The CEO's Surprise Family

by Teresa Carpenter

  His head swung around and he rolled his gaze over her, accessing every curve. The escorts at Excursions were a mix of entertainers and professional businesswomen. He’d made it clear he preferred the latter. He had more in common with a businesswoman. And the one time he took a date to the next level had been with a dancer. He’d regretted the slip.

  He preferred to keep his social and sexual encounters separate. He prized the discretion and privacy Excursions’ services provided. He liked that sex wasn’t part of the arrangement. The last thing he wanted was for the line between social and private to blur. That could only lead to complications and expectations he had no desire to deal with.

  He never lacked for partners when he needed sexual release.

  Casual dates with no promise of a follow-up were harder to come by until a friend recommended Excursions.

  Having a new woman on his arm on a regular basis gave him the image of a player. He didn’t care. He wasn’t out to impress anyone and it gave warning to those who would expect more from him, all the better.

  He’d made the mistake of sleeping with a date only once. She’d been a stunning woman of mixed race and he’d been out with her several times. Her intelligence and grace made him the envy of every man at the foundation dinner they’d attended. He’d been receiving an award and drank more than usual to offset the attention. Being in the limelight tore at his nerves but his date thrived on it. She’d been the perfect person to have on his arm that night and the high of the event had carried them upstairs when she made her interest clear.

  Alliyah was gone in the morning and the next time he contacted Excursions he asked for a professional woman so he hadn’t seen her again.

  Excursions’ quality control was slipping if they’d sent him a dancer. And he didn’t even have her name beyond Miguel’s addressing her as Lexi. He usually got notice and a new profile when he was getting a replacement date. He liked to know something about the women he spent time with even when he paid for the pleasure. He sent off a text.

  “A dancer.” He repeated.

  “No. I told you, I work at Modern Goddess. I used to be a dancer.” She licked her lips drawing his attention to the sultry lines of her mouth, the perfect bow over a plump bottom lip. “Now I do hair at the spa. I just thought pampering a new mother totally made sense. I remembered how tired and stressed my roommate was after having my goddaughter, Jasmine.”

  “Hmm. What’s your name?”

  “Oh, goodness.” She laughed—an infectious sound that filled the back of the car. “We kind of skipped that part, didn’t we? I’m Alexa Malone, but you can call me Lexi. And of course you’re Jethro Calder. I read the article in the Pinnacle newsletter where it showed you and the other executives holding up the lifetime award of excellence for the Pinnacle game. That must have been exciting.”

  “Yes, it was a nice acknowledgment for the success of the game.”

  “I should say so. A top ten seller for ten years, that’s awesome.”

  “It’s actually been for fifteen years and more than half those years it was in the top three, but they wanted to have wiggle room for future awards.”

  “What’s it like working with Jackson Hawke?”

  He frowned. He got that question a lot, mostly from people trying to angle through him to Jackson. But there was nothing in her tone or demeanor to indicate anything other than simple interest.

  “He’s a brilliant programmer, but he leaves the finances to me.”

  “Of course.” She nodded and pointed at him.

  She used her hands a lot when she talked. He couldn’t decide if he found it charming or annoying. Whether he found her charming or was just attracted to that luscious mouth.

  “We all have our talents, don’t we? Mine is music. So, Jethro, where are we going?”

  Music, he noticed, not dance.

  “We’re going to an event at Caesar’s Palace.” His phone buzzed and he read the text. “At least I am. I’m not sure what you’ll be doing.” He held up his phone. “Excursions doesn’t have your name on file. Who are you?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  OOPS. LEXI BLINKED at Jethro. She’d been caught out. She shifted her gaze to the phone he held aloft as evidence of her culpability and her eyes went wide.

  The position of his arm caused his suit and shirtsleeves to slip down revealing his wrist and the tip of the birthmark. Enough for her to see it matched Jazi’s.

  The mark reminded Lexi of a dragonfly with a curled tail only kind of blotchy. She’d been stunned when she saw it on Calder’s wrist in the picture accompanying the article she told him about. The top execs of Pinnacle had all been holding the award aloft. Calder had been standing closest to the camera and there on his wrist was the same birthmark as her precious Jazi’s.

  Lexi had known instantly that he had to be related to the baby, most likely her father. When she’d read his stance on never having a family, she firmly believed it was a sign. With his help she could get Jazi back.

  Between the matching eyes and the birthmark, Lexi had all the confirmation she needed that Jethro Calder was Jazi’s father.

  “Ms. Malone?” Fingers snapped in front of her eyes.

  She blinked and focused on the man next to her, staring into his unreadable features, into Jazi’s blue eyes. Thoughts of how important he was flooded her mind, crippling her with fear. If she blew this she’d never get Jazi back! And she was about to blow it. Big-time.

  Stop. Get a grip.

  She drew in a slow, deep breath, released it around a sheepish smile. She only had one option now. She looked him right in the eye and confessed. “I’m sorry. You’re right, I don’t usually work for Excursions.”

  A dark brow lifted at her easy admission. “So you were just at the restaurant to shanghai a date with me?”

  “Oh, gracious, no.” Now his other brow lifted. Had she offended him? She half shrugged. Best to stick as close to the truth as possible without getting Excursions in trouble. “Today was my best friend Alliyah’s birthday. She used to go to work for Excursions. She passed away six months ago and I needed a distraction tonight, so I called Sally and asked if she could hook me up with a date. She said she had a cancellation and here I am.”

  “A cancellation?” Suspicion dripped from the question.

  “Yes. You can call her if you like.” Lexi held her breath—the last thing she wanted was to cause trouble for Sally.

  “You recognized me.”

  “Yes, from the article. Why, did you know Alliyah? Alliyah West?”

  He looked away, but nodded. “We had a couple of dates. You said she passed away.”

  “She was killed in an auto accident just over six months ago.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. She was a charming companion.”

  Lexi glanced out the window and saw they were cruising along the dazzling Las Vegas Strip. “So listen, I’m sorry I’m not what you were expecting. You can let me out anywhere along here. I’ll catch a cab back to the Pinnacle.” She batted her eyelashes at him in an obvious ploy. “Unless you still need a date for the evening?”

  “Now you’re propositioning me?”

  “No.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You know you can be a bit of a stuffed shirt. You might want to watch that. I’m offering—free of charge—to go with you to whatever thing you have going on so you don’t have to find a replacement date.”

  “You’re willing to spend the evening with a stuffed shirt?”

  “Hey, I’ve been out with worse. At least you smell good and have a nice ride. But if you’re not interested, just have the driver pull over and drop me off.”

  “Let’s say I agree to allow you to accompany me, I’d prefer to pay you for your time.”

  Lexi blinked at him. “Why?”

  “Because I pref
er to keep our association on a professional level.”

  “You want me to cut your hair?” She said it just to rile him. The man had no sense of humor. Or sense of fun.

  “What?” His brows drew together in a scowl. “Why would you suggest such a thing?”

  “Because I’m a cosmetologist and my profession is to cut hair.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” His shoulders were razor sharp against the black leather seat. “More, you know it wasn’t.”

  “You’re right, I’m messing with you, but you deserve it for being so pompous.”

  “A stuffed shirt and now pompous,” he muttered.

  “They’re nearly the same thing. And obviously your comfort zone.”

  “I merely wish to keep things clear.”

  “Oh, I get the point. It wouldn’t be a date.”

  “That is correct. And as I value my time, I feel it only fair to pay you for yours.”

  “Very gracious of you.”

  He sighed and relaxed slightly.

  “But forget it.” She patted his knee and flashed a bright smile. “We’ll just go as friends.”

  He practically choked on his own breath. “We are not friends. I barely know you.”

  “Sometimes people just click and are friends for life.”

  “There was no click.”

  “We even have a history.” She talked right over him. “We both knew Alliyah, were friends of hers.” If anyone needed a friend, it was this man. He was so cut off from everyone around him. For some reason, Lexi felt compelled to be there for him tonight. Perhaps because he was Jazi’s father or maybe just because she hated to see anyone so alone. “Close enough, don’t you think?”

  His hand closed over hers on the seat. “You miss her very much don’t you?”

  Tears threatened. She nodded, and without thought turned her hand over in his to give his hand an answering squeeze. “It would be payment enough to spend the evening with someone who knew her.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll do.” He pulled away from her. “As long as it’s understood that it’s not a date.”

  “Understood. There will be no good-night kiss.”

  He gave a shake of his head. “I may be a stuffed shirt, Ms. Malone, but you are outrageous.”

  “Huh. You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  He dropped his head forward as if he’d reached the end of his patience, but she thought she saw just the tiniest of smiles at the corner of his mouth.

  * * *

  “The event at Caesar’s Palace is an art showing at the Maxim Gallery.”

  Interest flared in her bright blue eyes. “Oh, that sounds like fun. I’ve heard of the Maxim. I’ll warn you, though, that I know nothing about art.”

  “There’s no need for you to have knowledge of art.” Jethro assured her.

  He was still wondering at himself for allowing her to join him at the opening. It was unlike him to make impulsive decisions. And he didn’t reward dishonesty. She may be from Excursions, but she was unlike any of his previous dates. And a former dancer. That alone should have been enough to drop her off along the strip as she’d urged him to do.

  But there was a lightness about her that appealed to him, a genuineness that intrigued his jaded soul.

  Outrageous was an understatement. No one talked to him like she did. Stuffed shirt? Pompous? He’d fire anyone who dared say such a thing. It didn’t matter that it was the truth. That he worked hard to maintain a hand’s distance from everyone around him. He wouldn’t be disrespected.

  Coming from her it rang of the truth, plainly spoken.

  “Good. Because my art appreciation is limited to knowing what I like, which could be anything from a good Elvis painting to a portrait of an old woman smiling. And I never know if there’s any importance attached to the piece.”

  “Well, it’s highly doubtful there’s any significance to a velvet Elvis painting.”

  Soft laughter trilled through the air. She nudged his shoulder with hers. “I know that much, silly. But he was a huge contributor to the music world and I like the colors. When I look at the painting, I like to think he found peace.”

  So did Jethro. Elvis was a favorite artist of his. One more thing linking him to this woman when the softness of her was already too dangerous. She didn’t fit in either of the two categories he allowed in his life.

  “So you don’t believe he’s living a secret life somewhere?”

  “No.” Sadness briefly dimmed the animation of her delicate features. “Much as I’d like to believe he’s still with us, music was too much a part of his soul for him to stay undetected all these years. He’d have to perform, and if he performed he’d be found.”

  Disconcerted because he held the same belief, he went on the offensive.

  “How old are you?” he asked derisively. “Twenty-three? Twenty-four? You’re too young to be an Elvis fan.”

  “Please, great music transcends age. And I’m twenty-seven. Old enough to know my own mind.”

  Not as young as he’d feared—or should that be hoped? Against his better judgment, he’d decided to indulge himself tonight and enjoy a bit of light company, but having a few elements that put her beyond his strict restrictions would be helpful.

  “We’re here.” The car rolled to a smooth stop. Jethro pushed the door open and stepped out.

  “Good evening, Mr. Calder.” A valet immediately appeared to greet him. “Welcome back to Caesar’s Palace.”

  “Thank you. We’re here for the Kittrell showing.”

  “Very good, sir. We’ve had a steady stream of arrivals for the showing tonight.”

  “That’s good to hear.” Jethro tipped the young African American before extending a hand to assist Lexi from the car.

  “Sean!” she exclaimed and gave the valet a warm hug. “I’m glad to see you’re back in town. How is your mother?”

  Sean shifted, uncomfortable under Jethro’s stern regard, but the smile he turned on Lexi was full of warmth. “On her feet again. The knee surgery was just what she needed to get her pep back.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. She’s too young to be sitting on the couch. You tell her I said hi.”

  “I will. And I want to hear what’s going on with you.” Sean discreetly nodded in Jethro’s direction. “We’ll talk soon.”

  “Yes, I’m off to view art.” She glanced his way, and Jethro absorbed the impact of her laughing eyes. “See you soon.” She bid her friend goodbye and made her way to his side.

  He claimed her hand. “Do you know every valet in Las Vegas?”

  “I know a lot. For all the tourists, Las Vegas is a small town. At least when it comes to the world of entertainers. Valeting is a common way to pick up extra money or pay the bills between jobs.”

  “I see.”

  “Is there a problem?”

  “No.”

  “Something’s bothering you,” she insisted. “Does it upset you that I stopped to speak to them? Because it would be rude to ignore the fact I know them.”

  “It’s their job to provide discrete service and fade into the background. I’m sure they respect the dynamics of the job.”

  “You’re saying it’s okay to be rude.”

  “I’m saying, they’re working.”

  “So you’re a snob.”

  He sighed. “I’m not a snob. I just like getting where I’m going without a lot of meaningless chitchat.”

  “It wasn’t meaningless.” She protested. “I was genuinely interested in how his mother was doing.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Then what is the point?” She easily kept stride with him as he led her toward the famous Caesar shopping mall.

  “The point is it’s rude to be making a fuss
over other men when you’re out with a man.”

  “But we’re not on a date.” She reminded him with a tad more satisfaction than he cared for.

  “We’re together. That’s what counts.”

  “So it’s okay for me to be rude to them, but not to you?”

  “Correct. No. Stop messing with me. You’re giving me a headache.”

  She grinned, obviously pleased to be called on her teasing. “If you loosened up a bit, you wouldn’t get headaches.”

  “Woman, you are a headache.”

  “Ah, you say the nicest things. Oh, it’s the thunderstorm. I love this. Do we have time to watch?”

  Without waiting for a response she skipped—yes, skipped—forward to perch on the stone bench of a fountain. He found himself following her, taking satisfaction in indulging her delight. She patted the space next to her inviting him to sit.

  Suddenly an uncertain expression crossed her face and she popped to her feet. “Sorry—my oops. I know you want to get where you’re going.”

  “Sit. Enjoy your show.” He sat. “And when we get to the showing, you can do something for me.”

  “Ah.” She resumed her perch, her knee touching his, her gaze focused above on the changing skyscape of the indoor mall. The sunny day had darkened to gray clouds with flashes of lightning. “The job your dates perform for you.”

  The comment annoyed him. So what if he wanted his companions to provide a service while they were with him. He paid good money for their company. And tipped well.

  “You really are a pest. If you don’t want to do it, you don’t have to.”

  “Don’t be so touchy.” She bumped his shoulder. “Ah.” A gasp escaped her pretty lips when thunder boomed in the background adding audio to the overhead show. “I do love a good thunderstorm. I don’t get how all these people can walk by as if nothing is happening right over their heads.”

  “Maybe they’ve seen it before. Or they’re caught up in the moment or the conversation. Or simply need to be somewhere.” Personally he couldn’t remember the last time he’d paused to notice the movement of the mock sky in the shopping mall. He had to admit it was pretty cool. It certainly added to the overall effect of a Roman city.