Daddy by December (The BAD BOY BILLIONAIRES Series)

by Judy Angelo

  DADDY BY DECEMBER

  JUDY ANGELO

  The BAD BOY BILLIONAIRES Series

  Volume 7

  Copyright © 2012 Judy Angelo

  Lyons Publishing Limited

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, electronic or otherwise (mechanical, photocopying, recording or stored in a retrieval system) without the prior written consent of the Publisher. Such action is an infringement of the copyright law.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Author contact: judytreasure@hotmail.com

  The BAD BOY BILLIONAIRES Series by Judy Angelo

  Volume 1 - Tamed by the Billionaire

  Volume 2 - Maid in the USA

  Volume 3 - Billionaire's Island Bride

  Volume 4 - Dangerous Deception

  Volume 5 - To Tame a Tycoon

  Volume 6 - Sweet Seduction

  Volume 7 - Daddy by December

  BAD BOY BILLIONAIRES, The Collection - Vols. 1 - 6

  COMING IN AUGUST:

  To Catch a Man (in 30 Days or Less)

  A DADDY IN THE MAKING...

  A little girl, a wish, and a woman determined to stay out of his reach. How to reconcile the three?

  Billionaire investor, Drake Duncan, is at the top of his game. He decides to hire a ghostwriter to work on his memoir. Little does he know that the writer who will answer the call is truly a ghost - from his past.

  Meg Gracey is the proverbial 'starving artist', a writer down on her luck. When she is offered a contract as ghostwriter she jumps at the chance, only to later realize that the job will throw her directly in the path of the man she vowed never to 'touch with a long stick'. Caught between starvation and emotional torture she is forced to choose.

  Does she follow reason or give in to the desires of her heart?

  DADDY BY DECEMBER

  CHAPTER ONE

  “I want her.”

  “But what about looking at the others?”

  “No, this is the one I want.” Drake Duncan stabbed the paper with his index finger. “I read through all the profiles. This one's the perfect fit. Professional, good track record. Got some novels under her belt, too. I don’t want anyone who’s so cast in the ‘biography’ mold that they don’t know how to weave a good story.”

  His personal assistant gave him a look tinged with doubt. “I was going to recommend Percy Slater. He’s worked with stars from Hollywood.”

  “Yeah, I’ve read some of his books. Boring.”

  Drake grinned at the gray-haired woman as she pursed her lips and gave him a disapproving stare. Liz Dobson had been working for him for the past eight years and she'd become more and more valuable to him with each passing year. No-one could anticipate his needs and organize his work life like she could. But in this matter he would make the final decision.

  “Fine,” she said with a nod of resignation. “I’ll contact Ms. Gracey right away.” She gathered up the files and went through the door, pulling it closed behind her.

  Drake Duncan was looking for a ghostwriter. He was at the top of his game, leading a conglomerate of investment companies and, he decided, it was time to tell his story. After all, you never knew when your ticket would be called.

  When he’d heard of the passing of Steve Jobs of Apple Computer it had been like a kick to the gut. The man should have had a good thirty more years to go before he even thought of leaving this earth. But there it was. It was his time and no amount of money could save him. Not that Drake was anywhere near Steve Jobs’s fifty-six years. But age had nothing to do with it. You could go at any time so if you had a story to tell the best thing to do was just tell it.

  Drake had built Duncan Investments of Chicago into a billion dollar company in the space of nine years through a series of daring but successful investment strategies. Even in the face of the worldwide economic recession he was able to maximize growth for the corporation, making his shareholders wealthier than they’d ever dreamed. Now he was ready to share his success with the world.

  He smiled to himself. He was looking forward to the project. His ghostwriter would be Meg Gracey, if she accepted the job offer. He liked that name. Outside of the profile and recommendations she'd posted on the job board he didn’t know anything about the woman he’d chosen to record his journey. Liz would check her out. He had a good feeling about her, though. Her name had the sound of someone dignified, someone serene. For the next few months she would be spending a lot of time with him, gathering the intimate details of his business and his life. He hoped she did, indeed, have a serene soul. Working with him, she was going to need it.

  ******

  Meg Gracey pulled up in front of Hyde Park Elementary School just as the bell rang. Whew! Just in time. She’d fought through a mangled mess of traffic, whispering prayers for the cars to get moving. Now she breathed a sigh of relief. It was tough being a single mommy. There was no-one to call if she got held up at an appointment. She had to plan each day precisely so she would never be late to pick up her daughter. This was Jessie’s second semester in the first grade and so far, thank God, she’d never been late.

  She switched off the engine and hopped out of the car then ran along the pathway leading to the huge front door. At that moment it burst open and she had to head for the grass to avoid the bubbling mass of kids streaming down the steps toward their waiting parents. She stood on tiptoe, trying to find that special curly blonde head in the crowd.

  “Mommy!”

  She would know that voice anywhere, pluck it from the myriad of shouts and calls. She turned to catch the little bundle of pink and white barrelling toward her. Jessie jumped and Meg lifted her into her arms, backpack, lunch kit and all. She hugged her daughter close and buried her nose in the child’s neck, reveling in the tightness of her hug and the bubblegum scent of her hair. She gave her a quick peck on the forehead then gently lowered her to the ground and took her small gloved hand.

  “So, how was your day?” Meg asked, as she always did, her smile broad and cheerful.

  “Mommy, guess what?” Jessie opened her blue eyes wide, a look of wonder on her pixie face. “I saw a bunny today, a real live bunny, not the Easter Bunny.”

  “A real live bunny, huh?” Meg took the lunch kit from her hand and they headed down the path toward the champagne colored Honda Accord. “That’s really cool.”

  “Oh, yes.” Jessie’s voice was a soft whisper of reverence. “I got to touch him and everything. He’s so soft and cuddly. Can I get one?”

  Meg chuckled and shook her head. She’d expected that. Jessie loved animals and seized every opportunity to put in her bid for a pet. Her goldfish, Sammy, was not enough. The big complaint? He wasn’t cuddly. “You know why we can’t get a pet right now, Jess. We talked about it, remember?” She opened the back door of the car and slid the Dora bag off her daughter’s back.

  Jessie gave a pretty pout as she climbed into her booster seat. “I know. Pets are a lot of responsibility and I'm not old enough yet.”

  “That’s right.” Meg buckled her up then tickled her, making her squirm. “But when you're old enough…”

  Jessie giggled. “When I'm old enough I can get a lemur and a tiger and a bear and we'll start our own zoo.”

  Meg smiled at their ongoing joke. “And when Mommy lands the biggest writing contract ever we'll add a giraffe and a pony.”

  “Yay.” The little girl raised her hands in celebration and Meg lau
ghed out loud. There was nothing like the enthusiasm of a child to lift your spirits.

  That afternoon Meg and Jessie sang nursery rhymes and fun songs all the way home. Her daughter was such a bundle of joy. At five years old she was the youngest in her first grade class. The first day of elementary school had been hard for Meg, watching her baby, so tiny among the other children, leaving her to enter the building she called ‘big kids’ school’. Now that they were almost halfway through the school year it had gotten a little bit easier for her to leave her daughter.

  The singing was soothing therapy for Meg. She needed it after the grueling day she’d had. Despite the cheery face she showed Jessie, inside she was in turmoil. That morning she’d done yet another job interview, this time for the position of technical writer with a law firm, but she knew the likelihood of her getting the job was slim. There had been seventeen other applicants vying for the same position, all of them placed in the same room to fill out the application form. It had been so demoralizing.

  The life of a writer was not easy, particularly in an economic environment where it had become even harder to get picked up by agents and publishers. Three years earlier she’d given up her teaching career to pursue her life passion and she’d achieved some measure of success, selling seven of her contemporary romance manuscripts and making a reasonable living, enough to sustain herself and her daughter. But the past six months had been brutal. She had two manuscripts still sitting on editors’ tables and at the same time she had bills to pay. With reality staring her in the face she started putting out ads on craigslist.com and on job boards, offering her services as a ghostwriter. So far the phone hadn’t been ringing off the hook with calls from people wanting to write their memoirs or the novel of their hearts. The stupid phone hadn’t rung once since she’d posted the ads.

  Not one to roll over and die, she started looking for writing work in the technical field – brochures, product manuals, websites – but the market had lots of job hunters with tons of experience in that area. Why would anyone hire her over them? Still, she kept on trying. Tomorrow was another day. She’d get up early and start the search all over again.

  As they pulled into the underground parking garage, Meg pasted a practised smile on her lips and turned to her daughter who sat humming in the back seat. She was sure Jessie would be a singer one day. Whenever she sang her sea-blue eyes sparkled and she’d shake her head till her sunshine curls bounced around her cheeks. She adored music.

  “Ready to go, sweetie?”

  “Can we have spaghetti for dinner?” Jessie gave her a cherubic smile as she began to unbuckle her seatbelt.

  “Honey, we had spaghetti yesterday. And the day before. No more spaghetti.” Meg wiggled her finger at the little girl but she just laughed. Jessie knew she had her mother wrapped around her little finger and she used that knowledge to full advantage.

  “Spaghetti, spaghetti, spaghetti,” Jessie chanted then laughed out loud as Meg reached over to tickle her.

  That evening they came to a compromise. They didn’t have spaghetti for dinner but they did have Jessie’s next favorite dish – macaroni and cheese. Meg made sure she ate some baked chicken with it. The little girl would live on pasta alone if she could. Then that night as the bedside clock struck eight they climbed into Jessie’s twin bed where she leaned against her mother and they read fairy tales until the eyelids drooped and the little head sagged. Then Meg slid slowly out of the bed, laid her daughter’s head on the pillow, and pulled the blanket up under her chin. She leaned over and kissed the curly little head then reached over and switched off the bedside lamp. “G’night, Jessie,” she whispered to her sleeping child then slipped out the door.

  Now that Jessie was down for the night it was time for Meg to get down to her usual order of business – job hunting. She’d been at it into the wee hours of the morning and tonight she was dead tired but she did not have the luxury of taking even one night off. Her savings were dwindling. She had to find work, and fast.

  Meg sat at the dining table and munched on an apple as she booted up her computer. She hadn’t done her exercises today, hadn’t gone on the stationary bike for the last four days, actually. She’d been so preoccupied that she’d slipped up on the one thing she’d always told herself she’d never compromise on. As far as she was concerned exercise was the number one factor for good health and, with a daughter to take care of, she needed to stay healthy. Oh, well, at least she was getting in a serving of fruit before the day expired. An apple a day was better than nothing.

  She’d been lost in thought for several seconds before she realized that the computer screen was displaying the opening page of her e-mail account. She’d entered the password without even realizing it. She often did things on auto-pilot. Now as she stared at the screen she frowned. Was she seeing right? After weeks and weeks of advertising and posting, there in her mailbox was a reply entitled ‘Ghostwriter for Hire’. Someone had responded to her ad.

  Heart skipping in anticipation, she raised a hand that trembled slightly. She clicked on the mouse. The screen popped open and she read the message. “We would like to meet with you regarding engaging your services as a ghostwriter. If we can agree on mutually acceptable terms…” She read on and the more she read the more excited she got. Whoever it was, they wanted to hire her immediately. The words were like music to her heart.

  They were based right there in Chicago, the story would be based on the experiences of the CEO of the corporation, and they wanted someone whose timing was flexible. Okay, that part might be a bit tricky but somehow she would get around it. She had a babysitter and a neighbor who watched Jessie every now and then. She might have to call on her for those times when this client might want her to be available on the weekend. Whatever it took, she would have to make it work.

  Meg slumped back in the chair, relief flooding through her. She could finally see light at the bottom of the dismal hole into which she had fallen. She was grinning like an idiot but she didn’t care. She could do the happy dance right now and not feel a twinge of embarrassment. Unless, of course, the grumpy old super came to the door and found her doing the dance in her T-shirt-for-nightdress, bunny slippers and her head tied up in a red and white polka dot scarf.

  Meg was still smiling as she reached for a pen and a sheet of paper to record the details of the company that had made the offer. And that was when she saw the name. She froze. Her mouth went slack. Duncan Investments. And the CEO was none other than Drake Duncan, the man who had broken her heart.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Meg gasped and slumped back in her chair, this time not in relief but in shock. She could not believe it. The lifeline she’d been thrown had come from the very man she’d tried so hard to forget. So many years had passed. She didn’t even know if he would still remember her. But she remembered him, just as clearly as if they’d just met. There was no way in the world she would ever forget the man who had taken her virginity.

  Biting her lip, Meg sucked in a deep breath then got up from the table and walked over to the window. At the realization, her soaring heart had plummeted down to her toes. The disappointment was thick on her tongue and she felt a warning prick behind her eyes. No, this was not the time for tears. She had to think.

  She wanted the money. Badly. But how could she let Drake Duncan back into her life? She’d been twenty years old when she met the tall, blond and excruciatingly handsome senior in Philosophy 401. She’d been a junior then, shy and reserved, and had been taken aback when, at the end of year dance, Drake had ignored the girls fishing around him and asked her for the last dance. It hadn’t been in Meg’s power to refuse. She’d been fantasizing about him all semester, knowing fully well that she had no hope of ever being with a man like that. He was the darling of the university, on the Dean’s List, and a star on the swim team. Why would he even look at her?

  But here he was, with his hand held out to her, inviting her to slow dance with him. She raised startled eyes to him and placed
her trembling hand in his. Did he know she was madly in love with him? Could he feel her heart beating wildly in her chest? The thoughts chased one another around in her head, drowning out the music that pulsated in the auditorium. She shook her head, pushed her doubts to the back of her mind and gave him a bright smile. Bravely, she stood up and stepped into his arms.

  For Meg the night was like something out of a fairy tale. She felt like Cinderella, not deserving the attention of the prince but basking in the glory of it just the same. She almost expected him to disappear at the stroke of midnight. But no such thing happened. In fact, at the end of the dance he walked her all the way back to the dorm room she shared with her roommate. Thinking Amy was in, Meg opened the door, feeling safe in the expectation that his visit would be chaperoned. But there was no Amy there. She’d probably decided to spend the last night before graduation with her boyfriend.

  Not wanting to look like an idiot, Meg invited him in anyway. There were beers in the fridge, compliments of Amy who was already twenty-one, so she offered him one. He accepted. And so they sat and talked while Drake had a drink and then another. He was relaxed, lounging in the sofa while she perched on the edge of the arm chair. By the time Meg offered Drake a third beer she’d become just a bit more comfortable with him, charmed by his humor and worldly air. Who would have thought that Drake Duncan would choose to spend his last night before graduation talking to her?

  Though they’d been in the same class of over a hundred students, he admitted that he’d only begun to notice her when she presented her paper to the class the week before. She giggled in embarrassment when he told her how he’d admired how professional she’d seemed as she addressed the class. Like a real philosopher, he said. She glowed with pride at his words. Drake Duncan admired her. But did he like her, too? Was that why he’d invited her to dance?