Carrying the Billionaire's Baby

by Susan Meier

  “I shouldn’t.” But the thought of having three months of nothing to do but study was very, very tempting. And at a beach house, where she could get some sun, smell the fresh air...

  “Okay, if you won’t do it for yourself, then do it for me. My mom’s been a mess since my dad passed. She came home from Paris talking about you and the baby, just like her old self. You know she’s not a stalker or anything. She’s looking for something to occupy her.”

  The way he campaigned for his mom hit her right in the heart. Not because he was kind to his mom but because she suddenly realized how heavy his burden to his family was, and she couldn’t say no. It benefitted her, but it also helped him. She’d learned enough about him in Paris to know his life wasn’t easy and something inside her couldn’t make it more difficult when she could ease his burden by doing something wonderful like live in a beach house.

  “Okay.”

  His eyes widened in disbelief. “Okay?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t want to leave my doctor and I can study for the bar at a beach house as easily as I can here.”

  “More easily.”

  “So, it makes sense.”

  “Thank you.”

  Seeing the relief in his eyes, she felt a zing of rightness. Not that she’d done something good. Her decision to stay at his beach house was as much for herself as for him. The sense was more that they’d made a decision together...like a team.

  She pulled that thought back, reminding herself that it was dangerous to start liking stiff and formal Jake. He wasn’t really a likable guy. He could be. Only a fool would have missed the way his eyes had darkened with desire when he’d bumped into her at the stove. But he’d yanked himself back, because he didn’t want to be the guy who melted when they were together.

  That was the real bottom line.

  He might like her. But he didn’t want to. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to pull back so easily.

  Paris Jake was gone. Stuffy Jake was back. It would be dangerous to her heart if she somehow forgot that.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE NEXT DAYS passed in a whirl for Avery. The only moving company available on short notice couldn’t start until Saturday. But they arrived Saturday morning and immediately began working. Because adding the condo’s furnishings into the sale meant she only had to pack personal items, when Maureen surprised her with lunch on Sunday the packing was done and the boxes were already in a truck, waiting to be delivered.

  Maureen said, “Well, that’s wonderful. We’ll drive out to the house right now. We’ll eat lunch while your crew unloads the truck, then we can unpack the things you need.”

  Suspicion tiptoed through Avery’s brain. A few weeks ago, the McCallans didn’t even know about the pregnancy. Now they were all but running her life. Not only had Jake convinced her to stay and provided a place, but now Maureen was here watching over her.

  It had taken the visit from stuffy Jake to remind her the McCallans were accustomed to getting their own way. But she remembered now, and she intended to be very, very careful in dealing not just with Jake, but also with his mother.

  “I’m not going to need much help. Jake says there’s a room in the back where I can keep all my boxes so I don’t have to rent a storage unit.”

  Maureen slid her arm across Avery’s shoulder and directed her to the door. “Considering time for a mortgage, you might want to start looking for your Pennsylvania house now. That way the papers will be signed and it will be yours when you’re ready to move.”

  Taken aback, Avery said, “That’s a good idea.”

  “After I call Jake and tell him to meet us at the beach house with the keys, we can look at listings online on the drive out to the house.”

  “Okay.” Her spirits rose and the little nagging fear that the McCallans were taking over her life began to recede.

  Of course, she was paranoid. Stuffy Jake put himself and his family first. Plus, her dad had been bulldozed by people with less money than the McCallans. But as long as they were talking about her moving to Pennsylvania as if it was a done deal, she didn’t have anything to worry about...

  But she’d keep her guard up.

  The drive to Montauk was spent using their phones to look at houses in her small town of Wilton. Maureen seemed to favor Cape Cods, but to Avery the floor plans were too closed off.

  When they pulled into the driveway of the beach house, Avery looked up and saw the enormous home and she blinked, wondering how Maureen could have seen good in any of the houses they’d researched online. Compared to this beast even the big Colonial they’d considered had been tiny.

  They got out of the limo and Avery stared at the monstrosity before her. Three stories of stone with huge windows and brown shutters, the house could have been a castle for Britain’s royal family.

  She said, “Wow.”

  Jake strode toward them, bouncing a set of keys in his hand. Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, with his hair sexily tumbled and a day’s growth of beard on his chin and cheeks, he looked like Paris Jake. Memories came back swift and sure, first Jake standing by the window, unshaven with his hair wild, looking like he hadn’t slept; then the kiss, the way he’d taken possession, emotionally, sexily.

  She blinked, trying to force the images away but they wouldn’t leave.

  “I thought the plan was to move tomorrow?”

  “Everything was packed,” Avery said, working not to stutter over how good he looked or the wonderful memories. “No point in waiting.”

  “We’ve brought lunch,” Maureen said, displaying her bags of Chinese food. “Eat with us then you can show Avery everything she needs to know about the house.”

  She’d rather he left. She liked Paris Jake a little too much and she didn’t want to start superimposing his characteristics on real Jake the way she had when she showed the condo to Eileen.

  He unlocked the door to a foyer so big and so empty, their footsteps echoed around them as they walked through to the kitchen in the back. Three French doors stood side by side, providing a heart-stopping view of the ocean.

  “Oh, my God.”

  Maureen walked up behind her. “I know. It’s lovely, isn’t it?”

  “It’s spectacular,” Jake agreed. “Wait until you see it from the third floor. I’ll take you around after we eat.”

  She didn’t want to go any farther into the house than she had to. She didn’t want to see Jake looking like he did in Paris and acting like a stranger, but more than that she only needed a bathroom, bedroom and kitchen.

  She glanced around. The size of the place was simply overwhelming. Not comfortable, not cozy. She didn’t want to insult Jake or his mom but she had no idea how someone relaxed here.

  In the airy white kitchen with three ovens and two refrigerators, they heated the Chinese food Maureen had brought and ate at a table with an ocean view. Then they took a quick tour of the downstairs, through a formal dining room, a library, an entertainment room and three sitting rooms, one of which faced the ocean. Jake opened the wall-sized door that folded until the space blended into the enormous patio behind it.

  The heat of the day raced into the room, bringing with it the salty scent of the water, reminding her of vacations before her dad was arrested. The beach had been her favorite place back then.

  “It’s amazing.”

  For the first time ever, she could see her child fitting into the McCallans’ life. Not the limos, penthouses and mansions part, but the big yard and the beach. She could see a little girl in a pink ruffled-rump bathing suit making a sandcastle on the private stretch of ocean beyond the big grassy back yard, or a little boy running up to the waves, dangling his toes in the water and giggling as he ran out again.

  Maureen sighed dreamily. “It’s the perfect summer retreat.”

  Looking past the long stretch of grass at the blue water, Ave
ry could see that.

  Maureen brushed her hands off as if she’d done her work for the day then turned to Avery. “I’m going to let you alone. Give you some time to get settled.” She leaned in and kissed her cheek. “I’ll call you Tuesday. No pressure if you’re busy studying.”

  When the front door closed behind Maureen, the room filled with awkward silence. Except this time, with the thoughts of her child vacationing in this house running through her head, Avery’s heart squeezed. All this time she’d been thinking about her feelings for Jake and the way he treated her and she’d missed the obvious. This stiff, formal man was her child’s father. Avery might move on, but her child had to deal with this Jake forever.

  “Are you ready to see the upstairs?”

  She looked at him, remembered him funny and silly in Paris and knew that Jake would make a much better dad.

  “Sure.”

  With Jake leading, they climbed the circular stairway in the foyer. It twisted in such a way that they passed the second-floor windows at the same time his mom’s limo drove off.

  He stopped and faced her. “I totally forgot about your car. Driving out with my mom means you left your car behind in the city.”

  “I don’t own a car.”

  “How do you get to work?” He frowned. “You take the subway?”

  He said subway as if her using it was a crime. “It’s not poison and it’s really convenient. And cheap.” Once again, she worried for their child. Not that he’d be hurt or kidnapped because of the McCallans, but that he’d get a skewed perspective of life. “It costs a small fortune for parking downtown, and renting a parking space in my building would kill my monthly budget.”

  “Sorry.” He shook his head. “Got it.”

  He walked by the first bedroom and the second, but stopped at the third and opened the door on a room large enough to have two reading chairs by a bay window, a king bed and two dressers.

  “We can bring up a box or two of your clothes and unpack if you like.”

  Seeing the room, she relaxed, but only a bit. All of her worst visions about her child’s time with Jake ran through her head and she wanted some time alone to think this through. “No. I’m fine. I can get them myself.”

  * * *

  Jake sighed, not wanting to offend her, but wondering if her lifting boxes and carrying them up a flight of stairs was a good idea. “You’re sure.”

  “If I have to take the clothes out of the box one shirt at a time, that’s what I’ll do.”

  “Okay.” Now she was the beleaguered peasant and he was Marie Antoinette again. She’d taken his comment about the subway all wrong and suddenly she hated him.

  They might not become best friends, but after her doing him the favor of staying in New York, he didn’t like the idea that they had to be enemies either.

  But could people be opponents without being enemies?

  His father would argue they couldn’t, but it didn’t seem right to be enemies when she was helping him. Plus, he’d spent his life working not to be like his dad. Maybe this was one of those things he should consider changing?

  As they walked down the stairs, he got a call from one of his vice presidents. Scuttlebutt had it that a bid they’d submitted was millions of dollars higher than the closest competitor.

  At the bottom of the steps, he motioned to Avery that he would be going into the library to talk to Bill Cummings. She nodded and headed for the back of the house, where the movers had stashed her boxes.

  Immersed in the discussion, he sank into a thick leather chair behind a French provincial desk and for two hours debated the wisdom and feasibility of changing their bid.

  His call completed, he spent five minutes looking for Avery, then realized she was probably in her room, maybe showering or napping after the long day.

  He didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye, and making peace, but he also didn’t want to go up to her room.

  He returned to the library, turned on the computer and located the bid to go over the numbers one more time.

  She ambled into the library over an hour later, looking as she had when she awoke from her naps in Paris. Hair tousled. Eyes sleepy and sexy.

  His breath caught. His heart softened. She was the sexiest woman he’d ever met and recently he’d been realizing she was also the kindest. He refused to let his dad’s antiquated ideas hurt her anymore. He just wasn’t sure how to change things. “You were sleeping.”

  “I thought you’d left, but when I went into the kitchen to make a sandwich, I saw your car.”

  He rose from behind the desk. “I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.” And making peace, but what would he say? I’m sorry I’m rich? I’m sorry I want to see my child a little more than I think you’re going to let me?

  She smiled. “Thanks.”

  That smile did things to him he would never understand. He longed to run his fingers through her rumpled hair, maybe tilt her chin up for a kiss.

  And that was another problem.

  He had to work out how they’d handle their attraction if they were to remain friends. He’d seen what had happened in Paris. When they mixed getting along with their attraction, he’d kissed her, confided things he should have kept to himself.

  Maybe it would be better to leave and think this through before he offered an olive branch.

  He motioned for her to walk out with him. “Since you’re fine and set up, I’ll be going.”

  She yawned. “I’ll probably get a shower and go back to bed.”

  “Sounds great.”

  A strange feeling settled over him, the way it had when they’d walked side by side in Paris and she wouldn’t let him hold her hand or put his arm across her shoulders. Awkward didn’t describe it. Neither did uncomfortable. It was more like melancholy. But it wasn’t coming from him. It was coming from her.

  She stayed at the front door as he walked to his car. Once he was inside, she inched backward into the house, closing the door behind her.

  He put the car in gear and headed along the circular driveway, but his thoughts stayed on Avery. She was a normally happy woman. But today she’d been off. He’d thought she was angry, but what if she’d been sad?

  He wished he was the kind of guy who could go back and ask her. But what would he say? “You looked sad. It made me feel awful.”

  That was going beyond offering an olive branch and making peace.

  Besides, she’d think he was crazy.

  He was an hour into the drive when their conversation about her taking the subway replayed in his head and he realized she didn’t have a car. Not only had he taken her to a huge house that made her uneasy, he’d stranded her there.

  Now that was a reason to go back.

  He turned around at the first opportunity and headed to the beach house. By the time he arrived, it was dark. Not one light shone in the rows of windows in the three-story stone giant. He blew his breath out then ambled up the sidewalk to the front door.

  He opened it into darkness, recognizing he wasn’t going to get a chance to talk to her. He tossed his keys on an available table, then decided Avery probably wouldn’t find them there. Even if he left a note explaining that he was giving her the use of his car, it would do her no good if she didn’t find the note or the keys.

  Walking into the kitchen, he turned on the light, found a pen and paper and wrote a note explaining that he was leaving the house key and the keys to his car, which was parked in the driveway.

  When he was done, he shook his head. He should have called his driver first. Actually, he should have called his driver on the way back to Montauk. But he hadn’t.

  Now it was late.

  Texting Gerry, he headed up the hidden stairway in the back of the butler’s pantry.

  Pick me up at the beach house tomorrow morning around nine.

&
nbsp; It looked like he’d get a chance to talk to her after all.

  * * *

  The next morning, Avery awakened with a start, her heart pounding, her breath coming in shaky gasps. She looked around, remembered she was staying at the McCallan beach house and rolled out of bed.

  She’d get accustomed to the emptiness of the huge, cavernous house. She would. She had to.

  She brushed her teeth, washed her face and tiptoed into the silent hallway. It was like being alone in a hotel. The vacant corridor echoed with her footsteps. So why did she have the ungodly feeling she wasn’t alone? That someone was following her?

  She swore she heard a noise. A faint sound. Like somebody dropping something.

  She picked up the pace, racing down the big circular stairway to the foyer, her thin robe billowing behind her, telling herself not to jump to conclusions. If there was somebody else in the house it was undoubtedly a maid. Or gardener. Or somebody else employed by the McCallans.

  She should calm down.

  Just because she was in a huge mansion she didn’t know, stuck here unless she called a taxi, that didn’t mean something sinister would happen. As for that feeling that she wasn’t alone—she’d already figured out it was probably a maid.

  She pushed open the door to the kitchen and stopped dead in her tracks. She was not imagining the scent of toast. She sniffed the air...or was that bagels?

  “Good morning.”

  Her heart tumbled. Jake.

  “What are you doing here?”

  He motioned her to the table with the view of the ocean. “I made bagels.”

  Confused, she walked over and took a seat, her traitorous heart knocking against her ribs. Had he realized how uncomfortable she was and come back the night before to protect her? If he had, it was about the sweetest thing he’d ever done. “Thanks.”

  Setting two bagels on the table, he sat across from her. “You’re welcome.”