His Brother's Baby (Bad Boy Ballers)
Page 11
Anastasia looks around and her smile deepens with satisfaction. “So the nanny isn’t coming? That’s too bad.”
“No, Shawna should be here soon,” my mother pipes in. “She’s just getting ready.”
“Well, the help can always join us later, or even eat in the kitchen,” Anastasia says. “That nanny of yours seems so very shy.”
My vision goes red. I open my mouth, about to say something I’ll regret, when I hear a throat clear from the top of the staircase.
I look up and my jaw hits the floor. Oh man. My pants suddenly feel tight.
Shawna emerges like a dream in a clingy red skirt and blouse. Even the sneakers on her bare feet do nothing to detract from the elegant picture she presents. Her dark, straightened hair falls just past her shoulders. Most of her arms are on display below the short sleeves. The skirt rests against her calf, but a split up the side diminishes the appearance of modesty. The outfit’s purpose is to draw attention and keep it.
And it does it’s job. I can’t keep my eyes off her as she walks down the stairs. In fact, I have to curl my hands into fists to prevent myself from rushing to her side and offering my help.
...Or offering to help her out of that tantalizing outfit…
“Jackson,” Anastasia chirps.
Her sparkles hit me like the beginnings of a migraine. “Oh, hi,” I say, dazzled in all the wrong ways.
Anastasia gives me a tight smile and holds out her arm. “Why don’t you escort me to the dinner table.”
“Uh…”
I’m having trouble thinking, let alone speaking. I look back at Shawna’s banging curves…
“Jackson!” Anastasia says sharply like she’s repeated my name several times already.
“Sure, what?”
“Dinner, Jackson. I’m hungry.” She sticks out her arm as her eyes widen with demonic intensity that I wouldn’t have even blinked if she’d said: I’m hungry for souls.
I shudder.
“Take her arm, Jackson,” my mother says with a triumphant smile. “Shawna, will you be a dear and help me to the table?”
“Of course Lillian,” Shana says demurely, taking my mother’s arm. The two of them head off, giving me a luscious view of Shawna’s backside.
Anastasia’s hand snakes through my arm. She says something, but I’m not listening. How can I when Shawna is bending over to help my mother get in her chair, making that scandalous slit in her deceptively demure outfit rise to show off more dark skin.
“Jackson, my chair,” Anastasia says.
I blink. Chair?
“Hold it out for me,” she hisses through her gritted teeth.
I comply. After she’s seated, I rush to the kitchen. I have to stay busy so I don’t do something stupid…
...Like check out the hot nanny in front of my mother and ex-girlfriend.
Alright, I knew dinner would be difficult, but this was a disaster. What in the world had my mother been thinking by putting Anastasia in that getup? I mean, it was classy, sure, but on Shawna it was also something else.
“Do you need help with anything?”
I turn to find Shawna leaning against the counter. The neckline of the sweater is high. That doesn’t matter since the woolen material clings to her breasts. The outline of her bra is plainly visible through the material, and I have a mental image of myself pulling it off and gazing at her unrestrained glory. I blink as sweat trails into my eyes. “Uh, no. I think I have everything under control.”
She gives him a smile and shrugs. “If you say so.”
I bite my knuckle as she walks away. My eyes insist on following the gentle sway of her hips until she disappears from sight. Then I focus on controlling my body’s reaction to her as I remove the salad bowl from the fridge and add it to the tray holding the pasta and bread. Several minutes later, I have regained enough control enough to return to the dining room.
Oh boy. What did I just walk into? Anastasia’s glaring at Shawna. Shawna’s jaw is set and she’s doing a good job of looking completely unaffected by Anastasia’s scrutiny. And mom...mom is smiling?
“Oh Jackson!” mom calls. “So glad you decided to join us. We were just discussing how refreshing it was for you to turn down Shawna’s offer for help. It’s hard to find a man who knows his way around a kitchen, isn’t it ladies?”
Anastasia crosses her arms over her chest. “I should have been the one to help. I wanted to, but Lillian wouldn’t let me.”
“It just wouldn’t have been right, dear,” mother replies smoothly. “You are, after all, our honored guest.”
What is this all about? I set the tray down on the table. “Everyone dig in. Don’t be shy. We’re all family and friends, here.”
Anastasia and Shawna both straighten their backs at the word, friends.
I sigh, taking my seat at the front of the table. And then I lean to my left so I can get a good view of Shawna’s red hot…
“Jackson, pass the butter,” Anastasia demands.
I shake my head. I need to get a handle on myself. My behavior is obviously distressing everybody. Just a few more days, and my life can go back to normal...or at least as normal as it can be with a new baby and a nanny I can’t stop undressing in my mind. I was going to have to make a few adjustments to our employer/employee contract. No formal wear at dinner. And no red.
“Jackson!” Anastasia’s voice interrupts my thoughts like a siren.
“Butter, right,” I mutter, reaching over and passing it to her even though it was closer to her in the first place. Her fingers brush against mine. She blinks up at me, smiling. “Thank you, sweetheart,” she purrs. “I was just going to tell Shawna about your kind offer to fly me to LA in your private plane this weekend.”
I wouldn’t exactly call it an offer on my part. More like giving into emotional blackmail. I return to my seat and try to keep my eyes open and off Shawna as Anastasia drones on and on about Christian Corbett’s wealth and influence.
It was going to be a long dinner.
20
Jackson
Finally, I think, shutting the door to my room. Dinner was...well, at least it was over. Most of it was spent listening to Anastasia go off like she was in a job interview and her life depended on getting. Every time I peeked at Shawna’s fine curves, Anastasia’s voice had grown a little louder and more shrill. I honestly don’t even know how many times I passed her the damn butter.
At the end, things had taken a turn for the worse. Anastasia had decided that whatever game she was playing wasn’t working, and groped me in full view of my mother.
My mother’s gasp will probably haunt my dreams tonight. I didn’t dare look at her, because I’m pretty certain the expression on her face would have haunted me a whole lot longer. Instead, I removed Anastasia’s tentacle-like grip from my buttcheek finger by finger and whispered. “Not here.”
Anastasia smiled. “Later?”
No, not ever, I wanted to reply, but things were awkward enough already. I decided that moment was as good as any to turn in for the night.
I collapse on my bed. When I close my eyes, my vision goes red.
I try to focus on something else, but I can’t stop thinking about how that red garment had caressed her curves. How it had sneaked up her legs, showing more tantalizing mocha skin, every time she leaned over. How it would look on the floor of my master bedroom.
I roll over and open my eyes, but when I glance at my white sheets I can only think about how Shawna would look wrapped up in them.
This isn’t good. I reach for the latest Cornwell on my bedside table. But my thoughts stray from the story and wander down the hall to Shawna’s room. The house is so quiet. Is she sleeping? Or is she getting ready for bed? I imagine her stripping off the sweater slowly, before easing the skirt down her legs. The bra would come next, and her breasts would spring free. They would be eager for my touch. My hands would push the scrap of silk down her legs to reveal—I jump at the timid knock on his door.
&nbs
My heart starts racing.
Shawna.
The knock sounds again, this time more urgently.
I jump out of bed and run my hand through my hair. Should I take my shirt off? Yes, definitely, I think, yanking it over my head and tossing it in the corner. Long hours spent in the gym and on the ranch helped me to ensure that I still have the same body I had when I played pro football seven years ago.
Maybe Shawna was having trouble sleeping. Maybe, the moment I opened the door, she’d rush into my arms, feel my hard muscles tense beneath her tender touch, look up into my eyes, part her plump innocent lips, and ask me to never let her go.
Yeah, now who’s dreaming? I ask myself. Still, the thought of it made my blood run hot and straight to my groin.
Adrenaline pounds through my veins as I twist the knob. The moment the door is open, a feminine form leaps into my arms.
“Oh Jackson! Take me!” a breathless voice begs. “I know it’s wrong, but we shouldn’t hold back any longer! Let us put an end to this torture!”
My boner dies a swift yet painful death. “What are you doing, Anastasia?”
“Oh Jackson!” Anastasia repeats again with the conviction of a daytime soap opera star. “I can’t sleep!”
Gently, I remove her. “There are lots of books in the library.”
Her brow wrinkles. “Don’t be mean, Jackson. I need you!”
I sigh. “Anastasia, we’re over.”
Anastasia’s eyes burn. She glances down at my boxer shorts. “Maybe you just can’t, period. I’m beginning to wonder if you need to see a doctor.”
Oh Lord. Is it really that difficult for this woman to believe that a man might just not want to sleep with her? Just barely, I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “I’ll see you early in the morning.” I close the door on her.
“Jackson!” she bangs on my door. “I’m not going to forget this!”
“I, unfortunately, won’t either,” I mutter as I crawl into bed. I really wasn’t looking forward to this weekend. In fact, a part of me wanted to back out, but I wouldn't do that to her. I’d made a promise and would keep my word.
However, I was thankful that this would be the last time. It’s not like I’d blacklist the woman or anything, but we really weren’t compatible. It was better this way. Anastasia would bounce back from our breakup immediately, and I’d finally be able to focus on the most important thing in my life: Family.
21
Jackson
I scan the crowded apartment, looking for Anastasia. It seems that every square inch of the condo’s luxuriously furnished interior is taken up by someone dressed to kill and posed to show off. The Persian carpet under my black dress shoes provides the perfect backdrop for the many colors worn by the guests, as do the art deco antiques and white silk walls. Somewhere amid all the glamour lurks Anastasia, and I’m anxious to find her. My watch reads two A.M. I’m ready to leave. If I don’t find her soon, I might have to leave without her. I can’t spend another half day away from work.
“Pardon me,” a tipsy blonde purrs at me as she accidentally stumbles on the carpet and ends up pressed against me.
I carefully right her. “Forget it.”
She smiles. “You’re Anastasia’s, aren’t you?”
I try to hide my discomfort at being referred to as Anastasia’s. “Have you seen her?”
She waves in the general direction of a dark corner. “I think she’s with her manager. Probably talking about the new contract she’s angling for.”
I surrender my nearly empty glass to a circulating waiter and nod to the blonde. “Thanks.”
She touches my arm. “You don’t have to run off, honey. Anastasia will be a while.”
“No, I really should be going.” I smile as I step out of her reach so I won’t offend her. Then, I cut my way through the crowd, seeking out Anastasia’s shade of blonde amid the sea of bottled-blonde heads filling the room.
Finally, I catch sight of her in the corner. Her head is bent low against Sergio’s. His arm is around her waist, and their posture seems more than cozy. Well, good for her, I think. I had a feeling she’d bounce back without any problems, and am glad to see she is.
As I near, I catch part of their conversation.
“Your image is so important for this contract, darling. Cynthia may be creating the line, but Christian Corbett and his wife are footing the bill. You know what kind of people they are.”
Anastasia nods. “I know what’s required, Sergio. It’s well in hand—” She broke off as Jackson approached, summoning a smile that looked forced. “Hello, darling.”
He inclines his head to Sergio. “We should be leaving.”
Anastasia shakes her head, sending waves of blonde hair cascading down her back. “You haven’t met Christian yet, Jackson. You simply must before we leave.”
I keep the grimace off my face as Anastasia kisses Sergio’s cheek and slips her arm around his waist. I glance at my watch again, hoping this introduction would be the last obstacle to getting out the door.
Sergio mimics a phone with his thumb and forefinger. “Call me when it’s all set, darling.”
“Of course.”
I allow myself to be steered back through the assemblage until Anastasia pauses and pulls on my arm, leading me toward a striking couple. Even though I’ve never met them, I recognize them as the Corbetts immediately.
The woman is full figured and beautiful, with warm, dark skin and long black hair. She smiles as she looks up at her husband. His body is as imposing as a linebacker’s, though I suppose that’s to be expected since he isn’t any stranger to physical labor. He slips his arm around her kindly but possessively and returns her smile. Half of his face is covered with a simple, dark mask.
“Don’t say anything about the face,” Anastasia whispers. “He doesn’t want to remember the tragedy.”
Why would she think I’d say something about his disfigurement, or the tragic car accident that led to it? Love was precious and rare, and few knew that as well as the Corbetts. If the rumors were true, Christian and Liana had to overcome a lot to achieve their love. Looking at them, I believed it. They had a connection that sparkled more deeply than any of the superficial dalliances in this room, like a diamond on black velvet.
“Christian, Liana.” Anastasia drags me forward so she can bestow air kisses on Liana’s cheek and touch Christian’s arm. “How lovely to see you again.”
“We didn’t see you earlier,” Liana says. “I wasn’t certain you’d made it.”
Christian smiles at her with more warmth than I’d expected. “It must be difficult to find time to socialize with a little one at home.”
My eyes go wide. What baby? He couldn't possibly be talking about Tamara, could he?
Anastasia nods. “It is, but we took a night for ourselves. The nanny is a whiz with the...Tamara.”
All the air leaves my lungs. Anastasia, what did you tell them? What have you done?
Christian nods. “It’s always nice to get some time away, but don’t work too hard. You’ll hate yourself later. Every moment with a baby is irreplaceable.”
Anastasia shifts, looking uncomfortable. “You’re absolutely right, Christian. I really prefer to care for her myself, but sometimes duty calls.”
Liana frowns at her husband. “So it does. You can’t devote your entire life to a child.” She shakes her head. “I admire your dedication to her even though she isn’t yours. It’s rare to find someone so capable of selfless love, especially amongst up-and-coming models.”
A genuine smile fills Anastasia’s face. She loves being complimented. “Thank you. It really was no bother. She’s so sweet.”
The room starts to sway. I can’t listen to this. I’m going to be sick. I have to get out of here before I do or say something I’ll regret.
“Who’s this?” Christian asks, raising a glass in my direction. “Not another one of those men like I saw you with in that gossip column last month, I hope?”
Color sweeps across Anastasia’s face. “Of course not. It was a bit of an adjustment when we first became responsible for Tamara, but I’m so happy I stuck it out.”
We?
When we first became responsible for Tamara?
Anastasia had never been responsible for her. Ever. She couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as my niece for five minutes.
I lean over. “Anastasia,” I whisper in a warning voice.
Anastasia ignores me. Her smile becomes more desperate. “This is Jackson Reeves.”
“This is your Jackson?” Christian says, thrusting out his hand. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you. Anastasia talks about you sto much it’s like I’ve known you for years.”
I glare at Anastasia. “Oh really?”
“Yes really,” Liana laughs, though her eyes have narrowed. It looks like she’s picking up on the tension between us.
“You’ll have to excuse us,” I tell them. “Anastasia and I need to leave. We have a lot to talk about it seems.”
Anastasia bristles. “We don’t actually, love. They already know.”
I frown. “Already know what?”
“About our engagement.”
I stare at her. “What?”
To cover up my confusion, Anastasia holds up her hand. A gigantic diamond surrounded by sapphires gleams.
What…?
Liana claps, smiling. “It’s so romantic. A new baby bringing two lovers together! Your love for life and one another is so apparent in your story. Christian and I are honored to feature your budding family for the charity show! I can’t think of anyone more fitting or more deserving.”
Christian claps me on the back, knocking me forward. “I actually thought it was a little too perfect at first. You may not know this, but because of Liana’s history, she and I both have a soft spot for children...especially children who need a loving home. I hope you don’t mind that I did a little background check on you, Jackson, but it all checked out.”
-->