The Billionaire's Christmas Baby

by Victoria James

  Her palms started sweating as she contemplated what to do. It wasn’t like they were friends. In fact, his last words had been to get the hell out of his house tomorrow. She couldn’t just walk into his room and intrude. But then again, if he was sick, wasn’t it her duty as a human being to help him? And she was a social worker. Wasn’t it her job to help people? She bit her lower lip, her right hand on the doorknob. Okay, Hannah, if you don’t hear anything for another minute leave and go to your bedroom. If you hear him again you’ve got to walk in.

  Sure enough, a few seconds later she heard him again. She took a deep breath and slowly opened the door, the floorboards creaking as she walked across the threshold. She held her breath but didn’t move. The room was dark so she opened the door fully, letting the light from the hallway cast enough of a glow so that she could see where she walked. Jackson was in bed. A dark duvet was thrown off his body and he lay on his back, his head turned away from hers.

  The one thing she could make out clearly was that Jackson only slept in boxers. And every inch of his long frame was solid and muscular. That strength that was so obvious, even while he slept, made her slightly nervous. After their time together and his words about never touching a woman in anger, she believed him. She did trust him in that respect.

  She watched him for a few more seconds. She really should stop staring. Honestly, it wasn’t like he was the first beautiful man she’d ever seen. Okay, well, maybe the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. Snap out of it, Hannah. It was an invasion of his space, and he looked fine now.

  She started to tiptoe out of the room, wincing as each creak in the floor sounded louder than the storm outside. She had almost made it to the open door when a guttural cry that sent shivers down her spine tore through the room. She whipped her head around to look at Jackson. He still slept. His eyes were shut. She could make out the pain in his features, and she saw the sweat lining his forehead. He was having some sort of nightmare.

  She had to wake him up, but that would mean getting close to him. What if he lashed out at her without realizing what he was doing in his sleep? Or when he woke, he could be horribly upset that she’d intruded. She couldn’t stand here and do nothing.

  Her eyes scanned the room frantically and then settled on a stack of books on his bedside table. Maybe she could nudge him awake with a book. A hardcover. At least she’d be able to keep a little bit of a distance, and she wouldn’t have to touch his bare skin. Perfect.

  When she saw him clench the sheet, his forearm and hand rigid with strain, she finally moved. She quickly grabbed the top book on the stack and moved beside him. She bit her lower lip and tapped him on the shoulder with the book. Then she quickly stepped back, almost tripping over her own feet.

  Nothing. He still didn’t wake up.

  She inched forward again, holding her breath, book in hand and plunged it into his shoulder. Suddenly a hand that felt like steel clamped down hard on her wrist and yanked her onto the bed, flipping her over and pinning her on her back. Jackson’s strong, muscular legs straddled hers and locked her arms down beside her head. She stared into his eyes and knew he wasn’t quite awake. She stayed perfectly still, her heart pounding painfully in her chest, waiting for him to become aware of what he was doing.

  “Jackson.”

  His eyes went from blankness to reality. He swore loudly and ducked his head, pushing off of her and rolling onto his back beside her on the bed.

  Hannah lay still beside him. She tried to catch her breath but couldn’t move yet. Her body felt like a quivering mass of gelatin.

  “Sorry, I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t know it was you,” Jackson said a moment later, his voice raw and gruff. “Are you okay?”

  Hannah struggled to regain her composure. She glanced over at him, his rigid posture unmistakable in the dim lighting. “I should be asking you that.”

  He ran his hands over his face roughly. “I sometimes have, uh, nightmares.”

  “I heard you from my room, I thought you were sick or I never would have come in here,” she said haltingly, not knowing if he was angry with her.

  “God, I never meant to scare you.” He squeezed his eyes shut, before turning to look at her. Hannah felt her heart jolt unexpectedly at the softness in his voice. He wasn’t angry at all. He wasn’t the same man in front of the fire yelling at her to go home. She looked into his eyes and saw how soft and warm they could be. She noticed the shape of his lips. They were sensual, perfectly shaped. He had turned on his side so that he faced her completely. She was still on her back, there was no way she’d turn too… it was too… intimate.

  When she lifted her eyes to meet his she saw that he was still looking at her. She remembered he had asked her if he had scared her. “You didn’t. I’m not afraid of you,” she finally answered, her voice sounding strange to her ears. “Besides,” she said, forcing herself to sound flippant, “I’ve taken lots of self defense classes. I could have tossed you to the ground with one foot if I needed to.”

  The sound of Jackson’s deep laughter filled the room and made her smile involuntarily in the darkness. He had a rich and deep laugh. She didn’t want to notice that either.

  “I’ll be sure to remember that,” he said, the smile still in his voice.

  They were whispering in the darkness. The intimacy of the situation was not lost on her. His body was so close that she could feel the warmth emanating from him. She could smell his soap combined with his own masculine scent, and she found herself responding to him in a way that was anything but platonic. And that was not a good idea. She frowned down at her clothes. Both of them were wearing far too little clothing for two people who barely knew each other. She needed to get off the bed pronto.

  “You’re sure I didn’t hurt you?”

  She nodded frantically as she watched his hands move to gently grasp her wrists. He looked them over. She couldn’t say anything because she had lost her voice. His hands were warm, large, and a delicious, molten heat began swimming through her as he held on. His thumb grazed the soft, velvety underside of her wrist and the innocent touch felt anything but. She quickly slipped her wrists out of his hands, needing her body to not be in contact with his, but she wasn’t prepared for the loss she felt at not having him touch her. Not good. And there was no way she was going to acknowledge the meaning behind the fact that he was the first man she found herself wanting to touch her since… a long time.

  “You didn’t hurt me.” Why did her voice have to sound so breathy? She couldn’t break his gaze. The air was warm and like a cocoon, capturing them in a false sense of familiarity. She needed to get out of the room and away from an enticingly half-naked Jackson. Because right now, more than anything, she wanted to reach out to touch his bare skin. She was drawn to him and she shouldn’t have been. As soon as she got back into the safety of her own room she was going to list each despicable trait the man had and then do a personality comparison list to Ebenezer Scrooge. That should sufficiently deal with any sort of misplaced desire she had.

  “I’m still sorry.” He braced himself on his forearms, watching her closely. She could make out the lighter shades of cognac in his eyes, and the softness, the warmth was still there. She didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. She should be concentrating on the list.

  “It was no big deal.”

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?” Why had she asked that? Why wasn’t she moving? Get off the darn bed, Hannah.

  “For waking me up.” His eyes fell to her lips and she felt a heat bloom from deep within her. Then his gaze wandered up to her eyes and traveled the length of her body. Suddenly she felt like she wore absolutely nothing. She tugged roughly at the T-shirt to cover a little more of her exposed legs. And then he smiled again, a sort of sexy, satisfied grin. The kind that told her he knew exactly why she was so uncomfortable, and that he liked it.

  She needed to get out of here. Again, her body wasn’t getting the message her brain was frantically communicating
, so she didn’t move.

  “Hannah?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Why did you come here, really?”

  She turned to look at him. “Here? Like your room?”

  He shook his head. “The cabin.”

  She frowned at him. “I told you, I want you to adopt your sister’s baby.”

  He nodded and shrugged gently. She refused to be taken in by the display of muscles that that one little move caused to ripple through his upper body. Concentrate.

  “I know, you said that, but you can’t possibly do this for all your cases. You drove through a blizzard. You tracked down a guy who changed his name, which you must’ve pulled a hell of a lot of strings to do. This goes beyond job dedication, don’t you think?”

  She stared up at the ceiling, trying not to reveal any emotion. She couldn’t exactly explain something that she’d barely figured out herself. “I feel responsible, you know? I got to know your sister. I never thought she would have—” She paused for a moment. “Killed herself and then when I found Emily on the church doorstep, I—” She tried to hide the emotion in her throat but couldn’t control the catch. “I knew I had to do what’s best for her. I brought her home that night and held her. She’s this tiny, perfect, innocent little girl. She deserves the best, not to be cast aside and left with strangers. She needs someone to protect her, to give her a wonderful, happy childhood.” She stopped talking because she wouldn’t be able to hold back her pain anymore, or the rest of the truth. Lying in his bed like this made her realize how much was missing from her life. In the darkness of the night, in the warm shelter from the storm, the enigmatic man beside her made her yearn for so much—someone to speak with in the dead of the night, someone to share a bed with.

  “I should go… to sleep.”

  He grabbed her hand. She didn’t want to turn and look at him. She took a steadying breath and channeled that self-control that she’d perfected years ago.

  “You completely caught me by surprise,” he said slowly. She didn’t know if he meant her or the news about Emily. When she raised her eyes to meet his, they were filled with a desire she didn’t want to acknowledge. She stood quickly, still holding down the hem of the T-shirt. She walked as fast as she could to the open door, the floorboards creaking as loudly as the beating of her heart. She needed to get to work on that list right away.

  “Hannah,” he called out, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

  She turned to look back at him, trying to look calm, cool, and collected. Do not look below his chin. Do not look at the display of muscles and abs, Hannah.

  “Yes?” She cringed at the high-pitched sound of her voice. She sounded like the chicken she began to resemble.

  “Did you poke me with a book?”

  Chapter Five

  The storm wasn’t over.

  The roads weren’t getting plowed.

  Hannah and the baby weren’t going home today.

  Jackson leaned forward, bracing his hands against the marble kitchen counter. It was so dark and windy that it barely looked like morning. Even if he had wanted to enforce what he’d said about her going home today, there was no chance. The weather wasn’t showing any signs of relenting.

  After Hannah left his room last night, he’d felt the distinct, and very unexpected, sensation of loss. He wasn’t angry anymore. He knew what it must have taken for someone like her to enter his room, especially considering how the evening had ended with him telling her to go home. He’d seen the fear and felt the trembling in her body when she’d been under him. And the feel of her in his arms led to a whole other set of problems. His attraction to her was undeniable, and it was beyond physical, which was entirely new for him. He admired how gutsy she was, despite whatever issues she had with men. She had driven hours through a blizzard to confront a stranger. Hell, that took courage.

  He was about to get himself some coffee when he heard soft footsteps approaching the kitchen. He turned around at the sound of her hesitant hello, and his gut clenched. God, she was beautiful. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders and he remembered how soft it had been against his bare chest last night. The curves of her body intimately pressed against his wouldn’t be forgotten for a long time.

  “Morning,” he said. He smiled and saw the tension leave her face. Who knew what she thought of him? That he’d send her on her way in a blizzard or yell at her?

  “I made a pot of coffee. Want a cup?”

  “Please,” she said and walked in a few more steps.

  “Have a seat,” he said. He handed her one of the pottery mugs his designer had chosen, motioning to the kitchen table. She sat opposite him, tucking one leg under her. She added milk to her cup and then looked up at him. She had gorgeous eyes, large and clear. And warm. The kind of eyes that made you think you could tell anything to this woman and that she’d understand, and wouldn’t judge. He gave himself a mental shake. He needed to be nice, that was all.

  “I’m sorry about last night. And obviously, I don’t expect you to leave today.”

  She took a sip of her coffee, wrapping her hands around the oversized cup. She had delicate hands. Her nails weren’t long, but nicely shaped. They didn’t have a French manicure or god-awful loud color on them… wait a second, when the hell did he even look at a woman’s hand… other than to see if there was a wedding ring on it? She looked into her cup. She hadn’t said anything yet and he realized that he was anxious for her response. Anxious in that sort of way that told him he cared about her feelings. Crap. First the nails, now the feelings.

  “I was kind of worried about how we would get back in this weather,” she said with a twinkle in her eye, her lips curling up into a deliciously alluring smile. He needed a drink, but it was way too early in the day for that.

  “Look, let’s call a truce okay? I think I’ve already made it clear that your plan doesn’t really…work for me. If we talk about it again, we’re going to end up arguing. You’ve got to understand that I have no intention of ever going along with this.”

  The warmth in her eyes disappeared and was replaced by a fiery sheen. Hell, she probably had as big a temper as he. Her full lips were pinched and thin, and he bet she held back a long string of curses. Too bad. He got up and rummaged through the cupboards, aware that she was watching him, fuming. “What would you like for breakfast?” He forced himself to sound nonchalant.

  “How about a knife? You can stick it right through my heart.”

  He didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or groan with frustration. He was going to ignore the bait. “It must be hours since you’ve eaten. Is cereal okay? I have muffins too.”

  “Not hungry.”

  He turned around to look at her. Her leg was crossed over the other and she drummed her fingers against the table. He sighed. “No point in starving yourself because you’re pissed at me.”

  She raised her eyebrows.

  “Fine. I’ll heat up a muffin. Lemon cranberry,” he said when she continued to stonewall him.

  “You bake?”

  He shook his head, insanely relieved that she was speaking to him again. “My housekeeper does. She freezes a bunch of stuff for me to bring when I come up here.”

  “So you have a lot of help at home?” she asked, looking innocent. She folded her hands neatly in her lap. He already knew her better than that.

  “I’m a busy man. I work late hours. Very late. Not family man type hours,” he said, enunciating every word to make it clear that he knew exactly what she was getting at. The microwave beeped and he set the muffins in front of her. He sat down and waited for her to take a muffin before grabbing one himself.

  “Ah, so you have everything then.”

  He gave a terse nod.

  “You have money, a penthouse, a company, a cabin,” she said, popping a piece of the muffin into her mouth

  “Yes.”

  “I mean, what more could there possibly be in life other than money, assets, and work?” She put another piece of muffin in h
er mouth and he lost his appetite. Who was she to judge him?

  The sound of a baby’s cry prevented him from making a retort. Hannah jumped up, pulled out a bottle from the fridge, and dropped it in the small pot already filled with water on the stove. The baby. That baby was his niece. His sister’s responsibility. Not his.

  He stood up so fast his chair nearly toppled over. “Do you mind if I go do some work?”

  He could tell she was surprised at his abrupt interruption. She shook her head and licked her lips again. Yeah, he was so outta here. He refilled his cup of coffee and walked out of the kitchen.

  …

  Hannah laughed as she placed Emily into the bathroom sink. The baby loved her baths and gave a delighted gasp as her body made contact with the warm water. Hannah cradled her head with one hand and rubbed the soapy washcloth over Emily’s soft skin. Emily kicked her legs and gurgled loudly. She yelped as Emily splashed her.

  “Everything okay in here?”

  Hannah turned her head as Jackson walked in wearing an expression she couldn’t quite figure out. He looked down at Emily and for a second she thought he was going to smile, but instead she saw his jaw clench. She tried not to let her disappointment show. She didn’t expect him to be reduced to a pile of mush by looking at the baby, but maybe a hint of a smile…

  “We’re doing fine,” she said as she rinsed the soap off Emily’s slippery skin. “Every time I give Emily a bath I seem to get soaked.”

  She busied herself with getting Emily out of the water and into the waiting towel, and pretended not to be aware of Jackson’s intense gaze. His silence was disconcerting. She almost preferred the sarcastic comments to the silence. She spotted the sleeper that she’d already laid out peeking out from under the towel. Almost positive Jackson hadn’t noticed, she slipped it into the sink.

  “Oh shoot!”

  “What is it?”

  She avoided eye contact and focused on the now drenched sleeper while keeping Emily bundled in the towel.

  “Her sleeper is soaked! Here,” she said and shoved Emily into his arms. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to grab a new one.” She didn’t bother waiting for a response and ran out of the washroom, her heart beating as though she’d just committed a felony. She was such a bad liar, she thought as she rummaged around for the only other sleeper she had. She waited a few moments before walking back into the washroom. Would Jackson’s heart melt by holding his little niece?