wasn’t meeting women. It wasn’t a party.”
“The report said you smelled like beer.”
“It spilled on me. I tried to break up the fight.”
I pointed to his black-eye. “You did a terrible job.”
“It was an accident. No charges filed. No problem. Everything worked out.”
“…You told the world I was pregnant.”
He nodded. “I wasn’t thinking. But it’s okay. It worked. I already talked to Coach Thompson. He…”
Cut him? Fined him? Benched him?
“He congratulated me.”
That wasn’t happy news. I hated the thought that it was all a PR stunt.
Jack met my gaze. “And the headline? A couple of papers are leading with the pregnancy, saying we were out celebrating when some other guy caused trouble.” He grinned. “For once, I wasn’t the guy starting trouble! We did it, Kiss. It’s okay.”
I needed to throw up. I forced myself to stay still.
“Jolene fired me tonight.”
Jack’s grin turned to a scowl, as though Jolene were the one who sucker-punched him. “Fuck. Why the hell would she fire you?”
“It didn’t look good for the future partner of her agency to be impregnated by her main client.”
“What?”
“She thought it’d either look like I was irresponsible, or like I’d sleep with anyone to get their business.”
“That’s not fair.”
“No.” My voice hardened. “It’s not fair. This is your fault, Jack. I had a plan to announce the pregnancy. A plan you ruined. You shouted it to anyone who would listen to get yourself out of jail.”
“Not true.”
“You’re out of control, Jack.” I pushed away from him. “You used the baby to get out of trouble.”
He held his arms out. “That was the reason we had it.”
Oh, God.
I didn’t think anything could hurt worse than the humiliation of getting fired.
This was agony.
Was I that big of an idiot?
“That was a bad reason to have a baby.” I couldn’t scream, couldn’t yell. I just fell numb and exhausted and into a state of sheer disbelief. “I love this baby, Jack. I want him! I want to raise a child and be a mother and experience that joy.”
“You don’t think I want to be a father?”
I shook my head. “You want whatever benefits you. So you can do as you like without any consequence. I can’t save you, Jack. Nothing we do, no stories we leak, nothing will ever help you shed this selfish image. It’s not PR that hurts you. It’s yourself.”
“Kiss.”
“You need to decide if you can be a real man, or if you want to run around like a child, pouting when you don’t get your way.”
“Kiss—”
I couldn’t handle the nickname. I nearly covered my ears.
My heart broke with each passing second, and I had no idea how much longer I could endure the stare of a man who hurt me so much.
“I defended you!” I said. “I told Jolene you were a good man, sweet and caring. And now this?” My voice dropped. “You don’t even care about the baby.”
One step too far.
Jack got angry.
Really angry.
His expression darkened, and I swear he shifted, seething with strength and pulsing with rage. He grabbed my hand, ignoring me as I resisted him pulling me to the stairs.
Jack wound me in his arms when I dared to fight. Profanity did nothing. I pounded on his shoulder, but he was too strong to care what I did. I expected him to drop me at the bedroom with an order to pack my things.
Instead, he plunked me in the hall before the unused bedroom. He kicked the door open.
And a nursery erupted in light.
Jack stood behind me, his voice unshaken.
“I’ve been working on this the nights you weren’t staying here. It’s not done yet.”
My stomach flipped.
The room painted in soft yellow with brand new, top-of-the-line and designer equipment tucked inside. He filled it with cribs and changing tables, dressers and rocking chairs, mobiles and enough pillows, blankets, and plush animals that the baby would never touch the carpet when he or she learned to walk.
Rivets decals plastered on the walls, and Jack rummaged through a drawer already full of onesies. He pulled one out, showing me the little, custom-made baby outfit with the Rivets’ logo and his number on the back.
“I’ve been buying things all month. Probably more than a baby needs.” He opened the closet, jammed packed with toys and diapers and more baby clothes. So much stuff it looked like he emptied out an entire store. “I wanted to surprise you. I wanted…”
I touched the crib, swallowed as more tears blurred my vision. “The walls are yellow?”
“We hadn’t talked about learning the gender.”
“Do you want to find out?”
He shook his head. “No. It’s exciting to find out when they’re born. I thought that sounded fun. So, in case you went for it, I picked something neutral for the room.”
Tears burned my eyes again. The relief that flooded through me was enough to nearly knock me down. I didn’t know what to say. I stroked the crib, imagining a little baby sleeping while we watched him.
“It’s all lovely, Jack.”
“Move in with me.”
My fingers clenched the crib. Jack slipped to my side.
“We hadn’t talked about where the baby would be…kept.” He waved a hand. “I have a lot of room. We can keep the little guy here. Together.”
“Together?”
“Yeah. You know. It’s easier that way.”
It really wasn’t. My chest tightened, but I didn’t know if my head or heart would burst first. I swallowed, wishing I could just say the words, ask what I needed to ask.
But I couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Not if anything we revealed would jeopardize raising the baby. Admitting something he didn’t share would only make it awkward, frightening, and too complicated.
So I nodded instead. “That sounds very practical.”
“That’s me.”
“No, it’s not.”
Jack agreed, but his smile crept back. “Give me a chance to be?”
“I won’t hold my breath.”
“Will you stay?”
“Jack, I don’t know. It might get…what if we…”
I met his gaze. That playboy blue turned to stone, blinding and desperate. He cupped my chin and forced me into a blistering kiss that rekindled everything that churned so cold hours ago.
Jack held me close, whispering as he kissed my neck, brushed his fingers over my arms, and settled his huge hand over my tummy. His palm covered what would be my entire womb, but his touch was so gentle, so warm, so perfect.
“I’m sorry, Kiss,” he said. “But now the secret’s out. We can celebrate and tell people and…”
“And?”
“And fucking brag. You have no idea how much this secret is eating me up. I want the world to know you’re carrying my baby.”
I covered his hand, enjoying the pressure on that not-so-secret part of me.
“I’ll take care of you both,” he whispered. “I promise.”
“Who’s gonna take care of you?”
He smirked. “Still got that short lea
sh you talked about?”
“Yeah?”
“Then, Kiss? You better string me up.”
“Or else?”
“Or else I’ll tie you to the bed so you can’t leave me.”
16
Leah
The dress was tight. That was a first.
I twisted in the mirror and smoothed the cocktail dress. It was the only formal wear I had unpacked from the boxes stashed in the corner of Jack’s bedroom. He’d piled my belongings in his closet, like he fully expected I’d share his bed. Neither of us discussed for how long. Hell, when I’d asked where he’d sleep if I invaded his room, Jack tucked me against the bed, spread my legs, and dared me to banish him and his skilled tongue to the couch.
Point taken, as confusing as it was.
The little bump wasn’t that noticeable, but everyone would be looking for it tonight. Jack Carson’s baby was already a celebrity and a prime source of gossip in the league. It worked in our favor. The fundraiser dinner was a great event for both the baby and Jack to make an appearance. Besides, I needed a good picture of him circulating in a suit instead of handcuffs.
Jack didn’t complain about going though. It was strange until I checked the information on the dinner.
Childhood Leukemia Fund.
He appeared in the mirror behind me, and his hands snaked around my tummy. He settled over the bump and brushed a kiss against my neck. I shivered in his embrace, as always. His erection pressed against my back.
“Maybe we don’t have to go…” His lips murmured against my skin. “You look…”
“Like I have a bump?”
“Absolutely amazing with a bump.”
His words warmed me too much. Whatever barrier I built between us was quickly tumbling down, and I had no idea how to prevent the fall. I slipped from his grip and covered myself with a crimson wrap. Jack still searched for the swelling of my tummy.
“I’m surprised you’re attracted to this,” I said.
“Why wouldn’t I be attracted to you?”
“You’re always pictured with supermodels and beautiful women.”
He didn’t believe me. “And you think you aren’t beautiful?”
“Just think it’s different with a baby.”
“But it’s my baby.” He grinned at me. “I did that to you.”
“I’d like to think I had something to do with it.”
“Yeah.” Jack’s gaze burned wicked. “You laid back real nice.”
I rolled my eyes and pushed him from the bedroom. “We’re gonna be late.”
“You spread your legs all sweet and innocent.”
“Get in the car.”
“Oh, Jack Carson…” He mocked me, his voice breathy and high pitched. “I must have your baby. Please. Mount me now!”
I pretended to ignore him as I stomped down the stairs. “Please behave better than this tonight. We’re sitting with journalists and very important people.”
“Excellent. I can tell them the story of how you begged me to toss your legs over your head while I fucked you—”
“—Don’t you dare—”
“And how you came like a filthy little slut as I bred you full of my baby.”
“Oh, for the love of—”
I turned to face him, but my heels caught on the rug at the bottom of the stairs. I slipped, grasping for the railing. My fingers weren’t close enough, and I flailed backwards.
Jack leapt forward impossibly fast, crashing over the last few stairs to slide under me as I fell. He caught me in his arms, spun me, and plunked down on the floor. I gripped his arms. His hand rubbed my belly.
I breathed deep. His fear trumped mine. He pulled me close, grasping me hard and furious.
I baited him with a smile and tried to laugh. “My hero—”
His kiss stole my words. He captured me, nibbling my lips, invading to flick my tongue, and groaning as I went limp in the intensity of his hold. My pulse raced, not just for the near-fall, but because I stared into the wild blue eyes of a man who used his strength, speed, and athleticism to protect me.
I curled my hands in his jacket. Neither of us moved.
I had no idea what to say.
What to think.
How to feel when I was so safe and warm and comforted in his embrace.
My lip trembled, and the damn hormones overwhelmed me. This time, the tears weren’t a result of Jack making a sandwich with the last of the peanut butter.
These felt genuine. Real. Just as honest as when I wept in his arms in the nursery and agreed to move into his home.
But I couldn’t trust the tears. Or what they meant. Or how much I loved when he brushed them away with his thumb. I wiggled from his arms before I snuggled into his chest forever.
“Come on,” I said. He helped me to my feet. “We’ll be late.”
“Are you okay?” His hand grazed my cheek. Too soft. My god, this man. “We don’t have to go.”
“Can’t wait for that headline—Jack Carson Misses Fundraiser When Pregnant Ex-Publicist Falls Down Stairs.”
“Girlfriend.”
I stilled. “What?”
“The headline would say girlfriend. Cause we’re…you know...”
My stomach bumbled, twisted, and turned. “Right.”
I was his pretend girlfriend. We were just sleeping together. Having a child.
All the perfectly normal things for two adults to do platonically.
How the hell could people live like this, going day-to-day with no real plan? Jack lived for the season to start in five weeks, and I had six months to prepare for a monumental, life-altering change. I missed my lists. My job. The eight-to-five certainty.
Knowing what to expect if I landed in his arms again or how to react when received by a huge crowd in a fancy dining hall, all cheering for the arrival of Jack Carson and his expectant girlfriend.
The fundraiser was a formal dinner in support of the foundation sponsoring research into new leukemia studies. The event was fine; the seating arrangement left much to be desired. We sat at a table brimming with journalists. Jack handled it with ease, grinning at the same men who salivated for his scandals and deliberately misled the public with every story about him.
At least, until his latest arrest. Once Jack “Play-Maker” Carson became Daddy, all was forgiven.
It wouldn’t last long. The news cycle grew stale about him. They’d need something big, something the announcement of a baby couldn’t hide. They waited to nail him. Without Jolene, I didn’t have the resources to combat it yet.
The waiters served white wine. Jack ordered me a ginger ale and crackers before I even asked.
It was the little things he did that twisted me up the most.
“So, Jack…” Ainsley Ruport, the lead anchor for the National Sports Network, greeted him with a smile. It was false sincerity. Ainsley was firmly in the pocket of Frank Bennett. He wanted nothing more than the scoop of Jack’s latest scandal…then he’d work to expel Jack from the league. “I never did hear the story of how you two met.”
Ironically, neither did I. Jack accepted the challenge before I could answer for us.
“We met at a bar,” Jack said. “She rebuked me a couple times, but I wore her down.”
Goddamn it. I kicked him under the table. “He’s joking.”
“I am?”
I stared at him. “I repped Jack with my previous publicity agency. The bar came later.”
“Oh, right.” Jack gulped his wine. It didn’t suit him. He was a one-beer man, no wasting empty calories. “We’ve known each other a while.”
“How long?” Ainsley asked.
“Three years,” I said.
“Five years.” Jack spoke at the same time. He swore. My head started to ache. “Only three?”
I forced a smile. “I didn’t know you in college, darling.”
“Must just feel like we’ve been together forever then.”
He was blowing it. At least he knew it. His fingers brush
ed mine under the table. An apology.
Ainsley tilted his head, a not-so-subtle glance at my tummy. My heart beat a little faster. He searched as if he expected to find me stuffing a pillow under my dress.
I wasn’t fake pregnant. We were just fake dating.
The distinction was important.
“And…congratulations are in order,” he said.
Jack grinned. At least that didn’t take any thought. “Thanks. We’re excited.”
“Strange that your mother didn’t know.”
Another chill on my spine. Jack stiffened, blinking at the reporter. Ainsley appeared quite pleased with himself. He tucked his napkin into his lap and helped himself to an appetizer. He slurped a buttery oyster out of the shell, smacking his fat lips when he was done.
Jack’s voice lowered. “What about my mother?”
“When I called her, she said she had no idea you were going to be a father.”
“You called my mom?”
“For a reaction piece,” Ainsley said. “She was just as confused as me by the whole thing, but she expressed her excitement for her grandchild.”
Oh no. I bit my lip. Jack stayed quiet. That scared me more than if he launched across the table.
“In fact…” Ainsley leaned closer. His butter-soaked finger glistened in the light as it pointed between us. He slurped a second oyster, loudly. “She said she had no idea you two had been dating for so long.” Another gulped oyster. I’d be sick. “Or at all.”
Jack darkened. “Do you tell your mother who you’re banging?”
I pinched him under the table as the other five journalists silenced their conversations. They turned their attention to us, listening for the story Jack was bound to give them in his customary rage.
“It was strange your own mother didn’t know about your lady-friend,” Ainsley said. “Or that you’re expecting.”
“Been busy.” Jack spoke through gritted teeth. “Had a lot going on.”
“And you, Miss…” Ainsley glanced to me. “How did your family take the news?”
I answered reflexively, offering a statement I prepared the day I agreed to have the baby with Jack. “We’re all very happy and blessed. A baby is a welcomed addition to our loving family.”
The comment would satisfy him. He didn’t need to know what my mother said—that her words still screamed in my mind, a variety of phrases and insults that had me crying into Jack’s shoulder for an entire night.
