Carrying the Billionaire's Baby

by Susan Meier

  “You’ll need company?”

  She nodded, wishing the company she’d be getting could be that guy from Paris.

  “Great. I’ll text your number to her and tell her she can call anytime.”

  “Yes. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, shopping. I’ll need breaks between long bouts of studying. Tell her I’m open to just about anything.” She paused. “Except having her pay for everything. Sometimes she’s got to let me pick up a check.”

  “She can do that.”

  “Okay then.”

  “Okay.”

  She walked him to the door, opened it for him. “Good night.”

  “Good night.”

  The air between them stilled. She remembered how he’d caught her hand, twirled her around, pulled her into his arms and kissed her. She almost closed her eyes waiting for it.

  But he smiled briefly, turned and walked down the hall.

  She closed the door with a sad sigh. She shouldn’t miss the guy who’d been with her in Paris. She hadn’t even wanted that kiss. She’d been halfway to her bedroom before he twirled her back. Now she missed him. Missed open, honest, happy Jake.

  And she wasn’t even entirely sure he existed.

  Not wanting to watch more TV, she took out her laptop and searched for studying for the Pennsylvania bar exam. Fourteen courses popped up. And that was just the first page.

  After twenty minutes of sorting through the entries, her phone rang and, still staring at the computer screen, she answered, “Hello.”

  “Avery. It’s Eileen. I have two people who want to look at the condo tomorrow.”

  “Really? Already?”

  “I told you I had a few clients I knew would be interested. It’s not just location. It’s that your place is move-in ready. Both of these guys are foreign businessmen who do a lot of work in the city. Both want something simple, no muss, no fuss. I’m bringing one at nine and the other at noon.”

  “Okay.”

  She disconnected the call and shifted screens to Jake’s text to get his mother’s number. After a few pleasantries, she told Maureen that her Realtor had two people coming to look at her condo and asked if she wanted to go shopping the next morning then have lunch.

  Maureen said, “Yes! Fantastic! Where would you like to go?”

  “You pick,” Avery said. After they decided, she hung up the phone and laughed to herself, shaking her head as she walked down the hall. If nothing else had come of the trip to Paris, she had someone she could have lunch with once or twice a week for the next three months.

  Unless being with Maureen reminded her of Paris?

  She frowned. Thinking about that made her heart skip a beat and swell with longing.

  But she could control that...

  Couldn’t she?

  CHAPTER TEN

  TWO DAYS LATER, Jake rose from the big chair behind his desk, as his brother and sister entered his office. His secretary had called to announce them, so he wasn’t surprised by their arrival. The reason for their visit—as a team—sort of puzzled him though.

  As pretty, petite Sabrina sat on the first chair in front of his desk and Seth sat on the other, Jake said, “What’s up?”

  Sabrina said, “Have you seen Mom lately?”

  “Spent three days with her in Paris last week.”

  “It’s all she talks about,” Seth said. “How wonderful Avery is and the baby.”

  “I know. I went to Avery’s house Monday night and asked permission for Mom to call her.”

  “And she said—”

  “She said sure. She can’t work at Waters, Waters and Montgomery anymore because of conflict of interest. And she doesn’t seem predisposed to find another job at six months pregnant. Especially since she needs to study for the Pennsylvania bar exam. I think they’ll probably go shopping.” He shrugged. “She likes Mom. And Mom adores her.” He looked at Seth then Sabrina. “So, what’s the problem?”

  “Mom’s emotionally fragile right now.”

  “And being with Avery lifts her spirts.”

  Seth winced. “Yes, but for how long?”

  Jake spread his hands in supplication. “About three months. Her doctor is here. She’s not moving to Pennsylvania until after the baby is born.”

  Sabrina’s pretty face fell. “She’s moving to Pennsylvania?”

  “It’s where her family lives. That’s what studying for the PA bar is all about.”

  “So, after Mom spends three months doing lunch and shopping with the mother of her first grandchild, Avery’s going to Pennsylvania, leaving her alone again?”

  Jake scrubbed his hand across his mouth. When Sabrina put it like that, he saw their concerns. “What do you want me to do? Forbid them from seeing each other? Limit the time they spend together?”

  Seth quietly said, “How about figuring out a way to keep her—and Mom’s grandchild—your child—in New York?”

  He squeezed his eyes shut. Seeing Avery on Monday night had been the hardest thing he’d ever done. He’d wanted to chitchat. Make small talk, for God’s sake. Hear about her day. He might have made up his mind in Paris that they were a bad match, but on Monday night, the only thing that had kept him from tumbling into the easy familiarity they’d started in Paris was the knowledge that she was his opponent. But even then it was hard. They’d shared too much. Gotten too close. And now he was vulnerable.

  He didn’t want to convince her to stay. He needed her to go.

  “I can’t. But even if I could, what if you guys are panicking prematurely? What if three months is enough to bring Mom around? And what if she and Avery form a good enough relationship in that time that Mom’s comfortable going to Pennsylvania to visit her grandchild and Avery’s comfortable enough to spend weekends with her, here in New York?”

  Sabrina sat back in her chair. “It takes a whole year of mourning to get someone through her grief. Mom’s only through five months.”

  “And she’ll have three months with Avery to build the friendship that could take her through the rest of the year and beyond. Avery’s a good person.” He hadn’t realized just how good until they’d spent those days in Paris together. “She and Mom will have a child in common. Enough to form a permanent friendship.” He leaned back, fully convinced this was the right thing. “This baby could be just what Mom needs.”

  Seth drew in a breath and rose. “If Avery stays in New York long enough.”

  Jake rose too. “The bond may already have formed. The next three months will simply cement it.”

  Sabrina stood more slowly. “I hope you’re right because this works both ways. Getting Mom involved with this woman could break her heart. I saw how Avery ran out of that coffee shop.”

  Jake winced, remembering that day. Especially how he’d wanted to kiss Avery. But also, how much she’d hated his life, his family’s lifestyle. Too big of a dose of that lifestyle could send her packing sooner than she needed to go.

  “I’ll warn Mom to tread lightly.”

  When his mother called later that day to gush about lunch with Avery on Tuesday afternoon, he told her not to overwhelm her, but he also realized he had to make sure Avery understood his mom was fragile. After hanging up, he called Avery, but she didn’t answer. After two more tries, he left a message on her voice mail that he’d be visiting that night. Though he didn’t think it was a good idea for him to see her, his mom was the bigger worry.

  At the end of his work day, when every other person employed by McCallan, Inc. had left the floor hours before, he had his driver take him to Avery’s apartment building, rode up on the elevator and knocked on her door.

  She opened it with a wide smile. “Hey, what are you doing here?”

  Her hair was a mess, but her eyes were bright and happy. Memories of their kiss in Paris sizzled through him. He wanted to take her into his arms and kiss h
er senseless.

  “I guess you didn’t get my message.”

  She grinned. “Haven’t looked at my phone all day.”

  Her extreme good mood brought everything back again. Dancing. Laughing. Walking along the Seine in the moonlight.

  He should turn. He should run. But he needed to talk to her about his mom. “Can I come in?”

  She stepped back so he could enter. “Sure.”

  The condo smelled like heaven. “Is that spaghetti sauce?”

  “My mother’s homemade,” she said with pride. “And the spaghetti’s boiling. I have a big bowl of salad and rolls are in the oven.” She smiled at him. “Care to stay for dinner?”

  His common sense told him to talk to her about being careful with his mom, maybe limiting their visits, and then race away before his buzzing hormones caused him to cross a line. But his stomach rumbled.

  “You can’t tell me you’re not hungry,” she said with a laugh. “And I made way too much.” She headed to her kitchen, her steps light, her tone airy. “I now understand why I always ate takeout. Cooking for one is impossible.”

  He followed her to the bright space with white cabinets, marble countertops and the big, big island made for cooking. Needing the distraction, he ambled around, taking in the perfect kitchen, and almost walked into her when she spun away from the stove.

  She caught his shoulders to steady herself. His hands went to her waist to make sure she didn’t fall. Their gazes met. Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to get his hands to lift off her waist.

  His voice was barely a whisper when he said, “I didn’t mean to bump into you.”

  Her eyes darkened with desire that echoed the need billowing through him, making him long to kiss her, to run his hands down her back and maybe through her silky hair.

  “It’s okay. You were preoccupied with looking around.”

  Yes. He had been. Preoccupied. Not longing to touch her, but studying the room.

  The return of rational thought helped him step away from her. “I like your kitchen.”

  He was glad when she turned and began stirring her sauce. “Meaning you could cook here?”

  “Yes.”

  “I knew I wanted the kitchen to be functional. People notice that when they’re searching for a new home. But it also had to be bright and happy.” She faced him with a smile. “I think I captured that.”

  While his entire body was still strung as tight as a violin string, her expression had gone back to normal, as if she wasn’t being driven crazy with wanting.

  The temptation to kiss her, to remind her of just how good they were together, ripped through him, but common sense and sanity roared back. Paris might have been fun, but it had also been confusing. So many things had happened in those few days, things he normally didn’t do, like confide in someone he barely knew. He hadn’t thought that through. Though it had felt good to unburden himself, and the outcome hadn’t been bad, he didn’t fully understand why he’d gotten so comfortable with her when she could potentially use what he’d told her against him.

  He didn’t think she would, but the lapse had been perplexing and reminded him that the way they’d been in Paris had been wrong.

  Since it was too late to get out of eating with her, he decided light conversation would save him until he could politely race away. “Maybe you should have been a decorator.”

  “Instead of an attorney?” She laughed. “Remodeling this place was fun. But being a lawyer is more fun. I don’t mind going for a jugular now and again. It’s good for the soul. Cleansing.”

  He laughed, but he knew that going for the jugular was her true nature. Not the soft, sweet woman he kept seeing. Not the woman he’d danced with in Paris.

  He had to remember that.

  “Can I set the table or something?”

  She pointed at a cabinet. “Dishes and glasses are up there.” She motioned to a drawer above the lower cupboards. “Silverware is there.”

  He grabbed two plates and the silverware. Paper napkins sat on the table, so he used those.

  When he returned to the kitchen area, the rolls were in a basket and she was straining the spaghetti.

  “The wine’s there.” She directed him to a wine rack beside bookshelves full of cookbooks.

  As he pulled out a bottle, he said, “You must cook a lot more than you admit.”

  She shook her head. “Nope. All those are my mother’s attempt to domesticate me.” She brought the spaghetti to the counter. “It’ll probably be easier if we bring our dishes out here instead of taking the spaghetti and sauce to the table.”

  He plucked up the plates and brought both to the big center island. “Ladies first.”

  “Good. I’m starving.”

  “I thought you had a big lunch with my mother.”

  “That was yesterday.” She patted her stomach. “But even if it had been today, this child of ours loves to eat.”

  She filled her plate and walked into the dining area. He filled his, set it on the table then returned to the kitchen for the wine. As he poured himself a glass, he said, “Can I get you some juice?”

  “No, but I’d love a bottle of water.”

  He got her water. Before he took his seat at the table again, he shrugged out of his suit coat, plopped it on the back of his chair and rolled up his sleeves.

  When he finally sat, he dug into his spaghetti. Then groaned. “Oh, Lord, that’s good. You make me ashamed that I told you I could cook. I don’t make anything this delicious.”

  “It’s all about the recipe.”

  “And timing. And instinct.” He glanced over at her. “Don’t forget. I might not cook this well, but I cook. I know what goes into it.”

  * * *

  Avery held back a sigh. Though what he’d said was complimentary, he delivered it the way a boss talks to an employee. With team spirit that revved up the happy employee being praised, but really didn’t touch her.

  Her head tilted as she studied him. Same face, same hair, same crystal-blue eyes, but somehow she couldn’t see this guy dancing.

  She turned her attention to her spaghetti. She missed Paris, but she knew this was for the best. They needed to get along and she didn’t “get along” with fun Jake. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to fall for him. She wanted him to sweep her off her feet—

  She experienced a longing so intense she almost sighed again. This was ridiculous. Yearning for something she couldn’t have, something that she wasn’t even sure existed, was senseless.

  Except, he had to exist. She had not imagined what had happened between them in Paris. Several times while walking the streets, dancing, laughing, talking about his father, she’d felt she was dealing with the real Jake.

  That’s what bothered her. What if this guy was the aberration, and Paris Jake was the real one?

  Her phone rang, bringing her out of her thoughts. She bounced off her chair. “I have to get this. There were two showings of my house yesterday and both parties were interested. I’m dying to hear if anyone made an offer.”

  She lifted the phone from the counter, tapped the screen to answer it. “Eileen?”

  “Oh, sweetie, do I have good news for you!”

  “I got an offer?”

  “You got two competing offers. I’ve been on the phone since three, going back and forth between them. In the end, I got you two hundred thousand more than list price.”

  She swayed. “What? That’s amazing.”

  “There’s just one catch. You have to move out by next week. Both offers were all cash. Both wanted to take possession on Monday.”

  “Monday! I can’t be out on Monday.”

  “Sure, you can. Let me negotiate the sale of your furniture with the condo. You hire a mover and pack all your personal items, which will be only a small box truck full of stuff and you’re o
ut of there in four days.”

  The thought of two hundred thousand dollars over asking was too good to pass up. It wasn’t as if she was working. She had time to get organized and moved.

  “Okay, yes. If the buyer also takes the furniture, I can be out on Monday.”

  Jake scowled and mouthed, “Monday?”

  Eileen said, “Congratulations.”

  “Thanks.” She hung up the phone totally dazed.

  “Do not tell me you just agreed to be out of here on Monday.”

  Still stunned, she fell to the seat across from his. “I had to. Both offers are all cash. Both want the apartment on Monday.” She looked over at him. “I should have told her I had nowhere to go. But the offer she wants me to take is two hundred grand over list price.” She sucked in a breath. “I thought the asking price was fantastic. I’d have been happy with that...but two hundred thousand dollars more than list?” She shook her head. “I can’t turn this down.”

  “You also can’t live on the street.”

  “I guess I could move to Pennsylvania. Live with my parents until I find a place in Wilton.”

  “But your doctor is here. You said you were staying for the whole three months.”

  “I can’t if I don’t have anywhere to live.”

  “You can live with me.”

  She laughed.

  When he didn’t, she frowned. “Oh. You’re serious?”

  She pictured a hundred things like eating breakfast together and waiting for him to come home at night and the intimacy of it overwhelmed her. For as much as she’d like the chance to lure Paris Jake back across the Atlantic, she wasn’t ready to live with him.

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  He drew a breath, blew it out in a huff. “Okay. So not at my house. How about the family’s beach house? It’s September. The weather is still warm. And you’re not working. Why not enjoy these last few months?”

  “If I moved to Pennsylvania I could get a jump on job hunting. I have to take the bar exam, but I’ll also need some experience at a firm there.”

  “Get it after the baby is born. Your doctor is here. My mother loves being part of the pregnancy. You just said yourself you’re getting two hundred thousand dollars more than you expected. Take the time off. Relax a bit.”