The Billionaire's Christmas Baby

by Victoria James

  Jackson Pierce was a jerk.

  In all her imaginings about how this was going to unfold, him yelling at her and slamming a door in her face, twice, wasn’t what she’d envisioned. She’d thought he’d at least hear her out. But he hadn’t even given her a chance to tell him about Emily. She knew deep down, under that nasty temper, there had to be a good man. Louise had told her all about him, what a good brother he’d been. But that had been a long time ago, and Louise had made so many mistakes. He had obviously never forgiven her. When he hadn’t been at the funeral Hannah assumed it was because he didn’t know she had died. But now, after witnessing his palpable anger toward anything Louise, she wondered if he just hadn’t cared to show up. So where did that leave Emily?

  Hannah stood unmoving on the porch, the harsh wind hammering snow and ice up and down her body as though it too were taking a turn at trying to knock her down. Her car was already buried under the snow and must have lost most of its heat. She wasn’t a quitter, but it was obviously time to think of a Plan B. She needed to get moving. But where the heck were they going to go at eight o’clock at night during a blizzard?

  “Merry Christmas, Mr. Pierce,” she grumbled to herself, as she carefully climbed down the porch steps, still holding her Santa tin filled with cookies. She could sit in her car and gorge herself on cookies until she came up with a plan. Luckily, she had two cases of baby formula in the trunk.

  So much for the lucky hat. Maybe she should rip it off and then stomp on it. She was exhausted and cold and now, thanks to Jackson Pierce, miserable. She trudged through the snow as quickly as the wind and snow would allow, her sights on the car. Emily was going to need to eat again in under an hour, and the last thing she wanted to do was pull over in the middle of nowhere to give her a bottle. Maybe she could try and knock on the door of that charming bungalow at the end of the street—it had been adorned from top to bottom in Christmas decorations and lights. Surely, whoever lived there wouldn’t turn a woman and a baby away in a blizzard.

  What kind of a jerk would let a woman go out alone during a blizzard anyway?

  …

  What kind of a jackass yells in a woman’s face and then lets her drive away in the middle-of-nowhere Northern Ontario, during a blizzard, at night?

  Jackson looked out the window at the petite brunette as she tried to brush the snow off the windshield. But every time she did, the wind would blow on even more snow. By the looks of her, one strong gust might carry her away too. Even that grandma hat she was wearing was all white with snow.

  He continued to stare out the window, his fists jammed into his jeans pockets. Guilt was ripping a jagged hole through his gut, as he recalled the shocked look in her eyes. He’d been an ass. He rarely lost his cool, and yet, a few minutes ago he stood yelling at this tiny slip of a woman at his front door. Would it be so bad to let this Hannah woman spend the night? How much of a threat could a woman who barely reached the top of his chin with the pom-pom be? He’d find out what she wanted and then make it clear that he had no intention of speaking to anyone about his family. Then tomorrow morning, when the storm was over, she’d leave. Easy. Done.

  Jackson shook his head as she disappeared into a giant mound of snow. With a rough sigh, and a few of his favorite curses, he shrugged into his leather, sheepskin lined jacket and flicked on the outdoor lights. One way or another, women were always complicating his life. Even when he was trying to get away from them, they found him.

  “Hey!” he called out, approaching her. The snow was past his shins and showed no sign of slowing. He squinted as snow and ice pellets beat into his face and eyes. She either couldn’t hear him above the wind or she was purposely ignoring him.

  She didn’t bother to look at him when he reached her side. She kept brushing off the snow with angry bursts.

  A cloud of snow hit him in the face. He wasn’t so sure it was an accident.

  “Look, you can spend the night here. Leave in the morning when the storm is over.”

  She paused and went back to fruitlessly wiping off the windshield with one arm, while clutching a round container like a football under her other arm. He spotted a Christmas wreath attached to the front bumper of her car. He tried not to groan out loud at the absurd ornament. He had never actually met anyone who went to the trouble of decorating their car for Christmas. She was working on her side windows, still ignoring him. Stubborn was the last thing he needed right now.

  “Well, we both know you can’t get anywhere with this weather tonight.” He felt the ice pellets drumming against the back of his neck like a bunch of nails. She continued to pay no attention to him. Enough was enough. He walked over and grabbed the scraper from her hand. She glared at him and yanked it back.

  “I’m not staying here. You’re mentally unbalanced.”

  “What were you thinking coming here alone, at night? Obviously you intended on staying.” He tried to pry the scraper out of her hand again, but it was as though that giant red mitten was super glued to the damn thing.

  “Stop being a bully. I didn’t think it would take me over six hours to drive up here. I never planned on staying here, so stop flattering yourself. I don’t like you. I don’t trust you. So leave me alone and let go of my brush!”

  She yelled that last part and he let go, his hands up in the air in a surrender motion. He wasn’t going to beg her to stay here.

  Jackson watched as she fell backwards into a mound of snow. A tin flew in the air and what looked like cookies fell out. Uh-oh.

  “My cookies!” She sputtered out and struggled into a sitting position in the snow.

  He watched her collect the array of brightly colored cookies in the white snow and an odd feeling of regret came over him. Of all the absurd… Jackson felt he had no choice but to kneel down and help.

  He cleared his throat, momentarily forgetting the cold. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…”

  “Save it,” she snapped and he ignored the tears he thought he heard in her voice. Not tears, please no. He found a cookie and noticed with dread that it was shaped like a Christmas tree and covered with green sparkly looking things.

  Jackson tried to place the ruined cookies gently in the tin, as though there was still some hope of salvaging them. She, on the other hand, tossed them in with a force that suggested she was royally pissed. At least she wasn’t crying. Finally, she placed the lid over the round tin, banging Santa’s happy face shut with her giant red mittens.

  Jackson stood up and held out his hand. She glared at his hand and stood on her own. He shouldn’t be surprised. He could have sworn he heard the word jerk, but with the howling wind he couldn’t be sure.

  “Sorry about the… cookies,” he said awkwardly.

  “Whatever. You’re not exactly the milk and cookies type of guy anyway. You’re more of the nails and arsenic type.”

  He had to stifle his urge to smile at her insult. The cookies had been for him. The fact that he had hurt her feelings was oddly unsettling. Added to that was the fact that she had baked for him. No one baked for him, unless of course they were paid to. He wasn’t about to analyze his sudden sentimental reaction to a box of cookies. Besides, he wanted to get inside.

  “Hannah, you can spend the night here.”

  She frowned up at him. “I’d rather sleep in my car.”

  Jackson gritted his teeth. It was damned irritating dealing with someone more mule-headed than he was always accused of being. Cookies or not, this was supposed to be his time away from stress…from civilization. This cabin was his anti-Christmas sanctuary, a place where there was no talk of family. No talk of Christmas. The only evergreens were outside and not one of them had a single damn light on them, just the way he liked it. But now he was being forced to harbor some strange woman who knew a hell of a lot about him and who had something to do with his sister.

  He watched as she continued to brush the snow off her pants with one hand and hold that tin with the other. “Look, I’m not going to let you sleep in your car d
uring a blizzard.”

  She stopped her swiping and cocked her head to the side. “Well, I guess you should have thought of that when you slammed the door in my face. It’s not exactly the best way to make a guest feel welcome.”

  Jackson opened his mouth and then shut it, not knowing what to say. He was not a man used to being argued with. He had gotten used to the quick “yes, sirs” that he received from his employees.

  She shot him a dirty look as she walked past him. He caught her arm. For a moment nothing happened and then she turned into steel beneath his grasp. Her eyes widened and she stared at him. He was trying to decipher the expression when she jerked her arm from his grasp. He noticed her breathing was shallow and rapid. That confidence she had shown only seconds before was gone. This woman felt threatened by him. His exes could say a lot about him, but violent was not an adjective used to describe him. He abhorred physical violence, and he’d never touched a woman in anger.

  “I can’t let you stay out here. I have a guest room,” he said, trying his best to sound patient and calm.

  She stared at him for another minute, then raised her eyebrows as she spoke. “Are you going to yell at me again?”

  He shook his head sheepishly. He felt like he was being reprimanded like a small boy. Her face relaxed and she gave him a slight nod. “Fine. I’ve met crazier people than you and I know how to handle myself. I’ll stay.”

  He stared at her incredulously. She’d called him crazy.

  “On one condition,” she said raising her chin and folding her arms.

  “Condition?” She had barged in on his vacation and now she was negotiating terms of her stay?

  She nodded once, the pom-pom bopping with the motion.

  He gave a brief nod, why the hell not, it seemed he had very little control of the night anyway.

  “No yelling in front of the baby,” she said over her shoulder as she opened the back door of her car. Her head disappeared into the car and he stared numbly after her. Maybe he hadn’t heard right, but then he heard an odd noise.

  “Baby?” he finally managed to choke out through a throat that seemed to be filled with tar as she emerged from the car holding a baby seat.

  Chapter Two

  Hannah put on her best poker face as the wind whipped strands of her hair around her head while Jackson stared at her. She knew her knees were shaking and it was only partly due to the cold. Jackson Pierce had a stare that could send a man running. She saw his eyes shift to Emily’s car seat. He couldn’t see the baby because she had a pink blanket covering the opening.

  “I don’t yell at babies,” he growled and shoved his hands in his pockets.

  She shut her eyes briefly. She had done it. She had been given a second chance and she wasn’t about to leave here tomorrow morning without some kind of a promise from Jackson.

  “Do you have a bag or something?”

  “Just my purse, diaper bag, and two cases of baby formula,” Hannah called out over her shoulder, trying to sound pleasant. “Can you hold this a sec?” Hannah shoved the car seat towards his chest. He grabbed it with a grunt. The sooner he got himself acquainted with Emily the better.

  Hannah poked around in her car, feeling Jackson watching her. She retrieved her vintage holly and berry embroidered purse, quickly stuffing in a few of the books that had fallen out. She ignored his exaggerated sigh as she swung the loaded diaper bag over one shoulder. Then she walked around to the trunk, hauling out a box of baby formula.

  “Do you, uh, want me to hold something for you?” Hannah almost smiled at the horror embedded in the strong lines of his face. He stared at all her bags, holding the car seat awkwardly.

  “I’m okay.”

  “Follow in my footsteps, and hurry.”

  Hannah would have given him a salute had her hands not been full with all the baby gear. She got a tiny jolt of satisfaction by deciding not to tell him that he could have held the carrier by the handle, making it much easier. He glanced behind him a few times, no doubt making sure she hadn’t fallen headfirst into a snowdrift. When they reached the porch he actually held the door open and waited for her to pass through.

  Hannah walked into the house and quickly put down the heavy bags while Jackson closed the door against the harsh wind and they both stomped their feet on the sea grass rug, neither of them saying anything. The warm blast of heat comforted her, like she had walked into a friend’s house, except Jackson’s unsettling presence made it painfully clear that this was nothing of the sort.

  “What should I do with this?”

  “Oh here, I’ll take her,” Hannah said, slowly taking Emily’s car seat and placing it on the ground. She crouched down and removed the blanket as Jackson watched. She never could stop the smile that came naturally whenever she saw Emily. The baby still slept soundly, bundled in her pink fuzzy bunting bag.

  She jumped, startled, as a shaggy, excited dog came barreling over to her. Emily didn’t even flinch.

  “Charlie, sit.” The dog answered with what appeared to be all of his self control as his tail wagged and thumped against the floor. Hannah laughed when he disobeyed Jackson and accosted her with unabashed licks and jumps when she held out her hand to him.

  “Who is this?” She chuckled as she patted his clean but very messy fur.

  “Charlie. My very undisciplined dog.” Jackson shrugged out of his coat, the tension in his faced even more pronounced. Charlie wasn’t exactly the type of dog she’d picture him owning. Jackson was more the Rottweiler type. She continued to study him. He was intimidating in that I’m-so-confident-I-don’t-have-to-be-nice sort of way, with tight, pent-up hostility.

  His features were rugged. His nose was perfect except for a bump that her years in social work told her had been broken once or twice. She could see how someone might want to punch him. He kept himself in peak physical shape. The broad shoulders were obviously thick with muscle and his wide chest easily outlined in the navy blue Henley shirt he wore. Not really the type of physique she’d expect for a computer guy. He was confident and arrogant, not a man to back down. Not the type of man she pictured with an infant. But Louise had been clear in her instructions and she obviously had faith in Jackson. Hannah had to remember that.

  “Okay, Charlie, leave her alone.” Jackson came over to brush Charlie away from her.

  “He’s very sweet,” she murmured as Charlie settled down at her feet, still looking at her face as though he wanted to lap it up like an ice cream cone.

  Jackson gave a terse nod, looking at the dog and not her. “He’s got a good disposition.”

  “Have you had him long?”

  “Almost ten years.”

  “He seems very friendly.”

  “He was a stray, a mutt. He found me and wouldn’t leave me alone.”

  Her heart swelled. Wheels were spinning in her head. This was good. Very good. “Really? He was a stray?”

  Jackson’s eyes narrowed. Oops. She obviously sounded a little too ecstatic. She gave him a wan smile and took off her soggy mitts. She could tell he didn’t know what to make of her reaction and he didn’t want to expand his story about Charlie. It was still good news. Anyone who had enough compassion to take in an abandoned dog and adopt him couldn’t be entirely evil. Okay, so Jackson was a little standoffish and obviously arrogant, but maybe all hope was not lost. If a shaggy dog could melt his heart, then surely an adorable little baby girl wouldn’t be a problem.

  “Let me take your coat.”

  “Sure, thanks.” Hannah unbuttoned her coat and placed it in his outstretched hands, carefully avoiding any contact with him. She looked around the room while she pulled off her soaked boots. She was very aware of how cold her feet and legs were, and now that the snow on her jeans had melted, they felt like wallpaper paste had been plastered to her legs.

  She looked around while he went to stoke the fire. A high peaked ceiling with wood beams made the room seem large, with a massive field stone fireplace as the focal point. A large, mahogany
farmhouse table was in the center of eight chocolate brown leather armchairs, placed in a conversational formation in front of the fire. She had a hard time imagining him entertaining a large group of friends—or even one friend for that matter. But there was plenty of room for a baby. Hannah glanced over at Emily and made her a promise. I’m going to do this, Emily. I’m going to get your uncle to love you and adopt you.

  …

  Jackson poked the logs in the fire a little too harshly and muffled his cough as a cloud of smoke engulfed his face. He tried to appear calm and natural even though he felt like he’d been backed against a wall by letting this woman and the baby into his home. How had he gotten into this mess? He could tell Hannah was trying to figure him out, and the look in her eyes was unsettling, like she was pleased when he told her about Charlie being a stray. He glanced over at her as she pulled off her red hat and a mass of caramel colored hair came tumbling out. He didn’t want to notice how shiny and soft it looked. He turned his attention to the fireplace again, but watched from the corner of his eye as Hannah straightened out her clothing.

  Hannah was definitely beautiful—not in a made up, high-maintenance sort of way. She had high cheekbones and full, rosy lips. And even though he didn’t want to notice, her eyes were like dark emeralds, large and almond shaped, with impossibly thick black eyelashes. Even more perplexing than their indisputable beauty was the emotion and the warmth they held in them. They weren’t vacant, they weren’t flirty, and they weren’t the eyes of someone who had been friends with his sister. They were clear and sharp, not hollow like someone who was stoned all the time. No, she was too pulled together to have been friends with Louise. So then who the hell was she?

  He willed himself not to look lower than her chin. Dammit. Too late. She was curvy and slender in all the right places. He felt himself fighting back a surge of complete and total unwanted desire that gripped him out of nowhere. What was going on with him? Must be a natural reaction to a woman who wasn’t thinner than a twig. The last woman he’d slept with had been so skinny he wondered if she had ever eaten a carb in her entire life. But this Hannah woman was off-limits. He didn’t date women with children or people associated with his family. And even though there wasn’t a wedding band on her hand, she was probably with some guy. Not that it mattered. Not in the least, because he wanted nothing to do with her. Anyone connected to his family was the enemy.