Hot Daddy_A Romantic Comedy

by Lila Monroe

  “Not because of the dress,” he says urgently. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, the dress is fucking gorgeous. But I’m talking about you.”

  I blush. He’s still just looking at me, his face open and honest as I’ve ever seen it. I think of waking up beside him this morning. I think of what his mother told me earlier today. I think of going back to New York by myself after the custody hearing tomorrow and my heart aches inside my chest.

  I should never have taken this assignment, I realize sadly. I am definitely not a girl who can spend a week faking an engagement and come out the other end unscathed, not with anyone and certainly not with Cal, who has beautiful eyelashes and a nice laugh and rough hands. Cal, who I’ve spent the last week pretending to be in love with.

  And maybe not pretending much at all.

  Fuck. I need to pull myself together. At the very least I need to stop thinking, so I put my hands on his face and press my mouth against his—biting gently at his bottom lip. “Bed,” I tell him, and my voice is reasonably, convincingly steady. “Now.”

  Cal raises his eyebrows. “Bossy,” he says.

  “Leadership abilities,” I remind him, yanking him into the bedroom and shoving him down onto the crisp white sheets. I want to be in charge for a change. I want him to let me. “You said you wanted me to be hard on you, right?” I ask, reaching down and tugging the slippery red fabric of the dress up over my head, so I’m almost naked in a thong and heels.

  Cal’s eyes almost fall out of his head.

  “Um, yep,” he says, looking at me delightedly, eyes devouring my body. “I did.”

  “Good.” I strip his clothes off, nibbling at the muscles in his stomach as I peel his undershirt up over his head. “Don’t move,” I tell him, batting his hands away when he reaches for me. I close my lips around his nipple and suck. “If you move, I’m going to stop.”

  “Jesus Christ, Jules.” Cal complains, but he does what I tell him. I yank his pants and boxers down and toss his dress shoes on the carpet, then sit back to admire my handiwork. His cock stands straight up to attention, thick and hard and hot.

  “What do you want?” I ask, ducking my head like I’m going to suck and then teasing away. “You have to tell me what you want.”

  “I want you,” Cal says immediately, hips coming clear off the mattress. He reaches for me on instinct, but I wrap my hands around his wrists to stop him, pushing them up into the pillows over his head.

  “Nice try,” I murmur, dropping my face to kiss him. I’m rougher than I normally would be, biting at his clavicle and raking my nails over his skin. I want to leave marks on his body. I want to claim him as mine. “You need to be more specific.”

  “Jules.” Cal looks up at me, his eyes dark and desperate. “I want to fuck you,” he says, and his voice is like gravel. “Holy shit, sweetheart, please.”

  “Well,” I say with a smile, “since you asked so nicely . . .” I rip the condom packet open and roll it onto him. I’ve got one hand on his chest to hold him steady, his heart thudding away underneath my palm. I pull my thong to one side and sink onto him in one motion.

  Fuck, he feels so good. Every damn time.

  “Touch me,” I say quietly.

  “Oh, thank fuck,” Cal gasps, and then his hands are all over me, stroking and pulling, drawing tantalizing circles around my nipples. “I need to touch you all the time, Jules,” he groans, like he hardly even knows what he’s saying. He’s running his palms down my rib cage, reaching back to grab at my ass. “I want—”

  “I know.” I plant my hands on the mattress beside his shoulders, gasping as he grinds up against something electric and good inside me. It feels powerful, to be able to undo him like this. But it’s deeper than that, I realize, more than just being the boss for a little while or the thrill of a truly excellent fuck. This connection is real, and fuck, that scares me more than anything.

  “Jules.” Cal surges up inside me, and then I’m coming, hard and fast. He forgets the rules, or maybe we’re just way past them now, and flips me and bears down hard, fucking me through my climax until he finally comes with a shudder.

  I fall against him, my heart racing. It feels like the first moment after an earthquake. I’m afraid of what I’ll tell him if I open my mouth. “Okay,” I say finally—needing to break the tension somehow. “You win. You’re the biggest ever.”

  Cal laughs, a gorgeous belly laugh that shakes the bed. “You are something else, Jules Robinson,” he mutters, pressing a gentle kiss against my temple.

  “Yeah, well.” I shrug inside the warm circle of his grip. Suddenly I’m exhausted, wanting to leave all my complicated thoughts and feelings for another day. “I could say the same thing about you.”

  We fall asleep that way, limbs tangled, the silent city spread out underneath us like we’re the only two people in the world.

  17

  Jules

  We’re all due to meet with the judge the next morning. It’s my first thought when I open my eyes, but when I roll over, I can see Cal’s been up and worrying about it for a while. He’s lying on his back and staring at the hotel ceiling, one hand playing in his dark, messy hair.

  “Hey,” I say, propping myself up on one elbow. “Thinking about the hearing? It’s going to be okay.”

  Cal doesn’t look so sure. “Maybe we shouldn’t have left them last night,” he says. “Maybe I should have just paid Vivian out like she wanted. Maybe—”

  “Cal,” I interrupt, before he can spiral. “Listen to me. You’re an amazing parent to those two, okay? When they’re with you, they know they’re safe and loved and cared for. That’s the only thing that matters—to them and, I bet, to the judge.”

  “I just keep thinking of all the things that might go wrong.” Cal looks anxious. “What if Viv is more convincing than I am? What if the judge thinks they should go to a blood relative? What if the other lawyer digs up some model I dated in 2005 to come talk about how I didn’t hold the door for her?”

  “What if it’s a birthday party?” I say wryly.

  Cal looks confused. “What?”

  I reach out and lace my fingers through his. “When I was a kid, every time I went over to a friend’s house I had this weird fear that maybe it was a birthday party and I had just forgotten, and I’d show up and there’d be a bunch of other people there, and everybody would have brought a gift but me.”

  He smirks. “That is . . . a weird fear.”

  “I know that, thank you!” I sit up. “I was an anxious kid. Anyway, it got to be kind of a joke with my brothers and sister, whenever any one of us got the what ifs. What if nobody likes me in high school? What if this guy not calling me back means he has a crush on somebody else now?”

  “What if it’s a birthday party?” Cal finishes. “I get it. I know it’s not a birthday party. And I know you’re trying to distract me right now.”

  “Busted,” I grin. “But all logic says those kids are going to come home with you at the end of the day, and stay there. And all the what ifs in the world aren’t going to change that.”

  “Logic, huh?” Cal nudges me in the side. “Is that how you got over your fear of getting caught without a birthday present?”

  “Oh, no way,” I say with a grin. “I made my mom carry a gift-wrapped ant farm in the trunk of her car for like three years. That way I was always prepared in case of emergency.”

  Now Cal really does laugh. He pulls me back onto the bed and presses a kiss against my mouth. “I couldn’t have done this without you,” he says quietly.

  Something about the tone in his voice makes my heart shiver in my chest. “You could have,” I say lightly. “But I like to think I added some style to the proceedings.”

  “More than a little.” Cal trails his thumb along my jawline. He looks at me seriously. “I don’t want this to be over,” he says softly. “The two of us, I mean. What we’re doing.”

  My heart stops. “Cal . . .”

  “I understand if you have stuff in N
ew York you need to get back to,” he tells me. “I’m not asking you to uproot your entire life. But . . . I don’t want to lose this just because some stupid contract is over. We’ve been pretending since that night in Vegas, but I don’t want to pretend anymore. I want to be with you for real.”

  I can’t stop the grin from spreading across my face. There are so many reasons this is a dumb idea: after all, my professional life is still a disaster. I’m in no position to jump into any kind of relationship, especially where kids are involved. But I think about cooking dinner together at the house out in Brookline. I think about taking Ez and Lottie skating come winter. I think about waking up next to Cal in the morning, and before I even know I’m going to do it, I reach up to cup his face. “OK.”

  Cal grins. “OK?”

  “Yes.” I laugh, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I have no idea how it’ll work or what it’ll look like. But I want to be with you, too.”

  We take the kids to breakfast at the train station diner before the hearing, Ezra chatting away about what a good time he had at Cal’s mom’s last night. Even Lottie seems to have enjoyed herself. “Auntie Diana has a dog,” Ezra reports. “But I pretended the dog was a dinosaur. And then he ate my leg off.” He grins at us over his scrambled eggs.

  I muster a smile, both hands wrapped around my coffee cup. I know I told Cal not to worry, but my stomach flips every time I think of the possibility of the judge going the other way. We meet Cal’s mom back at the courthouse; she’s going to watch the kids while we go in and see the judge.

  “Ready to get this squared away?” Cal’s lawyer, Lydia greets us.

  “Hell yes.” Cal lets out a breath. “The sooner we have everything signed and sealed, the better.”

  Finally, the clerk calls us in and we head back into the judge’s chambers. It feels like it’s been no time at all since the last time we were here, and forever, both at the same time.

  Has it really been ten days since I hurtled down this hallway and laid eyes on Cal all over again? I can’t believe everything’s moved so fast, but then again, we did have a head start in Vegas.

  And sometimes, it just works.

  Vivian and her lawyer are already waiting, sitting on the opposite side of the room. Ever since Cal pointed out her outfits, I can’t help but look skeptically at Viv’s demure flowered dress, its Peter Pan collar and dowdy, modest drape. She’s wearing a costume, I want to shout. Can’t you see she’s not for real?

  “All right,” the judge says cheerfully, shaking out her enormous glasses and jamming them onto her owlish face. Today, her brooch is in the shape of a tree frog with two ruby-red eyes. “Let’s get cooking. I’ve spoken to both parties individually, as well as met with the social worker and both children, and I’m ready to deliver a decision.” She looks up then, glances around the room. “The good news is, in spite of their circumstances, in many ways Ezra and Carlotta are extremely lucky. They’ve got two different family members prepared to give them a stable, loving home, which is more than I can say for the vast majority of children in their situation.” She sits back in her chair then, looking at Vivian. “It’s clear to this court that you care for them, Ms. DuPuis. But unless there’s a serious reason not to, we prefer to let the children themselves choose who they’d like to live with. And both children expressed a desire to live with Mr. McAdams—”

  “Your honor?” Vivian’s lawyer holds a hand up. “We’ve got one more piece of information we’d like to share before you make your ruling.”

  She can’t be serious!

  “Oh?”

  Vivian’s lawyer nods primly. “I think you’ll find it’s relevant to the proceedings.”

  “Well,” the judge says dryly, “I do love a surprise.” I can’t tell if she’s kidding or not. “What have we got?”

  Vivian’s lawyer opens a folder and pulls out a sheet of paper. “My client was privy to a series of text messages from Ms. Robinson to a friend in which she expressed serious doubts about Mr. McAdams’s fitness as a guardian—and, actually, suggests she might not be Mr. McAdams’s fiancée at all.”

  What the hell?

  I freeze, and Cal stiffens beside me. The judge tilts her head, curious now. “Well, if she’s not his fiancée, then who is she?”

  “We believe he hired her to manipulate the court, your honor.”

  My heart pounds. The judge’s gaze cuts to me. “Is this true?”

  I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Shit, what can I say? It was one thing to make up a vague story about how Cal and I knew each other. It’s another to lie directly to a judge when she’s asking me, flat out. “Well,” I begin, “you see, your honor, it’s kind of . . . complicated.”

  “Your honor,” Lydia jumps in, saving me from myself. “May I ask how Ms. DuPuis came by the alleged text messages? It hardly seems fair for her to be sitting here making these accusations when for all we know, she’s fabricated the whole thing.”

  “Ms. Robinson left the phone at my client’s house,” Vivian’s lawyer explains smugly. “When Ms. DuPuis was trying to get in touch with Ms. Robinson to let her know she had it, she accidentally saw the messages. Of course, she was shocked and concerned about the welfare of the children, so she made copies to send to me.”

  “That’s impossible!” I blurt before I can stop myself. “I left my phone for like two minutes! She must have gone through it on purpose looking for dirt. It’s an illegal search, and not admissible as evidence in court!”

  The judge gives me a look. “Ms. DuPuis is not law enforcement, Ms. Robinson. And this isn’t a criminal trial. If the messages are relevant, then I want to hear them.” She holds her hand out for the transcript, peering over the tops of her glasses and humming to herself as she reads: “Tainted Love,” I realize after a moment.

  “What did you say?” Cal whispers to me, but I can only shrug helplessly. I can’t think of anything, this whole arrangement was top secret. I didn’t text Olivia, and there’s nobody else I would have—

  Oh shit.

  Hallie.

  I remember the texts I sent her that first night, when Cal was being such an ass. I can’t recall exactly what I told her, but I was venting like crazy, and it can’t be good.

  The judge sits back, considering us all across the desk. “Well, Mr. McAdams, I’ll be honest. I don’t know what troubles me more: the fact that you seem to have paid someone off to claim stability, or that she has such grave doubts about your fitness as a parent.”

  “I—what?” Cal shakes his head. “What do you mean? What does that say?”

  “See for yourself,” the judge offers, passing him the transcript.

  “ ‘He’s about as qualified to be a parent as I am to be a billionaire’s fake fiancée,’ ” he reads, his voice clear and quiet. “ ‘His apartment is a total joke. He has no idea what he’s doing with these kids. He just randomly dumped them on me and took off . . . to buy a prostitute’?” His gaze flicks in my direction for half a second before dropping to the paper one more time. “ ‘It’s a miracle nobody has drowned in a swimming pool yet.’ ”

  “Cal,” I begin, my voice wavering, but he keeps reading until he gets to the kicker: “ ‘I honestly feel like maybe they should live with their aunt after all.’ ”

  Cal sets the paper on the desk. For a moment nobody says anything. I can hear my own heart thudding in my ears. “Well,” he says finally, looking around the judge’s chambers. He looks utterly defeated, like a man who knows he’s lost. “I guess I know what everyone thinks about me now.”

  “It’s not true!” I jump in—desperate to fix this, to explain myself somehow. “You don’t understand. I was joking, blowing off steam. I didn’t know how good he is with them, I hadn’t seen what a great parent—”

  “That’s enough.” The judge looks at me coldly. “You’ve said quite enough, don’t you think?”

  I look miserably around the room. Viv is smirking, pleased as a cat with a bowl of cream. Cal is slumped, ignoring me, st
aring at the floor.

  The judge sighs. “Well, this wasn’t what I was planning to do today,” she says, sounding reluctant. “But I don’t see that I have any choice but to go ahead and award Ms. DuPuis primary custody, with weekly supervised visits for Mr. McAdams. We can reconvene for a status update in six months.” She takes her glasses off again, perching them precariously in her forest of frizzy auburn hair. “We’re through here. Get out of my chambers, all of you. I’m going to lunch.”

  And just like that, it’s done.

  18

  Jules

  It’s going to be fine, you guys, I promise,” Cal tells the kids afterwards, explaining the brief—very edited—version of events. “We’ll visit all the time. I’ll come to Viv’s, and you’ll come see me at McAdams HQ. We’ll make it work.” He swallows hard. “I love you, okay? I love you more than anything. Remember that.”

  “But I don’t understand.” Lottie looks close to tears. “You said everything would be fine. You promised!”

  “I know,” Cal says. “But this is out of my hands. I’ll call you tonight and see how you’re settling in.”

  The kids look like they’re about to melt down, but there’s no time for that. Vivian appears.

  “Time to go!” she trills loudly. “Kids, in the car. Now.”

  They have a final hug and trail after her, then suddenly it’s just Cal and me in the hallway, like the world’s worst party has just come to an end and all that’s left to do is clean up the mess.

  “Cal,” I begin, sick to my stomach. “I don’t even know what to say.”

  “Then don’t say anything.” God, his voice is so tense. Now that the kids are gone again, he’s not even trying to put on a smile. For all his what ifs I don’t think he ever let himself believe this could happen, not really.

  But it did. Because of me.

  I need to explain. “I wrote all that stuff before we knew each other,” I try, taking a step toward him. Cal flinches away like I’m contagious. “That first morning when you left me with them—”