Carrying the Billionaire's Baby

by Susan Meier

  But he’d never get it because controlling things until they were perfect, flawless, no chance of spilled milk or actual human contact had been ingrained in him.

  She got up from the floor, stretched and let the baby move around, repositioning itself to be comfortable.

  When the old-fashioned doorbell sent a loud buzz through the house, she winced, realizing that was another thing she’d have to change. And the sooner the better.

  She wobbled to the door. A dark wood frame housed beveled glass that had been pieced together like art. Two long rectangular pieces stood like sentries on the right and left side, while smaller pieces mixed and mingled to make something that looked like a crystal sunrise.

  She was definitely keeping that.

  She opened the door without thinking and when she saw Jake standing on her wide front porch with huge white columns, her mind went blank.

  “Hey.”

  He wore a black leather jacket over a T-shirt and jeans and with a few days’ growth of beard he looked disreputable and sexy. Just normal enough to be a good dad and just sexy enough to be...hers.

  Her hormones kicked in and she almost started to cry, but she caught herself. This guy was smart and savvy. And he was her child’s father. They’d never gotten around to discussing custody or visitation.

  He could be here to determine just how strong she was.

  He could be here to negotiate.

  He could be here to bully her...

  Or manipulate her.

  This wasn’t the time for tears, or thinking how plain old sexy he looked. This was the moment she either protected her child from overexposure to everything money could buy, or started a never-ending battle with one of the most powerful families in the United States.

  Just when she was ready for the worst, he pulled a bouquet of flowers from behind his back and handed them to her.

  Her heart skipped a beat. Her thoughts scattered.

  “These are from Mom. She said to tell you the vase is coming. It’s Tiffany something or another. She ordered it hoping it would come to your house before the flowers died.”

  Her heart plummeted so fast, she wondered if she had any pulse at all. Of all the stupid things to do, jumping to the conclusion that he’d bought her flowers because he loved her, maybe wanted to compromise, was the stupidest, stupidest thing she had ever done.

  She took the flowers. “Thank your mother for me.” Then she shook her head. “No. Don’t. I know my new protocol is to send an appropriate thank-you note.”

  She made a move to close the door, but he put his foot in it before she could.

  She glanced up sharply. That was so not a Jake McCallan thing to do.

  “In retrospect, giving you flowers from my mother was pretty dumb. I came here to apologize and ended up looking like a delivery guy.”

  The way he said that, as if making a mental note never to do it again, almost had her laughing. But she refused to let his charm get to her. Too much was at stake.

  “If you want to talk about custody or visitation, save it for a hearing or a meeting with our lawyers. Tell Pete I hired Andi Petrunak as my legal counsel. Too much has passed between us for us to try to negotiate on our own.”

  He put his foot a little farther in the door. “That’s actually why I’m here.”

  “I thought it was to apologize.”

  “It was. Then after the apology I was going to tell you that I love you.”

  Her heart flattened then swelled. “You’ve never said that before.”

  “And I’m not sure why. I’ve loved you since Paris. Knew it in my heart, just wanted to get all our ducks in a row before I said it.”

  “There’s your problem,” she said, her voice breaking with raw emotion. She loved this man in a way that encompassed so many things that she couldn’t even name them. And he had to have every i dotted and t crossed before he could even hold a decent conversation. “You think too much. You want everything perfect—”

  He reached in the door, caught her by the waist and hauled her to him, kissing her fiercely. She wrapped her arms around his neck and let him take her where he would. Not only did she like this side of him, but he needed to be able to live this side of himself freely.

  He finally released her. “How’s that for not thinking.”

  “You’re getting the hang of it.”

  She said it so casually that he laughed. “I will figure all this out, you know.”

  “Don’t!” she said, dragging him off her porch and into the small foyer then the empty sitting room. “Don’t always do what you think you have to do. Do what you want to do.”

  “I can’t spend my life not planning. It’s not how I’m wired. But I did realize that I can’t always plan alone.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I knew what you wanted, but I thought that was what you wanted before we started... I think that’s how I justified making big sweeping arrangements.”

  “You never thought to ask?”

  He shook his head. “I wanted to surprise you. You like surprises. I didn’t think it through.” He winced. “I’m embarrassed to have to admit that.”

  “You should be.”

  “Hey, the whole love thing is new to me. Sharing my life is almost scary...except I love you. And when I’m not with you I’m empty.”

  Tears filled her eyes. He’d been so honest, so courageous, she had to be too. “I was lost without you too.”

  “So, what do we do?”

  She smiled. He hadn’t come up with a plan. Hadn’t suggested what he wanted first. “You asked.”

  “I’m learning.”

  He really was. And her heart almost couldn’t take it. “I think we need to be together.”

  “I do too.” He looked around as she took the flowers to the kitchen table. “So, this is where we’re going to live?”

  Her breath caught and she whipped around to face him. “You’re going to live here with me?”

  He met her gaze. “I want to be with you. I also want you to be happy. And I think raising a child here would be fun.”

  “Yes. That’s exactly how I see it.”

  “Except the house is small. It’ll be good for a year or two, but if I’m working from home, I’ll need a decent-sized office.”

  She pressed her hand to her chest. “You’re working from home?”

  “With new technologies, I’ve found a lot of things can be handled from home. I also trust my employees. I can also fly to New York a few times a week. But when I’m home, I’ll need space.”

  “You can have space.”

  “We’ll sit down with an architect as soon as the baby is born.” He slid out of his jacket and hung it on the newel post. “But first we need dinner. Is there takeout in this town?”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “Of course, there’s takeout in this town.”

  “A bed upstairs?”

  She winced. “Mattress.”

  He laughed. “This should be interesting.”

  She walked over, wrapped her arms around his neck. “That’s the point. We are absolutely not going to have a dull life.”

  He smiled. “No. We’re not.”

  Then he kissed her again, and he knew with absolute certainty that this was what he’d been searching for his entire life. Not surety. Not perfection. But something warm and sweet, hot and sexy, smart and strong, naughty and nice.

  Avery.

  EPILOGUE

  JAKE LEANED AGAINST the window seat in Avery’s hospital room, watching his mother cuddle his daughter, her first grandchild. Abigail Maureen McCallan. Apparently, all the women in Avery’s mother’s family had names that started with A, so that took care of naming her after someone in the Novak family. And his mother unashamedly said if she got to pick the middle name she wanted it to be Maureen.


  They hadn’t waited for the baby’s birth to hire an architect and plans for their bigger house were nearly complete. Avery was just about ready to take the Pennsylvania bar exam. And no one seemed to care he wasn’t in the office three days a week.

  Nestling the baby against her breast, his mom said, “You know, Avery and I saw the cutest wedding dress in Paris.” She smiled. “She even tried it on.”

  “You did?”

  “Your mother tricked me into thinking it was an ordinary ball gown. As soon as I put it on, I knew it wasn’t.” She sighed wistfully. “But it certainly was gorgeous.”

  Maureen nodded. “Yes, it was.” She handed Abigail to Avery’s mother. “As soon as Avery can travel, we’ll go to Paris together and you can take a look.”

  Andrea’s face fell. “I can’t go to Paris.”

  Maureen batted a hand. “It’s not a big deal. We have a plane. And I have a sweet deal with a hotel there. I can get a suite for the three of us for next to nothing.”

  Andrea brightened.

  Jake stifled a gasp. She didn’t have a sweet deal. She paid top dollar and was proud of it. But Andrea didn’t have to know that.

  Sabrina and Seth entered. Sabrina walked directly to Avery and hugged her. Seth carried a huge teddy bear.

  Avery laughed. “I don’t think the nursery is big enough for that.”

  Jake shook his head. “I don’t think our current house is big enough for that.”

  Seth slapped him on the back. “Luckily, you’re building a new one.” He paused. “There is going to be a room for me, right?”

  “Two spare bedrooms and a mother-in-law suite,” Avery said.

  “But don’t get too comfortable in the spare bedrooms,” Jake put in. “We want to fill them with kids.”

  “We’re thinking of building a bed-and-breakfast in town.”

  “I’m going to run it,” Denny said, pushing away from the wall. “Andrea’s going to bake goodies for guests.”

  Sabrina smiled. “That sounds like a great idea. That way we can visit and not feel like we’re intruding.” She paused, then gave Jake a narrow-eyed look. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

  Jake pointed at his temple. “Always thinking.”

  Andrea shifted to hand the baby to Seth. “Here. Hold her.”

  He jumped back. “Oh, no. I’ve never held one of those in my life and don’t plan on starting now. I’ll hold her when she’s two. Or three. Or maybe I’ll just introduce myself when she’s seven and can play catch.”

  Avery and her mother laughed. But Maureen frowned and faced Andrea. “See why I despaired of being a grandmother?”

  “At least you had a shot. I had a daughter who wanted to save the world and a son who ran into burning buildings.”

  “Hey, I gave you a grandchild,” Avery said with a laugh, but Jake could see her energy was waning.

  He rose from the window seat. “I think it might be time for us to let Avery get some rest.”

  Seth said, “Aw. I just got here.”

  But Andrea and Maureen were already herding people toward the door.

  He’d never seen his mother like this, not just happy but involved.

  When everyone was out of the room, he sat on the seat next to the bed and took Avery’s hand. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She winced. “I don’t think the drugs have worn off yet.”

  “Which might explain why you’re tired.”

  “That and ten hours of labor.”

  He laughed. “That too.”

  “Little tip. Never tell a woman in labor that you understand her pain.” She cut him a look. “You don’t.”

  “Point taken.”

  “So, you’re happy with a girl?”

  He laughed. “I’m going to be the most possessive, protective father ever. I’ve already got plans for upping the security system on the new house.”

  “Sounds good.” She yawned. “Next time, I’m going into labor in the morning instead of eleven o’clock at night.”

  “Just go to sleep.”

  The words were barely out of his mouth before her eyes closed. Within seconds, she was out.

  He took a breath, rose from the chair beside the bed and walked over to the bassinette.

  His little girl was tiny. Only two ounces over five pounds. She had the McCallan trademark black hair and blue eyes but green-eyed Andrea had reminded them that all babies had blue eyes and when she was about a year old they’d know the real color.

  He reached down and tucked the mitten over her hand more securely. Any fear he might have had had disappeared. Not because he had planned or prepared for this—but because he was ready for the adventure.

  In fact, with Avery, he was looking forward to it.

  * * * * *

  Look out for the next romance story in the Manhattan Babies trilogy

  Coming soon!

  And if you enjoyed this story, check out these other great reads from Susan Meier

  The Spanish Millionaire’s Runaway Bride

  The Boss’s Fake Fiancée

  A Mistletoe Kiss with the Boss

  Wedded for His Royal Duty

  All available now!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Swept into the Tycoon’s World by Cara Colter

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  Swept into the Tycoon’s World

  by Cara Colter

  CHAPTER ONE

  “WHO IS THAT?” Chelsea’s whisper was breathless.

  Bree Evans shot her young assistant an exasperated look. “You’ve got to stop it. We were asked at the briefing not to gawk at the celebrities. It’s part of our agreement to provide sample products and a display for this event. To be strictly professional. No staring. No autographs. No—”

  Chelsea, unaware, or uncaring, that she was jeopardizing Bree’s big break, was not paying the least bit of attention to her boss. Instead she was standing completely frozen, a neatly gift-wrapped box of Kookies for All Occasions’ Love Bites in her hand. Bree followed her gaze, looking toward the outside door that led into the foyer area of the concert hall, where they were setting up.

  Oh, no.

  “Who is that?” Chelsea whispered again.

  Oh, no. Had she said it out loud?

  He was everything Bree remembered, only more. She had not seen him, in person, anyway, for six years. Though it hardly seemed possible, in that time his prese
nce had multiplied. He had lost any hint of boyish slenderness, and the gorgeous lines of his face had settled into maturity. His dark brown hair, which she remembered as untamed, touching his collar and sweeping across his forehead, was now cut short and neatly groomed, as befit his position.

  “It’s Brand Wallace,” Bree said carefully. She positioned herself with her back to the doorway he was coming through. Her heart was beating way too fast. Good grief. Her palms were sweating.

  “Like in Braveheart?” Chelsea gasped.

  “That was Mel Gibson,” Bree explained with what was left of her patience. “Gibson played the part of William Wallace—he wasn’t William Wallace.”

  Still, even though she didn’t want to, Bree understood why Brand would make her young assistant think of brave hearts. There was something about him, and always had been—a way of moving with supreme grace and confidence that suggested a warrior, a man who was certain in his own strength and courage and capabilities.

  Chelsea was still totally distracted. “I have never seen a more stunning example of the male of the species. Never.”

  Despite ordering herself not to, Bree slid another careful look at the doorway. She had to give Chelsea that. Brand Wallace was a stunning example of the male species!

  He’d stopped just inside the double glass doors, his head tilted toward Shelley Grove, organizer of the Stars Come Out at Night, a charity gala to help fund the construction of a new wing for Children’s Hospital.

  Shelley had her hand cozily on his arm and was beaming up at him. He was steel, and women were magnets drawn to him.

  Though the room was beginning to fill with well-known celebrities, many of whom were in Vancouver—“Hollywood North,” as it was sometimes called—filming television series and movies, he stood out from all of them.

  Even surrounded by some of the world’s most dazzling people, there was something about him that was electric. It sizzled in the air around him, sensual and compelling.