by Sosie Frost
I covered his hand, enjoying the pressure on that not-so-secret part of me.
“I’ll take care of you both,” he whispered. “I promise.”
“Who’s gonna take care of you?”
He smirked. “Still got that short leash you talked about?”
“Yeah?”
“Then, Kiss? You better string me up.”
“Or else?”
“Or else I’ll tie you to the bed so you can’t leave me.”
Leah
The dress was tight. That was a first.
I twisted in the mirror and smoothed the cocktail dress. It was the only formal wear I had unpacked from the boxes stashed in the corner of Jack’s bedroom. He’d piled my belongings in his closet, like he fully expected I’d share his bed. Neither of us discussed for how long. Hell, when I’d asked where he’d sleep if I invaded his room, Jack tucked me against the bed, spread my legs, and dared me to banish him and his skilled tongue to the couch.
Point taken, as confusing as it was.
The little bump wasn’t that noticeable, but everyone would be looking for it tonight. Jack Carson’s baby was already a celebrity and a prime source of gossip in the league. It worked in our favor. The fundraiser dinner was a great event for both the baby and Jack to make an appearance. Besides, I needed a good picture of him circulating in a suit instead of handcuffs.
Jack didn’t complain about going though. It was strange until I checked the information on the dinner.
Childhood Leukemia Fund.
He appeared in the mirror behind me, and his hands snaked around my tummy. He settled over the bump and brushed a kiss against my neck. I shivered in his embrace, as always. His erection pressed against my back.
“Maybe we don’t have to go…” His lips murmured against my skin. “You look…”
“Like I have a bump?”
“Absolutely amazing with a bump.”
His words warmed me too much. Whatever barrier I built between us was quickly tumbling down, and I had no idea how to prevent the fall. I slipped from his grip and covered myself with a crimson wrap. Jack still searched for the swelling of my tummy.
“I’m surprised you’re attracted to this,” I said.
“Why wouldn’t I be attracted to you?”
“You’re always pictured with supermodels and beautiful women.”
He didn’t believe me. “And you think you aren’t beautiful?”
“Just think it’s different with a baby.”
“But it’s my baby.” He grinned at me. “I did that to you.”
“I’d like to think I had something to do with it.”
“Yeah.” Jack’s gaze burned wicked. “You laid back real nice.”
I rolled my eyes and pushed him from the bedroom. “We’re gonna be late.”
“You spread your legs all sweet and innocent.”
“Get in the car.”
“Oh, Jack Carson…” He mocked me, his voice breathy and high pitched. “I must have your baby. Please. Mount me now!”
I pretended to ignore him as I stomped down the stairs. “Please behave better than this tonight. We’re sitting with journalists and very important people.”
“Excellent. I can tell them the story of how you begged me to toss your legs over your head while I fucked you—”
“—Don’t you dare—”
“And how you came like a filthy little slut as I bred you full of my baby.”
“Oh, for the love of—”
I turned to face him, but my heels caught on the rug at the bottom of the stairs. I slipped, grasping for the railing. My fingers weren’t close enough, and I flailed backwards.
Jack leapt forward impossibly fast, crashing over the last few stairs to slide under me as I fell. He caught me in his arms, spun me, and plunked down on the floor. I gripped his arms. His hand rubbed my belly.
I breathed deep. His fear trumped mine. He pulled me close, grasping me hard and furious.
I baited him with a smile and tried to laugh. “My hero—”
His kiss stole my words. He captured me, nibbling my lips, invading to flick my tongue, and groaning as I went limp in the intensity of his hold. My pulse raced, not just for the near-fall, but because I stared into the wild blue eyes of a man who used his strength, speed, and athleticism to protect me.
I curled my hands in his jacket. Neither of us moved.
I had no idea what to say.
What to think.
How to feel when I was so safe and warm and comforted in his embrace.
My lip trembled, and the damn hormones overwhelmed me. This time, the tears weren’t a result of Jack making a sandwich with the last of the peanut butter.
These felt genuine. Real. Just as honest as when I wept in his arms in the nursery and agreed to move into his home.
But I couldn’t trust the tears. Or what they meant. Or how much I loved when he brushed them away with his thumb. I wiggled from his arms before I snuggled into his chest forever.
“Come on,” I said. He helped me to my feet. “We’ll be late.”
“Are you okay?” His hand grazed my cheek. Too soft. My god, this man. “We don’t have to go.”
“Can’t wait for that headline—Jack Carson Misses Fundraiser When Pregnant Ex-Publicist Falls Down Stairs.”
“Girlfriend.”
I stilled. “What?”
“The headline would say girlfriend. Cause we’re…you know...”
My stomach bumbled, twisted, and turned. “Right.”
I was his pretend girlfriend. We were just sleeping together. Having a child.
All the perfectly normal things for two adults to do platonically.
How the hell could people live like this, going day-to-day with no real plan? Jack lived for the season to start in five weeks, and I had six months to prepare for a monumental, life-altering change. I missed my lists. My job. The eight-to-five certainty.
Knowing what to expect if I landed in his arms again or how to react when received by a huge crowd in a fancy dining hall, all cheering for the arrival of Jack Carson and his expectant girlfriend.
The fundraiser was a formal dinner in support of the foundation sponsoring research into new leukemia studies. The event was fine; the seating arrangement left much to be desired. We sat at a table brimming with journalists. Jack handled it with ease, grinning at the same men who salivated for his scandals and deliberately misled the public with every story about him.
At least, until his latest arrest. Once Jack “Play-Maker” Carson became Daddy, all was forgiven.
It wouldn’t last long. The news cycle grew stale about him. They’d need something big, something the announcement of a baby couldn’t hide. They waited to nail him. Without Jolene, I didn’t have the resources to combat it yet.
The waiters served white wine. Jack ordered me a ginger ale and crackers before I even asked.
It was the little things he did that twisted me up the most.
“So, Jack…” Ainsley Ruport, the lead anchor for the National Sports Network, greeted him with a smile. It was false sincerity. Ainsley was firmly in the pocket of Frank Bennett. He wanted nothing more than the scoop of Jack’s latest scandal…then he’d work to expel Jack from the league. “I never did hear the story of how you two met.”
Ironically, neither did I. Jack accepted the challenge before I could answer for us.
“We met at a bar,” Jack said. “She rebuked me a couple times, but I wore her down.”
Goddamn it. I kicked him under the table. “He’s joking.”
“I am?”
I stared at him. “I repped Jack with my previous publicity agency. The bar came later.”
“Oh, right.” Jack gulped his wine. It didn’t suit him. He was a one-beer man, no wasting empty calories. “We’ve known each other a while.”
“How long?” Ainsley asked.
“Three years,” I said.
“Five years.” Jack spoke at the same time. He swore. My head s
tarted to ache. “Only three?”
I forced a smile. “I didn’t know you in college, darling.”
“Must just feel like we’ve been together forever then.”
He was blowing it. At least he knew it. His fingers brushed mine under the table. An apology.
Ainsley tilted his head, a not-so-subtle glance at my tummy. My heart beat a little faster. He searched as if he expected to find me stuffing a pillow under my dress.
I wasn’t fake pregnant. We were just fake dating.
The distinction was important.
“And…congratulations are in order,” he said.
Jack grinned. At least that didn’t take any thought. “Thanks. We’re excited.”
“Strange that your mother didn’t know.”
Another chill on my spine. Jack stiffened, blinking at the reporter. Ainsley appeared quite pleased with himself. He tucked his napkin into his lap and helped himself to an appetizer. He slurped a buttery oyster out of the shell, smacking his fat lips when he was done.
Jack’s voice lowered. “What about my mother?”
“When I called her, she said she had no idea you were going to be a father.”
“You called my mom?”
“For a reaction piece,” Ainsley said. “She was just as confused as me by the whole thing, but she expressed her excitement for her grandchild.”
Oh no. I bit my lip. Jack stayed quiet. That scared me more than if he launched across the table.
“In fact…” Ainsley leaned closer. His butter-soaked finger glistened in the light as it pointed between us. He slurped a second oyster, loudly. “She said she had no idea you two had been dating for so long.” Another gulped oyster. I’d be sick. “Or at all.”
Jack darkened. “Do you tell your mother who you’re banging?”
I pinched him under the table as the other five journalists silenced their conversations. They turned their attention to us, listening for the story Jack was bound to give them in his customary rage.
“It was strange your own mother didn’t know about your lady-friend,” Ainsley said. “Or that you’re expecting.”
“Been busy.” Jack spoke through gritted teeth. “Had a lot going on.”
“And you, Miss…” Ainsley glanced to me. “How did your family take the news?”
I answered reflexively, offering a statement I prepared the day I agreed to have the baby with Jack. “We’re all very happy and blessed. A baby is a welcomed addition to our loving family.”
The comment would satisfy him. He didn’t need to know what my mother said—that her words still screamed in my mind, a variety of phrases and insults that had me crying into Jack’s shoulder for an entire night.
“May I quote you?” Ainsley asked.
What the hell was he up to? I nodded. He pulled out a notepad. “Leah Williams…is that correct?”
“Yes.”
He turned to Jack. “And, just so I can write this up, what’s her middle name?”
I sucked in a breath. Ainsley silenced me before I answered. He pointed to Jack. “Please.”
Jack tightened his jaw. “She doesn’t have one.”
Oh, we were screwed. Was he an idiot?
Ainsley tapped his notes. “It’s Ruth, actually. According to my sources.”
Jack didn’t blink. “She hates it. Prefers not to use it.”
“Of course. And being her long-term, committed boyfriend, you would know that.”
“Damn right.”
Jack’s fist tightened. I took his hand in mine and pulled it under the table. Safe, for now.
“Been in a lot of trouble lately, right, Jack?” Ainsley’s smile turned cold and unforgiving and, worst of all, smug.
“Always,” Jack said.
“Having an illegitimate, bi-racial baby is more than trouble, don’t you think?”
Hell no.
My thoughts turned molten and violent. I gripped Jack’s fingers, nearly crushing them as I struggled to maintain a shred of sanity.
He insulted me. He insulted the baby.
He was just lucky Jack was too enraged to move.
I spoke without thinking, wishing I hadn’t sharpened my voice to a dagger point. “The baby is loved, sir. Regardless of his or her circumstances.”
He had no shame. “Of course. Just the beginning of Jack’s new troublesome legacy.”
“And you would know about that trouble, Ainsley. You’ve done the most reporting on Jack’s off-the-field business.”
“You mean off-the-field indiscretions, Miss Williams. It’s my job to report the news.”
Libelous fraud. I silence myself before my temper ruined any name I’d make for my own PR firm.
Ainsley seized the opportunity. “According to my sources, Jack’s still in hot water from that latest arrest. The league isn’t happy with you, Mr. Carson.”
Jack’s voice was flat, bound in an instinct to protect me and his child. “I wasn’t charged.”
“No. But your bruise is healing nicely.”
I stomped on Jack’s foot before he cursed the reporter. “This season should be his best. The coaches say his performance at training camp is outstanding. They have high hopes for him.”
Ainsley snorted. “He had better play well. Rumors are circulating—no contract extension this year. This might be your last season with the Rivets, Jack.”
“It won’t be.” Jack’s temper frayed and tensed to snap. “And I’ll expect a full report on your show when I’ve signed the new contract. Hell, I might even give you some ratings and do a fucking interview.”
“Charming. We’ll need to change the rating on my program to M for mature.”
Jack had enough. He hauled me from the table, but the fundraiser kicked into gear. A spotlight centered on us. The man on stage called Jack’s name, and a round of applause echoed over the hall.
“We want to thank our largest single donor, Mr. Jack Carson!” The announcer’s voice was far too cheery for the storm over our table. “His generous contribution helps us in this fight against this terrible disease. It’s our hope that, one day, no child will lose his life to leukemia.”
The applause thundered, most of the guests just as shocked as the journalists to hear of Jack’s generosity. It didn’t surprise me anymore. Nothing about his big heart did.
Jack leaned down, keeping his voice low as the guests still cheered for him. Ainsley’s smugness turned to a grimace. That was smart. I’d hate to see Jack beat the grin off of him.
“I doubt you’ll report on the charity donation,” Jack growled. “You’d rather investigate a story that would kick me from the league, right?”
“It’s just ratings, Jack.”
“I’ll tell you this once, and it’s your only warning. If I catch you calling my mother again…if you dare to harass Leah…if you are stupid enough to insult my bi-racial baby again? You’ll broadcast live from the hospital room with your jaw wired shut. And you can quote me.” Jack took my hand. “Let’s go, Kiss.”
The table silenced. He pulled me from the dinner just as the music started and the food served.
The entire fundraiser watched Jack slam the dining hall doors open for us. He didn’t stop in the hall to cool down either. Jack pulled me to the valet.
We were going home.
That wouldn’t look good.
“Jack, you have to go back and apologize to that…fiend,” I said.
“What?”
Jack didn’t yell. He knew better, even if he couldn’t disguise his rage.
“He insulted you. And…” His eyes crackled blue with a fierce fury. “The way he talked about my baby...”
“You can’t get angry,” I said. “Don’t do anything without thinking it through, Jack. Ainsley Ruport is a powerful journalist. He knows enough people in and out of the league to make this harder. He already doubts our story. Give him an inch, and he’ll investigate us. He’ll find out that this was a lie.”
“You can’t lie about a baby. About my
baby!” Jack’s temper snapped, and I used all my weight to pull on his arm so he wouldn’t rush inside and rip Ainsley’s head off. “He’s going to use my kid against me.”
“If he does, he’d be discredited. Especially if he leads with the bi-racial headline. Come on, Jack. Use your head. The baby shields you. No one with a brain will ever challenge a father on his own children. It’d ruin him. That’s why you wanted the baby.”
He stiffened. “That baby means more to me than my reputation.”
I hated that it relieved me to hear it.
“I know. But you can’t jeopardize your reputation just to antagonize Ainsley.” I rubbed my hand over my belly, hoping the little one didn’t know we were upset. “We have to think about the future now.”
The valet arrived with the car. Jack helped me into the passenger seat but the door slammed shut the instant I was settled inside. He nearly broke it. I tried to calm him down, but Jack was beyond reasonable. The Porsche peeled from the parking lot, and he took his anger out on the road.
“There’s going to be more questions, Jack.” I brushed his arm. His breath caught. At least he liked my touch. “We’re hiding it well now, but people are going to ask why I was let go from my job immediately after the pregnancy hit the news.”
“Tell them you wanted to stay at home with the baby.”
“We’ll need a better answer than that.”
“Why?”
“Because I am living with you, but we’re not married. I’m not working. For all they know, I was fired for messing around with you. It looks bad.”
“What would make it better? Wanna get married?”
He was impossible. “You have to take this seriously.”
“I am.”
“I’m not marrying you to avoid the press, Jack.” My heart thudded too hard. “We’re a young, modern couple. We don’t need to be married to have a baby. It’ll just be harder without it.”
“Then let’s get married. What does it matter?”
Jack could be romantic, or he could be an idiot.
Tonight, he was an idiot.
I stared at the road and willed the car to return to the house before the conversation got real.
“We’re not getting married,” I said.
Jack shrugged. “If it shuts them up? If it stops them from calling my child illegitimate?”
